#This is one of the oldest chapter concepts I came up with and now I’m just turning away from it aakjsndk

[lieutenant-amuel]

The more chapters of Was Born To Lead I write, the more I realize there more likely will be no “The History of the History Man” chapter.

[ali-annals]

Is this Hope just a Mystical Dream? (i)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: T+ | WC: 2.7k | CW: Discussions of death/murder, dark humour, temporary character death, mentioned permanent offscreen character death (it's the villains it's fine/hj), morally grey MDC >:) | A/N: For the loml @sarcasticbambi <3 | ao3 | PART TWO (final) |

Did you know that some soulmates' souls are literally connected, meaning that when one half dies, the other follows them soon after to a personalized deathscape? Marinette and Jason sure did.

3…2…

Bruce wasn’t coming. Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

...1…��

“Dad.”

Kaboom!

~~~

A soft white light surrounded the cloudlike bed he lay on, surprisingly not hurting his eyes when he opened them.

This was clearly not his room and he was not dressed as Robin. Maybe someone got him out of there in time after all? Maybe Sheila came back for him?

He didn’t feel hurt and wrapped in bandages or high on painkillers like the beating he’d received warranted. Had he been in a coma and was fully healed now?

“Bruce? Alfred? Dick? B?”

When no one answered his calls for his family, he edged out of bed, feeling as spry as ever, and cautiously stepped into a hallway. 

This was definitely not the Manor, but it had a similar appearance. He wandered around, taking in the kitchen, living room, and a few other rooms eerily similar to the Manor’s. Then he saw the library.

Shelves full of his favourite volumes, plus his ever-growing list of books he wanted to read. A couch that looked like he could stay there for days, getting immersed in a thousand fictional worlds. Steaming tea just the way he liked on a table next to the fire, a bookmark in place at Chapter 34, where he’d paused his reading to disembark the plane in Ethopia. 

A scuff drew his attention away from the setup of his dreams. He looked up, expecting Bruce or maybe Alfred or Dick, but it was a stranger. A girl with black hair and blue-grey eyes and a worried smile, around his height. 

“Bonjour. J’mapelle Marinette.”

He eyed her carefully before deciding she wasn’t an immediate threat and relaxing from his defensive stance. “Hi, I’m Jason. Where am I? What is this place? What happened?”

The girl–Marinette–sighed and plopped onto the far end of the couch he was standing beside. “What’s the last thing you remember? Before you woke up here?”

“Um…I was in a warehouse, a bomb was about to go off. Joker beat me and left, but I managed to free m–my mother.--Do you know who saved me? Where B is?”

She smiled sadly, placing her hand on his knee in a confusing gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry, Jason…you’re dead.”

He gaped at her. “What?! Why are you here, then?”

“I’m your soulmate. We meet here, in this deathscape of ours. You know how some soulbonds manifest through dreams?”

“How do you know so much about this? How…long have you been here?”

“I just arrived, but I’ll be leaving soon, I think. I’m Ladybug, one of Paris’s heroes. Our team is powered by magical jewellery, which house tiny gods that lend us their powers to fight. Mine, the Ladybug Kwami of Creation, Order, and Good Luck, is one of the oldest kwami, and she explained the deathscape concept to me after the first time I died and ended up here.”

Jason shook his head. “That’s a lot to take in. Paris has heroes? And magical jewellery? The Justice League has seen weirder, though, so I guess you make sense. But you shouldn’t go around telling people your secret identity like that!” he scolded suddenly, straightening. “You could end up…”

Like me. Apparently, dead. 

Ah wait, she is already.

She smiled sadly as he trailed off. “You’re my soulmate, if I can’t trust you, who can I?”

Jason sputtered, unused to such easy reassurance. “Still, you only just met me. Why did you say you’ll be leaving soon? Scratch that, why did you say ‘the first time I died’?!”

She grimaced. “My kwami has the ability to restore any damage that happens during a fight. Now that I’m dead, my teammates will pass my Miraculous on to one of them and continue the fight. Once it’s over, Miraculous Ladybug will cover the city and reverse any side effects of the fight, which includes my death. I’ve been in and out of this deathscape several times.

“I must say, this is a new look for it, though. It usually looks like a mix of my favourite places and my home, but this time it’s quite changed. I guess you influenced it since you’ll be here a while longer than me.”

“What?”

“Deathscapes are tailored to the soulmates’ lives, or so my kwami tells me. You must be well off, huh?” she glanced around the poshly furnished room.

“My dad is pretty rich, yeah,” he shrugged. “Er…how many times have …”

“Have I died? Mmm…28,379 I think. Will you throw me a party if I hit 30,000?” she blinked innocently at him.

He stared at her incredulously. “How are you so blasé about it?”

She shrugged. “Dark humour helps…and it makes others uncomfortable, so it’s not just me. And death is a social construct, y’know? So far, it hasn’t stuck. I’m sure you’ll un-unalive too. But a lot of these deaths, like 27,000, were in a now-erased timeline. So only 1,379 belong to other timelines.”

Taking pity on his confused look, she explained. “Two of the Miraculous have time abilities. We often spend hundreds of loops on one akuma, and until we figure out the correct sequence of events to take it down, we have to keep replaying the fight. Sometimes the collateral is a little higher than we’d like. But don’t worry, only a couple of us team members remember the timelines. The civilians are blissfully unaware.”

“That’s great for them but it must be tough for you, not being able to talk about it or get sympathy for it, Marinette.” Jason could feel his heart squeezing in sympathy for his new-found soulmate.

Taking a leap of faith (he was dead, what more could happen?) he told her his biggest secret. “I’m a hero too, so I understand how that feels, though I don’t have powers.” Being Robin gives me magic! “I’m Robin. From Gotham.”

“My ex-best friend loves superheroes; I think I heard her talk about you before. You work with Batman, right?”

“Yep. Can...I ask how you died?”

“The battle’s been going on for 24 hours. I was slow. I missed a piece of metal and got impaled. Can’t say it was the nicest way I’ve gone. You?”

Crowbar. Which hurts more? A or– ”I went looking for my biomom. Found her working as a doctor in Ethopia. Joker, one of B’s Rogues,  was blackmailing her. I offered to help her and she sold me out to him. He…beat me with a crowbar, then turned on Sheila and left us in the warehouse with a bomb. I untied her and she escaped but I couldn’t…B didn’t…didn’t make it.” I hope he kills the clown.

Marinette winced. “I’m sorry.” After a pause, she added, “the piece of metal that impaled me was a crowbar, too. Kinda poetic, both of us dying by crowbar, huh?”

He snorted. “Crowbar buddies. Cool. When you get resurrected, do you think we can stay in contact somehow? Phone, ghostly apparition or haunting, telepathy, something?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll ask my kwami, Tikki. Try anything you can think of, I’ll be listening. While we’re waiting, do you wanna play 20 Questions?”

“Sure, but we have to answer our questions too, to get more mileage out of them.”

“Sounds good to me! Okay, when is your birthday? Mine is July 9–I’m fifteen.”

“August 16 and I’m fifteen, too. Oh–I can’t answer this one. What day is it?”

“April 27th, why?”

“I thought I lost time. Still the day I died. Do you like to read? I do.”

She looked around the well-filled library in surprise. “You mean these books aren’t mine?” she gasped sarcastically. “It’s not my favourite hobby, but I like classics and well written books.”

The game continued, the two traumatized teenagers bonding over mutual interests and mocking the other when they disagreed. 

Finally Marinette looked at Jason. “I’m leaving now. I’m sure I’ll be back–hopefully not too soon. Is there anything you want me to look up to tell you when I return?”

“If Bruce killed Joker yet. Where I’m buried. Don’t come back for 80 years!”

“No promises! I’ll see what I can find. Au revoir, soulmate!” With a shimmer, she disappeared.

Jason collapsed lengthwise on the couch, suddenly feeling incredibly lonely. “Now what?”

~~~

The first time Marinette died, she’d woken up in a strange bed in a huge fancy house that was much nicer than Adrien’s. It definitely had a more lived-in, home-like feel, for one. She’d just finished exploring its vast premises when she woke up again in Paris, to her teammates’ relief. 

Later, she’d asked Tikki about it. “You must have a soulmate, Marinette,” the kwami decided. “Some have dreamscapes, and a very few have deathscapes. They’re usually involved with the Miraculous or magic or supernatural forces of some kind. Both sides of the soulbond end up in the shared ‘scape when they die. They tend to join one another fairly soon…the Miraculous must affect it some. Your deaths are temporary because of the cure, so I do not know how that will affect your ‘mate’s bond and life. Your death must not be long enough for your soulmate to join you.”

The next several times she ended up there, Marinette took note of the things familiar to her from her life, such as the extensive sewing room. Other things hinted at aspects of her ‘mate’s personality, such as the large tea collection, the vast library, the well-equipped gym that has many types of equipment she wasn’t familiar with. 

The deathscape appeared to have been shaped around more of their life than hers, leading her to suspect that they would be in the ‘scape longer than her. 

And then she was fighting a metallokinetic akuma, and got impaled by a shiny crowbar. And there was someone else in the ‘scape with her–a boy with blue eyes and black hair, a little taller than her (but still pretty short) and scrawny but muscled, sipping tea and reading Pride and Prejudice. 

“Bonjour, J’mapelle Marinette.” Does he know he’s dead, he’s my soulmate, this is our deathscape? That it’s my fault we’re here right now?

He took the news fairly calmly, all things considered, and appeared to tolerate her, though it could just be loneliness and shock keeping him so subdued. She liked him, like she knew she would–he was funny and smart and well-read and had a nice smile. It was relaxing to get to know him, knowing he was her soulmate for a reason and she could trust him. Besides, they were dead, who was he gonna tell she was Ladybug? 

She was a little sad to feel the now-familiar tingling signalling her return to the land of the living. She only hoped that her return would somehow work through the bond to revive Jason as well, so he wouldn’t be stuck in their ‘scape alone for who knew how long. He knew enough he could look her up if he revived, she was pretty sure. 

Once she’d reassured her team that she was fine, she zipped home as fast as she could, desperate to talk to Tikki alone about her soulmate. 

Tikki hummed thoughtfully when Marinette asked if there was any way for her to contact Jason. The kwami told her to contact Adrien and get him to bring Plagg over so they could discuss a possible solution. 

While the miniature beings confabbed, Marinette told Adrien about Jason. 

Finally, Tikki turned to Marinette. “You should be able to communicate in a manner similar to telepathy.” The two kwami placed their paws on her forehead. “You can try to contact ~Jason~ now.”

“Jason? Can you hear me? It’s Marinette, your soulmate.”

“I can hear you loud and clear, Marinette. Can we contact each other? Is it telepathy?”

“Sort of…it’s like souls talking instead of our minds talking, because we’re uniquely linked?”

“Cool. Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m alive now. The cure heals everything.”

~~~

Jason and Marinette talked to each other often, especially during school and fights, where he would coach or distract her as she wished (he was an invaluable help during her English and literature classes).

But even with his help during akuma fights, Marinette started dying more. Tikki said it was their bond trying to balance each other out, bringing them together once again. 

In October, Marinette appeared beside Jason yet another time. “Hi.”

“Hey. What happened this time?”

She flopped on the couch beside him, tilting his wrist so she could see the title of the book he was reading. “I have the Miraculous.”

The non sequitur made him blink until he remembered her telling him her plans to retrieve the two abused Miraculous from Hawkmoth.”Really? That’s great! Wait, why are you here then?”

She sighed. “Our bond. I think I’m gonna be here for a while. Anyways, I was with Adrien at his dad’s–’cause he’s Hawkmoth and that’s why Nathalie had a heart attack so young, she was using the broken peacock Miraculous–and we were all transformed. We fought and I got the Grimoire and Miraculous. Then Adrien and I switched and I cataclysmed Gabriel. Then we detransformed after we said Hawkmoth and Mayura were gone for good. I went home and apparently died again.”

“You cataclysmed Gabriel?!” Jason’s voice went up an octave.

“Yep. He deserved it. He ruined Adrien’s, my, my team’s lives, terrorised Paris for years, abused Nooroo and his powers…he absolutely had it coming.”

“I just can’t see my sweet pixie Marinette cataclysming someone,” Jason shook his head in disbelief. “You’re so longsuffering. Everyone has a limit, I guess–and I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, I’m just surprised you did it.”

Marinette gave him a shaky smile. “I hold one of the two kwami of balance. I’m perfectly capable of balancing the scales where I need to.” She promptly burst into tears.

Jason panicked for a second, bewildered, but recovered quickly, scooting closer and wrapped his arms around her, letting her sob on his shoulder. 

“I’m so confused, Jay,” she wailed. “I’m glad he’s gone, but he was Adrien’s dad. I just killed one of my best friends’ parents! How can I feel so relieved to know everything is over? It’s not over for Adrien, I just made him an orphan! Yeah, he’ll be better off with his aunt, but that was still his father-”

Jason patted her back soothingly, understanding the sudden outpour of emotions coming from his soulmate as she was coming down from quite an adrenaline rush, being in a safe place to feel freely for the first time in years. He wouldn’t be surprised if she acted erratic and was extremely emotional for the next little while. He didn’t mind–he much preferred her to be her entire self, emotions and tears and all. 

“It’s okay to feel relieved, Marinette. It’s okay to feel sad, too, or angry, or guilty. Feel it all. You’re safe now.”

She breathed out a shuddering sob, squeezing her arms even tighter around him.

They sat there for a good while, Jason’s shirt absorbing all of Marinette’s emotions. Finally she wiped at her face, scrubbing the sleeve of her shirt over the tear and snot tracks. 

“Thank you, Jason,” she said hoarsely. 

“You’re welcome. Anytime, okay?”

She shot him a watery smile. “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that I portalled over to Gotham before the fight and cataclysmed Joker.”

His jaw dropped. “You what?!”

“He definitely deserved it.”

“You’ve got no arguments from me, believe me, I just–you killed him? Why?”

“It was about time. He killed and hurt hundreds of others and he killed you.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I’m thrilled I got to meet you and know you, but I’d far rather you alive than with me right now, if it meant Joker never killed you.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” he whispered, leaning his head against her shoulder. 

“You’re welcome. Anytime.” She repeated.

After a while he laced their fingers together, staring at their entwined hands. He looked at her. “I’m glad you’re my soulmate.”

“I am too. That you’re mine, I mean.”

“I know,” he snickered. “I…really like you.”

“Like, like-like?” she frowned. “That was too confusing. I like-like you as well, Jay.” Her gaze met his as they slowly leaned in.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed over hers, so soft she barely felt them, and disappeared. She cracked one eye open.

Jason…wasn’t there.

“When I said I’d rather him alive than with me, I didn’t mean for him to resurrect before we even properly kissed for the first time!”

Taglist (open): @jennifer-rose123 @questioning-blob-of-fog

[onepiece-oc-archives]

I’ve been sucked into one piece so bad and now really want to make an OC. So I had an idea for a character whose inspired by old maritime/pirate folklore of witches and sea witches.

I’m struggling though with how to go about that. So should it be like a devil fruit thing? Or a friend suggested I just come up with a separate race/tribe like the Kuja? I’m so lost with what direction to take with this 😭

For some info I want to put my OC with the straw hats and want to avoid them just being this insanely over powered person. I did find when researching that some background character from a later arc is categorized as a ‘sorcerer’ but don’t really know what that implies.

Help!!

Hi, welcome to the chaotic world that is One Piece and welcome to my blog!

I really love the idea of making an OC based off of pirate folklore! Sounds like there would be a lot of cool things to do there! The way I see it, you have four options:

Option 1: A devil fruit. I think a Mythical Zoan would be your best bet. Probably a Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Sea witch. You could put that in One Piece and nobody would bat an eye. Just remember that your OC wouldn't be able to swim. Do you want that for a sea witch?

Option 2: A new tribe/race. This is an option that gives you a lot of freedom because you can pretty much do whatever. You could create a race that has devil fruit style powers as part of their DNA. Oda has done that too. It comes with a few issues though. First of all, your OC's powers wouldn't be unique, because there's a whole tribe of sea witches. This could be good or bad. Second of all, there's a possibility that the World Government or other organizations hunt that tribe down. Once again, this could be good or bad for your story. Maybe this also makes your OC unique again because they're the only one of their kind left? Or at least one of few. This would, of course, have a strong effect on your OC's story and a lot of things that happen to them, so make sure to really consider if you want this.

Option 3: Science. I won't go too much into detail because of spoiler reasons, but incredible things are possible through One Piece science. This would most likely link your OC to a group of people or a specific person who develops said funky science and that's a connection with a lot of lore implications, so you should evaluate if you want that. Implications don't always need to turn into something big, but they can. If this is the option you decide to go for, let me know and I'll tell you more about that science and the people involved, but it will probably contain at least some spoilers, so be warned.

Option 4: It is what it is. I'm not kidding, this is a totally valid option that has been pulled by Oda multiple times. Your sorcerer example would fall under this option, though I believe he hasn't actually been seen practicing sorcery in any canon material. A canon example of this however is a certain woman who, for some reason, can accurately tell the future using a crystal ball. No one knows why. Never explained. And still completely canon. So, if none of the other options speak to you, going "it is what it is" is still a completely valid option.

Maybe as a sort of guideline of how I dealt with a similar issue:

My oldest One Piece OC used to be firmly in the Option 2 category. She's based off of mythology, mostly of Greek Myth, the goddess Selene in particular. Just going "oh yeah, she comes from a race of people who are just like that" worked really well for me for, I dunno, six years? But then a new manga chapter came along with a new lore drop and I thought I'd have to drop my OC's concept for good because it coincided/collided too much with the new lore drop. But then another lore drop happened and I was able to save her through sprinkling in some of Option 3.

The lore drop destroying my concept was purely bad luck. So you'll probably be doing really well with Option 2 if you commit to it. It might take a bit of worldbuilding, but you could also not explain anything. Both works. And if that fails, science can save your butt.

Also, I'm currently working on a new One Piece OC who falls into Option 4, simply because a mermaid being unable to swim would be a little stupid, so I can't give her a devil fruit, and her being involved with funky science just wouldn't suit her character that well. Also, I already kinda pulled that with said oldest OC, so I don't really wanna do it again.

Creating OCs is very situational, but sometimes "fuck around and find out" works surprisingly well or is the only thing that works. Mix and match things together. Run with a certain idea until canon throws a wrench in the works. Adjust things and make stuff up as you go. Sometimes, it's just about taking that first step, the rest will come all on its own.

I hope this helped at least a little. If you have any more questions, feel free to let me know!

[aimfor-theheart]

😞❤️ tysm for taking the time to do the title game thing i sent in <333 what you wrote for the first and last title would sound like a dream to read esp the megumi one.. i love your characterization of him.. i read in the tags you’re interested in knowing what the wips were so i’ll tell you here hehe

1000 paper cranes - supposed to be a piece of kakucho from tokyo revengers, part of his name translated to crane so i thought it would make sense to apply the legend of ‘if you fold 1000 paper cranes you’ll be granted one wish’.. he’s a very sweet boy that cares deeply about his friends and i think he’d definitely use the wish in a selfless way to better the life of another

passion and poetry - it was supposed to be a satosugu piece !!! i had an alternative title that was just ‘zero’ but that would be boring to send in lol.. the passion and poetry title came from the romantic ass shit they say to each other like it’s nothing sometimes i read over chapters from the manga where they’re talking to each other and i’m like.. u guys love each other it’s actually sickening. i ended up abandoning the wip because the composition i had in mind wasn’t working out LMAO but i might try again with a new concept.. i really wanna draw them together at least once

curse of the sun/blessing of the moon - a itafushi piece!! the title is a play on how itadori has a personality that shines as bright as the sun but he’s cursed (obv) and megumi being the moon (like he’s born on the shortest day of the year or something like that) and his name translates to blessings.. i have up on this one because again the composition was a struggle and i also ended up seeing somebody else draw a piece with a similar concept i had in mind so i was like damn.. it’ll look like i’m stealing now 🫢 but i do want to make a itafushi piece and use this title.. too good of a title to toss away

a good boy with no place - a piece of one of my OCs actually 🥳 i definitely plan on returning to this wip since i haven’t yet drawn this oc properly.. my oc universe thing is focused on the question “in what ways are people lonely and how does it affect them differently” and they’re all kinda tied together by a ghost character that’s lowkey a terrible person to turn to for advice but he’s just there to be a wicked and malicious thing lol. the oc in this piece is named dario and he’s the oldest, most gullible of my characters because he’s too nice of a person.. he’s poor and sells drugs and his romantic relationships never really go anywhere (but he’s a very sweet boy.. praying for him lol)

again tysm for taking the time to make the little fanfic concepts i loved reading them and i’m honoured that you completed it even though you were finished doing them ❤️ i hope you enjoyed reading what the illustration wips were 🎀🎀🎀😚😚

OMG I WAS SO EXCITED SEEING YOU BACK IN MY INBOX EXPLAINING ALL THE WIP DRAWINGS!!!! 😭💞💞💞 it’s also so cool to me to see how we interpreted these lil phrases??

the 1000 paper cranes is such a cool idea to go off based on his name!! i’m not super familiar w tokyo revengers but he does sound like a sweet boy 🥺 and that sounds like a lovely piece!!

passion and poetry!!! omg okay we were same brained a little there!!! god i love satosugu pieces and iN YOUR STYLE???? YOUR ART????? i’d lose my mind i really would. but you’re so right….the shit they say to each other…..SOOO ROMANTIC?? like i’m every aspect of the word! that’s a great title for them!! 💞

AND I WAS ALMOST GONNA DO ITAFUSHI W THIS ONE??? crazy. it was either them or satosugu but i COMPLETELY see that. itafushi another like poetically tragic sort. and that title!! the cursed sun!! the blessed moon!! literally it always makes me insane when characters can be compared to celestial bodies like that—whether opposites or complimentary. i bet whatever piece you end up coming up for this title (you’ve GOTTA use it you’re right it’s too good) will be amazing!! i eagerly await to lay my eyes on it 💞💞

AAAND YOUR OC??? i’m soo??? intrigued?? god first of all. i love a story where loneliness is explored and to top it off you add a GHOST?? oh i love ghosts. this story sounds really cool! and your oc sounds like such a sweetie too 😭💞💞 i am ALSO praying for him lmao 🙏🙏💞💞

gosh THANK YOU for taking the time to share!! genuinely so honored and this was such a cool idea you had 💞💞 i’m glad i got to hear your side of the titles too!!

[lesfeldickbiblestudy]

  Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 3 * PART 2 * BOOK 62 GOD IS NOT BEING UNFAIR - PART 2 ISAIAH 62:1 – 64:6 Okay, it’s good to see everybody in again. For those of you joining us on television, we always like to remind folks that we’re an informal Bible study. We have no denominational axe to grind. We’re not going to attack anybody, but we just hopefully will help people to see what The Book says. I think it’s accomplishing its purpose. I had someone call just this morning and that’s what they appreciate - that we aren’t sowing our opinionated ideas, but rather just simply showing what the Word of God says. That’s my whole concept of teaching; it is to make it so clear that there’s no real room for argument. Again, we thank you for your financial help. We’re not underwritten by anyone, remember. We don’t have a large group of people underwriting us. We are totally dependent on what comes in the mail. It’s amazing how God always supplies just what we need, and even as we take on new responsibilities it immediately starts coming in. So, we thank you from the depths of our heart, and for your prayers and your concerns. Well, today we’re privileged, again, to have my oldest son, Greg, and his wife, Janette, with us. He’s the one who ranches with me. Both of them are pretty active in the office, and they talk to a lot of you folks out there in television on the phone. So, we just want to give you a little glimpse of who you’re talking to when you call in and he says, "This is Les’ son." Janette, his wife, has become totally involved in the office, as well. So, we’re proud of the kids. They’re all part and parcel of the ministry. Okay, now we’re going to pick up where we left off. We’re going to read right from Isaiah 62 verse 1; we left off, I think, at the end of verse 3. We’re going to start our comments in verse 4, but I want to read from verse 1 to pick up the flow. Isaiah 62:1-2a "For Zion’s sake (for the sake of Jerusalem) will I not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest, until (Now remember, we commented in our last taping that until is a time word. God is never content until the day comes that He will return and set up the Kingdom promised to Israel.) the righteousness thereof go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp that burneth. 2. And the Gentiles shall see thy righteousness,…" You remember in the last program, we pointed it out, how when the Jew is under the influence of the new covenant, nobody will have to ask, "Is that a believing Jew?" They will all be filled with the knowledge of God and His righteousness. Isaiah 62:2b-3 "…and all kings thy glory: and thou shalt be called by a new name, (a name which only God knows) which the mouth of the LORD shall name. (in the future) 3. Thou shalt also be a crown of glory in the hand of the LORD, (Just take this in its illustration, just like a jewel inlaid crown that royalty wears, so will be the nation of Israel in the eyes of God.) and a royal diadem in the hand of thy God." Now, that’s the promise to Israel. Isaiah 62:4a "Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken, neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate:…" Now, remember, those are capitalized, so what does that mean? That’s what it is being called. They’re called "Forsaken." The land is being called "Desolate." All right, now I’m going to stop right there, and I’m going to bring you back with me to Leviticus chapter 26. I guess while you’re doing that I’m going to put something back on the board that may help concerning our timeline with Isaiah and other prophets concerning the future. Now, remember, the first desolation that was evident, a hundred years later of course, but nevertheless it was the one that was near term so far as Israel was concerned, was 606 BC. This is when the Babylonians came in and destroyed the Temple and Jerusalem and they went through 70 years of desolation. All right, the next great event was shortly after the crucifixion in 70 AD. Much the same thing happened with the Romans as happened back here with the Babylonians.

So, in 70 AD the Romans destroy the city and destroy the Temple. The Jew was again uprooted out of the land. Now, in 606 BC they were out of the land for 70 years. But, then it happened again in 70 AD. It has now been 1900 years plus from the time of the destruction of Jerusalem by the Roman General Titus, until the Jews started going back to the land and recovering it from its desolation. All right, now the next great desolation will come just seven years leading up to the return of Christ at His Second Coming. This seven years is also going to be a time of tremendous wrath, not desolation per se, like you have in 606 BC and 70 AD, but it’s going to be the outpouring of God’s wrath and judgment and the return of Christ; then finally, the glorious King and His Kingdom. Then all these good things will finally become a reality. So, maybe that will help. We’re talking about two great desolations. The 70 years following the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem, the seventy years of captivity. Then the next great event was 70 AD when the Romans came in and did the same thing, and we had 1900 + years of total desolation, again. Then finally, we come to the seven years of the Tribulation and the Second Coming. All right, now let’s read Leviticus 26 verse 32, and you’ll see what he’s talking about. This, too, is written by Moses, long before the Babylonians were even heard of. God says: Leviticus 26:32 "And I will bring the land (See how specific it is?) into desolation: (What land? The Promised Land. The Holy Land. The Land of Israel) and your enemies which dwell therein shall be astonished at it." The few survivors that stick around, the Arab in particular, the Bedouins and so forth, would look around them and marvel at the desolation - how nothing grows. Nothing prospers and the first time when Israel was out of the land it was that way for 70 years. I’ll show you, in a minute, how desolate it was at the end of the 70 years. But we’ll read on first that the enemies that are staying behind "will be astonished at it." Leviticus 26:33 "And I will scatter you (Israel) among the heathen, and will draw out a sword after you: (They would be hated and persecuted and murdered.) and your land shall be desolate, and your cities waste." Now, that was the promise of what God was going to do to Israel because of their unbelief, their idolatry, and their rejection of all the blessings of Jehovah. All right, I’m going to emphasize over and over that this wasn’t just a one-time thing. The seventy years of desolation would be followed by the same kind of desolation after the Roman destruction, only this one goes for 1900 + years, where the first one was 70. All right, I’ve done this before in some of my seminars and some of my classes in Oklahoma, but if those of you out in television will bear with me, I want you to listen to me as I read just a few words from a book written by Mark Twain, Samuel Clemens, the guy who wrote Huckleberry Finn. He was traveling in the Holy Land in the 1860’s. Now, don’t forget that date, 1860’s, about the time of our Civil War. This is from a book he wrote, and I want to give credit to it. Here it is. Now watch the words that Mark Twain uses, and he wasn’t knowledgeable of Scripture, I’m sure of that, but it’s the same kind of language. The Innocents Abroad "The soil is rich enough, but it is given completely to weeds, a desolation. There’s a desolation here that not even imagination can grace with the pomp of life and action. We never saw a human being on the whole route. We pressed toward Jerusalem. The further we went the hotter the sun got, the more rocky and bare and repulsive and dreary the landscape became. There was hardly a tree or a shrub anywhere. Even the olive tree and the cactus, those fast friends of a worthless soil, had almost deserted the country. Jerusalem is lifeless. It is a heartbroken land. Palestine sits in sackcloth and ashes. Over it broods the spell of a curse that has withered its field and fetters its energies.

It is desolate and unlovely and can the curse of a Deity beautify a land? Palestine (or what we call the Holy Land) is no more of this work-a-day world." [Editor's note: These statements by Mark Twain from The Innocents Abroad are found in chapters 47, 49, 52, 53, and 56 of his book. They are not written as a continuous paragraph.] Now, do you hear that? That’s from the pen of a man like Mark Twain, picturing the Holy Land in its desolation. It stayed that way from 70 AD all the way up until the late 1800’s, when the Jews, a sprinkling of them, started going back because of the persecution and programs that were taking place in other areas of the world. They began to clear the land of the rocks and the rubbish. They began to plant trees. Now, the last number I read was that Israel has planted 300 and some million trees since they have come back to the land. Out of that abject desolation, we see the land is once again, even as it will be far more so during the Kingdom, becoming a rose in the desert. It’s coming into full production. I want you to understand that when God speaks of the Promised Land of Israel as a desolation, it’s not just a play on words, it means what it says. Now, the first inkling we had of it was the first time Iris and I went over there was in 1975. I’ll never forget how we were driving along the Jordan Valley and there was nothing but desolation on both sides of the road. I even commented to her, I said, "Honey, how in the world can the Bible call this place the land of Promise! Who would want it? I mean there’s just nothing here." Well, when we went back in the early 90’s then, it was a great transformation. Irrigation. There were large wheat fields. There were all kinds of citrus groves and almond groves and everything. You could just see that the land was starting to blossom, like I said, like a rose. What a difference! But it came out of abject desolation. This is what I want people to understand. Then when old Arafat used to say, "a verdant, or green, land." No, it wasn’t, it was total desolation. All right, now just to show you how desolate it was, even at the end of the 70 years, come up with me, we may have done this not too long ago. Come up with me to Nehemiah, and I want to jump in at chapter 2. I thought I was going to finish Isaiah today, but there is no way, so there’s no use even trying. We might as well take what time we need for some of these other things. Nehemiah chapter 2, let’s just jump in at verse 11. Now, this is shortly after the 70 years that they were out of the land in the Babylonian captivity. In fact, it’s more than a year later, it’s almost 70-80 years later that Nehemiah comes, but now look at the language so that you can see that it wasn’t a temporary thing. When the Jews left, the Arabs didn’t come in and build it up and put it into production. No, it just stays desolate. Then when the Jews come back and begin to produce and hire help, then the Arabs come back. I mean, that’s the way it’s always been. Nehemiah 2:11-12a "So I came to Jerusalem, and was there three days. (That is from way back out in the Euphrates Valley.) 12. And I arose in the night, I and some few men with me; neither told I any man what my God had put in my heart to do at Jerusalem:…" Now remember, what were God’s instructions to Nehemiah? "Rebuild the city wall and the gates." Ezra had come almost a hundred years earlier to build the Temple, but now Nehemiah comes by God’s instruction and with the decrees from Artaxerxes the King to rebuild the city wall and the gates. Now, what’s the purpose? Well, you can’t have an entity of any worth without defense. You know, we were just talking about it last night. It’d be nice if we could dispense with all of our military. Wouldn’t it be nice if we didn’t worry about our borders, and we could just live in peace and tranquility? It doesn’t work that way. You have to maintain the defense of what you have. Israel was no different. So God instructed Nehemiah to go back and build the city wall and the gates.

Why? For defense. You can’t sit out there on the open hills; the enemy will come and run you over. So, that was the first instruction. "Go and rebuild the wall and the gates." Nehemiah 2:13 "And I went out by night by the gate of the valley, even before the dragon well, and to the dung port, (Those were all various gates in the city wall, previously.) and viewed (or overlooked) the walls of Jerusalem, which were (what?) broken down, and the gates thereof were consumed with fire." Seventy and hundred years later, they’re still just laying there in disarray, broken down. Which meant what? There was nothing but charred wood laying at what should be a gateway Nehemiah 2:14 "Then I went on to the gate of the fountain, and to the king’s pool: but there was no place for the beast that was under me to pass." (He was probably riding on a donkey. There wasn’t any place for the beast to go.) In other words, if there was a pool of water or a creek or something, the beast had no bridge to cross it. Nehemiah 2:15-16 "Then went I up in the night by the brook, and viewed the wall, and turned back, and entered by the gate of the valley, and so returned. 16. And the rulers knew not whither I went, or what I did; neither had I as yet told it to the Jews, nor to the priests, (Who, remember now, have been there for about a hundred years, building and rebuilding the Temple.) nor to the nobles, nor to the rulers, nor to the rest that did the work." Did they know he had been out surveying what needed to be done? No. All right, verse 17, I’m doing all this so that you’ll get a vivid picture of how desolate Jerusalem was, even though they’d been there a hundred years working on the Temple. But, so far as the secular end of the city, it was a shambles. Nehemiah 2:17 "Then I said unto them, Ye see the distress that we are in, how Jerusalem lieth waste, (It wasn’t a thriving city.) and the gates thereof are burned with fire: come, and let us build up the wall of Jerusalem, that we be no more a reproach." What does that mean? Why, you don’t even have a wall to defend your cities. You can’t sleep at night. Your enemies can just walk in and take you over. That’s a reproach. Well, listen, it means the same thing today. You cannot be a pacifist and survive, because it’s just normal human behavior to take what the next man has if it’s better than your own. It works with nations as it does with individuals. That’s why we have to have law and order. That’s why we have to have a defense system. You cannot be a pacifist in this world under the curse. It won’t work. Nehemiah 2:18a "Then I told them of the hand of my God which was good upon me; as also the king’s words that he had spoken unto me…." Now, we didn’t take the time to read the earlier verses, but what did King Artaxerxes tell him when Nehemiah said, I want to go back and rebuild the city wall? Old Artaxerxes, the king, says to make out a list of requirements. Tell us what you need and we’ll supply. So, this is what Nehemiah is going on. Nehemiah 2:18b "…as also the king’s words that he had spoken unto me. And they said, Let us rise up and build. So they strengthened their hands for this good work. The Jews he is addressing said what? Let’s build! Let’s get with it. Nehemiah 2:19a "But when Sanballat the Horonite, and Tobiah the servant, the Ammonite, (Now, what’s an Ammonite? Well, he’s an Arab. Read on.) and Geshem the Arabian, heard it,…" So, what have you got? The opposition from the Arab world just like it is today, and this is back here in about 450 BC. Nehemiah 2:19b-20 "…and Geshem the Arabian, heard it, they laughed us to scorn, and despised us, and said, What is this thing that ye do? Will ye rebel against the king? (Well, people didn’t know that the king was the one sponsoring it. But attitudes haven’t changed one iota.) 20. Then answered I them, and said unto them, The God of heaven, he will prosper us; therefore we his servants will arise and build: (Now, take note of the last part.) but ye (Now, who’s he talking to? The Arabians) have no portion, nor right, nor memorial, in Jerusalem.

" Now, isn’t that plain? There isn’t an Arab on this earth that has any claim to one square foot of Jerusalem. It’s the Promised Land. It was promised to God’s covenant people, Israel. All right, now we’ve got the same scenario coming back today. They’ve been in desolation for over 1800 years. I say 1800 because 70 AD is almost the end of the first century, and it wasn’t until the late 1800’s or about 1900 that the Jew started sprinkling back into what we call Palestine, or the area of Israel. Now, since 1900 they’ve been clearing the land and increasing the irrigation. It’s blooming like a rose in the desert, and Israel has come as far as she has come by God’s grace. It is getting ready. That’s what I want folks to see. Everything that you’re seeing in the Middle East, whether it’s Israel or the Arab world or the oil or whatever else, it’s all getting ready for the end time events that are staring us in the face. Okay, now let’s see, I think that’s enough of that for the time being. We’ll go back up to Isaiah chapter 62, where, remember, the LORD has promised that they will no longer be called forsaken, because He will have returned, He will now be their King, He’s bringing in this glorious Kingdom. They will no longer be called desolate because now the land is going to flow, literally, with "milk and honey" is the expression. I think I’ve explained it before. You know what it means to flow with milk and honey? It doesn’t mean that milk is going to come down the rivers. Honey isn’t going to come down off the mountains. So, where does the term come from? Well, everything that an environment needs to supply an abundance of milk, an abundance of honey, means you have to have what? You have to have grass and water for the cows to produce the milk, and if you’re going to have to have an abundance of honey, you have to have an abundance of blossoms. Fruit blossoms and flower blossoms, so the two concepts together mean the land is just going to be productive beyond comprehension. It’s going to be literally flowing with milk and honey. Not sticky honey, as such, but all the flowering trees and flowers and so forth. Not necessarily white milk coming down the river, but all the abundance of what it will take to produce it. That’s Israel’s future, it’s coming. All right, I’ve only got a couple or three minutes left. So, it’ll no longer be called desolate, but – flipside! Now, we’re going to make a series someday on all the ‘buts’ in Scripture. You know, it’s amazing how the Lord intervenes. I’ve been kind of dreading looking up all of the ‘buts’ in Scripture. The B-U-T’s. You know what came in the mail the other day? A guy did it for me! He sent a sheath, that thick, with all the ‘buts’ from Genesis to Revelation, so all I’m going to have to do is go through and pick out the ones that I can put on the program. I just said, "Thank you, Lord!" He probably saved me about ten hours of intense study trying to find them all. Isaiah 62:4b "…but thou shalt be call Hephzi-bah,…" Which means the one in whom is my delight. It’s actually the queen’s name of Hezekiah, and Hezekiah termed her ‘the one in whom I delight.’ Well, that’s what God is going to use to call Israel. Isaiah 62:4c "…and thy land Beulah: for the LORD delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be married." God is once again going to be so involved with the physical, earthly aspect of Israel’s lifestyle. All right, now then, verse 5. Isaiah 62:5 "For as a young man marrieth his virgin, so shall thy sons marry thee: (This is going to be a relationship, now, between God and the nation of Israel.) and as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee." But it’s all future. This hasn’t ever happened yet. Israel has never been in that kind of a place of obedience, but it’s coming. It’s coming. You know, there’s something that has really got my attention and I want all of you, even out there in television, to be aware of it. There is, seemingly, a spiritual awakening

taking place in the land of Israel and a lot of the Israelis are actually turning to Christ. Now again, I’m in no place to judge the authenticity of their salvation, but it’s kind of exciting when you get the reports of how many Israelis are now becoming open to the Gospel. So, I just can’t help but share it, that this is all telling us one thing. The end is coming close. It can’t be very much longer. Now, I’m not sensational. I don’t say next year or five years, but in terms of time, no, it’s not going to be very much longer.

[mrs-gauche]

There’s something about the ocean...

(In which I finally go completely haywire, because the wait for this next game is slowly but surely rotting my brain...)

So, here's something that has been on my mind ever since I first read all of Tevinter Nights.

Tell me if I'm wrong, but surely I wasn't the only one who thought, after finishing the whole book and looking at it in its entirety, that there seemed to be a notable recurring theme related to... the ocean?

A quick summary: We've got...

- the Qunari occupying the shores along the Arlathan Forest, to get resources for building more ships/dreadnoughts for their invasion

- some truly horrifying creatures lurking underground/beneath mountains that are not darkspawn but something much worse, probably the result of some evil ancient lyrium experiments from Ghilan'nain, made with "a gray fluid that smells like the ocean", despite the fact that they weren't anywhere near the sea

- an entire chapter about another octopus-esque monster with tentacles that lives in the sewers of Minrathous and kills countless people

- a confrontation on board a Qunari ship, the new Darvaarad, right before Rivaini harbors, that almost lead to war between Tevinter and Rivain

- in general, most of the chapters including scenes set around docks, harbors, beaches, coasts, rivers and lakes at some point

- an appearance of one of the Executors, a mysterious group of people who are coming from across the sea, and that Solas labels as "dangerous"

There's also this super gorgeous illustrated map of Thedas that came with every copy of the book and features quite a lot of intriguing looking sea creatures. 👀

Now, when I first thought about why that would be, I concluded that, well, of course the ocean is going to be more "prominent", considering how DA4 will be set in northern Thedas, primarily centering around Tevinter, Antiva, Rivain, Seheron or maybe even Par Vollen, ALL of which located directly at sea or very near the coastline. So naturally it makes sense for a book setting up the course for the next game, to focus more on that part of the world.

So when I first saw the DA4 Behind the scenes video at Gamescom then, a lot of the concept art seemed to confirm my assumption, presenting the possibility of a much more "oceanic" setting.

All this being said though, upon second thought... If we turn to the deep sea lore with all of this in mind, I think.. there might be more to the ocean and its relevants for DA4 than just the setting. 👀

Let us start by thinking about how the elements/nature factor into the lore in general. The first that comes to my mind is the oldest and perhaps most significant conflict in the history of Thedas that we know of (to date). The ancient elves, their magical floating cities, "gods" flying around in the form of dragons and a civilization build and dependent on the magic of the Fade, also called "the Sky", going at war with the Children of the Stone or rather "the Pillars of the Earth" itself, the Titans.

So, if we have the "Sky" essentially fighting the "Earth"...

Then... what about the Ocean?

Where does the ocean factor into all of this/what role does it play in the great scheme of it all and how is it relevant to the story of DA4, aside from its setting?

I might have an idea, but you may want to get that tinfoil hat first (and maybe some tea and a bit of time) before reading any further. 😁 It's just thoughts cobbled together in the hope of making any lick of sense (it won’t). lol

(Also, please picture me exactly like this meme while reading any of this.)

So... Let's talk about the Void for a second, shall we?

It's funny how it took me like a year to realize that the Fade and the Void were apparently two seperate things, because when I first started playing Dragon Age in German, in which the Fade has always been called "das Nichts" literally "the nothing", whereas the Void was translated with "die Leere", which is practically interchangeable in meaning, so until I looked deeper into the lore, I always assumed that they were pretty much the same thing. lol

(Ironically though, that's also what many people in Thedas seem to think as well?)

But, what really is the Void?

As it is with most things in DA, it really depends on what religious belief we're looking at.

The one thing that most cultures seem to have in common though, is that the Void is also called "the abyss" in myths and historical texts.

Its location is undefined, but it's believed to be probably somewhere within the Fade, rather than being a seperate place entirely.

Some also call it the "raw Fade" where there's nothing, simply "empty places between dreams".

Looking at the Chantry's definition, to make a long story short, the Void is basically the Thedosian equivalent to the real world's Christian belief of Hell. After death, you either take your place at the Maker's side or - if you're a sinner - your soul will be lost in the endless abyss and wandering the Void forever.

But then there's also this part of the Canticle of Andraste:

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.

From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.

Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.

In my arms lies eternity.

Hmmmm. A well of all souls, where life begins anew.... Sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?

Take it from the man of the hour himself. After Wisdom's death, Solas will return to Skyhold and, if you like, explain to the Inquisitor what happens when a spirit dies. He also says this:

"I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be. It's empty. But there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there."

So according to Mr Take-it-as-fact-cuz-I've-literally-been-there, the Void is the place where spirits are born/die. So it's interesting that it does seem to somewhat align with the Canticle's depiction of a "Well of all souls, where life begins anew".

(Getting a bit of "Hades' river of souls" vibes here. Anyone?)

(Stay tuned for more Greek mythology comparisons, by the way. lol)

Anyway. Going quickly back to the Canticle however, it also mentions "emerald waters":

"This fragment is where Andraste goes to speak to the Maker for the first time and convinces him to forgive mankind. It describes “a beautiful temple deep under the earth surrounded by emerald waters".

One interpretation of this verse directly equates "the emerald waters of the abyss" to "the waters of the Fade".

So we have the "Well of all souls, where life begins anew", the Void as the place where spirits are born, and a beautiful temple surrounded by "emerald waters of the abyss" deep under the earth.

The capital of Elvhenan, Arlathan, is said to have sunken "deep onto the ocean floor" when the empire fell. Could this be in any way connected to the temple Andraste saw deep under the earth surrounded by water? This would fit well with the theory of Andraste being Mythal's previous host, assuming that she were shown visions or dreams or whatever in the Fade by Mythal.

See, the thing is, I'd count myself to one of the people who are pretty much convinced at this point that Arlathan was/is the Golden/Black City in the center of the Fade (not going into details here, because this is way too long already..), and according to the lore, it was Tevinter who sank Arlathan into the ocean long after the Veil was created, so unless Tevinter fabricated that part of their victory as well and it wasn’t actually them who sank it (just like it wasn’t actually Tevinter that caused Elvhenan’s downfall)... how would this make sense then? I mean, there cannot be two Arlathans, one in the center of the Fade, and another Arlathan essentially at the center of the world, which is what I'm going to say "on the ocean floor" means.

Which is where we finally go back to Ancient Greek Mythology! 😂

So.. I am by no means an expert on Greek mythology, but even I know that there's only one city in history that became pretty much so popular for having "sunken into the ocean" that it's still talked about over 2000 years later as one of the oldest and greatest mysteries of the world.

So I think it's pretty safe to say that the devs must've taken at least some inspiration from the story of the Lost City of Atlantis. (Like, it even sounds similar? Atlantis/Arlathan? No?)

Let's see...

Atlantis, a fictional island mentioned in an allegory on the hubris of nations in Plato's works, representing the antagonist naval power that besieges Ancient Athens = Arlathan, the capital city of the empire of Elvhenan, representing the epitome of power and pride of the Evanuris, the evil false gods, who enslaved the Ancient elves, and "Pride" essentially being the cause for Elvhenan's downfall

Hmmmmm.

"It was the hubris of men that brought the darkspawn into our world." - literally the first line in Origins, and a theme that's conveyed throughout the entire series. I could talk about why I believe that the Evanuris are to blame for the Blight, but that's a rambling post for another day (and oh boy, will it be a long one lol).

Let me take this even further, because that tinfoil is eating up my brain.

Cerberus, hellhound of Hades = Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, demonic god of Nightmares

Hell/Underworld = Void/Abyss

Cerberus guards the gates of the Underworld = Fen'Harel guards the gates of the Black City/prison of the Evanuris

Plato's story concludes with Atlantis, a powerful and advanced kingdom, falling out of favor with the deities and submerging, within in a night and a day, into the Atlantic Ocean = Arlathan is said to have sunken onto the ocean floor (after Solas created the Veil to lock the gods away?)

Okay. Taking (*gestures wildly*) whatever all this is.. and moving on... you may remember a certain little codex entry that can be found at the Temple of Mythal.

The codex speaks of a story about Ghilan'nain who was offered apotheosis if she would destroy all her creations, elevating her to become part of the elvhen pantheon and claim godhood. It is said that she then destroyed all the creatures of land and air (except for some birds and halla 'cause they're way too pretty), but when she was about to do the same to the creatures of the deep sea, "Pride stopped her hand".

Alright. So why would Mr Capital P Pride prevent Ghili from destroying her sea creatures, if it doesn't turn out that Solas somehow just really loves big fishies. Knowing our man, he does nothing without a reason or a plan behind it.

(And going by any of the descriptions used in the "Horror of Hormak" chapter in Tevinter Nights, I can only imagine what kind of terrifying, monstrous creatures of Ghilan’nain must lurk at the bottom of the sea...)

I hope that tinfoil hat still sits on tight, because this is where I completely go off the rails.

Ok so, even though I'm fully convinced that Arlathan has to be the Black City...

Let us just for one second here assume that Arlathan really did sink onto the ocean floor and the Black City in the center of the Fade is.. idk, maybe just another part of Arlathan that split when the Veil was created? So if the rest of Arlathan really did end up on the ocean floor, why would Solas need big dangerous ancient sea creatures to still exist?

Well, the Black City in the center of the Fade can't be reached, right? And that's intentional, because no one should be able to open its gates and free the Evanuris from their eternal prison (and maybe unleash something even worse), right? We know what happened when the Magisters Sidereal did just that.

But... what if it's the same thing with the "other" Arlathan in the real world? What if that place is also not supposed to be reached? And how would you achieve that in the real world? I mean, I feel like dumping it onto the ocean floor would probably already do the job, but to really ensure that no one would ever dare to go there, Solas - in true Solas fashion - planned way ahead and made sure that big scary ancient monster Kraken Cthulhus would prevent anyone from ever reaching that place.

Solas told us that sleeping in ancient ruins will allow you to enter/explore such long forgotten places/memories in the Fade. So.. what if entering the ruins of "Arlathan" in the real world would be the key to enter the Black City in the Fade?

Do I sound insane? Does any of this make sense? I don't know anymore. My head hurts.

But why else would Solas do something like this?

Ok, pushing the Atlantis/Arlathan insanity aside for now, let's take a closer look at something that's less headache-inducing. lol Notice how one of the murals seen in Trespasser shows those wavey, "water-like" patterns that look different from how the “waters of the Fade” are depicted in every other mural, so could there be a hint at some kind of connection to the ocean?

Going back to the beginning though, when we talked about the Void/Abyss. Because hell, we haven't even talked about how the elves themselves define it (unless you count Solas as one of them, which he doesn't even do himself, so whatever 😂).

So the Dalish speak of the abyss as the home of the Forgotten Ones.

(And while I'm writing this, my mind just went completely bonkers and.... what if.. the Forgotten Ones.. are locked in that other part of Arlathan that's on the ocean floor?? Dalish legend says that the creators where locked in the "heavens"/the Sky/Black City in the Fade, while the Forgotten Ones were locked in the "abyss"/underneath the Earth/the other part of Arlathan on the ocean floor?? And maybe THAT'S why no one shall reach it/the thing with the sea creatures??? Guys, my head is about to explode. This doesn't make any sense, right? It's stupid, right? Right??)

Anyway. Back to the Void and Dalish legends. *trying to calm down*

"When Andruil began stalking the Forgotten Ones in the Void, she suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning. She put on armor made of the Void, and all forgot her true face. She made weapons of darkness, and plague ate her lands. She howled things meant to be forgotten, until Mythal turned into a great serpent and sapped Andruil's strength with her magic, stealing her knowledge of how to find the Void. Andruil could not get back to the abyss ever since, and peace returned."

I mean, upon first impression, that does sound pretty damn similiar to what we know of corruption by the Blight/red lyrium/etc... But that honestly kinda irks me, because it's actually conflicting with my own theory on how/when/where the Blight originated 😂, which I believe was the Golden City, Arlathan, itself and that it was the origin of the Blight that lead to it turning black.

Hmm.

We already established that the Void is the place where spirits are born, emptiness between dreams, a "well of all souls". During the Witch Hunt DLC, Eleni Zinovia speaks of a breached prison and the shadow that will consume all. (Sandal's prophecy says "the shadows will part" when "he rises".) She then mentions "a hunger, a cage, a yawning void". There are also the "Empty Ones", a Nevarran cult predating the Chantry, who preached that the Blight came from the Void, a place of nothing.

So how about this idea then: What if the Blight came indeed from the Black City, BUT Arlathan was somehow contained within the Void, which prevented the Blight from spreading any further (until the Magisters breached in) and is also preventing anyone from reaching it now??

(I officially have no clue what I'm talking about anymore. And what does any of that have to do with the Ocean, you ask? Hell if I know. 😂)

So ANYWAY.

At last, let's paddle back and talk about DWARVES.

As you return to the Deep Roads section in Trespasser, the one that was mined for lyrium by Mythal, you'll see that it's almost completely flooted and submerged by water at that point. Trespasser also told us that the ancient elves tried anything to seal and destroy parts of the Deep Roads, after the Evanuris had uncovered something in their lust for power/mining the Titan’s blood/lyrium, that could have destroyed the entire world. And looking at these massive amounts of lyrium “coffins” that we saw in the Deep Roads in Trespasser, you have to wonder what would happen to such a place or any sea creatures living down there when it’s completely submerged by the ocean.

Additionally, the three lower levels in the Descent DLC - Forgotten Caverns, Bastion of the Pure and the Wellspring - are grouped at the expedition table as locations within "the Uncharted Abyss". 👀

In Origins, the Anvil of the Void turned living dwarves into golems of stone with the use of lyrium.

Medusa Solas has the ability to turn people into stone (and apparently even golems, who just.. die, I guess, according to Tevinter Nights). So could this ability be in any way connected to the Void then? Taking my unhinged idea from before, about the Black City maybe being contained within the Void, Solas would've been the one who did this.

We also have Meredith technically turning into "stone" of red lyrium when she died and a certain someone's idol taken out of her chest...

Gosh, why does everything ALWAYS end up getting back to this damn thing?? It's like the biggest enigma to me in all of this and it's obviously going to play a big part in the next game with how much attention it's getting.

And speaking of the idol getting attention, in the tale of the infamous "Hunt of the Fell Wolf" codex in Jaws of Hakkon, which is likely to contain a number of super ominous hints, Ameridan lands in a "watery grave" at one point. This could mean absolutely nothing, but given all the potential implications this tale could have for the Inquisitor in DA4... Let's just say, I'm scared.

(And looking at this concept art again with all of this in mind, if the thing we see here really is Ghilan'nain and take all the stuff in Tevinter Nights into account with the "ocean-smelling gray fluid" and the horrifying creatures underground that are, I quote, "Waiting for her", seeing as this "goddess" appears to break out of what looks like huge ocean waves and the last we heard from the Evanuris being "If we get out of here, I will end Fen'Harel"... I don't know about you guys, but after rereading that Horror of Hormak chapter again, I genuinely think that we'll need Solas to be on our side in the fight against this thing, because I honestly can't see how we're going to counter this, unless we have our own "god" to match this "goddess". 😂)

Additionally, besides the before mentioned Executors in Tevinter Nights, the World of Thedas book describes entire nations living across the sea and beyond the borders of the map that have never even made contact with anyone in Thedas. There are also legends of the Amaranthine Ocean, in which people had mysteriously vanished or gone mad after travelling there. Not to mention the age-old question of where the humans of Thedas or the Kossith even came from in the first place. 👀

I think, if there's anything we can actually take from all of this, it's that the ocean was and still is a widely unexplored, unknown territory to the people of modern Thedas, as it was to the ancient elves and the dwarves all these ages ago. The dwarves never left their Titans and the ancient elves travelled by using eluvians, so there would've been no need to venture to the sea.

In modern Thedas however, the sea is now being explored not only for trade and travelling by common folk, merchants and pioneers, but also the Qunari with their dreadnoughts, slave traders, pirates like the Felicisima Armada operating from Llomerryn in Rivain, which happens to be known for being a haven for raiders, brigands and various criminals, due to its location as a port city and political neutrality, and also the base to the a certain renowned guild of treasure hunters introduced in Tevinter Nights.

(Hands up if your money is on Lord of Fortune for next protagonist 🖐)

Look who’s stepping out of the ocean here like it’s their own friggin domain, with all that sweet shiny loot and this gigantic burning dreadnought in the back, hell yeah.

But maybe that's exactly what will be one of our next protagonist's biggest advantages. For all his god like powers and knowledge, the ocean might be one of the few things that Solas doesn't know shit about. lol

To quote himself, "The dreams were never worth the effort".

Which raises the question.

...Can wolves swim?

[socksjinie]

wonder: chapter 02 | bts

synopsis. she had forgotten all about her favorite idols from her teenage years, but a reminder came to her through email format. the content of it? simple: working with the idols themselves — bts. how wonderful could that be?

✿ main chapters of the wonder drabbles; read them here

pairing. bts x oc's

genre. idol au + fluff + slice of life + smut

word count. 1877

warnings. lots of unseen glances and tension :/

A couple of weeks had gone by since the first meeting Carolina had with HYBE’s representatives. Since then she had been very busy with all the formalities required for the production of the new highlight reel for BTS. She had to sign a series of different contracts, half of them being confidentiality agreements. 

Today, as agreed before, her day would be packed with meetings. Starting at nine, she would have an hour with each individual member of BTS. Like Bang Pd had previously stated, the company did nothing without the boys' consent when it came to their own productions and concept, so this was a way to brainstorm with them different scenarios for the highlight reel. And it was true, they all had very different visions for what they wanted, but in the end, they fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Jin was the first member Carolina met with. Once she arrived in the open space auditorium, at the very top of the building, he was already waiting with a coffee in hand. Once he noticed her, he stood up and bowed politely, and she mimicked his actions. 

They began discussing Jin’s ideas right away. She had noticed he wasn’t one to beat around the bush with introductory talking, and she liked that very much about him — she too hated small talk. In brief seconds he had confided he wanted to do something different from what he had always done. 

“I think people perceive me as being old-fashioned just because I’m the oldest… Or that I’m maybe too old to be acting as the youngest,” Jin explained, making her laugh alongside him in understanding. “I want to change that.” 

Carolina kept scribbling in her notebook, little fragments of what he was saying. 

“And what do you have in mind?” She asked curiously as to what he was thinking giving the context. 

“Well, I for once would like to be seen doing things I really enjoy doing, like… Hmm, amusement parks! Since it’s a highlight reel, I think it would be fitting, right?” He pondered. “You can add whatever you feel that would give off the ‘youth’ look to it,” Jin suggested and Carolina wrote everything down. An idea popped into her head almost immediately. 

Their meeting was briefer than she had expected, Jin really didn’t waste time showing his preferences and giving her the free pass to do what she felt would match the concept he was going for. A little before the clock hit ten, signaling it was Namjoon’s turn, Jin received a text. It was the boy himself saying he was a bit late, so the oldest invited Carolina to the cafeteria right across the room, which she politely accepted. 

Namjoon came in a rush, which she found extremely cute. He apologized for his tardiness and explained he hadn’t taken the path with his bike to work for a while. Their meeting went by flying, his train of thoughts was so interesting that Carolina lost sight of the time, only being reminded of it when Jimin came in giggly announcing he was already on the wait. 

Jimin was overly excited to be working with someone new and he listened more than he gave ideas. He was charming and very receptive to every suggestion Carolina gave him. Working with someone like him was a blessing, she concluded. 

After him, she went to grab a quick bite in a nearby cafe. Her journal in hand, trying to connect everything she had written down until now into a bigger plot. The meetings returned again at one o’clock with Yoongi. She saw herself standing in the same auditorium, relishing the view before her, before realizing it was already fifteen minutes past the scheduled hour and still no sign of the boy in question. 

Once he finally appeared, apologizing for being late, Carolina could notice he hadn’t been up for too long. It was written all over his puffy eyes and messy hair. 

He grabbed a quick coffee before they finally started talking. And they talked, how they talked… About everything but the highlight reel. They started on the music subject and the piano. Carolina admitted she didn’t exactly know how to play it but her grandmother was a true master of the instrument, which peaked Yoongi’s attention the minute she mentioned it. 

Unfortunately, time flew by fast, and before they noticed, someone was clearing their throat to make himself announced. Turns out Jungkook had been standing close by but they were so absorbed by their little chat they didn’t notice his presence. 

“Well, it was nice talking to you,” Yoongi said sheepishly while standing up. “Even though we didn’t really discuss much the highlight video.” 

That made Carolina genuinely smile. “I got you covered, don’t worry.” She assured him, and he showed a gummy smile. “But we can always schedule another meeting sometime this week. If you’re free, of course!” 

“Or maybe I could get your number? To discuss the ideas for the video and stuff…” Yoongi trailed off awkwardly. It was quite the sight. He had his left hand rubbing his neck, biting down a shy smile. 

Jungkook who was watching this whole number silently, suddenly got impatient and made himself known once again by bluntly passing by in the middle of the other two on his way to sit down. 

“Oh- yeah, sure!” Carolina responded, her eyes burning the back of the maknae’s head for interrupting the moment. 

She quickly typed her phone number on the device Yoongi gave her and offering a last smile he left. Her attention was completely on Jungkook now, who was already watching her attentively with arms crossed. 

He somehow was a completely different person from the last time she saw him. He gave a million different ideas, including photography-wise and camera work — and that surprised Carolina a lot — talking about it non-stop. She was kind of amused by his new attitude. 

The only member left to meet now was Taehyung, since Hoseok was having a few days off because of family matters — she was planning on filling him in once he came back. Carolina and Jungkook were still debating on scene composition when Taehyung arrived like a pile of energy. And somehow Jungkook kept lingering in the room. 

Like the other members, Taehyung spoke his heart out. But he was the one giving the most out-of-the-box ideas, some made Carolina laugh out loud, beyond entertained. 

“What?” He asked the girl, lighthearted, “You don’t think that’s possible?” 

“It isn’t.” Jungkook scoffed. 

“On the contrary. I just think it’s unpredictable.” She explained herself. “But I like it! That’s why I started photography in the first place, to challenge myself.” 

And that made Taehyung’s smile grow wider, and Jungkook looked at her with curiosity. 

“I was actually looking at your photographs the other day, and you have a real gift. They’re beautiful!” Taehyung complimented, and Jungkook was caught once again as being an observer, never fully participating in the conversation, just waiting anxiously for the next reply. “We could go out sometime to take some shots if you’re not too busy?” 

“Aren’t you?” She giggled. If they were preparing for the comeback, their schedule should be more than full. 

“Not really, we have this week free because of all the meetings and stuff.” He shrugged, but contrary to the action he seemed way happier. Probably to be having some free time away from all the tiring dance practices every day. “You want to go on a surprise ride with me tonight?” He now directed the question to Jungkook who was startled by the sudden attention. 

“Me? Oh no, I have a- A thing to do today, hyung, I’m sorry.” He lied. 

“Some other time then,” Taehyung said not losing his spirit. “What about you? If you’re free tonight… I have my camera with me!” He asked Carolina instead, in expectation. 

Jungkook’s eyes were also on her, expectant, but she didn’t notice that. And there was no way she could say no to Taehyung, especially when it came to photography. 

“Sure! I’m always up to adventure!” 

Surprised by her answer, Jungkook’s mouth opened and closed to say something. But he didn’t. 

It was six o’clock when they left the building. Jungkook had stayed behind, watching as they went away overly cheerful while he was doomed to get bored in his own house, not doing a thing for the rest of the evening. 

As for the other two, they took pictures for a long time next to the Han river, as the sky colors were starting to fade away into a deep blue, almost black. Once the street lamps started to light up, the duo decided to go and have dinner together. The restaurant was chosen by Taehyung, claiming the space was usually frequented by his close friends. 

The place was beautiful, Carolina could see why Taehyung’s friends would come so often. It had a cozy feeling to it despite being fancy and well furnished. 

They ordered and began looking through their phones and cameras to see the photos they had snapped throughout the whole evening. As they were excitedly comparing the quality of the pics, someone called for Carolina, interrupting their chat. 

“Carol?” 

Carolina looked up at her name being called. Since she was in South Korea, it was almost impossible for the calling not to be meant for her. Her eyes widened when she noticed who it was. 

“Deo?!” 

And at that Taehyung’s eyes left his vintage camera to look up as well. 

Carolina quickly got up from her seat, with a big smile on, and the girls hugged each other. They kept looking at one another incredulous. What were the odds of running into a college friend, years later, in Seoul out of all places? 

“What are you doing here?” Carolina asked amused by the universe’s tricks. 

“Long story short, I live here now! I’ve been living here for the past three years,” Deo said, giving a quick glance at Carolina’s company on the table. “You’re doing photography?” 

“I am! But what about you?” Carolina questioned excitedly. She would never believe to meet again her once best friend miles away from home. 

“I work for Gucci actually. I’m the store director here in Seoul.”

The girls kept chatting completely unaware of Taehyung’s gaze over them. 

“Oh, and this is Taehyung,” Carolina introduced him, mouthing a quick ‘I’m sorry’ to the boy who reassured her with a smile. “This is Deo, an old friend of mine.” 

Taehyung got up from his chair to bow and Deo did the same, only slightly. 

“Want to join us?” Carolina asked absentmindedly, not reading the room because of her sudden euphoria. Both of them seemed tense. 

“Oh, no, I actually have to go! I’m on a date.” Deo deviated her lingering eyes to look back at Carolina, “But here’s my number.” She extended a business card to her friend who gladly took it. “Text me later, yes?” 

The girls hugged each other once more and said their goodbyes. Deo only waved awkwardly to Taehyung and he offered her a small smile, seeing her go. 

Sitting down, Carolina focused her attention on Taehyung once more. 

“So, speaking of Gucci…” She started, and his heart did a loop inside his ribcage.

✿ next chapter >

© socksjinie | all rights reserved. ⏤ do not copy. do not translate. do not repost.

if you want to be tagged for the next chapter, comment bellow!

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 6

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 2.9K

chapters: 6/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”.

notes: slightly shorter than my usual, but i needed to get some stuff fixed up. if ya’ll like my stories please consider donating to my ko-fi— a bitch is poor lmao

Steve swept you up in his arms and turned to deposit you on the landing upstairs, evidently trusting the others to keep you contained for a moment. There was an audible scuffle going on in the den, Bucky would be heard growling from outside—snapping at someone who made the mistake of asking how he’d gotten out there so fast? Tony was growling at Peter who looked seconds away from begging for forgiveness.

“You guys made it safe, I’m happy to see you Nat,” Steve drew the redhaired woman into his arms and sighed in relief, but you couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement; honestly you were having trouble thinking, your brain clouded with the sudden onset of absolute and uncontrolled panic.

The moment the black-haired man had been pulled away by the delta currently stomping back up the stairs, clarity had returned to you like a slap in the face. The golden fog that obscured your vision immediately dissipated and just as quickly you’d been overwhelmed with gut wrenching fear. You didn’t actually remember kicking Steve in the face or making a break for the stairs, but evidently you had and you cursed your hindbrain for running towards the stairs—you should’ve jumped straight out the window; you had a better chance at out running Bucky and whoever else was down there than the two alpha primes and their surrounding packmates.

Before you could even take a step towards the still wide-open window, the black-haired man appeared with a green flash and wrapped around you tightly. “Shhh , pet, no. No windows for you, darling, come now—back to your nest.”

In a moment of truly unusual harmony, your consciousness and hindbrain agreed that the bed was the last place you wanted to be. That wasn’t your bed, the omega hissed tearfully, you’d never made a nest—that wasn’t yours. It could barely be called a nest, even. There hadn’t been any careful consideration regarding the placement of the pillows and blankets, there were no articles of clothing or soft items that had been scavenged or stolen to elicit a feeling of safety or comfort. Worst of all was the way it smelled. Obviously, it didn’t reek, the mix of individual scents wasn’t a bad conglomeration, but your hindbrain whined at the unfamiliarity. This wasn’t your pack’s scent.

The cohesion was jarring, and you groaned. Regardless of the reasoning, your hindbrain was aware that you didn’t get to have a pack and that reminder always hurt. It desperately desired one, but an omega’s primary objective was survival.

After all, you in all of your fully conscious state knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would never have a pack—it wasn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting at this point in your life. You were too old to be regressed into the type of omega that packs wanted, your body too badly reliant on the chemical reactions produced by suppressants after fifteen years to stop taking them. At your age, to be found by a pack meant death.

They would get sick of trying to fix you. You’d die from quitting the suppressants cold turkey. They’d beat you for disobedience until your body gave up. You were nearly thirty and that was ancient for an unbound omega and you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially an old dog who was bound and determined not to be taught.

“LOKI!” Bucky bellowed as he stomped past Steve and the redhead on the stairs, looking three shades past furious.

The man holding you let go very quickly after that, spinning you away and moving to intercept the furious delta with an equally unpleasant expression. Why couldn’t you have just fucking kept it together upon meeting Bruce—that blood in the water, shark nosed asshole, if you had reigned in your panic there was no way he could’ve scented you through your suppressants. Steve was a different story, but if you’d been quick and calm you probably could’ve made it.

You scanned the room quickly; Bruce was on the bed, checking on Wanda. Bucky and Loki were on the floor fighting, half entangled with Peter and Sam who were doing their best to put their own fight aside to keep the deltas from killing each other. Steve was still halfway down the stairs with the other redhead, talking to her quietly. Tony was—

“Okay, princess, okay,” Tony was wrapped tightly around you from behind, carefully keeping your head braced between his chin and shoulder when you tried to thrash. “This isn’t fair to you, you’re way too fragile for this right now. Put your head here, breathe with me.”

“Please let me go,” you didn’t realize you were crying until you spoke, words coming out in sobs. “I don’t want to die like this, please—”

“You are not going to die, little love,” Thor sounded so sad from where he came to stand in front of you. “I’m not going to bond you, not while you’re so upset. But the results of the tests Bruce ran showed that you are in danger. I cannot allow that and no matter how angry you are with us, we will not let you suffer needlessly.”

“I’m not suffering! I swear, I swear I’m not suffering I’m, I’m happy! I’m happy living my life the way I have been. Please, let me have the choice, I want to be alone, it makes me happy!”

Trying to explain to a literal God why you deserved personal agency was an exhausting business, especially when said God was as condescending as Thor. His indulgent and sad smile was nearly enough to tip you over the edge, but there really wasn’t a point in getting angry—he obviously couldn’t even fathom the concept that what he was doing was wrong. It’s not like you could do anything anyway, you weren’t built for violence but for running away. Every bone in your body vibrated with rage; the injustice was overwhelming.

For fifteen whole years you’d been just fine. You would’ve continued to be just fine, if it weren’t for some super nosed freaks crossing your path. What were the odds of the only people in the world who could scent you from beneath more than a decade’s worth of suppressant use would have a cabin in Quebec that you happened to clean—and run into said people because they happened to show up early; an incredibly unusual situation.

It made you think about Mrs. Hunt. She’d only called to give you a heads up because of the last time, when the homeowner had tried to assault you even while he’d thought that you were a beta . You wondered how long it would take her to realize something was wrong; it was getting late and you’d yet to return her cart despite telling her you’d be there shortly.

The real question would be whether she tried to help or not once she discovered your presentation. She could try to help, try to stick them with omega theft, but they could claim civic duty like Peter had earlier. Besides, that was contingent upon her wanting to help you considering you’d lied to her for so many years.

“You’re so distressed, won’t you let me purr for you?”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare take away—”

“Little love, please—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t even know me,” you spat, turning to address the room at large. “What kind of fucking superheros are you? Let go of me! Let me go!”

Tony sighed and hefted you up into his arms, one wrapped around your torso while the other hooked under your knees and pinned you carefully across his body. You struggled uselessly against his strong hold; he wasn’t as strong as Thor or Steve, but his bicep was massive next to your head and you could feel his muscles through his clothes as he walked to the bed.

“We can’t, princess,” he murmured into the side of your head as he lowered both of you to the bed, sitting propped against a mass of pillows in the corner. “We’ll never find an unbound omega in your age range again. Plenty of omegas have been offered to us, but they’re all practically children. You’re our last chance—”

“There are plenty! You said plenty! Pick the oldest who wants to be in this fucking shit show and leave me alone!” Everyone tensed when the tone in your voice approached a shriek.

“We’re not taking an omega who’s not even legal to drink—”

“That alpha is like eighteen!” You tried to gesture to Peter, who gaped at you like you’d wounded him, but your arms were still pinned tightly to your sides.

“Peter is twenty-four, actually,” Tony spoke with mirth when Peter jumped onto the bed and crawled until he was pressed against Tony’s side and your back. “And before you ask, Wanda is twenty-six.”

“We’re so lucky to have found you,” the alpha half purred, pressing his nose into the back of your neck. “We’ll make you happy, happier than you are now.”

“It’s gonna be a rough start,” Bruce laid down in the nest a few feet away, welcoming the woman you recognized as the Black Widow into his arms when she slithered into the bed. “We have to balance your hormones, or you will die. You wouldn’t have lasted another year on those suppressants.”

“Death would be a reprieve,” you hissed shortly, freezing when the tone of the room immediately changed.

All attention was suddenly on you, Bruce still making direct eye contact with those sad puppy eyes, “I know that feeling, sweetheart—”

“We will do it another way then,” Thor interrupted, sending Bruce a quieting but loving look. “I said I would not bond you while you are in distress anda I will never break a promise to you. Open your mouth, this will be quick.”

Steve seemed to sigh in response and followed to stand next to the other prime, “I lost my chance. You’ll help her?”

Thor leveled the shorter blond with a careful look before nodding, both showing signs of deference and affection and respect that you did not care for. The rattle of a belt prompted Tony to turn you, setting you carefully between his legs while continuing to hold down your arms with what could appear to be an affectionate bear hug. He even linked his fingers with yours, squeezing gently as you tried to squirm.

“No. No, no no no, that’s disgusting, I won’t—”

“Shhh , I’ll do all the work little love, all you need to do is swallow.”

He was jerking his cock carefully, a flick of his wrist near the head catching your eye. That was a dangerous weapon, the same way you’d come to learn Steve’s was and you had no intention of letting it anywhere near your mouth. You clamped your lips shut, teeth grinding.

“Stubborn,” Peter snorted a laugh and you would’ve snapped at him had his hand not dove between your thighs, fingers gliding through the slick lips of your cunt until he found your clit.

You had to stop yourself from screeching, the head of Thor’s cock directly in front of your face. “Very. Come on now, open up.”

The fingers pinching your nose shut came as a shock, you’d crushed your eyes shut out without realizing it and they snapped open when your face was assaulted. Steve was kneeling on the bed, carefully cutting of your air supply with one hand and stroking your head with the other.

“Come on, precious, you’ve gotta breathe,” he stated softly, smiling when you were forced to pull your lips back to gasp for breath—until he realized your teeth were still locked together. “Really ‘mega?”

The next thing you knew his thumb was shoving against your molars, literally prying your jaw open. There was no way to fight it without hurting yourself, especially once he wedged his thick thumb between your top and bottom teeth. You barely had a second to anticipate the horror before an unnecessarily large cock found it’s way between your lips.

You tried to shriek, your brain finally catching up to the whole series of events, but it was no use. His scent was overwhelming and his dick stretched your lips, your jaw forced completely open. Thor groaned, a triggering noise as he very carefully pressed forward until your mouth was completely full and he was settled against you tongue.

“Suck for me, little love, just a little,” he grunted, just barely working his member between your lips while his huge hand stroked the rest.

It took a surprisingly small amount of time for a massive load of cum to shoot into your mouth. It was thick, and the way that Thor growled immediately made your pupils blow wide like you’d done a line of coke.  

Your body went lax immediately and you swallowed on instinct when a hand gently rubbed your throat. The fuzz in your brain was the result of arousal, a brutal orgasm that rocked your body at the sound in combination with your body’s sheer delight at the taste of alpha cum. Somewhere you realized that was disgusting but the haze in your brain made you more focused on the hand between your thighs rather than the indignity.

“Man, this shit ain’t fair,” Sam complained, panting from the exertion of trying to prevent Loki and Bucky from killing each other. “They get to cuddle and we—Hey!  Quit that, man!”

“All of you stop fighting,” Steve’s alpha order was brutal and effective.

The sounds of scuffling from behind Thor stopped immediately and there were huffs and snarls and low grumbles but the nest started shifting all around you. You were dropped back to lay against Tony’s chest, having inadvertently swallowed the entirety of the god’s massive load.

“She’s so cute,” Wanda cooed from somewhere to your left.

“We’ll need to go over what we’re doing from here,” Steve sighed once everyone had settled, still watching your dazed expression with a small smile. “But let’s just… nest for a bit, okay?”

The word nest triggered something in your half alpha-cum stoned brained and you looked around the den with a displeased expression. It was a terrible nest; all of the pillows and blankets were in weird heaps and the scent was so wrong. You didn’t really want to nest here, your hindbrain grumbled in agreement, but you’d fix the damn thing. You whined and wriggled until Steve gave Tony the go ahead to stop fully restraining you.

The bed was incredibly soft, which was an upside and crawling across it was like sinking your knees into clouds as you collected the soft heaps of blankets and pillows as you went. You wanted everything off so you could start from scratch, brain muddled by the wrongness of the current layout. You wanted to wash the sheets, the pillow cases, the blankets, all of it. The scent wasn’t right.

“Help her.” It was a quiet request from the Black Widow, who’d also started shifting around to remove the items. “She doesn’t like it like this.”

It was easier to get everything pushed away and in neat piles with the packs’ help, everyone immediately moving to help organize the pillows. You only snapped at the blond beta—Hawkeye, your memory supplied— once for putting a soft blanket on the pile with the not soft blankets. He immediately gave an apologetic burr to which your hindbrain purred back instinctually; evidently a good reaction.

“Why does she like Clint? They haven’t even spoken.”

“She doesn’t like him, she snarled at him!”

“She hasn’t purred at anyone else!”

“Shut up, fuckin’ idiot.”

The noise you made was one of discontent and disdain, the arguing deltas immediately quieting. You didn’t argue with the chirping growl that meant displeased omega, not in a real pack where the goal was to keep omegas pleased and docile. Somewhere your brain reminded you that this wasn’t your pack but the alpha hormones filling your blood and confusing you and yet somehow all you could focus on was whining and pushing at pack members to get them out of the way as your rearranged; clicking your teeth grumpily when you were handed a blanket instead of a pillow or vice versa.

You found yourself being corralled back into the corner, where Natasha and Wanda immediately wrapped themselves around you. Thor had found Bruce and settled beside and settled near your feet where you’d built an intricate nest wall of pillows and blankets. Two of the deltas, Tony and Loki seemed to be glaring at each other—even as Tony laid himself completely on top of the other and they both relaxed into comfortable holds.

It was interesting, watching the pack dynamics as they moved between each other. Clint wrapped around Natasha from behind the same way Carol found her way behind Wanda. Peter had weaseled his way into curling against Loki’s side while tossing a leg over the man’s hip, subsequently laying it over the backs of Tony’s thighs. Sam, Bucky and Steve all found their way into a neat grouping on the bed closest to the stairs, piled as close to the subsequent piles of superheros as possible.

There was some sort of pattern beginning to form in the back of your brain but you were still too confused, too sucked into your own omega hindbrain by the overwhelming introduction of alpha hormone to your system. Instead of following the thought through to the end, you found yourself warm and comfortable and full and falling asleep tucked between the groupings of presentations as if it wasn’t totally, 100% against your will.

 content warnings: forced cum eating, chemical manipulation, dead dove: do not eat

[simpingforthisonedeer]

"Our Sunset"

Julius Novachrono x GN!Reader

1257 words

Notes: I was thinking of this fic in another fandom where one of the characters makes drinks in her bar that are not your average everyday drinks. They are drinks that taste like concepts, like feelings or memories and I just thought of using Julius’s bartending skills to make magic in a glass and make one for the reader and it got real angsty but enjoy😎💕

Julius passed his new experimental drinks around with a grin as his squad let out a raucous cheer. You leaned on the wall, further away from the rest, keeping an eye out for trouble. As the vice captain of the best yet the rowdiest squad amongst the magic knights, you needed to make sure nobody went too far during these squad parties.

Sometimes you needed to keep even the captain in line...Ah, who were you kidding? You needed to keep the captain in line all the time.

You took a deep breath and sighed.

It was a very exhausting job but it was very rewarding. To protect the kingdom, to keep the peace, to bring a smile on people's faces, relieved that they will be alright...there is no job better than this.

Your gaze landed on Julius with an affectionate smile.

And no one did it better than Captain Julius Novachrono, Wizard King to-be.

You were looking down, lost in your own thoughts about the future when Julius teleported next to your side. You tensed slightly at the sudden movement before relaxing. He handed you a drink as he wore a mischievous grin.

"Did I get you?"

"No," you deadpanned. He had always tried to jump you or catch you off guard since you two were younger but you stubbornly learned how to sense his speed and presence just so you could win this little game between you two. It was the sole reason why you could even challenge Julius.

"Aw, I'll get you next time," he said, like always. You two laughed good-naturedly as you clinked your glasses together and you took a moment to observe the drink as he took a sip from his own.

You stared, entranced by the cool colors bleeding into the warm ones as silver flecks blinked in and out of existence.

"I call it, 'Our Sunset.'" Your eyes met his as a proud smile crept up his face at your impressed look.

Julius often made drinks that were conventionally made from alchohol and they would taste amazing. But sometimes, just sometimes, he would make these mysterious drinks that tasted vividly like ideas, emotions, and memories. They were undescribable drinks that could only be described by the concepts they exemplify.

"'Our...Sunset?'" You asked out loud, wondering what it would make you relive.

Julius nodded and pointed at the window next to you as he looped his arm through your's and lead you closer.

"It's something we all see and experience which is where the 'Our' comes from and because it looks like a sunset." He explained as he raised his glass high out the window as he squinted at it through one eye. You assumed it was to align the colors of the drink with the sky. "And...I hope it tastes like a sunset too..."

He watched carefully as you brought the rim of the glass up to your lips, secretly waiting for your approval.

You took a big gulp, intent on feeling all that the drink had to offer, and boy did you feel it.

You felt a breeze that wasn't there as warmth blanketed you like a lingering hug before it vanished, leaving you a little cold. It felt like the end of something good in your life. Like the loss of something you weren't ready to let go.

The first thing that came to your mind was Julius. Tears welled up unwillingly and you let them run their course with a defeated smile. He only had his eyes on the top. He will leave you with the burden of captainship and...leave you. Your mind couldn't go past that. He will leave you and that was the end of it. The end of your warmth.

"Hey, why are you crying?" Julius cradled your face in his hands as his thumb brushed your tears away.

You hated it. You hated it when he loved you, when he cared for you, because one day, you will wake up and you won't be there to feel his presence, his love, his warmth.

"Was it that bad?" He joked. Everyone in the room had already left a while ago when they noticed that their captain and vice captain were sharing a moment. Your squad hoped that with enough private moments, you two would stop hurting yourselves and confess already.

You and Julius have been close friends since you were children and your relationship blurred all lines of convention. Some percieved you two as friends, some as lovers,  and sometimes, despite your private discomfort, as siblings.

Nobody knew where it began or ended and if you and Julius were being honest, neither did you two.

"No, it was good," you answered at last. "It was perfect."

"So, what did it taste like?" He let his hands fall.

"It tasted like the end..." You focused your eyes on the setting sun. "And I hate it."

"Well, doesn't it taste like more?" Julius implored as he took your hands in his, making you look up at him in confusion.

"More?"

"Don't you feel the warmth in the aftertaste?"

The warmth...yes, you were warm but that was because Julius was here, not because of—Oh.

This was induced by the drink, not the natural warmth that Julius brings you.

"What end did you think of when you drank it?"

You stared at him for a moment, contemplative, before you realized it was useless hiding from your oldest friend.

"You."

"Me?"

"You, gone." Tears blurred your vision. "That was the end."

"What do you mean? I will always be there." He pulled you into a tight hug with an exasperated sigh. "It's pretty tough to kill me, you know?"

You silently shook in his grasp.

"I mean, when you go away to become Wizard King."

Julius pulled back to look at you. He knew you weren't afraid to stand in his shadow. In fact, you argued with those that compared you two, "What shadow? I am standing in his light and that is enough."

"Don't leave me," you choked out.

Julius was distraught. He had to leave you. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. Maybe there’s a way.

"Do you want to be Captain?"

"I don't care for the position. I just want to help you realize your hopes and dreams for this godforsaken kingdom."

"Our hopes and dreams."

“Yes,” You conceded with a weary smile and wiped your tears with a sniffle. “Ours.”

He smiled nervously as he scratched the side of his head in a cute gesture.

“Then,” he looked away. “Would you like to come work with me as an advisor?”

You stared, wide-eyed. You’ve wanted the position but Julius had never offered it to you and now? You didn’t want his pity.

“Isn’t Marx going to be one?”

He pulled you close by your waist with an intimacy only life-long friends share.

“Yes, but he will need some help. I had never asked you because I thought perhaps you should be recognized for your efforts once you become captain but if you don’t particularly care for it...” He lowered his head with uncharacteristic shyness. “I want you to stay by my side...And never leave...”

You couldn’t even properly comprehend the relief that flooded you. It was nearly euphoric. Yes, an end was coming, but so was a new dawn, a new day, a new chapter in your life with Julius by your side.

You pressed your forehead against his with a content smile.

“I would like that.”

Notes: AAAAAAAAAAAAA I was going to write soooooooooooooooo much more but I had to stop myself. But I ofc couldn’t stop myself from soft julius at the end alksdjlsa. I swear I’m doing fine but a nice idea about magic kinda devolved into angst i apologize 😅🙏

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 136

This chapter was a chance to explore some more science-based tropes that I absolutely love in stories.  The truth is, when I’m working at my day job, I love listening to documentaries on Curiosity and YouTube channels like Answers with Joe or Kurzgesagt. My love of science fiction actually comes from my love of space and astronomy, not the other way around.

In no way, shape, or form, does this chapter cover any of the concepts in question in full. It’s just a quick convo between Sophia and a good friend ;)

My thanks, as always, go to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname. Plus all of YOU!

Even as my mind wandered, I couldn’t help but grin a bit as I took my weekly stroll through the corridors of the Ark with Miys in tow.  For several years now, we had a standing appointment on my calendar that both Alistair and Tyche treated as sacrosanct - just some time for me to spend with our host, my friend, and learn more about each other.  When I had originally arrived on the Ark, any time I was seen walking with them, other humans would give me odd looks, but never approach.  Now, people would recognize me, smile, and wave, but still never interrupted the strolls.

It was nice. Like my weekly family dinners, it was a routine, pleasant part of my life. Especially days like today, when we were entering the dawn-cycle and each day became a little brighter. It made me wonder about other civilizations, ones that would have evolved in conditions like the ones we were adapting ourselves for. How did it affect them? How would it affect us as generations passed? Future generations were certainly going to be shorter, due to the high gravity. Would it change our technological advances as well - 

“Wisdom, why are you thinking so hard about Gestrcht Clusters?” Miys interrupted my thoughts.

“Hm?” I asked absently. “What’s a Jestrick Cluster?”

“Gestrcht,” they corrected mildly. “Gestrcht clusters are a type of civilization that has adapted to live in artificial platforms surrounding their sun, in order to better harness the solar energy, radiation, or heat needed.”

“You mean a Dyson swarm?” I tried to clarify, confused.

“All of the galaxy calls them Gestrcht clusters, therefore I think that is what you mean.”

“Alright, alright,” I laughed, holding my hands up in defeat. “The reason I was thinking about Gestruck clusters - “

“Gestrcht”

“I will work on it. The reason I was thinking about those is… I was wondering how living on Von will change our priorities. In our history, those constructions were something that fascinated both imagination and science - something several people thought was our launching pad to a Kardashev Type II civilization, or the singularity point. Maybe both.”

“Kardashev…” they hummed for a moment, thinking. “Only humanity would create goals of technological advancement that required destruction on a multi-planetary scale.”

I desperately wanted to object, but strongly suspected they were right. “So we were wrong, again? There are no civilizations out there that would fit what we imagined for a Kardashev I or II race?”

“I will concede to the existence of species that you would consider both. However, it is not how you believe it to be - humanity would never have been able to accomplish it without greater sacrifice than they have ever known.”

Oh boy. “Tell me? I want to understand why other species could do it, but we could not.” My curiosity needed to know.

They held up one of their liw, rocking it back and forth in imitation of a human head tilt. “Species that have managed to harness all of the energy produced by their planet, and not destroy their environments, have historically been those who had very little power to harness to begin with. These civilizations come from either very harsh, or very gentle worlds - never anything in between. Abundant wind energy scouring a planetary desert can greatly benefit a species who can harness that wind to temper it and create a paradise. A planet with no atmosphere, but incredible amounts of geothermal energy runs little risk in being able to direct all of that volcanic activity to its benefit. But Earth?”

“Is a deathworld,” I pointed out. “You said so yourself.”

“This is true, but it is not a deathworld in the way So’Kn is, for example. Preeyar and So’kn are planets that are lethal for very singular reasons: So’Kn is a frozen waste of permanent night and eternal wind. It is so harsh that only So’Knor can truly survive there with without significant technological assistance. Preeyar only has atmosphere in its valleys, and that is thinner than most species can survive, much less the fact that there are no liquids on Preeyar. None. The air pressure is too low to allow it for any chemicals that are naturally occurring, and the atmosphere violently reacts with any elements that could exist in liquid form. It is, in fact, believed that the rift valleys were caused by simply an icy meteor impacting the planet.”

“Ho-lee shit,” I whispered.

“I doubt many cultures would find it holy at all,” they joked drily. “Whereas Earth… There is no one singular quality about Earth that classifies it as a deathworld. Instead, there are several, each stemming from the abundant forms of energy offered by your home world.”

“Seriously!?”

“Indeed. And the combinations thereof. The length of natural disasters that are possible, alone, is unique to Earth. Tornadoes and earthquakes. Flooding and wildfires. Volcanoes and hurricanes. Methane just rising from your lakes to kill large swathes of people. Lakes below your oceans, Wisdom! Volcanoes below your oceans! It is insanity to the entirety of the Galaxy, and yet humans consider that just a normal aspect of existence.”

“And… what exactly does that have to do with being able to harness all the energy of our planet, exactly?” To say I was confused was an understatement.

To their credit, Miys only reached with one vomu to make a ‘nose pinching’ gesture against its head. “Earth, somehow, is only habitable and so abundant in life because everything exists in a precarious balance. Surely, the last two centuries of your own history demonstrated that. Attempting to harness all of the admittedly prodigious energy of your planet would have ended up destroying that balance beyond compare.”

I tried to comprehend it. I really did. Focusing on what little I knew, I thought about dams. Those were familiar to me - I had grown up in an area that dammed every river and creek possible for everything from grain mills and fruit presses, to artificial fish ponds, to electricity. “Starting there…” it was faster not to explain out loud when I knew Miys was following along with the home game, “Damming a river creates a lake. That floods an area that already has a habitat, and dries out another area that already has an aquatic habitat.”

“And prevents floods that fertilize fields and redistribute minerals from erosion, yes.”

“Right. Times every river, creek, and faint trickle on Earth…” I stopped myself. Every river. The Amazon. The Nile. “And we just washed out what’s left of the largest rainforest on Earth.”

“Leaving more carbon in the air…” they encouraged.

“And increasing the greenhouse effect, increasing heat on the surface, melting more ice, which - hey, more wind, amirite? - but changing planetary albedo, more water, wetter Sahara, no dust to fertilize… South America? Dammit, are we back to killing the Amazon again?”

“That is just one form of energy, Wisdom. But I feel you are understanding the issue.”

“Yeahhhh…” I trailed off. “Okay, so. Kardashev I is no bueno tacos for Earth. What if we skipped straight to Kardashev II slash singularity?” I made a point to focus on the concept of technological singularity very hard, so there would be less need for research on their part. You know, spare myself half a minute or so. “The Gestrkt clusters.”

“Closer,” they admitted, although I was suspicious they meant my pronunciation and not the idea that humanity would ever get there. “Humanity is not… suited, for Gestrcht clusters.”

“Wait, what?”

“Humanity is too curious, too social, and too exploratory. Your fiction abounds with every variation of different worlds and strange universes you could possibly conceive of. And it constantly expanded - your oldest texts involve travelling to your moon, and when you actually reached it, you looked further out - other systems, other galaxies, other dimensions. Gestrcht clusters require such substantial resources and maintenance, there is little left over for exploration.”

“There are humans who would be perfectly content living in such a structure,” I argued, although my heart wasn’t in it. I wouldn’t have been, knowing that other worlds were out there.

“Not enough to sustain it, unfortunately. Not even in what you call the Before.” Lightly resting one vomu on my shoulder, they squeezed gently. “Wisdom, humanity has always wanted to see other worlds. Gestrcht clusters are all or nothing.”

“And singularity?” I asked, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

“It is true that there have been some singleton species that have achieved what you term singularity with technology. Fewer have been successful.” When I glanced at them, all six upper appendages were held up in defense. “Hive minds are uniquely suited to it, and even some of us,” they waved those same six appendages at their torso, “would never accept it. I could never imagine not having the chance to travel the galaxy, to be with other races as they experience it. Add to that, humanity is somehow both individual and social. Removing that line, that choice? I doubt your kind would thrive. Postulate this: Derek, in a hive mind.”

“Absolutely not,” came my unhesitating response, disgust and violence trembling in every limb before I calmed myself. “And I see your point. Integrating technology in our lives, into how we function…” I tapped my head for emphasis, “that’s one thing. It makes our lives better, by making sure that Derek, and others, can have their personal space protected.” The more I thought about it… I never considered the idea in reference to ‘now’, only ‘eventually’. What if we did it now, and I was one of the people - suddenly never alone, always connected to every thought of strangers via technology. What if Tyche was? Or Maverick? Hell, Charly? “I think I need a shower, now,” I admitted, skin crawling.

“Humanity could achieve both,” Miys confirmed, although it didn’t feel as reassuring as I had hoped it would at the beginning of our conversation. “But I don’t think humanity would truly want to live in Gestrcht clusters or singularity, given any other choice but extinction.”

Laughing, I wiped a tear from one eye.  It was a bitter truth, but still true. “I think you’re right.”

“I may be wrong,” they countered. “As I said, there are singleton species who have made those transitions and the entire galaxy is better for it.”

“Some hope that we weren’t entirely wrong would be nice right about now,” I mumbled as I scuffed my shoe at the floor. There wasn’t anything to kick except Else-puffs, and that was just mean as fuck.

“Most species that made a transition to Gestrcht clusters early in their development are belligerent, insular species. The fact that they must focus all their efforts and resources on maintaining their platforms prevents them from becoming actively warlike. As far as ‘singularity’... singleton species who thrive in that transition are often species who cannot thrive on a galactic scale otherwise.”

Huh? I craned my neck to try to look up at them in the perpetual-dawn light. “What do you mean?”

Miys flicked a datapad open - one I know they only wore for our sakes, seeing as they could not actually see anything on the purely-optical screen, I had learned. They could only navigate it if interacting with a human, so they could ‘see’ what they needed to tap out.

Needless to say, Charly and Grey had been working for years on one that responded to sonic commands.

Eventually, a seven-fingered flick caused my own databand to chirp. I flicked it open to see the file. “They… Noah, this looks like sentient pollen… or feathers…” Realistically, any description I tried to create fell devastatingly short. The being on my datapad moved as though it was floating on wind, with tens of thousands of filament-fine tendrils swaying and navigating. The sound it created reminded me of the sound of snowfall, if snowflakes could sing opera. “They’re beautiful,” I sniffed, driving back tears at knowing something so breathtaking existed.

“They also cannot survive off their planet, unfortunately. Even the transition out of their atmosphere is lethal to them.”

My heart shattered into a million pieces. “What is their name?”

“No one knows for certain. But they have achieved a sort of singularity - once they have matured and reproduced, they upload themselves at the end of their very brief lifecycles. In the Galactic Community, they are known as Odvub.”

“Odvub…” I whispered, holding out my fingers like I could actually touch the screen.

“Outside of a Hujylsogox rescue ship, it is nearly impossible to avoid encountering Odvub. Most believe they are some sort of galactic artificial intelligence, and they prefer to allow that belief.”

“Why are you telling me this, then?”

“They have permitted it, when these sort of questions are asked. To show what desperation is required for a singleton species to thrive in singularity.”

I sniffed, desperately trying not to cry at their situation. “Do they know about humans?”

“They may be the only species who could not avoid knowing about it. But Odvub believes your people are hearty, and adaptable, and should never suffer their fate. They advised, in the event that your people ever ask about singularity, to do this…” Miys gently cupped my cheek in one liw and patted it, “and tell you that you will never need to resort to what they had to do, and that they look forward to meeting your people one day.”

“Obviously not face to face,” I admitted quietly. “I have allergens that are more substantial than they are.”

“It is considered a great honor in the Galactic Community for this icon to display when  you interact with Odvub.” Miys gestured at the vicinity of the image on my datapad. “Only those who know why, know why it is an honor.”

“We’ll take it,” I laughed, tears streaming down my cheeks. “All of humanity may never know why, but we’ll take it. If I may tell Arthur, we probably will know why.” He would see to it. Loudly, angrily, derisive of anyone who mocked it. “Regardless, we’ll take it, all the same.”

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[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiances, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns:13

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: NSFW

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Thirteen: Unreliable Heart

I don’t care, I’m not leaving you behind.

Her voice echoed around Lucien’s mind, and though that certainly wasn’t the only thing about yesterday that was haunting him, those words had clung to him the moment they left her mouth.

And whose duty is it to protect you?

No one, to answer her question. Once upon a time, he’d thought it was his mother who was to protect him, and then he had watched year after year as she had destroyed herself doing just that. Eris hadn’t protected him, not really. Lessons and a sword were not enough, and Lucien had learnt not to consider scraps more than their worth. Tamlin…

Tamlin. His oldest friend turned…political acquaintance? Everything had been so good for so long, until Feyre, and whilst it was a terrible thought, perhaps Lucien hadn’t minded the obvious holes in their friendship because, simply, Lucien had had a friend. For the first time in his life, he had someone other than his mother, an uncaring brother or a random lover backing him, willing to fight and kill for him. He’d felt protected in Spring Manor and the years of peaceful, oblivious existence was proof of that.

Sighing, Lucien got up and out of bed. Before the sunset this day he and Elain would be settling in Spring Manor. The idea of bringing his mate into those ruined halls awoke the base mate desires, though those had been singing in his blood ever since the kiss.

God, that kiss.

The rest of yesterday had passed in his room writing letters and tying up loose ends with the mortal men for the following week, they would be missing the next meeting after all. The entire time Lucien’s body had grown more and more taut with frustration, and as he’d moved around his room deep in the night, throwing his clothes into a bag, his mind had been elsewhere, out in the forest by that riverbed. It didn’t take long for him to throw himself in an armchair before the roaring fire only to find that he was uncomfortably and unavoidably aroused.

He’d tried distracting himself with business numbers and thoughts of how to engage productively with Tamlin, but every time he shut his eyes, he just saw her. Heard her sighs. Felt the soft curves of her body pushing against him, the taste of her mouth, her scent as it had turned musky and yet still floral, like dried tea leaves.

When he’d opened his eyes again it was to find that he’d yanked on the drawstring of his pants, pulled them down and had taken himself roughly in his hand and was now lazily stroking himself. Glaring down at his throbbing member Lucien allowed his mind to empty, his entire being zoning in on that point of delicate pleasure as his fingers half-heartedly explored himself. There was a decision being made as he ran his fingers along the underside of his aching cock before gently stroking the head.

After a shiver of pure, physical pleasure, Lucien sighed with tired resignation. This was not going anywhere any time soon, not when her hot touch was still burning on his skin, and leaning back in his armchair Lucien allowed his mind to fill once more with the concept of her. His fingers moved from stroking to gripping as he took a firmer hold of himself, his other hand moving his trousers further down as his head rolled back.

Gritting his teeth Lucien closed his eyes and was once more overwhelmed by the sensation of her. Now moving from everything they had done to everything he wanted to do. The noises he wanted to pull from her, the expressions he wanted to see as pushed into her for the very first time.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that it was her smooth, delicate hand gripping him, and as his thumb brushed over the buds of precum weeping from his head, he pictured placing each droplet on the tip of her pink tongue and watching as she lapped them up eagerly.

With his other hand, he now moved to lift his shirt, his fingers running luxuriously across the tight, lithe muscles of his abdomen which promptly fluttered into rigid tension. Again he imaged her fingers running across his skin, feeling him, getting a scope of his body – the body that was made specifically for her. Gripping himself even tighter his entire body turned taut and quivering, his thighs straining, his ass clenching as his hips abruptly jerked into his awaiting fist.

A breathy curse tore from his lips as the images flooded into his mind in a jumbled, desperate mess. Her thighs spilling out of stockings. The sloping curve of her ass as she bent in front of him. The swell of her stomach as he took her from the side. Hair and tits and teeth scraping down his throat. Her lips on him, around him – licking, tasting, teasing.

Taking her in his chambers for hours, putting ice in her mouth and not letting her cum till it melts. Running his hands along her thighs under the dinner table, his hand on her leg like a permanent accessory. Fucking her hard and fast in that raw, animalistic way the bond craved for – that he craved for too. Making her fucking scream, letting the world know how sinful her pleasured whimpers sounded and then reminding that same world that she was his.

Her body. Her mouth. Her cunt. Warm. Tight. Wet.

Lucien came with a jagged gasp. His entire body coiling in on itself as his hip raised off the chair before he collapsed with a shudder as wave after wave of pleasure tore through him. His orgasm barrelled into him with a raw intensity bestowed only by the bond, causing his entire body to tremble as his cum splattered on the awaiting bare skin of his abdomen.

It seemed to take several moments with his hand still lazily milking himself before Lucien felt his entire body give out, his muscles turning into something liquid and satiated as he collapsed back in the chair. Sitting there, he could only manage to heave several breaths, his entire body feeling damp and warm as a light sheen of sweat coated his skin, making strands of his ruby hair stick to his face. When it came to Elain, everything was so much more intense.

After several heaving breaths, he felt himself begin to soften in his hand and let himself go as he pushed his hair off his face.

Looking down, he glanced at the milky cum splattered across his torso, the pale colour making his skin look even richer in the flickering firelight. An unbidden image of Elain on her knees before him, tracing the pattern of his cum with her tongue flooded into his mind and he let out a distressed groan.

So not entirely satiated then.

Chest still heaving for breath, Lucien pull his shirt from his body and began to lazily clean himself up. Pulling his pants off quickly after, Lucien threw away both offending items of clothing. He would bathe in the morning but for now, for tonight, he would enjoy the satiated feeling of his body, the sponginess of his muscles, the lack of taut hardness between his legs.

With the fire slowly dying Lucien had crawled between the sheets of his bed, pulling them down to his waist so that his bare torso may be kissed by the soft summer’s breeze coming from the window.

He’d slept better than he had in months, perhaps even years, and when he’d woken up it was to find something at ease within him.

Yesterday had happened, he’d kissed Elain and today they were travelling to Spring together where it was just to be them – and Tamlin.

Lucien had bathed hurriedly, not allowing his hands to linger too long on any part of himself. Then he was out and dressing, making sure to throw on an outfit that had come from his days in Spring. He wasn’t going to make much progress if he showed up in Illyrian leathers, again. After checking his bag several times, Lucien took a deep breath and went to find Elain.

She wasn’t in her room. Lucien had knocked and knocked and knocked and, nothing. The knocking was, of course, mostly a formality given that Lucien’s intuition as well as the bond clearly told him that his mate was not behind the door in front of him.

Trying to calm the rising ocean of panic Lucien knocked once more and after no answer, he turned the handle and peeked his head around the door.

Trying to calm the rising ocean of panic Lucien knocked once more and after no answer, he turned the handle and peeked his head around the door.

“Elain?”

Nothing. Not a whisper of life in the barren room. Opening the door wider Lucien could see that her bed was made, and her vanity cleaned out, the room was as he’d always known this guest room to be, spotless and lifeless. The only evidence Elain had ever been her were her bags stacked neatly in the centre of the room.

She was packed and ready which meant that surely she wasn’t too far, though this had been the time and place they’d agreed to meet before they travelled to the border and winnowed. Sighing, Lucien pushed into the room – and was hit by a mans scent.

Freezing mid-step, his entire body going rigid, Lucien inhaled deeply and found none other than Jurian’s scent laced throughout the room, mingling with the scent of his mate.

Something cold and deadly ran the length of his spine as the mating bond pumped a lethal protectiveness into his veins, or perhaps that was simply him. Setting his jaw, Lucien dug his hands into his pockets and surveyed the room, his metal eye whirring and clicking and searching for any evidence of the man who had dared to enter his mate’s room.

Mid-search Lucien heard voices far down the corridor, and it was only a second later that he recognised them as Elain and Jurian’s. The direction they were coming from told him they had just been in his room and were now heading to hers.

Extinguishing the flames coiling around his fingers, Lucien turned to the door.

***

“I just thought you should know,” Elain sighed as Jurian walked her back to her room.

She’d woken up and decided that she just had to tell someone about what she’d seen last night. There was no point ignoring such a pivotal vision given the circumstances. Especially given that her powers seemed to be coming back, whatever that meant.

Lucien had been her go to but when she’d reached for the bond that morning she’d been overwhelmed with such a pure, endless peace that she’d found she could not be the one to disturb it. For the first time, the usual tint of sadness that came from her mate’s end of the bond was nowhere to be found – and that was a magical thing indeed.

With Vassa still transfigured Elain had gone to Jurian’s room, only a few paces down the hall from hers. He’d opened the door with a knife in his hand and a murderous expression. Apparently, he didn’t get many visitors, particularly before 9 o’clock.

“I understand. I’m glad you told me of this.” Elain didn’t need to look at the madman to know he was being sincere.

“I’ll tell Lucien when I see him, perhaps you could tell Vassa too.”

“Yes, I don’t know if she ever was able to see Koschei with her own eyes, but I shall ask if grey arms and white scars ring any bells. Either way, you should hear from me soon.”

Jurian had been surprisingly quiet and contemplative as Elain had spoken of her vision-dream. Nothing she had said was lost on him, he didn’t scoff or brush off anything, he’d simply listened and appeared to be taking mental notes as he did so.

It had surprisingly warmed her heart as she thought back to those early days out of the Cauldron when she’d desperately tried to speak to her Night Court family. In her head, she could still see the rolling eyes of Nesta or the pained pitying expression of her brother-in-law as they both dismissed her pleas for rambling madness.

But before her stood a man who knew what it was to lose yourself, and never give up on the fight back home. That morning, for the first time since turning fae, Elain felt as though she were making a true friend, not just adopting someone else’s.

“Thank you,” she turned and smiled at him, bowing her head slightly.

As she had turned back to her upcoming door she’d nearly stumbled to find Lucien there, his stature filling the doorframe as he leant against it. He was the image of perfect boredom, his arms folded over his chest as he looked lazily around him, but Elain could instantly feel a dark swirling possessiveness radiating from the bond. Reaching for him, Elain was surprised to find that this dark storm of emotions was concentrated into one repeating word.

Mine.

“Lucien!” Jurian called out with an easy smirk, ignoring the very evident gloom swirling around her mate. Walking closer, Elain saw how Lucien’s eyes flickered to her and seemed to stare at her with a hard, concentrated emotion that she could not decipher. Then his eyes were on the madman, and they turned entirely deadly.

“Jurian,” he husked, and a shiver ran the length of Elain’s spine.

“You ready to head to Spring? Bags all packed?” Jurian goaded, bouncing on his feet as he refused to stand still. Lucien didn’t deem Jurian with a retort, he merely looked back to Elain, that same hardness in his eye.

“Yes, I am.” He spoke slowly, dragging the words so that goosebumps prickled across her skin. “I was just coming to check on my mate…only to find her missing…and your scent polluting her chambers.”

Ah.

“Lucien-” Elain began, quickly understanding the misunderstanding that had occurred. But stupid, stupid Jurian got there first.

“Ah yes, I’ve been frequenting her room as of late,” the madman grinned, hands behind his back. Lucien seemed to somehow, impossibly, turn more rigid. “We’ve had plenty of interesting topics we’ve needed to…discuss.” Jurian toyed with the words in his mouth, and the whole situation was not made any better by Elain’s cheeks furiously flushing red.

“No-” Elain interjected.

“No?” Jurian gasped with faux drama. “Don’t lie to the poor man Elain-”

“I’m not-”

“We’ve had plenty of things to discuss-”

“I know-”

“Like what you think of at night-”

“Jurian.”

Lucien watched the exchange with a careful eye, but even Elain noticed that some of the tension easing from his form. The sibling-like bickering seemed to soothe some part of his mind.

“I’ve come in the night to alleviate her worried mind.”

“Jurian-”

“Amongst other things-”

“Jurian!” But the madman was simply grinning stupidly at her mate, the glint in his eye revealing that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“He’s being stupid,” Elain sighed, stepping closer to Lucien who observed her instantly. When she was a few inches away she spoke again, putting a hand on his shoulder. “He’s trying to get a rise out of you, there is nothing between us, we’ve merely been discussing Koschei.”

Lucien seemed to ponder her for a moment. Then he was looking between his mate and the grinning, stupid madman observing them both with a fierce, pensive stare. After several moments of contemplation, it seemed that Lucien had decided the best course of action would be to curl his arm around Elain’s shoulders and pull her protectively against his chest.

“I know buttercup,” Lucien husked, somehow glaring through the grin he gave the madman.

It was an almost animalistic display of possession.

Elain wasn’t used to fae customs, and as her cheek pressed into the thin cotton of her mate’s shirt all she could think was that she and Lucien weren’t ‘allowed’ to touch in front of company – at least according to mortal customs. But Lucien didn’t seem to want to hold Elain for any other purpose than to flaunt her in front of Jurian, and though some part of her mind knew she should dislike being displayed, another part of her – an overwhelming part of her – loved the idea of Lucien brandishing her as his.

“I would’ve thought Jurian smarter, though. Provoking me has never fared well for him.” It was Jurian’s turn to scoff.

“I can take you fox-boy.”

“No. You can’t,” Lucien said with enough ease to show his honesty.

“In a duel, no,” Jurian tilted his head, “But if we were really fighting I wouldn’t play by the rules. I play dirty, Lucien, you know this. Before you’d know what was happening I’d take that pretty mate of yours and slit her throat before you could beg.”

Lucien’s arm tightened viciously around Elain and perhaps subconsciously, she burrowed into him too. Stealing a glance up at her mate, Elain saw such a vicious fire as there appeared to be a thousand deadly promises in that one look. Elain knew she should be frightened, that the sight of a fae with such death in his eye should send her running. But she just found him beautiful.

Just when the tension seemed to reach a breaking point, Lucien tilted his head back and laughed. Somehow, this made him feel more dangerous.

“You’re a funny man, Jurian.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” Jurian sighed, bored.

“I know, and it’s the only one I’ll allow you to make,” one of Lucien’s hands came up to twirl a strand of her hair, “As you should know that if you ever joke of hurting my mate again, I will leave only enough of your corpse that it would be Queen Vassa’s duty to recognise you.”

Elain didn’t fully understand the threat but something bitter settled in Jurian’s coffee-coloured eyes as he surreptitiously shifted his stance, his hands coming to rest in front of his crotch. Though Elain’s focus was very much shot as Lucien’s arm still curled her into him, his hand still burrowed into her hair, combing her curls.

“Enough…” Elain eventually sighed, glaring at the two boys, “Enough peacocking for one morning, okay? Aren’t we expected in Spring?”

Elain’s voice seemed to clear the air as both man and male seemed to shake their heads as though to empty their minds. And just like that, they were back to being friends.

“Yes, we should head to the border as soon as you’re ready, from there we should be set to winnow.” Lucien looked down at her, and to her great pleasure, he didn’t move his arm and seemed entirely at ease with keeping it around her.

Elain nodded before meeting Jurian’s eye.

“I…what Jurian and I were discussing…”

“Yes, buttercup?” Lucien frowned down at her, brushing some of her hair away from her face.

“I had a vision…” Elain began. Lucien turned rigid.

“About Koschei-”

“About Graysen-”

They both spoke at the same time, and in turn, both of them scrunched up their faces, confused. Graysen? Why would she be having a vision about Graysen?

“Oh,” Lucien muttered after a moment, evidentially bewildered.

“We can talk about it when we get to Spring but…yeah, I just thought you should know.”

Lucien continued to assess her, his hand running down the side of her face before he seemed to realise just how close he was holding her. Clearing his throat Lucien grinned down at her before removing his arm and turning back to her room where he walked in and hoisted her bags.

“Right, looks like we’re all set,” Lucien huffed a few seconds later as he re-entered the corridor and proceeded to hold out his mate’s bag. From the shadows, Nuala’s two grey hands reached out and grasped the bag before pulling them into the dark crook and making them disappear.

“Well, we’re off.” Lucien grinned at the madman as he presented his arm to Elain, who took it gladly. Jurian seemed to nod absentmindedly.

“I’ll walk you down.”

He did just that, trailing behind the mated couple as they made their last journey through the home and down the stairs. As they neared the looming wooden door and Lucien passed out a few farewells to the awaiting maids and cooks, Jurian called out once more.

“Lucien!” Elain watched as her mate turned and eyed the madman, his foot already out the door. Jurian seemed to glare at him for a moment before, “It would do you good to remember a certain promise you made to Master Archeron.”

A shiver ran the length of Elain’s spine, and as she looked up at the suddenly hard look on her mate’s face – a bead of inquiry took root.

***

Their journey had been a quick one, Lucien winnowing them most of the way to the border. He’d even stopped several times to encourage Elain to winnow on her own, she’d made it only a few feet forward, but Lucien had looked at her as though she’d invented sliced bread.

The Spring border loomed near when they talked of her powers again.

“Have you been having visions for a while?” Lucien held back a branch so that she could pass under it, birdsong and the early morning sun surrounding them.

“One or two, here and there, but everything went quiet after Hybern.” Lucien hummed, shouldering his pack.

“Do you think something has catalysed it?”

“Maybe,” Elain pondered, “I certainly think I’m shown these things for a reason – none of them have been accidental, they’ve all proved to have a purpose.”

“That worries me,” Lucien hummed, pulling back another branch.

“It does?”

“Koschei showing up in the dreams of my mate isn’t exactly my image of a perfect situation.”

“No…but that vision was strange, it didn’t feel right.”

“No?”

“No, it didn’t feel like an image of the future it felt like it was actually happening, like I was actually talking to Koschei.”

“Well, that’s just…brilliant.” Elain couldn’t help but grin at her mate’s incredulous tone. Their conversation faded to matters of Nesta and her powers, the ones she had given up and they also spoke of the Cauldron and how it had taken to Elain.

Soon enough they neared the edge of dead woods in which there used to be the poisoned magic of The Wall, keeping the mortal and fae realms divided. Now there seemed to be an overwhelming sense of absence, and this darkness had taken its toll as the ground turned dead and crunchy underfoot as all plant life thinned into black and brown dust.

Lucien, of course, only seemed brighter and full of more life in this land of death. Turning he extended his hand with a grin to which Elain presented her arm.

Without a word, Lucien wrapped his fingers around her wrist as he readied himself. However, the minute his fingers were wrapped around her, Elain was thrust back into a recess of her mind.

***

Elain was standing in the Study of the house she’d grown up in, a forbidden place full of adult, mature items. Before her stood her mother, steely in her age and not yet touched by the poisoned hands of illness. She was wearing her hair in a wreath of braids and a navy, modest gown.

“Show me your wrists,” the woman said in a plain, even tone that sent shivers down Elain’s spine.

Elain’s jaw locked awkwardly as she furiously bit her tongue. With more aggression than necessary Elain thrust her right hand and forward, palm facing the ceiling. Her mother looked down at the hand with something akin to watered disgust.

The woman proceeded to wrap her middle finger and thumb around Elain’s wrist, all the while looking at the act analytically. Elain’s skin was pulled taut as her mother desperately tried to make both fingers meet, but there remained roughly an inch of space. The woman sighed heavily, evidently disappointed in her daughter’s lacking, and when her mother brought her hands over her chest, Elain allowed her somewhat abused wrist to fall back by her side. She knew what was coming.

“Elain-”

“I know-”

“Do you?” Oh, she was furious. “Do you have any idea why I do these things? Why I ensure that all my daughters are kept to such a strict standard?”

Elain said nothing.

“Elain.”

“I know, ma’am.”

“Tell me.”

“We are kept to strict standards because we are worthy of it. It is out of your kindness that we have our lessons and are guided into better lives.” The words were mechanical, spoken in a monotone voice, the mantra falling from Elain’s mouth as they had done so a thousand times before.

Elain’s mother appeared to consider her for a second and something within Elain flinched – had she said it wrong? Was this mistake worthy of a beating? What was coming next, why did it scare her so much to not know?

But to Elain’s morbid surprise, her furious mother who stood like she was made of steel sank back against the desk and buried her head in her hands. Elain merely watched, numb and shocked, as her mother showed perhaps the first true emotion Elain had ever seen from her.

It was macabre, to see the woman whom Elain had known to be ruthless and mechanical, break down. It was at that moment that Elain realised that she needed her mother to be that person – the villain in her story – because that was the only justification of the small stone of hate Elain carried in her heart for the woman.

The silence dragged on, the room now feeling impossibly small and stuffy as Elain merely watched her mother tiredly drag her hands down her face as she looked at the floor. Then, quick as a whip, her mother’s eyes met hers and for the first time in a long time, Elain could not read her.

“Elain I…” her mother said tiredly, her arms returning to their defensive position across her chest. One Elain so often did herself. “I raised you to be extraordinary, I need you…to be extraordinary.”

Elain had nothing to say to that. Her mother’s harsh attitude had only worked when it felt as though it had come from a place of aristocratic concern over the family image, the idea her mother was genuinely trying to care for her, in some weird way, was painfully unfathomable.

“This world will crush you, Elain,” she continued, “Because it loves girls like you. It loves girls who are innocent and unprotected. Those are the girls men like to break. When you go to them with a heart already made of steel, there is nothing for them to abuse.”

Elain’s mother tilted her head and began to rub at the spot in which her neck and shoulder connected, the first sign of relaxation or weakness Elain had ever seen of her. Her mother continued.

“Nesta was forged and Nesta, in time, will find her battle armour and will be indestructible. But you…your big heart is not poetic, Elain, not in a world full of so much greed. Your heart is a weakness, it’s a beautiful thing just aching to be exploited. This world will crush you regardless so let me do it first. Let me break you so I can protect you.”

Having now moved on from being blind-sighted by her mother’s display of emotions, Elain felt the gravity of her words sinking in.

“You’re wrong,” was all she said, and not for the first time, she felt like a tiny, little girl begging for her mum’s attention. “I don’t – mother’s don’t need to break their children – I-”

“Elain-” Her mother sighed, standing from the desk and walking to the drinks cabinet.

“No, I know, I know you’re trying to protect me and Feyre and Nesta, but you really don’t have to!” Elain’s mother poured a glass of sherry and knocked it back with surprising ferocity. “Mum I don’t want to marry a prince; I want to marry someone who I love!”

The woman poured herself another glass, shaking her head tiredly. Slowly, she turned around and leaned against the cabinet, and in that move, Elain saw an opening for her argument.

“I don’t care for kingdoms or palaces mother. Nesta’s the one to do that she’s the one to score the future King. But I want to marry for love, even if that man only owns the clothes on his back and a simple hut.”

She knew what she sounded like. Stupid, infatuated, aristocratic with no sense of reality. But Elain had always been a dreamer, cushioned enough by her family’s wealth to never touch the ground. It was only her Mother’s harsh schooling that had stopped her from running away with fairies at night.

“I want to marry for love,” Elain reasserted, though her argument sounded weak to her own ears, “Love is the best thing that can happen to me – not wealth or a Lord and…and you cannot change my mind.”

They stared at each other for a solid moment. Elain’s hands shaking by her sides, her mother staring at her in a way that was slow and steady as she finished her drink and put down her glass.

“It doesn’t matter how much of a hopeless romantic you are, Elain.” Her voice was slighter colder than before. “Regardless, you will be married to a man whether we do this my way or not. It doesn’t matter who you meet nor how much you think you love him, one day you will wake up next to him and hate everything about him. Then, you’ll hate yourself even more for being deluded enough to think he was worthy of your time. You may as well make sure that when that morning comes, and it will, you will be waking in a palace, and not a hut.”

Elain hated how her mother’s words cut into her, the skill she had no doubt passed onto Nesta. Elain couldn’t do that, she merely did not care for intentionally hurting others, she had no interest in diluting her heart or manipulating the emotions of those around her.

She was like her father in that way. She knew nothing other than how to be vulnerable and whilst she could understand her mother’s itch to protect her, Elain truly believed that there was someone out there who would love her completely and entirely – and they would never hurt her.

“You loved someone didn’t you?” Elain finally whispered; she didn’t need to even look at her mother’s reaction to know she had struck gold. “But…it went wrong…and now you assume the same will happen to everyone else…”

They said nothing. Did nothing.

“You’re miserable, mum-” the woman flinched. She wasn’t called ‘mum’. Ever. It was too informal. “-you’re miserable and so you think everyone has to be too because that’s how life is. Right? But what if it's not?”

It was a futile attempt. There had already been too many years of bitterness that had sealed her mother’s heart in a case of ice and there was nothing to penetrate it – not even the pleas of her daughter. A small silence fell in which all that could be heard was the wood snapping, a noise familiar to the one Elain’s arm had made when she fell off that horse – the sound of something breaking.

“I love you, Elain.” The woman breathed, her eyes were firm, but her mouth was folded down slightly at the corners. “More than you can possibly know.”

Elain had nothing to say to that. All she knew was that her mother’s mind was decided, and she had lost the battle.

“You know why?” The woman continued, “Because you’re like me. More than Feyre or Nesta – you’re like me when I was young. If, when I was your age, I had someone like me, guiding myself away from the bad things in life, I could’ve been saved a whole lot of hurt.” Elain shook her head furiously.

“Do you really regret those experiences? Or did you just get hurt and that scared you, and now you can’t open up again?”

“I got hurt. Again, and again, and again. By rich men and poor men, by poets and scientists and men who hunted fae to those who believed they were gods. I didn’t care how much it hurt or the fact I never learnt my lesson, because all of that went away the minute I got the pure rush of realising that someone wanted me.”

Elain flinched.

“That’s what this is about, Elain.” Her mother’s eyes had turned uncomfortably glassy as she told Elain more of herself than she ever had before. “You don’t want to fall in love with a poor man and feel secretly superior in your hut with your clothe-less children. You just want to feel wanted.”

Tears stung behind Elain’s eyes.

“You need it, you depend on the idea that you are beautiful and romantic and the girl that everyone wants. How better to prove that everyone wants you than by having the most perfect, fairy-tale romance? You need to get your head out of the clouds Elain and get back to Earth. There’s nothing about men wanting you that is good. It is a cursed desire and will only lead to your own destruction. They use you, all of them. You will never be enough for them, because nothing is – not even the most perfect, beautiful girl in all the lands. Not even you.”

They were spilling down her cheek now.

“I do not wish to be cruel to you, Elain.” The woman moved back, her typical mask coming back into place, the emotion receding deep into the abyss of her heart. “You have a heart of a gold, it’s a shame that it’s worth nothing in this world.”

Elain felt something within her crumble – the final echo of hope she had had for her mother. While this disintegrated within her, Elain felt herself only cling tighter to her beliefs.

“You’re wrong, mum,” Elain sighed.

Someone to love her wholly, completely, incandescently. Someone who would never hurt her, who would take care of her, who would truly love her and her liability of a heart.

“You have to be.”

***

The memory faded from view and the world came back into focus around her. As her eyes met the russet of Lucien’s she was thrust back into her body and everything that came with it – the bags, the trip, Spring – it all came to the forefront of her mind.

By the way Lucien’s eyes widened slightly as she came back, Elain realised that she had sent the entire vision down the bond. She wasn’t sure how, but she could feel the bond glowing between them, fizzing like a frayed wire, and when Elain brushed against it images of the family’s Study Room and echoes of her mother’s voice flooded her mind.

Lucien had seen it, perhaps the most vulnerable moment Elain had ever had with her mother before she had passed a year later. Elain had only been a child.

Nothing was said as the two seemed to stare at each other for several moments, dumbfounded over what had just happened. They had just shared a vision. Elain had stumbled as her mind pulled back and had grabbed onto the best thing to anchor into this world – it is only now that she realises that she had grabbed onto the bond and as such, connected her and Lucien’s mind.

“I…” She began, a bit breathless, “Do you think I could do that again?” She surprised herself by asking. Lucien considered her question. “I mean…if I could show you the vision I had of Koschei…”

Lucien began to nod, “It’s worth a try but,” his arm came back around her shoulders and Elain realised that she had been swaying on her feet, “Later. Much later. For today let’s just focus on getting to Spring in one piece.”

Elain nodded numbly, feeling a familiar ache of tiredness drag on her muscles. As such she allowed herself to lean further into Lucien’s warmth and strength as the familiar, fleeting sensation of winnowing took over her senses.

Elain knew the instant they were in Spring. The air around her seemed to sparkle into life as she was once more standing on ground sown with the magic of Prythian. The sun seemed brighter here, the sky bluer, the air cleaner. Bird song ran rife, a cacophony of chirping melodies that arose from all around her.

And once she was past the overall sensation of being back in the Fae Realm, Elain was able to take in the Manor they were standing on the steps of.

Spring Manor. The home in which her sister had been stolen to, the home in which her sister had been abused.

And yet, it was Lucien’s home too for a time, and Elain’s thoughts shifted from her sister to her mate as she began to wonder what he saw in these lands that had made him stay for so long.

Shivering slightly, Elain took in the endless ivy growing across the ancient stone. She also took in the large claw marks entrenched in the wooden door – a perfect symbol of this falling court.

“It’s nice isn’t it,” Lucien sighed next to her, seeming to tilt his head back and absorb the sunlight. “To taste the magic again.”

Elain took a deep breath and allowed some of the tension to ease from her shoulders.

“Mhm,” she breathed, “I’d never had guessed I could miss it so much.”

Next to her Lucien opened his mouth, his eye glinting with what was no doubt a snarky retort. But at that moment a figure had appeared behind them both at the base of the stairs, causing the pair to turn around in a haste, Lucien angling himself so that Elain was somewhat behind him, protected from view.

The figure was dressed in simple, ragged clothes. A cream linen shirt that had several holes, and which the drawstrings were not even laced properly. Brown trousers, three-quarter length. Bare-foot. Uncombed hair. Curious, pained eyes – a savage.

“Tamlin,” Lucien muttered in a guarded voice. A savage, and a king.

This was the first look Elain had ever truly had of Tamlin; besides the few glimpses, she had seen during the time of the war. Before her stood a man whom Elain could’ve easily found to be handsome. There was something about his pretty, long blonde hair and perfect green eyes that promised an easy, handsome life.

Of course, his image was somewhat tainted by the obvious signs of neglect to not just himself but his residence, the gardens behind him full of overgrown bushes and dying flowerbeds.

The High Lord looked at Lucien enigmatically before his eyes slowly slid to Elain, semi-concealed behind him. Something flared in those emerald eyes at the sight of her, and Elain realised that she and Feyre were not too unlike in appearance.

Those green eyes stayed locked on her, and Elain refused to look away, though this did not stop her from shifting uncomfortably under his assaulting gaze. Lucien seemed to be hyperaware of Tamlin’s prolonged staring and shifted so that he was at his full height, his arm snaking around Elain’s waist as he pulled her closer to him.

It could have been a sign of possessiveness. Or it quite easily could’ve been Lucien wanting Elain in a certain position should he need to jump into action.

Tamlin’s eyes flickered to Lucien, considering him once more before they returned back to Elain. Looking at Elain as though he could see right through her down to her soul, a corner of the High Lord’s mouth tugged up.

“Welcome, Archeron.”

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 10

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

CW: Discussion of toxic relationship

Lucie was under the impression Alastair liked Thomas, but Lucies texts only made him more nervous. Even if Alastair smiled back, even if some things he said could hint at romantic feelings, Thomas had no clue how to make a move on people, much less Alastair. After dinner, they talked a bit more, about books, history, places they wished to travel. Alastair told him that he’d once read Machiavelli’s the Prince for comfort, but had since replaced it with Marx’ the Communist Manifesto. Thomas, who read mostly fiction, found it hard to imagine those books as something one read for comfort, but he promised he’d give the Communist Manifesto a try.

‘My ex recommended the Prince,’ Alastair explained. ‘In retrospect, the book suits him pretty well. It’s about power, manipulation, and he was all about that.’

‘As in, he manipulated you?’ Thomas asked.

‘He wants to get into politics, and I think he cares more about holding a position of power than about doing what’s best for the country. But he also manipulated me,’ Alastair said, showing no emotion. ‘He was very obsessed with his own social status and image, and would have done anything to improve that. I would not have reflected well on his image, so he kept me a secret and made me believe it was what was best for me.’

Thomas was certain he would be a better partner to Alastair than his exif they were in a relationship, but figured that was a pretty low bar. He didn’t know much about relationships, had never been in one, and wasn’t sure he knew how any of that worked, or how to be with someone with such a bad past experience. He didn’t want to hurt Alastair by accident. Perhaps his parents had some advice, but then he’d first have to tell them he liked boys. Which he planned to, but he had not yet figured out the right words, the right occasion.

‘How did you come out to your parents?’ he asked Alastair.

His parents were outside, they wouldn’t overhear. Thomas hoped they wouldn’t walk in out of a sudden, but if they did… Well, then at least they’d know and Thomas wouldn’t have to prepare a speech.

‘I only came out to my mother and aunt Risa,’ Alastair said. ‘Not to my father, nor do I care to.’

‘So, did you prepare a speech or anything?’ Thomas asked.

‘I did, because I suspected my mother and aunt Risa might not understand or know much about gay people, so I’ve mostly been educating them on various sexualities and gender identities. Risa actually discovered she is asexual and aromantic after I explained those concepts to her. Why do you ask?’

Thomas turned red, he laughed nervously. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell my parents I’m gay, but haven’t found the right time, or figured out how to tell them.’

‘You don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to. Do you want them to know?’ Alastair asked.

Thomas considered Alastair’s question for a moment. ‘Yes, I do. I think it would be easier if they knew and I would rather tell them before I am in a relationship instead of introducing a boyfriend. Since that would be awkward for him as well. Mainly, I just want them to know but I don’t want an awkward conversation.’

‘I think your problem is that you’re too determined to do it perfect,’ Alastair said. ‘Your parents seem very open and accepting, I don’t think you have to worry.’

‘No, I know that,’ Thomas said.

He felt stupid. Alastair must have had a much harder time telling people, he hadn’t known beforehand that his mother would be accepting. Thomas was fairly certain his parents would love him no matter what, and yet here he was complaining to Alastair about how difficult he found it to come out.

‘I know it can still be scary,’ Alastair said. ‘I was fairly certain Cordelia wouldn’t mind at all, yet I postponed telling her for a long time. Of course in my case it could have saved me a lot of misery, had I told her sooner.’

‘What do you mean?’ Thomas asked.

‘She realized almost immediately after I told her that my ex boyfriend was treating me badly, when I did not. It took her a couple of weeks to convince me, but I realized she was right and then I broke up with him.’ Alastair paused. ‘It’s nice to have someone to talk about it. For a long time, I had only him and he actively discouraged me from telling anyone else.’

‘I’m guessing he wasn’t out?’ Thomas asked. ‘He thought being gay would reflect badly on him as a politician?’

‘No, I don’t think that was the problem. He was private about his sexuality, but I think his friends and family knew. I don’t blame him for that, I understand it’s not always easy to talk about and there can be consequences when people know. But I think in his case, he didn’t want people to know about me because I was so much younger, he probably knew grooming a teenager would reflect badly on him. He always said it was because I wasn’t out that he wanted to keep our relationship a secret, that he wanted to protect me from judgement, but I doubt that was true. I never wanted to be someone’s secret.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Wait, how much younger were you?’

‘Six years. I met him when I was fourteen and entered a relationship with him at sixteen.’

Then Alastair’s ex must have been twenty two at the time? Thomas, at eighteen, considered sixteen year old boys children and had no romantic interest in them. He preferred to look at boys his own age, maybe a little older. Despite being a year ahead in his education, Alastair was only a couple of months older than him. He couldn’t imagine being interested in a teenager when he was in his early twenties.

‘I didn’t realize at the time that the age difference was a red flag,’ Alastair explained. ‘I felt very mature, to have caught the attention of someone older. He told me, over and over, that I was very mature for my age, that he couldn’t believe I was still so young.’

Thomas suspected most teenagers would be flattered to be called mature, to be taken seriously by an adult. It was a vile sort of manipulation, to seek out someone young and vulnerable and isolated, someone who would easily fall for such compliments, only to take advantage of them and treat them badly.

‘How did you tell Cordelia?’ Thomas asked.

‘She realized something was not right,’ Alastair said. ‘She realized I was sneaking out at night, that I was barely eating and losing weight because I was so nervous. She said I was “being even more difficult than usual, and that’s saying something”. So I told her not to worry about it and that I was just sneaking out to see my boyfriend. I said I’d wanted to tell her, but wasn’t sure yet if I was ready, and that he had recommended I don’t tell anyone yet. She started asking a lot of questions about my relationship. At first it was in a supportive way, what did he look like, what were his interests. She kind of freaked out when she learnt about the age gap, and the more she asked about how he treated me, the more concerned she became. She’s been very protective of me ever since.’

‘I’m so sorry. Not that it’s my fault, or there’s anything I could have done, but I’m just sorry. That it happened to you. I’m glad your sister is protective of you. As long as she’s not too protective, I mean,’ Thomas said. ‘I know from experience too much protection can be suffocating.’

A small smile appeared on Alastair’s face, and Thomas realized he so rarely did. He had a very pretty smile that lit up his dark eyes.

‘I found it confusing most of all. As the oldest sibling, I always thought it was my duty to protect her, not the other way around. But Cordelia is fierce, and I love that about her. This one time we ran into him while shopping, not long after the break up. He tried to approach me while Cordelia was getting us ice cream, and when she returned and saw him she threatened to expose him as an abuser and child groomer on all her social media channels if he didn’t back off.’

‘Isn’t what he did illegal anyway?’ Thomas asked. ‘Since you were a minor? Couldn’t you go to the police if he kept harassing you?’

‘Age of consent is sixteen, so even if he was much older it was legal for him to have sex with me,’ Alastair explained. ‘It would be illegal if he was my teacher or in any way in a position of power over me, but he was not. He must have been aware of how those laws work and I think perhaps he waited until I was sixteen so it would be legal.

Him harassing me might be enough to get a restraining order, but honestly I don’t trust the police to believe me over him. Besides, I have no intention of sharing something so personal with police officers. I expect them to not care at best and I think it is likely they will be racist and homophobic and will blame me for what happened.

Cordelia has enough followers on twitter and Instagram to get the story out if we wanted to and it’s a decent threat, but I’ve asked her not to.’

‘From what you’ve told me, he fully deserves to be exposed,’ Thomas said.

He was angry on Alastair’s behalf, and Thomas guessed Alastair was right that as an Iranian gay man he could not trust the police to help him.

‘It’s not so much about whether he deserves it or not. I’m still processing what happened, and I don’t want to be judged by strangers on the internet. I consented to everything sexual we did even if it was coerced, and not everyone will understand all the subtle manipulation involved. I know people will claim it was all my fault, and if I didn’t want it I should have just said no. Or that after breaking up I decided to ruin his life by telling lies. He has powerful friends, I do not. I admire the bravery of the people who expose rapists and abusers on the internet, but I can’t put myself through that right now.’

Thomas felt nauseous, the idea of Alastair being manipulated into having sex with a much older man was difficult for him to process. It made him angry, Alastair had given this man everything, had loved him. How could someone have taken advantage of such a beautiful and passionate man? People often accused Thomas of being too kind, too compassionate, of trying to empathize too much with people who did bad things, but he was fairly certain that if he ever encountered the person who did this to Alastair, he would feel nothing but anger and hatred towards him. And he’d make sure whoever it was would never hurt Alastair again.

He wanted to show support, he wanted to love Alastair, but wasn’t sure how. He knew it was a big step for him, to open up so much, he knew Alastair was very private and trusted him as much as he knew how to trust. Thomas was terrified of letting him down, of breaking his trust.

‘Did he at least back off after that threat?’ Thomas asked.

‘I haven’t seen him in real life again, but he has been texting me until I blocked his number. He is part of the reason I came here, something I needed to get away from. You have provided a decent distraction and I am grateful. I have never… had a friend like you.’

Thomas wasn’t sure how to feel about that statement. He liked being trusted, he loved that Alastair valued him, but at the same time he wanted to be more to him than just a friend. But Alastair needed a friend, Thomas told himself. And perhaps Alastair would fall in love with him over time, perhaps someday they could be together. If not, being his friend would still be worth it.

‘Now, would you want to play another game of ludo before I return to the Herondales? I am certain the dice will be on my side this time,’ Alastair said.

The dice were not on Alastair’s side. The difference in rolls were at the very least statistically improbable, but Thomas wasn’t great at math. He won by a landslide.

‘You’re older than me,’ Thomas offered as an explanation.

Alastair frowned. ‘Only by a few months, and what does that have to do with anything?’

‘I have a theory that dice games like this one favor the young,’ Thomas explained. ‘I used to play this game with my sisters and I always did better. Of course, Barbara would usually let me win with games, but that’s difficult with a game like this. But most of my friends are younger than me, and with Lucie I don’t have nearly this amount of luck. And when I played with my younger cousin Alexander, my rolls are as pathetic as yours. Of course, that’s for the best because he’s three and he throws the game across the room when he loses.’

‘Nothing you just said makes sense,’ Alastair pointed out. ‘The dice can’t tell how old you are.’

‘Perhaps there’s a little spirit in there,’ Thomas said with a smile. ‘Something that realizes if little Alexander loses, painful things will happen to it. It probably dreads the day Alexander will play against children his age.’

Thomas guessed that might not be the best idea, at that age all children were sore losers. Most three year olds didn’t play together yet anyway, it was more parallel play what they did. Alastair left after losing another game, and at the end Thomas might have convinced him of his theory.

‘I’ll meet you here after breakfast for another walk,’ Alastair said with a small smile that made Thomas’ heart race. He hoped he wasn’t showing that. Would Alastair suspect Thomas liked him, now that he knew Thomas was gay? He wasn’t sure if he wanted Alastair to. If Alastair returned his feelings, sure. But if not, what if Alastair would retreat in his shell again, what if he didn’t want to be his friend anymore?

‘See you tomorrow,’ Thomas said. ‘Good night.’

Thomas didn’t sleep well that night. He dreamt of a castle, surrounded by dark forest. He didn’t know where he was, or what was happening. On a surface level, it didn’t even seem so scary but a voice inside Thomas was telling him to run as fast as he could to get away from there, yet he couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure what he was running from exactly, but he woke up drenched in sweat at six in the morning. He didn’t feel rested exactly, but didn’t think he’d fall asleep again, so instead he changed the sheets on his bed and took a quick shower before putting on some clothes.

It would probably be some time until Alastair showed up, so Thomas made breakfast, and took his time to eat before settling in the garden. Gnomes were early risers, and Thomas liked watching them run around. Here they weren’t used to being seen though, and any indication that Thomas did see resulted in them running away and hiding, peeking out of the bushes on occasion to see if he was still there. Thomas put out a plate of cookies, perhaps they would become more trusting to humans who could see them overtime.

He sat there, reading a book Lucie had given him a while back. Ever since Thomas had told her he liked boys, Lucie had recommended books about queer men and right now he was reading Winter’s Orbit, a science fiction story about two men in an arranged political marriage. The amount of miscommunication and hopeless pining was almost painful to read, but also enjoyable. Thomas guessed he wasn’t much better, he still had no idea how to tell Alastair how he felt. Hopefully, he could finish the book before dying, he desperately wanted to know if these two could figure out their feelings for each other before it was too late.

‘What are you reading?’

Thomas looked up to see Alastair, dressed in a black Metallica t shirt and black jeans. He summarized the book he was reading.

‘It was a gift from Lucie,’ he said.

‘It sounds interesting,’ Alastair said. ‘I like books with some political drama. Can I borrow it when you finish?’

‘Sure. And in case I don’t get to finish it, I’ll write you into my will and leave you this book.’

Alastair groaned. ‘Please do not make jokes about you dying.’

Thomas sometimes felt like making jokes about it was the only way to cope. In reality, the idea that he was very likely to die was terrifying, even if the people around him kept assuring him he was going to be fine.

‘Sorry. I hope you’ll like this book. Although… one of the main characters was abused by a previous partner. Would that be an issue?’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘I think then maybe I should wait until I read it. That’s difficult with reading fiction, not all authors offer content warnings and going in unprepared can be devastating. When I know it’s coming… It’s easier, but I’m not sure if I want to do that right now solely to read a book.’

Thomas nodded. ‘I can imagine. If you want any books that don’t have topics that are triggering for you, I’ll try and see if I have anything. Or you can ask Lucie.’

‘I’ll think about it. Being able to read fiction while being prepared through content warnings is something I’m trying to work towards. No idea how long that will take, according to my therapist I’m too impatient. You coming? This early, there might still be some hedgehogs,’ Alastair said with a grin.

‘You really like hedgehogs,’ Thomas pointed out.

‘When I was a child I wanted one for a pet, but my parents didn’t think that was a good idea. Instead, I could have a goldfish. They’re very popular in Iran, people get them for the Persian new year celebration, Nowruz. People usually release them into a river or pond after the celebration, so that’s what Risa did. My parents weren’t too happy about it. At the time, I believed he would probably be happier there anyway than in a bowl, but it is likely he died within days. I don’t think it’s good for the environment either, and many Iranians are pushing back against the tradition because of that. Did you have pets growing up?’

‘Most of my childhood, because I was so sick, my parents didn’t think it was a good idea. They were afraid a pet might carry diseases I would be more vulnerable to,’ Thomas said. ‘But I hope I can adopt cats someday. And Barbara and Oliver have two guinea pigs.’

‘My cousin Jem has a cat,’ Alastair said. ‘Little beast hates everyone, but adores Jem.’

‘Do you see him often?’ Thomas asked. ‘Jem, I mean.’

‘Not really. My father never wanted him near our family, I think because he was afraid Jem would see right through him. But now that we don’t live with Father anymore, I see him occasionally. He offered me to come live with him, but I’m not sure. I still feel like I barely know him.’

They didn’t find any hedgehogs during their walk, presumably because the fog had gotten so thick they wouldn’t see any if they were there. Although Thomas was fairly certain they were taking the same route they had yesterday and during their first walk, everything looked different. He told himself it was probably the fog, but he couldn’t quite convince himself.

‘I don’t remember these ruins,’ Alastair said.

Thomas’ followed Alastair’s gaze and saw the ruins of a very old building. Of course, there were lots of old castles in Scotland, but Thomas hadn’t read anything about ruins in these woods.

‘Do you think we should take a look?’ he asked carefully. ‘I’m not seeing anything unusual.’

‘Apart from ruins that weren’t here yesterday?’

‘We must have taken a different path,’ Thomas said.

‘Sure,’ Alastair said and Thomas didn’t think he believed it. ‘Under normal circumstances, I would not take another step, but if we are to save your life we need information. Perhaps those ruins hold something of interest.’

[eldritchqueerture]

Point of View - Original Statement Fic

Point of View (5004 words) by LadyNikita Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Statement Giver(s) (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), this was intended as the eye but evolved into the vast as well, happens, cosmic horror, attempt at Eldritch Madness, unreality, Discussions of pointlessness and meaninglessness, Canon-Typical The Vast Content (The Magnus Archives), from the eps about space, Mentions of Death, Compulsion, discussions of free will (kind of), Dissociation, Panic, Mentions of addiction, Leitner Book (The Magnus Archives), except it was not possessed by Leitner, Pretty Colours <3, Neurodivergent Protagonist, Queer Protagonist, because I can project a bit as a treat, Can Be Read Without Prior Knowledge of the Podcast (I think)

Summary: "Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?" --- Statement of Lyria Ellison regarding a different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

Notes: Hiiiiii <3 I've been reading Lovecraft recently and as much as I hate the dude, The Colour Out of Space gave me so much inspiration that I immediately sat down and produced this in one sitting. I've been meaning to play with the concept of eldritch madness for a while; something about this trope is really appealing to me and I'm really enjoying my attempts at shaping it with words. Lyria is a preexisting OC of mine, I will give some background on her in the end notes because I love her very much. This is a form of practice for me; I'm playing with horror themes and I'd like to get acquainted with them to better incorporate them into my overall writing. Therefore I will accept constructive criticism if anyone wants to give it, but only in the form of DMs, either on Tumblr (your-queer-vampire-dm) or on Discord, if we know each other through a server. All of the warnings I think should be mentioned are in the tags, but if you think something should be added then please tell me!

Date: May 10th , 2018

Name: Lyria Ellison

Subject of experience: A different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

—

How do you start telling a story that changed your heart, your mind, and your soul so profoundly that you can barely still function in a society? How do you say all that without sounding borderline insane? Nobody knows what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. I know they would all say I’ve hallucinated it all and should seek treatment. But I know it won’t help. I know… I know so much now. Too much and not enough. Never enough. I know what happened was real . I don’t have proof so I’m guessing you won’t believe me either, but I need to tell someone about it. So I might as well tell you.

My name is Lyria Ellison and I’m a neuropsychology major. Ex-major, I should say. I dropped out after… Yeah. I dropped out; there’s not much point in continuing studying things about the feeble, insignificant human brain. Utterly pointless venture.

Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?

Just a year ago, I was convinced I was going to finish my degree. I was so passionate about it too, eager to learn more and more, to research and seek knowledge. Curious and fascinated by the world around us. What a foolish thing it was to give into that drive. My mind was open to the supernatural, although I always approached it scientifically; I never said the supernatural existed, but I also never said it didn’t. It was plausible; all in all, every scientist must accept that there is still a vast amount of knowledge we don’t have about the world.

The ignorance was a blessing. But I shall not get ahead of myself.

It started around December last year; my dad had died, and my girlfriend, Shawala, and I were clearing out his house. There wasn’t really anyone else to do it; my mother had passed a couple years prior, I had no siblings, and extended family was out of the picture as well; and my dad had gathered a lot of things in his adventurous life; he was a traveller, and he loved the world, loved learning about it, just like me. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with it all; my dad meant a lot to me back then, and Shawala proved an excellent support at that first shock. She promised to do some first view assessments of the ground floor, while I went to scope out how things looked in the attic.

It’s always either basements or attics, isn’t it? I used to read horror, Lovecraftian was my favourite – how ironic, isn’t it? How stupid . How utterly ignorant. The hubris of the human race at its finest.

Anyways, the attic was half-lit from the small windows in the roof, and dust was swirling in the faint light of the afternoon sun. It was cold here, but I didn’t pay much mind; the house was old, and it wasn’t surprising that there was draft. To say the space was cluttered would be an understatement; I could barely walk around the numerous boxes, old furniture, crates, and overflowing bookshelves; all of which made something in my chest curl tight, bringing tears to my eyes. I steered my steps towards the nearest bookshelf; I’ve always been a bookworm, fascinated by nearly any tome I came across; I’ve been reading popular science books since I was eight. So naturally, I was drawn to the books, taking huge steps above the cardboard boxes and careful not to hit anything else.

The books were old, of course, and dusty. Some of them had loose pages, and I treated them very gently, almost reverently. I have a little bit of a bookbinder streak, and I decided I would take them home and try to put them back together. As I rifled through them, I saw they pertained to a vast variety of subjects, from poetry, drama, and history, to science, metaphysics, and maths. The deeper I looked into this stunning collection, the more reverence rose in my heart; at my fingertips I had the oldest and the biggest accumulation of knowledge I had ever seen. I saw some books dated back even two hundred years ago.

At that point Shawala called me to check if I was alright. I put the book I had in my hands back and my knuckles brushed against the black leather cover of the next one on the shelf. I felt pleasant tingling in my palm at the touch and my heart leaped at the prospect; I didn’t know why –  the book seemed ordinary enough on the shelf and there was no title on its spine.

I sometimes wonder if I could have just left it there and gone downstairs; chosen to come back later and then maybe, it wouldn’t have enticed me as it did. If, by that point, I had had any choice left on the matter.

Alas, intrigued by the book, I placed my palm on the spine and took it out. The leather was soft and smooth, probably sheep, with familiar subtle grains all over the texture. I remember it striked me as odd that it was warmer than the rest of the books in the drafty attic, but I shrugged it off. The front cover had a title, small but visible in the centre, etched in gold – Punctum Visus .

I, by all means, cannot read or speak Latin, but I figured it was something to do with vision. I opened the book, an unknown anticipation buzzing in my stomach. The pages were worn and old, their texture was slightly rough but pleasant under my fingertips; as I opened the front page, I saw the title again, this time in thick but still elegant, black letters, and the smell came up to my nostrils.

I tried to describe it in my head countless times after. I always loved the smell of old books, and I knew it very well, so it came to me as a surprise to realize it wasn’t the only smell I could feel from the book. It was… cold, somehow, distant but prickling at my nose, a little bit the way peppermint tastes. It reminded me of the night sky and distant stars somehow. The smell awakened an unease within me, as I couldn’t quite place what it was and why it seemed so weird , but it wasn’t by any means unpleasant. It was… enticing. Like a promise of a mystery.

I breathed it in again through my nose, closing my eyes, and for a moment I lost all feeling in my body. I was untethered and immaterial, somewhere in deep darkness that seemed to envelop me whole. It felt cold on my mind, stretching it thoughtlessly in the empty vastness, and I saw distant flickering lights of stars. Before I could form a coherent thought, I was back in myself, panting and shaking, staring at the front page of the Punctum Visus . I looked around with shaky breaths; the attic looked the same, and Shawala’s steps on the stairs reached my ears, with her voice calling my name. A shiver passed down my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom on my skin; was it the draft, the dread, or the excitement I couldn’t tell.

I knew I had to read this book, no matter what it took for me to do so.

I took it home, almost forgetting about the rest of the books upstairs. It had spent the next month laying in my room, as I dealt with the formalities and moving the rest of things that weren’t sold from the house either to my place or to charity. After the day we left the house for the last time, I collapsed in my bed, exhausted, but instead of closing, my eyes fell on the book unassumingly waiting on my nightstand.

A surge of excitement passed through me, waking me right up. I sat up and reached for the book. It was still warm; I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but warm it was. I think it made me subconsciously assign it more… being? Like, even before I knew anything, I somehow subconsciously accepted that it was more than just an object; that it was, in a sense, alive on its own. I brushed my fingers on the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the etching of the letters. In the meantime during this month I had checked the meaning of the title – Point of Sight; a position from which a thing is or is supposed to be viewed. It makes so much sense now.

But then I didn’t know what dangers it held; or I didn’t want to think about them. I do remember feeling anxious, my hands trembling every time I opened the cover, but it was so mingled with exhilaration of the certainty I was discovering something important that I must have disregarded it. As I turned the pages, I wasn’t surprised to find the text in Latin; though I still felt a pang of frustration that it meant I couldn’t read it for now. I rifled through the pages, looking curiously at the letters that formed words yet unattainable to me. There was a hunger inside of me; a hunger to Know. As I turned the pages past various symbols, illustrations of the constellations, and of Earth, I determined it must be some sort of a metaphysical work. The point of view on the world around us.

Normally I just skim through works like this and leave them. While they are an interesting read sometimes, they’re not my favourite genre and, looking objectively, putting in the effort of learning a whole language just for the sake of reading a treatise on the meaning of cosmos by an unknown author seems strange at best. But somehow it seemed obvious to me that I had to read it. It called to me, sang into a part of my being that begged to be filled, promising knowledge that would finally leave me satisfied. I know now that it’s impossible. Once you’ve tasted the hunger for knowing, you will never find satisfaction; it’s like an addiction. You just crave more and more, and the knowledge never ends. After a certain point you know too much and when it all connects, when it starts to make sense… you slip. I didn’t know that, even though maybe I should have. I didn’t know what those things I was feeling meant then and I didn’t stop to question them; I gave into it as soon as it touched me. I was stupid.

What followed were a busy couple of months. Every waking moment that wasn’t spent keeping up the pretence of being interested in my major (back then I only thought it a brief hyperfixation, of course, and wouldn’t have called it a pretence at all), I was learning Latin online or staring into the incomprehensible words on the pages. This period of my life is a blur; I remember my friends checking up on me if I was alright, since I wasn’t particularly social anymore. Shawala got progressively more worried, but it fully escaped my mind to care. I know that staring thoughtlessly at the book took up more and more of my time; once, I remember, I returned from my classes at three PM and took the book out; when I came back to myself it was well past midnight. That’s when I started to feel truly uneasy about it. It was the second half of April; I looked back on what I’ve been doing these past months and this cold dread started creeping up to my throat. I realized I didn’t know why I wanted to read the book so much and I remembered the “vision” or the hallucination I had that first time in my dad’s attic. I had set it aside completely as unimportant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. I started shaking and theorizing in my head about the book being able to influence my mind somehow, to control it. Had my actions not been my own? How much of it was my own will and how much was the book? Was it even possible for it to influence me like that; could it be that it was supernatural in some way?

The house became cold, unnaturally so. It was dark and all the windows were closed, but a chill draft managed to find its way into the corridor I was in anyway. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees, trembling in panic. I was all alone in the flat, everyone I knew was surely already asleep in their homes, and I was small and weak in the face of something that maybe could have controlled my mind. I suddenly became aware of the leatherbound book in my hand, and I threw it along the corridor at the front door with a whimper, as far away from me as possible. The book thumped against the door, then the floor, and opened on a random page.

I’ve read enough horrors. I knew that the page would be significant, and that knowledge made me sob and hug my knees tighter. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt like I’d just woken up from a months-long dream… and perhaps I was right. The recent past felt alien.

I felt tears sting my eyes and that’s when the smell reached me. Again that mixture of old paper and peppermint cold, distantly sweet but freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in ragged and shallow, and tears streamed down my face as I stared at the open book that was calling me in an inaudible whisper. The logical side of my mind was trying desperately to make sense of it, to assign the dissociative feeling to my father’s death and yeah, it was plausible, but somehow it just didn’t feel right. The whispers sounded again, swirling around my head, the golden sound almost touching the back of my neck, making me wince. It was enticing and promising, but this time, I felt terror instead of excitement. Disregarding how my mind was trying to rationalize the situation, I knew the book was cursed somehow. I knew that I was its victim. And I knew that I would not be strong enough to resist it.

I don’t know how much time I sat there, trembling, and sobbing into my knees, before I calmed down from the panic and decided I had to do something. I had to find out what this book was and how it found itself into my dad’s library. I couldn’t remember seeing anything in his diaries that would mention it at all, but then again, I didn’t read them all cover to cover. On wobbly legs I carefully made my way back to my room and searched the Internet until the sun started peeking out of the window; I found nothing about any book titled Punctum Visus . I tried all the libraries that I’d known of, that had their assortment online, all the research databases; nothing.

So, at the crack of dawn, with a fast-beating heart, I stood in the door of my room, staring out into the corridor, where the book still lay by the front door, unmoving. The golden strings of a wordless melody made it to my ears; it promised an explanation; that this time if I looked close enough, I would find what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

Where else could I find the answers if not in the book itself?

I could feel its cold fingers slowly wrap around my mind, steering me to come closer. It called me with a hypnotising voice that awakened all the red signals in my brain, telling me to run and hide, but I didn’t. The voice meant danger, but I knew it also meant knowledge.

Dangerous knowledge. The pull dragged me through the corridor step by step; I hadn’t been fighting it as strongly as I could have had and I was about to start, since I was getting closer to the book, but suddenly I felt the chill of the influence let go, hovering close but out of reach. It was still compelling me to come, to Look, but I could move my own limbs. I had a choice to make.

Knowledge of danger. Did I believe my own warning thoughts that I would regret looking into the book? Did I take my own logical, rational side seriously? Was I ever good at resisting my own impulses?

I’ve never been addicted to anything, but then again, I never really had the opportunity, as it were; my friends were more of a no-alcohol types and I really ever smoked cigarettes once. I’ve never seen drugs in real life. So who’s to say if I’m not an addictive personality? And this, this was addictive. The thrill of mystery, the exhilarating process of learning, the anticipation of the answers.

Was it ever really my choice?

No supernatural force guided my steps that night; no cold fingers made me kneel next to the book and carefully cradle it in my arms, looking at the page with a shaky breath and tears in my eyes, as if I was coming back home like the prodigal son. But I’m sure it was by some paranormal means that this time I could understand the text on the pages.

I honestly don’t remember what it said. As I read the unfamiliar words, the meaning presented itself in my mind, not entirely unlike that first “vision” I had in the attic; as soon as I started reading I knew that I had made the choice and there was no turning back. That cold draft enveloped me, sat on my skin, and started to bite; I felt that smell again, stronger than ever before, something intangible but unmistakably inhuman . It was then that I realized that’s what had felt wrong to me about the smell since the beginning. It was inferior and alien. My hands started shaking as my eyes, glued to the text, moved now on their own down the page, drinking the words in. I was terrified out of my mind, but the pleasant tingling along my nerves was back, the anticipation of the promised understanding.

My mind was drowned with the tide of knowledge. This was just a prologue; a true discovery would require preparation, but I was almost ready. The voice said I was chosen, that I was a perfect candidate to bring It what It needs and that I would be rewarded. I cried tears of amazement and horror at the sheer scope of the voice – it seemed to encompass the entire world. I couldn’t comprehend it, but I didn’t know then that it was a blessing. I wanted to know, I craved to know what It was and how I could be of use to something so powerful, so huge. Divine. That was a word that crossed my mind, as much as I don’t like that. I don’t like many things, but I can’t change any of them.

The voice said I’m on the right path. I would Know and Understand. First, I needed to do something. As It told me what that was, doubt started to creep up to my mind. What was I doing? What was happening? How could this be real?

I came to on the floor by my front door, the cursed book in hand, with a tear-stained face and a bloody nose.

I knew what I had to do to get ready and, as I calmed down and went over everything in my head, I was surprised by how trivial it was. Honestly, by this point I was kind of afraid It would tell me to hurt someone, so I was glad this was just about reading a bunch of words in a specific location at a specific time. I was aware of the fact that this was most probably a ritual, and I was quite apprehensive. I kept arguing with myself in my head, over and over whether I should follow through, but deep down I knew that I would, no matter what I told myself. This part, I think, scared me the most; how compelling the promise of knowledge was, how reverently I’d found myself thinking of the book and its owner (which I assumed was the voice), how fanatical some of my thoughts sounded. I’ve never been religious, never really felt idealistic either. I was always focused on facts, on the here and now. Can knowledge be an ideal? Can you be a fanatic of Seeing and Knowing?

How much had I changed since I’d found Punctum Visus in that old attic.

I found a good, quiet spot, on the north-west side of the New Forest National Park near Southampton. I told no one about this, deeming it unimportant. I would come back after my big discovery, I would explain everything. I laugh at myself now; at my naivety.

The night of April 28 th was clear, and the starry sky looked back at me as I parked my car on the road in the forest and locked it. I tied a piece of a long red string to the wheel, not to lose my way in the forest, and started to walk forward. I held the book close to my chest, as if it could protect me from the dark, eerie outlines of the trees, swaying gently on the wind and whatever the darkness around me held. I didn’t light the torch; the moon was nearly full, bathing everything in its gentle light, and besides, for some reason it seemed that the crude yellow light would somehow break the sanctity of what I was about to do. I could see the ground in front of me and managed to lose sight of my car and everything else besides trees pretty fast.

I stopped when I found a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on me like a big eye; I didn’t know why this comparison seemed the most fitting, but it did. I took a deep breath, feeling a chill plant little dots all over my skin, making my hairs stand on end. The wind died down and the trees froze, as if in anticipation. I felt something watching me closely; I was not alone here anymore.

The realization made my breath catch in my throat and the last streaks of sanity broke through my thick skull. Run! Drop the book and run! I didn’t. My hands trembled, my muscles tensed, and I stood there, frozen with fear as something stared at me, seemingly for eternity. Something bigger than me, bigger than anything I have ever seen was watching me, waiting. My eyes dropped to the book in my arms. The black leather was warm, as always, but this time I felt a pulsating sensation from it. A heartbeat.

I screamed. The book landed discarded on the ground, and I stumbled backwards and tripped, landing in the grass as well. It was cold and wet, and it glistened with something in the faint moonlight. At first I took it for water, but upon closer inspection I saw it was the grass itself that glittered – a shy rainbow, glowing iridescently in an impossible way. I froze, stunned, for I have never seen such colours before. It seemed utterly alien, something unfitting for the human eye to see; simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

As I looked around, I noticed that everything alive in the forest – the trees, the grass, the bushes, the plants – had taken on that iridescent mixture of faint light that prickled my eyes and sent a shiver of terror down my spine. It was beautiful, utterly gorgeous in a way that nothing a human eye can perceive could be. It was horrifying in how different, alien, and other it was. My senses could tell this is not of the Earth; not of this reality, not of this world; everything in me that still had common sense tried to recoil from the inferiority of this magnificence and the danger it brought, but I had abandoned common sense a while back. Maybe even when I touched the book for the first time. I stared then, breathless and trembling, at this scenery as if from a fairy tale and decided to lock away my rational thoughts. I wanted to See, to Know; I wanted to experience and if this was the death of me then hell, it was a pretty good way to go. To behold such a sight, I thought, was a reward in and of itself.

Of course, I had no idea what any of it meant. I slowly rose to my knees and patted the ground down until I felt the book. It still pulsated with this heartbeat and the letters etched in the leather glowed with golden light. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t know whether I was shivering from fear or the cold. I opened the book on the first page.

What I saw was not what I had expected. I remembered that the first page, after the titular one, was the beginning of the introduction, that much I had understood, but now it was a big picture in black and white; a night sky, with an almost full moon and strewn with stars. It was a shot from the ground and treetops could be seen at the edges of the picture. As the book swayed in my hands, the stars glittered, and the perspective shifted ever so slightly, as if it was in 3D. Stricken by a surge of dread and cold certainty, I looked up. My suspicion was right – the picture in the book depicted the exact image that was now above me. I gasped quietly and looked down at the book—

And this is where things started to really go horribly, horribly wrong.

The book was gone. What’s more, the ground was gone too and suddenly everything was not where it should have been. I blinked but it did nothing to ease the dizziness; and when I composed myself enough to register what I was seeing I froze, the most intense horror I have ever experienced crushing my body from all sides and inside out.

I realized that I was Seeing. I was finally Seeing, and I Understood it all.

I don’t know how to convey in words what I saw. I don’t believe it’s possible; humans were never made to see and understand such things. I should have never touched the book, I should have never asked for knowledge. All my life I believed that knowledge was the point; it was a tool, and it was power. I don’t know what I think anymore. I think some knowledge should always be hidden because we were not made to know everything. We can’t , it’s physically impossible for us to comprehend.

For one moment in my life. For one moment I became something else, and I saw the world in the way It sees the world. For one moment I shared a mind with an eldritch being, a thing that is Fear itself, and I saw the Earth through Its Eye. I can’t… I can’t tell you just how horrible it is. How… How meaningless; we’re all intertwined things, guided by strings of web that lead us through life, and we’re all connected in this maze of fear . We’re not individuals; we’re not special. We don’t have souls and none of our experiences matter. We’re just fear. These… These entities are a part of all of us. They’re our fear and they live inside of us, inside of every living creature that can feel fear. Can you comprehend that? How can you be sure you are yourself when there’s a cosmic entity, a power as old as life itself, living you ? And no one has any idea. Nobody knows and if I tell someone they’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. But deep down I know what I saw. I know it was real. And I’m terrified. I’m terrified because I know that this Being of eyes that I became a part of watches everything I do. I feel Its presence here very strongly, and I guess it makes sense. It will never leave me. It’s a part of me, just like the rest of them; just like they’re all a part of every one of you, yet you have no idea. But I know. And I know I’m all alone with that knowledge, the knowledge that I can’t comprehend, but I know I could in that one moment. It’s a very lonely place to be and I’m scared.

I’m scared as I have never been before; this fear doesn’t leave me anymore. Every second of every day I’m aware I’m watched by something as great as cosmos. I’m aware I shared my mind with that being and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know what to do now, but I don’t expect any advice from you. I’m leaving the book with you, as proof. Its heart doesn’t beat anymore, and I’ve seen what I was supposed to.

Don’t read it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!! For people interested in a little bit of background: Lyria is a D&D character I have created that still awaits her chance to play in a campaign. She's an arcane scholar that has a dark little secret of actually being a warlock of a being she doesn't know a lot about. She's in love with knowledge and she seeks to learn about her powers as well as the world around her. I'm currently DMing a Ravenloft campaign and I just couldn't miss the fact how much potential for a corruption arc she has. Then I listened to TMA and I was like, she would definitely become the Avatar of the Beholding.

[uozlulu]

Black Clover chapter 306 reaction and spoilers

This week we get a flashback into a time when the Zogratis siblings were young. Apparently there is a fourth Zogratis sibling who’s in a wheelchair and looks possibly older than Dante. We don’t see his face but he’s got the little mullet shoujo curls like Yuno and Zenon do. He says, “Don’t worry, Zenon. You’re the one who’s most like me. You have greater aptitude for being a devil host than either Dante or Vanica.”

Allen appears looking about as much like Asta as little Zenon looks like Yuno. Seems ominous because the last time a duo made me think of Asta and Yuno we got Lumiere and Licht’s tragedy. (One of my first Black Clover theories was that Asta and Yuno were some kind of reincarnation of the devil and Wizard King from the opening sequence of the anime).

Apparently there’s always snow on the ground in Spade, which only ups the whole pre-October Revolution vibe Spade has before the Zogratis coup since the October Revolution happened around the time we came out of the Little Ice Age give or take..

Increasing the direct parallel to Asta and Yuno, Zenon and Allen vow to become head of the defense force in Spade. Zenon is also seen as a genius when it comes to magic.

Allen seems to have some kind of sword wrapped into an elemental type magic. It makes me curious what the element is and if it might relate back to Licita. I mean I’m more inclined to believe that Allen would be something like Asta’s uncle or cousin and Licita had to flee Spade than I would believe that Allen is Asta’s dad. I still think Asta technically has no father and Licita called Asta to her via her style of magic and his lack of mana.

There’s also a parallel here to Nacht’s story in that part of the path towards the resolution of the devil deal was the sacrifice of a seemingly good by canon standard’s person.

It’s also interesting to see Zenon’s need for more power, his need to never be put in this emotionally compromised state ever again is brought about by the death of someone he probably cared about greatly. It puts him directly in the position Yuno is currently in in many ways since Zenon wiped out a good portion of the Golden Dawn and the ritual might kill Vangeance, all of whom Yuno seems to care about greatly. Not to mention part of what Zenon’s attack has done is shake Yuno off his pedestal of being invincible, of not needing to go to Heart Kingdom for special training, etc…etc…

Now what I’m most curious about is what does Zenon achieve via the ritual? He joined the defense force seeking the power to change it and Spade. He ended up participating in a coup that did indeed accomplish this. He’s got a lot of power already. Why does he need more? Or is it, perhaps, that the ritual isn’t about what Zenon, Vanica, and Dante want and need, but what their oldest brother wants and needs? Like if you put together the Dark Triad, you come up with a narcissist with no empathy who has impulse control problems and tends to manipulate and exploit others. From the moment Nacht explained the ritual, I’ve been curious if sacrificing the Dark Triad is a key element of the ritual, which in turn brings us back to the question of who ultimately benefits because all three Zogratis siblings are so self-absorbed that I can’t believe for a minute they willingly would enter some kind of suicide mission. So if Dante has Lucifer(io), Zenon has Beelzebub, and Vanica has Megicula whose known as the origin of curses, then who’s above all that? Who might their brother have partnered himself with? Will it be an original concept or will Luciferio switch from Dante to the brother? Maybe it will be the snake from Eden or the tempter. Maybe, since we’re building off of a kind of Yggdrasil map for the wege it’ll be someone like Hel, though she really isn’t a malevolent being, she’s just in charge of Hel.

I like that there’s a lot to think about with this chapter and it’ll be interesting to see what this parallel between Zenon and Yuno mean for their fight and whatever happens when the shoe inevitably drops probably sooner than later at this point. Maybe the shoe will be Zenon waking up from his decades-long depression haze and switching sides. Maybe the next shoe to drop will be what happens when all of the Dark Triad dies as a necessary sacrifice to the ritual (which might in turn seal Yami and Vangeance’s fate). It leaves me wanting to know more and I can’t really ask more than that from a story really.

Also looking forward to the face reveal/plot twist potential of the fourth Zogratis sibling. That should be interesting when that goes down.

[arthemis-forge]

Forbidden (Part I) F.W

Chapter One. “The boy of the train.”

Paring: Fred Weasley x OC/ Draco Malfoy x OC

Summary: Lyra Nightstar is the first-born child of Adonis and Hecate Nightstar. One of the oldest and most powerful pureblood families in the magical world. Betrothed since birth to Draco Malfoy in order to preserve the status of both families as well to protect their bloodlines. She is raised under a series of very extreme concepts and values. What will happen the day that her fiancé and family find out that she does not share these ideas and that she has fallen in love with a certain redhead blood traitor?

Settings: None 

Author’s note: 

Hello!

This is my first job in a very long time. I hope you like it.

Another thing, English is not my native language, so if you find any narrative error, it would be very helpful if you let me know to edit the work. It should be noted that some events from the original Harry Potter saga may be modified for the purpose of this story.

Without more to say I hope you enjoy the story!

Since the first moment I saw him I thought that he was the one. However, the day that I meet him I wasn’t that sure. For many years I lied to myself and burry the feeling that was blooming deep down in my heart.

True love it wasn’t a thing that I could permit to myself. Not when I was living in a racist pureblood family that would kill me first before seeing me marrying to a mudblood or blood traitor. And it’s not that I didn’t believed it wasn’t worth the sacrifice. But I couldn’t be that selfish. How could I have the audacity to put Fred or any of his family member in danger just because I loved him?

It was easier to stay with Draco…

September 1, 1991

I wasn´t able to sleep the night before.  I couldn't stop thinking about the moment when I would step on that train.

Even mom was a bit upset with me when she found out that I wasn’t able to sleep all night.

—Ly this is unbelievable!  Look at those eyebags babe… —

She said with an annoyed and worried voice while she was closing the door behind her.

—I’m sorry mom I couldn’t sleep. I was so excited for today…—

I confessed as I get up from my bed. Mom usually was love and caring woman, but in situations like this she could be a bit troublesome.

—Good morning little witch!  How are you feeling today? —

Dad exclaimed as he made his way into my dorm.

—Lyra hasn't behaved very well today. She didn't sleep all night long. Also, ly’s trunk is over there, love—

She smiled at him while she pointed to my trunk which was placed on my desk. Seconds later she hugged dad to steal him a soft and tender kiss.

In moments like this I wonder If I could be as happy as them with my fiancé Draco.

Time flew by. Even though we got up early and leave everything organized, it wasn’t enough for us. Luckily, we made it to platform 9 3/4 on time and we managed to catch up with the Malfoy family.

As we approach them, I could see in my dad's eyes that he was a bit worried.

—Good morning, Lucius. We are very sorry for not arriving on time. I hope you and your lovely family haven’t spent a long time waiting for us. —

He said with some fear in his eyes.

—Oh, don’t worry Adonis. We also just arrived a few minutes ago. Isn't it Narcissa? —

He asked to his wife while she nod with her head.

—Are you alright? I was so worried you wouldn’t made it on time —

I head a voice. It was Draco who was talking to me.

—Yes, don’t worry. It just that I forgot to bring Rhiannon with me. So, we had to go back for her…—

I said with a quietly voice as I pointed to my white snowy owl. Who was resting peacefully in her cage.

He only limited himself to smile at me with his flushed cheeks.

—Come on, let's go now. Let’s find a nice place to stay —

He took me by the hand waiting for our parents to help us with our things to finally board the train, however Lucius interrupted him.

—Draco don't forget that once you get on that train Lyra it's your responsibility. Take care and guide her. Don't let her hang out with the wrong people. Do as I told you. —

He said with a threatening tone of voice.

— Please take care of her for me. She is my greatest pride and treasure—

Dad confesses while he bent down to give me a forehead kiss. Seconds later I was hugged at the same time by my mom and dad.

—I will. I promise you Mr. Nightstar. —

Draco answered him with a firm voice full of pride.

And with that last, Draco and I left on our way to the train.

I must admit that I was very nervous, but the warmth of his hand gave me the peace and confidence that I needed.

We spent a few minutes touring the train, observing the cabins. It took a little longer than we expected but finally we found one booth who was still empty. Apparently, Draco preferred that we were alone instead that we shared it with anyone else. It wasn't something that bothered me but like dad said. He was the one who would guide me and see for me.

We were tired so we didn't talk much we fell asleep in a matter of minutes once we snuggled up and shared the sheet that Narcissa gave us to share on the way to school.

A few hours passed and hunger invaded me. I had heard from my parents that on the train I would always find a lady with a trolley full of sweets. So, without thinking twice I got up from the couch.

I tried to wake Draco to see if I could bring him something, but he was even more tired than me. So, I took my money and left with the intentions of still bringing him something. Maybe some green apple flavored sugar quills.

With some care I closed the cabin door and turned in search of a trolley. Luckily for me, 7 booths ahead was the lady who was solling the sweets.

But just before I walked away, I was stopped by a girl with tousled brown hair and deep brown eyes.

—Sorry for bothering you. I am Hermione Granger. My friend Neville just missed his frog. In case you get to see it please let us know. We are next to your cabin. —

She smiled as she greeted me with a somewhat friendly voice.

—Sure, Granger. I will let you know if I see it. See you later—

I smiled back and once I said goodbye, I began to look at the floor in search of that frog. I was so involved in that search that I did not notice that someone was also coming in my direction.

It didn't take long for me to bump into him and fall to the floor. A small groan left my lips as my purse was opened dropping all my coins.

—Oh dear… I'm so sorry, pretty. —

Said a voice of an older boy.

Once I looked up, I found myself with the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen in my life. They were dark brown. The boy himself was red-haired and his face was covered in freckles.

It was the first time I had seen a boy who was not Draco or someone of my family. The more I looked at him my heart raced. At this moment I had lost the feeling of space and time.

—Hey? you're okay? — he asked me while he help me to collect the coins in my purse.

—This is a lot of money for someone as young as your little one. Be careful next time. Keep it well, someone can steal it from you—

He smiled and laughed at me. Seconds later he ruffled my hair with his warm hand and walked away as if nothing had happened.

What was that? I wonder as I walked while I steal could hear that soft cute laugh that came from his lips.

The worst thing is that the boy behaved in a very nice way without caring about my clumsiness and I didn't even have the courage to thank him for helping me.

Something dazed finally made it to the candy cart.

—Good evening, can you give me two of the green apple sugar quills, a package of lemon drops and a chocolate frog please. —

That last one for the redhead that I forgot to apologize with.

—Of course, beautiful. 5 galleons. —

The woman replied as she was placing everything in a small paper bag.

—Thank you very much, have a good night. —

I handed her the coins and headed to the cabin where probably Draco was still sleeping.

My heart was still pounding as I opened the door.

—Oh, here you are, Ly. I was just going to get up to look for you. —

He said while he yawns. He looked fresh and relaxed.

 —I went for some sweets. I brought you some green apple sugar quills. Like the ones you always buy at Honey Dukes ... —

I answer shilly.

—Thank you very much, Ly. —

The blond boy smiled, embarrassed but somewhat excited about the detail.

—By the way, why does your face looks so red? Did something happen? Are you okay? —

[unmanageable-day]

Come to me

previous chapter. 1 - 2 - 2.5 - 3 - 4 - 5

PART 6 - next

Summary. After what happened in a relationship in the past, you found it  difficult to trust someone with the gentleman image. 'Gentleman' seems like merely a concept and it was probably impossible for someone to be a genuine one. Now that you're stuck with the number one gentleman at campus for a  group project, how would you cope with the one and only Joshua Hong?

Genre. College!au, non-idol!au / friends to lover

Pairing. Joshua x y/n x a little bit of S.Coups, and a sprinkle of Wonwoo

a/n: the first appearance of coupsieee!

Joshua was restless with a can of beer in his hand that remained full although the lid was opened. He kept checking the clock on the wall, on his wristwatch, and on his phone. Maybe she won't come, he thought. Or maybe she will, I mean, Johnny's here. Suddenly it crossed his mind to do head counting.

Jeonghan, Mingyu, and Soonyoung were already here. Seungcheol, Seungkwan and Vernon were out to get some more drinks. Jihoon wouldn't come obviously. Minghao and Junhui were staying in China longer than expected. Wonwoo. Where is Wonwoo?

Just then, the door was swung open. Came in a tall, slim guy with a sweater and a beanie despite it was still summer. Behind him, following his step, you appeared with unsure expression. Quivering, your eyes tried scanning all over the place to find a bunch of guys excited to see you. Including Joshua, of course.

The dark blonde boy stomped to welcome you. "Y/n!" he almost exclaimed since he can't hide how relieved he was. "I thought you wouldn't come."

Unconsciously, you scooted closer to Wonwoo who was standing next to you, talking with Chan who just came as well. "Yeah, I was working on my essay for extra credit. It's due in 3 days."

"I see." He nodded slowly, trying as smooth as possible eyeing you and Wonwoo. He noticed those little interactions you shared with the beanie guy. "You and Wonwoo.. did you meet on your way?" Regrets came instantly right after he asked that. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"No. I actually did my essay at the cafe where Wonwoo works part time. So I thought of waiting for him to finish his shift so we could go together."

"I see." Now he ran out of topics. This was when he hated himself the most.

"Park Y/n! I'm glad you can make it." Jeonghan appeared from Joshua's back. This beautifully handsome man had been observing his friend being a fool, and he knew he had to save the day. "It's great to see you." He warmly welcomed you with a hug.

You shrugged as Jeonghan released his small hug. "The pleasure is mine," you muttered.

"Wonwoo, it's great to see you too. You’ve been working hard these days." Jeonghan hugged Wonwoo, smoothly leading the beanie guy walk away from you and Joshua, and joining Soonyoung and Seokmin instead.

You were about to call Wonwoo’s name but Joshua distracted you.

"Hey, let’s come in. Johnny’s inside already. He came with Jaehyun, a friend of Mingyu. Speaking of Mingyu, he has been experimenting with our drinks and he wants to show it off."

Smiling awkwardly, you nodded and followed his steps to the kitchen where you can find Mingyu and the other guys getting excited to see you. As you reached the pantry, you headed straight towards Johnny and Jaehyun who were watching Mingyu mixing some drinks. Joshua was behind you, silently watching you blend naturally with those giant guys. He wanted to get closer, but he knew he had to keep his distance. Otherwise, you would be freaked out. Things between you and him would be worse. And that would be the last thing he wanted.

Soon, Wonwoo and Soonyoung joined the crowds in the kitchen. This time you made your way back to Wonwoo's side. Meanwhile Joshua was stuck to a corner—a perfect spot to observe all around the dining room where everyone was scattered here and there. Approximately 3 meter away from his spot, your back was facing him as you occupied yourself chattering with Wonwoo.

"Jisoo, stop looking at her and Wonwoo like that." Jeonghan quietly hissed. "You're almost burning a hole on her back because you're intensely shooting laser with your eyes."

Joshua bit his bottom lip, looking uneasy. "Am I weird?" I definitely am. Who in the world tried to kiss a girl without even confessing properly? He was mad at himself.

"We're all weird."

"Do you think Wonwoo is more attractive than me? I thought he's way more quiet than me."

"She had spent more time with Wonwoo. That's obvious. She knows him better. She's comfortable with him better."

"Okay. That is not helping."

"I never say I'm going to help."

Joshua widened his eyes at Jeonghan. Such a love language between these twins.

"Okay, kidding. Just try to talk more? Ask her out? The finals will be over in a matter of weeks anyway. How about inviting her to our camping plan? I'll help to set you up."

Not a good idea, he internally answered. His buddy had no idea he tried to hang out for a movie night the other day, which ended not in a good term. The other reason that had been in his mind was because Wonwoo would be there too. But again, if Wonwoo wasn't there, what would be the reason to make you join the trip? Even the presence of Soonyoung, Seokmin and Mingyu wouldn't be good enough.

"Hey, why are you two whispering?" A pale guy with thick eyebrows crept up behind Joshua and Jeonghan, effectively startling the two best buds.

"What took you so long, Choi Seungcheol?" Jeonghan diverted the topic immediately.

"I had to take longer route because Seungkwan wanted to get americano. The three nearest coffee shops were closed." He sipped his drink. "Anyway, who is that fella? The one sticking with Mingyu and Wonwoo? She's pretty."

"Yes, she is," Joshua half consciously muttered. His eyes were locked on you that it made him almost out of his mind. "Wait, what?!"

Jeonghan had to hold his laughter looking at Joshua's reaction. "Hold your horses, Coups," he managed to speak between his chuckles.

"What?" Seungcheol flashed his gummy smile.

"Not you too, please," Joshua whined, frowning.

"All I'm saying is that she's pretty." Now it was his turn to chuckle. "Is she with either Mingyu or Wonwoo?"

"She's with no one. And if you could, please, please, don't get in my way."

Seungcheol giggled. He found it adorable to see his friend so helplessly in love. He just wanted to tease him. Nothing harmless, right?

"Anyway, Coups, I have an idea to invite her to our camping plan after the finals. What do you say?" Jeonghan told him.

"That would be fantastic. Have you told her?"

Instead of answering their buddy, Joshua and Jeonghan only exchanged looks. Jeonghan was actually waiting for Joshua's response. Or maybe he should have just forced the American friend to present himself before you. Sometimes he got frustrated looking at how slow his friend was.

"I'll talk to her," Seungcheol stated, grinning mischievously at Joshua. "But it's not my fault if she falls for me."

Rolling his eyes, Joshua cynically chuckled. "You wish. You're not even close to Jeon Wonwoo."

The oldest snapped his fingers excitedly. "Aha! So the real rival is Wonwoo."

Joshua squinted his eyes, feeling annoyed although he knew his friend didn't mean it in a bad way.

Seungcheol shifted closer as he put his arm on Joshua's shoulder. "But, my friend, do you even see how she looks at Wonwoo?"

"I can see that clearly, just in case you forget I also have two eyes," he spat, brushing Seungcheol’s hand on his shoulder.

"I would like to remind you, Jisoo, that you also have one mouth and two legs. So, why don't you make yourself useful and go talk to her. You'll thank me later," Jeonghan uttered, sipping his drink. "Or let's just let Seungcheol do it. He looks eager."

Seungcheol wiggled his brows before really leaving his friends. Joshua almost dropped his jaw when his eyes were fixated Seungcheol's steps approaching you confidently. He was dying to know what Seungcheol told you as your attention was now on him and Jeonghan. Beside him, Jeonghan waved at you, beaming wide. Joshua didn't want to look awkward, so he drew a little smile, hoping you would find him less weird.

--- Later on that night