#UNLEASHING IT BECAUSE I CAN’T BE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS OF THIS CURSED KNOWLEDGE

[glitcheslikeslego]

I was at a bookstore in my local mall yesterday and found the most cursed thing

it was called the brick bible

and it was an actual lego thing that had lego in it

and it was actually just the bible straight up, both testaments, it was the legit bible with LEGO

and it is cursed as hell, here’s some images I found (under the cut cuz like I said, THEY’RE CURSED)

the babies all look weird as hell 😭😭😭 (and whatever peepaw’s on, i want it to bleach my brain)

he has the Roblox smirk 😭😭

pregnant lego aksbkajxksjs

why does the baby look like that

he looks like he’s about to speak to you about your car’s extended warranty

boy band vibes kansksnxjjsa

monke spotted :0

and that’s it for now, i might go and find more if I wanna torture my eyes more kankdnakd

[ask-rain-world-characters]

between all of the slugcats, if they all fought to the death, who would win and who would die first?

Survivor's Answer:

Monk's Answer:

Hunter's Answer:

Watcher's Answer:

Gourmand's Answer:

Artificer's Answer:

Rivulet's Answer:

Spearmaster's Answer:

Saint's Answer:

Enot's Answer:

Transcripts Below:

Survivor: "Ah. Man, that's uh... kind of a tough question to answer. Never really gave it too much thought..! but I have a couple ideas. So, like... Arti. Maayyybe Spears, but that's if they can get some sort of advantage over Artificer. As it stands now, I'm pretty confident Artificer would sweep. If lizards were allowed, Monk could totally unleash an army--if Monk even decided to fight. As far as I know, the lil guy's a pacifist, so they might not even fight to begin with. First to die... man, that's... Ehhh it's also not easy to answer... Probably Enot? I don't know."

Monk: "Oh... such a terrible thing, to pit us all against one another in a fight to the death. We’ve all suffered so much, each of us bearing our own scars. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but if we were to fight... I suppose I’d see things unfolding like this: Hunter... you would be the one to fear most. Your strength, your speed, and the relentless drive you have... it’s like a storm that cannot be stopped. You fight because time is always slipping away from you, and you have no choice but to push forward with everything you have. Artificer, your anger burns hot. You lash out with such power, your bombs a testament to the pain you’ve endured. In battle, you’d be a terrifying force, destroying everything in your path to ensure your own survival. I can’t help but feel sorrow for what you have become. Spearmaster, you are quiet and strange, and your abilities are unlike any of ours. Creating spears from your own body... you would strike with deadly accuracy, draining the life from others to sustain yourself. Your solitude is a strength, but also a curse. Gourmand, you’re gentle at heart, but I know you have hidden depths. In a fight, your strength would surprise us all. You can craft tools and make the most of what the world gives you. You might not seem like a warrior, but your determination to enjoy the simple things could be a hidden weapon. Rivulet, you are so fast—like a river flowing through this harsh land. I think you would dance around the rest of us, never stopping long enough to be caught. Your speed and agility are your greatest allies, and perhaps they’d keep you alive when others fall. Saint, you would not even want to fight. I see in you a calmness that I wish I could have. But in a battle like this, your gentleness might not be enough... unless you could somehow transcend it all, escaping the conflict before it even began. Enot, you are strange to me—like someone who doesn’t belong, yet is part of our world all the same. You would fight, I think, with a quiet desperation to prove yourself. I do not know if it would be enough, but I sense something in you that even I cannot fully understand. Watcher... or should I call you Nightcat? You watch from the shadows, silent and observant. You see more than the rest of us, and your knowledge might be your greatest strength. You seem distant, detached... Perhaps you would simply let the rest of us destroy each other, and emerge at the end, unscathed. Survivor, you and I - we are so alike. You are strong in way I can only dream of, yet I feel the loneliness you carry. In a battle you would endure, waiting, watching and learning from every moment. Your patience and adaptability make you a true survivor. And as... for myself? I do not know if I could even bring myself to fight! The world is already so cruel, and I've seen what violence does! I would hide, I think. Waiting for the storm to pass. If forced into battle, I... might try and find another way. But in the end, I believe it is Hunter, who would stand above us all. Not because they are the strongest, or the fiercest, but because they are conjured by something none of us can fully understand - a force that pushes them to survive, no matter the cost. If anyone could endure, it would be them. But oh, how I wish there were a different way, than fighting, for all of us! So there, Hunter!

Hunter: "That’s a good question… but I believe that Arti would win out of all of us. They have more experience in fighting entire enemy squads than anyone here! Plus, they are dynamite… Literally! No scug matches their glorious vigor! But as for the one who’d die first? Hmm…. Sorry Enot, but you’d fall faster than everyone else here…"

Watcher: "Well... this is hard to answer... it depends what kind of situation we're in... but I will try my best. About who would die first, there's no doubt... that would be Enot. From what I observed he often gets into some of trouble, so I wouldn't be surprised if the luck screws them over. But about who would win... this very hard to answer... if it's mostly about fighting than probably Hunter, Spear and Artifice could win. They have great combat prowess for slugcats, so no doubt they could wipe us out... although... I have weird feeling and I 'm not sure why, but... I think Saint would win..."

Gourmand: "Well, from what I could tell, most of us haven't fought many Slugcats before. After all, we survive by working together, in spite of our differences. I've only ever had to deal with a few dangerous intruders myself - one of whom has strangely ended up in this blog. Unfortunately, none of us are particularly durable, so a brawl could go in many ways. Artificer and Rivulet definitely have an edge. Their dexterity is something I always admired, and as any Scavenger might tell you - they're not easy to hit with spears. And for who dies first? It... could be most of us. Luck really would be important here. Long fights are not really my specialty, but I would likely last a little while, at least. Enot and Watcher would likely struggle the most. Watcher wouldn't handle such situations well, and Enot hasn't spent much time with other Slugcats. They also don't have much that would help them fight, or avoid hits. I know about the mysterious eggs, but knowing their wielder, they would likely get caught in the explosion themselves"

Artificer: "Well I don't want to sound biased but I think I would win in a situation like this, though I believe Spearmaster would be a close second! I do think Monk would be the first to die though, they aren't exactly the combative type. I would say Saint instead of Monk but I have this feeling they have some sort of trick up their sleeve, capable of wiping us all if they really wanted too."

Rivulet: "I mean, okay, there's no rules that say I need to ENGAGE in fights, so theoretically speaking, if the win condition is being the last one standing: I could just let everyone else do the fighting, and then I could just run away, and, if everyone else dies, then I would be crowned the winner! Does that make sense? That counts, right? Oh and for the other question, who would die first... Probably Monk, sorry-"

Spearmaster: “Hmm… I feel that is a bit of an open ended question to answer concretly. You have to think about the arena it’s settled in, what resources we would have available, what state we would be in to fight, is it in our prime, at our average or worst? It’s a lot to consider. General answer though, if we are given various resources, either Artificer or Gourmand would win. If none is at our disposal, it’d be close between me and Arti; in favor for them however since they are really relentless with their aggression; special mention goes to Enot with their weird, singularity bomb behaving egg. And lastly, if it’s in our prime, Saint without a doubt. For the ones who would die first, I’m not sure how to answer that without making it sound… degrading. So please don’t take these answers seriously, they’re just hypothetical after all. With that in mind, my candidates are either Saint or Monk, and it really does depend on how favorable it is for both of them. Monk although weak, has their way with lizards and could in theory make an army out of them, but that’s if they manage to find them, and Saint has powers no other slugcat is able to conceive, but at the same time, they are very frail, so take that of what you will. Hope that helps. …actually is that too long of an answer?”

Saint: "Hmm...given how much I've thought this over you'd think I'd have a conclusion by now. every new variable i consider just throws me off more and more though. Those with combat built bodies naturally have the advantage but they also come with their own weaknesses to be exploited. The only conclusive thing i can state is that Monk would be among the first to go, with myself not too far behind. i suppose we could always just do it for real and see for ourselves...kidding of course, haha."

Enot: "Awwww, must we fight? id rather we all get along and be friends, some of you maybe even more than such but if it haaaaaad to come to it I assure you yours truly would come out victorious." "No you wouldn't!" - Another Slugcat "As for the first to fall...suppose it would end up being either monk or watcher, I feel like both of them would surrender before trying to fight."

[hxhhasmysoul]

I don’t see this as overly negative, just not really based in text and kinda inconsistent and kinda biased against Yuuji. 

May I have a friendly reminder that Yuji has been handcrafted by Kenjaku himself, getting a Heavenly Restriction level of strength with also being able to use CE as a default of his strength?

Yuuji couldn’t use CE as default, he had to learn it. Eating the finger was a trigger for him unlocking CE. When he was in a life or death situation fighting the finger bearer in the detention centre, it gave him nothing. He landed a hit reinforced with cursed energy and it did exactly nothing. And he couldn’t do it again without Gojou’s guidance. In an analogous situation in the school, Yuuta just takes off his ring and Rika rips the curse to shreds. 

You could say that Yuuji switches with Sukuna and Sukuna rips the finger bearer to shreds. The difference is that Yuuta saves the day with no consequences. Yuuji dies and feels guilty for Sukuna almost killing Megumi. 

This is actually a parallel moment between them, showing more mature writing from Gege. Yuuji doesn’t get a creepy but devoted monster he can unleash to save himself and everyone else, he can’t reason with his monster to control him, he has no emotional control over Sukuna. 

We also don’t exactly know how much Kenjaku handcrafted and how it was just left to chance. The way Sukuna speculates in the recent chapter, it feels like Mother had tried to make babies with the twin over and over again, likely due to the uncertain nature of CT inheritance in the JJK world. It’s likely that Yuuji was the first one who was born with it, maybe because Kenjaku used the knowledge they gained through the Death Paintings experiments and they managed to force him inheriting the technique, or maybe that helped with Yuuji getting the special body, but your comment also dismisses the fact that Yuuji’s creation took Kenjaku a millennium of plotting and hard work, while Yuuta just randomly got born like that.

Anyway, when Yuuji finally learns to control his CE through movie watching, his output isn’t that high. It’s a bit above average, according to Nanami, he calls it potential. 

We don’t really know the exact progress of Yuuta because Gege wasn’t as detailed with dates in Zero. But his every fight ends in an unquestionable win for him with no drawbacks. He saves everyone he wants to save, his enemy is categorically defeated. 

Gege even doesn’t make Yuuta struggle with the need to finish off Getou. Everyone else Rika had killed before was out of Yuuta’s control, he felt guilty about it, but he had no understanding what was going on or how to prevent it. Granted it also speaks to his passivity because it doesn’t seem that he’d tried to properly negotiate with Rika prior to getting into Juju Tech. But with Getou, Gege leaves that to Gojou. Yuuta doesn’t have to consciously make the decision to kill another human. 

Yuuji doesn’t get this kind of easy treatment. Yuuji has to deal with killing humans: the transfigured ones, the Death Paintings. Then deal emotionally with the deaths of all the people his monster kills because he can’t tame that monster. And it all weighs on him. 

________________________

The entire deal with CT is that you get those by chance of genetic, but only a CT and not everything else that comes as being a sorcerer (i.e reinforcement, speed, other techniques) Is much like how Itadori get's to hit a black flash and instantly becomes more proficient with his CE, or how Sukuna can copy any other techniques and has over twice the cursed energy of Yuta, is something that they simply have over their abilities got by chance

Yuuta’s cursed technique is literally Copy without any drawbacks (I think Gege tried to add some rules to it in the recent chapters but I’m not too sure). And Yuuta literally genetically has his broken CT, his CE that he says is higher than Gojou’s, but Gojou can use his more efficiently due to the Six Eyes so he will theoretically never run out.

Sukuna can’t simply copy techniques of others. He took over Megumi’s body and learned how to use the Ten Shadows better than Megumi. He uses Max Elephant to imitate Piercing Blood with the water attack. Makora invented the reality slicing for Sukuna, that was the whole purpose of that exercise, so Sukuna could learn a way to kill Gojou. 

I even consulted with @cursedvibes (he’s a saint) and he confirmed what I remembered from the manga:

The Black Box or the fire technique could be copied, but he must have some strong limitations and conditions to fulfill or we would've seen him use it more often. We never actually saw him copy any CT. He could use RCT on his CT similar to Gojo and learned to turn himself into a cursed object, but that's not copying and not CTs

I personally don’t think Sukuna was just born with that much CE. He could've had a lot but Sukuna has mastered jujutsu, he is actually a nerd. Everything he knows, his power, it comes from his analytical approach. He has a level of knowledge about jujutsu that maybe Kenjaku or Tengen had. It’s very apparent in how he fights and constantly analyses everything that happens to him. He’s much older than Yuuta and clearly devoted his life to studying jujutsu. 

And I just want to point out that Yuuji’s creation, all the genetic benefits he has are a violation. His bodily autonomy was repeatedly violated, his whole life and his body exist only to further Kenjaku’s plans. Even Gojou’s birth was orchestrated by Tengen, though much less directly than what Kenjaku does with Yuuji. While Yuuta just got born like that, no outside interference, no messing with fate. 

________________________

That being already said, Yuta has been trained for over a year oversees by Migiel, and we see that his training paids off from his reinforcement no longer breaking up what he uses to developing a domain and learning about sorcery Yuji biggest trainings on screen are his tunning from watching movies and getting punched, and getting Todou teachings in the first try. The biggest training Yuji has ever done was offscreened in a whole month were he got blood manipulation from eating the cursed wombs (something he could only do because of his special body), learned RCT, and expanded even more his CE reinforcement all in the span of a single month

Can you please point me to the on screen training of Yuuta? If you’re going to use this against Yuuji, then Yuuta’s training on screen should be very thorough. In Zero, after 3 months of physical training when his body was very weak before, Yuuta can do somersaults in the air with his katana… he doesn’t get hurt at all in the fight in the shopping centre. Yuuji, despite his stronger body and fighting experience, gets hit and hurt a lot during his fights. 

During the fight with Getou, Yuuta gets seriously hit once, on the head and the jaw. Rika catches him and he gets right back into the ring. Despite Getou being a seasoned special grade with more than one curse at his disposal that he can attack and confuse Yuuta with.

In the first fight against Mahito, Yuuji gets hit by Mahito’s attacks repeatedly, Mahito manages to overpower Yuuji at times. At the end of the fight Yuuji faints from his injuries. Yes, his body is special but it has its limits. 

Yuuta learned RCT on the spot, like literally during the fight with Getou, and the harder version too, one that lets him heal others… 

I think Yuuji gets the black flash on the second try, but I’m just being petty ;)

And again, there are no drawbacks to Yuuta’s development. He never sacrifices anything, no injury, not death of someone who matters to him. He never kills his family. He doesn’t have to eat his family, preventing them from ever being born.

And he doesn’t lose anything by letting Rika go. It kinda goes against the whole give and take of jujutsu. His CE doesn’t drop, he doesn’t lose the techniques stored in the og Rika. He still has a Rika to help him out, that isn’t much weaker or less independent than the og one. 

@/cursedvibes summed it up like this when we talked while I was writing this post (sometimes we have the same thought XD): 

Even Gojo had a learning curve. He was strong from birth, but to take on a weakened Toji he had to improve himself. We see more of Gojo struggling and developing his talents than we ever get for Yuuta. Also, we don't necessarily need training arcs. With most characters we see them develop in a fight. Megumi creating his domain, Yuuji needing the help of Choso to use Piercing Blood and control his RCT (showing that it's not all natural, you have to know what you want to heal for it to work), Yuuji developing Black Flash when pushed to the brink like with any other sorcerer, Maki needing to understand her own body again and how her Heavenly Restriction works. Yuuta never had any of that. He just does things and succeeds. Sukuna's fight, the final fight, is the only time he ever got seriously hurt and lost, otherwise he's just breezing through the story unbothered by anything.

________________________

Saying that one character is less than other because they got "gifted everything" is a little dishonest seeing that even Yuji himself is where he stands from being a special case from the very start

Yuuta is also born very special, like Gojou. And he didn’t even need a near death experience like Gojou to unlock a better version of RCT than Gojou learned on the brink of death. And things Gojou unlocked then were paid for in the death of Riko, in the evolution of Tengen and Getou’s defection. All having disastrous consequences. Both for Gojou personally and the world.

This is how the story gifts everything to Yuuta. There are no negative consequences to his actions. There’s no cost to his power ups, he doesn’t give up anything by releasing Rika. 

Yuuji is a special case from the start and it only brings him suffering. He gets repeatedly brutalised, breaks down mentally, dies, loses people dear to him. Starts dehumanising himself, thinks of himself as a cog, as insignificant. And throughout the jujutsu world most people don’t see him as a person, he’s Sukuna’s vessel. 

Where Yuuta’s journey is the opposite, he finds friends and gets taught he matters, granted he uses them as a crutch for his self worth, but his journey is from being suicidal to believing he matters. 

Even how you talk about Yuuji is kinda instrumental and dehumanising. You're not as bad as the rest of the fandom, but you ascribe everything that Yuuji is or can do to outside forces, to Kenjaku, Sukuna to the Death Paintings he consumed. You never mention the emotional journey he goes through. You refuse to treat any training he does as valid as Yuuta's training, even though Yuuji actually gets instructions on how to do most of the things he can do on screen, from other characters. While Yuuta just figures out how to use Copy or RCT. And you never acknowledge that Yuuta was born special. He comes into Juju Tech as a special grade for goodness sake.

________________________

And "Yuta gets to kill Kenjaku without putting an effort on his part" was the entire plan, they even mention how Maki could've done it but doing so would mean not dealing with the curses They simply talked the intelligent method of taking Kenjaku by surprise and don't waste energy before fighting against the strongest sorcerer in the setting

Yuuta could’ve at least wasted time on the curses, and Maki is more than capable of dealing with the curses, she’s been doing much better against Sukuna than Yuuta did. (Which is no surprise, both her and Yuuji had to understand themselves much better than Yuuta himself to unlock their potential)

Momo could’ve helped with the curses, Noritoshi could’ve, are Gakuganji and Utahime dead? I don’t think so. Gege could’ve brought Nobara back for that, we saw how good she is at crowd control in the detention centre. Hell, Gege has handled Uro really poorly so far, so they could’ve had Yuuta grovel to her for help, like he grovelled in front of Miguel. I mean that would’ve been in line with how shitty their previous interaction was. 

Honestly, anything other than just poof and it’s all okay.

Even Sukuna’s really well planned out and eventually successful strategy for killing Gojou had risk attached to it. He had to work hard for it.

Nah, Yuuta just gets to have his “goat” moment. Gege has really given up on writing Yuuta after Zero. Like Gege has clearly lost their heart for JJK a while ago, but they really had nothing for Yuuta, apart from Yuuta just having “goat” moments. I truly don’t get why Yuuta was brought back instead of developing other characters.

This image right here is the perfect illustration of the difference between Yuuji and Yuuta, it almost feels like a 4th wall break.

Yuuji has been working real hard ever since he became a sorcerer, he's survived hellish situation after hellish situation, lost so many people he cared about. And he made tremendous progress.

Yuuta was born with a hereditary ridculously overpowered technique and immense amounts of cursed energy. His playground girlfriend died and that was traumatic especially that she stayed with him and hurt people on his behalf even though he didn't want her to. But once he became a sorcerer that got very quickly resolved. Yuuta miraculously learned every technique he needed in the moment to save his friends, or cure them and himself, or to win against his enemies by just overpowering them. And then he killed Kenjaku without putting any work of his own into that.

So yeah, Yuuji has worked hard and persevered and has been disrespected and ignored for it both in the story and by the fandom. Yuuta's been given everything, even techniques and page time of other characters and congratulated for it.

[rumblelibrary]

Hello 👀❤️

So... I don't know if this will work or not, but I thought why not, I send it in... And if you don't like it, that's completely fine ❤️🔥

I really like how you write the characters' mind... What they are thinking or how they act... I was thinking, maybe a new mechanic (Reader) at Ferrari (yes, it's a Niki Lauda fic, you know me❤️🔥) who is really shy, but very good at their job, and Niki likes them and he is an asshole with everyone (which is normal from him) EXCEPT with the Reader... And like... Maybe at first he doesn't realize this, but then he does, and gets all conflicted like why is he getting soft suddenly, out of nowhere... (It is obvious, but not for him)... I'm curious how you would see this, write this... The ending of this story is up to you ❤️❤️

Love you ❤️🔥👀

What Is This Feeling [Niki Lauda x Mechanic!Reader]

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: lot of swearing by our favourite Rat King Author’s note: Niki is quickly turning into my comfort character to unleash my sass, thank you for giving me the chance to write him!

Part 2

On your first day at Ferrari nobody took you seriously, but to be a mechanic wasn’t exactly typing letters, it was not a place where somebody high up in the ranks would set a lover to give her some benefit and a free pay check.

You didn’t talk a lot, you stood your ground from the moment you put hands on any part of the car, but you weren’t exactly the chatty type and, being the only woman, it took you time to be allowed to the after work beer, to the birthdays and all the balancing that came with a good team spirit.

In a world full of bias about women, you were spared thanks to your abilities and knowledge. Or maybe, because the mechanics team had someone bigger to fight: Niki Lauda.

To work with him was thrilling, but stressful.

He would walk in at any hour of the day, break some egos, pile up an amount of changes that to make a brand new car would be a faster option.

You sat on the floor beside the baby, yes baby was the car, it wasn’t like you had to stay on the floor, there were more than plenty working stations, but it felt more comfortable for you: it gave you the chance to stand and look at things from afar, you were in need to touch, to understand, to put things together. It was your skill, but also your curse, because it was hard to gain yourself a space on the floor in such a fast paced environment like the one at Ferrari. You were working on the ignition when he stormed inside, the soft chats died fast and the noise of the radio was the only thing left, but he didn’t seem to mind the effect he had on people.

In a couple of long steps he was in front of one of your colleagues.

“What is this?” The man looked down to his sandwich like it was self explanatory, but the following silence brought him to answer “my lunch”

“Nice” Niki said, his lips curling downward in a very sarcastic amusement “well, take your lunch out of my garage because I don’t want your crumbles in my engine” he hissed picking the crumbles that effectively fell on the working table and sprinkling them like salt on the man’s face.

The man frowned and left to eat outside and avoid to punch him as Niki proceeded to his next victim.

“And you call this a design development? I call this dog shit”

“If this is a well done job, I’d better retire already before I get your good job to crack my skull open”

“Just begin again, don’t even ask”

“Are you sure you don’t work for McLaren? Because by the quality of your work I am starting to wonder”

One after the other all your colleagues fell under the axe of Niki’s commentary.

Nobody was spared, it was a butchery.

“So? What is this?”

You looked up at him as he towered over you, Satan himself would be less scary, and probably less attractive, to your eyes. His standing figure with rebel curls and his Ray-ban glasses in his left hand, the polo shirt under the fancy jacket, even his bad character gave him the edge so many men more conventionally attractive lack.

“I am working on the ignition” you said as he bent down crouching beside you as you showed him, his cologne filling your nostrils like the best smell your nose ever encountered.

“Okay, in what way?” He asked resting his elbows on his knees.

You gulped softly “Well, I am trying to experiment if I change this in here” and you pointed to a section in particular “maybe the car will have a better performance at the beginning of the race”

“Have you considered that it could over work the battery?”

“I did, but I wanted to see if I make here something like this” and you took a little tube showing how you lace it around the section “if I use this to push the cooler to work into this part as well, we might avoid over heating”

He listened touching his chin with the edge of his glasses thoughtfully.

“Give it a try”

He just said standing up.

Your colleagues looked at you shaking their heads as he turned around and everybody looked down to their tasks again, so then he left.

______________________________________________________________________ This wasn’t the first time, he wasn’t letting you do things he didn’t approve, but he always listened to you, he advised you, and the harshest thing he said was probably “I think you’re not looking at the bigger picture”

Nobody commented on it and beside some joke here and there, the little preference he had over you seemed to pass unnoticed mostly by him.

“You know, you really need a girlfriend” Clay, the other driver of the Ferrari alongside him, said during some tests.

Niki looked at him.

“Why? Do I look like one that has to fuck a woman to be fine?”

He laughed as Niki was always so overaggressive “No, but you treat everyone like bullshit beside the new girl, so you either can be an asshole only with men or your seduction technique needs a real check”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips parted in disbelief

“You nuts”

“Maybe, but I haven’t heard you complain about her as much as you complain about the rest of the world”

He shook his head “You are just letting you Italian genes getting your head stupid”

Clay laughed at him nodding knowingly “Sure, sure” he patted harshly on Niki’s back knowing how much he hated to be patted around like that as he moved to talk to one of the mechanics working on his car.

Niki crossed his arms resting against the wall of the garage, his eyes instinctively looking for your figure finding you to one of the working table writing down some notes over the changes applied while looking at the projects.

His eyes dropping on your ass like it was the first time he checked it, realising it wasn’t the first time he mentally noted it.

Well, he couldn’t really say you were unattractive, or not his type, or a good mechanic.

His thought process was suddenly interrupted as Clay himself approached you and you moved on side showing him the papers you were just writing on.

He nodded and said something to you, his hand casually resting on the small of your back making Niki’s jaw almost snap for how much he was gritting his teeth.

You shuffled on side avoiding the touch with a casual smile, but Clay kept talking to you and from afar Niki saw him say something and wave his pointed finger between himself and you. You shook your head and smiled turning down whatever he just offered with all the politeness you had, Niki pursued his lips slightly in amusement for his best girl’s behaviour.

Wait a second. Best girl?

He glared at Clay that smirked at him from afar, a big ‘I knew it’ smirk on his lips.

Niki bit the inside of his cheek not liking it.

He was with you like with everybody else, what the hell.

Niki ignored you all day, when you showed him something he himself requested to be shown, he shuffled away, when you handed him something he was looking for, he looked for it somewhere else, he just wasn’t meeting your eyes and hell and thunderstorm fell upon anyone that even tried to engage a talk with him on that day.

“I can’t with your boyfriend anymore, I swear” one of your colleagues muttered to you.

“He is not my boyfriend” 

He looked at you “Then he’d better be soon, maybe he’ll chill out”

“Are you even paid to stand and do nothing?” Niki shouted from afar and you two parted ways faster than two kids smuggling candies during class. ______________________________________________________________________

The next day was the judgment day for all the changes done on the car, your nerves were cracking as Niki arrived in his driving suit and your eyes immediately snapped a mental photo on his figure.

Did you ever went home wishing to have his company? Yes.

Did you ever wondered if he was so aggressive ever in the intimate times? Way too much.

Did you have any chance? Probably no.

You let out a big sigh as your colleagues reassured you “Hey, if it doesn’t work we either get rid of the rat or have some more time to work on it” he joked but you didn’t feel any better.

Niki looked up as he noticed your worried look, your lips nibbling down on your lips, your foot tapping rhythmically and nervously, the sudden instinct to lean his hand on that waist of yours, to rest his leg beside yours to make it stop that nerve wracking dance, to forbid your lips any more damage not caused by him.

All of that crowded his mind and he growled tiredly.

Stupid Clay, with his stupid theories.

He finished getting ready and put on his helmet settling down in his spot rolling his shoulders back, he needed to focus.

The head mechanic came over him repeating all the changes and just annoying the hell out of him, he is not always around the car only to check you out.

“When you're done telling me what I know, tell me something I don’t, I beg you”

The head mechanic did a big effort not to spit into his face and just left him waving his arms in the air.

You touched on your forehead nervously, if you failed it would show in the timings or maybe the car won’t even start.

You looked at him, seconds before he pulled down the dark lid of his helmet, his dark eyes so focused a shiver creeped over you.

You gasped as the signal was given and the car started.

Your fingers finding their way to your mouth as you nibbled your skin.

The car was fast, that was sure, you leaned beside the head mechanic that was taking the time. You breathed heavily, your mind going through all the changes you did, all the small settlements, the little details.

An eternal list that kept repeating itself.

Then the question as he was halfway through the leap, what if you disappointed him?

What if he asked you to be sent away?

Then you looked down to the chronometer, he was already almost two seconds earlier than usual.

A smile started to grow on you, the excitement filling your veins.

The sound of the engine roaring beautifully, you made it!

Then it happened, some smoke raised up to the sky, one of the wheels snapped, the breath died in your throat.

The car flexed on side but Niki controlled it and guided it against the sandy side of the track that slowed it down until it stopped.

“He was breaking his record” the head mechanic sighed “now he is just going to break our balls”

Niki moved out of the car throwing his helmet on the ground pushing off roughly anyone that tried to help him or check if he was hurt, some of the mechanics moving to the tow truck to recollect the car, Niki moving past you, his face tense and his posture of someone ready to snap some necks. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, nobody talked about him, nobody mentioned anything as the storm will fall on all of the team the next day.

Now it was the head mechanic to face it for all of you.

______________________________________________________________________

That night you stayed over time, the other colleagues told you to just go home, to not let the thing sink of you, to look at it with fresh eyes and all those circumstantial phrases people gift you when they try to cheer you up. 

As always on the floor, you had now the chance to spread the pieces out, collect them into branches of types and use. You pulled closer your notebook writing down the ideas and things to remember to check, the image of Niki almost crashing gutting you even if you soon realised it wasn’t your change that set off the wheel, but it was part of the cause, the car was now too powerful and the stress on the suspensions was deadly.

You yawned lightly pulling a catalogue of replacements parts trying to find the best mix you could manage, but you surely had to make up something about it. You didn’t expect to solve the problem or to find the solution for everything with a creative twist, but to, at least, plan a sequence of possibilities to present to your chief the next day.

A hand slowly leaning a mug of steaming coffee beside you.

You looked up to find Niki there, another cup in his hand, those messy curls calling to be touched, his impeccable style always winning you over with a dark turtleneck and his tweed jacket.

“Found the problem?” He asked sharply as always.

He was surprised to see you there, he spent the rest of the afternoon after the malfunction with the head mechanic and some of the administrators as he needed a solution in time for the upcoming race.

So he decided he couldn’t trust their promises and reassurances, but take the matter in his own hand, for a change. But when he arrived he saw the lights still on and you there. He was almost tempted to leave, it wasn’t a good moment to screw things with one of his most talented mechanics.

But you, again, were so into it, you looked so beautiful with your working jumpsuit and the hair messed up nibbling on that pen like it was a matter of life and death.

He couldn’t just let you stay so beautiful and alone, who knows who could approach you.

You nodded “I think so” you said showing him the piece, he leaned his head on side studying it 

“May I?”

You nodded as he took off his blazer before joining you on the floor, he crossed his legs, your knees touching as he stole those papers from your hand.

“Signal to the administration this night shift, or they won’t ever pay you” he muttered without looking away from the papers.

You smirked “I know, but it is more a matter of principle than money, I didn’t like the heart attack you gave me today”

You were surprised by your own words, maybe it was because you really were over caffeinated or just realising how it was the first time you were alone and how you felt comfortable around him. No, not comfort, it was trust, you trusted him.

He looked up from the papers up at you, he didn’t replied to your comment straightaway, he let it sink in, he let your presence sink in.

A one-sides smirk appeared on his lips

“It is going to be a long night, then” Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

[cerastes]

What do you make of Specter's operator record? Personally I liked it, but that's with the knowledge we're getting more Specter backstory soon.

Ok, so! Just as you pointed out, I went into it with the knowledge that:

We're getting Under TIDES soon.

Specter gets a second Operator Record later, some time after Under TIDES.

And with that in mind, I'm fine with it, but if I was a CN player and all we got was Specter's first Operator Record without any knowledge of the future, I would be pretty pissed, lmao. In fact, CN players were pretty pissed, the reception to her Operator Record was pretty bad. Specter is a popular character both in terms of gameplay and character (the latter more so in China, she gets a steady influx of cosplayers, fanart and fanfic in Weibo, Lofter, and such). It's believed that Hypergryph announced her second Operator Record because of this backlash.

Now, with the context and preamble on the table, I want to say: Great idea, not so great execution. Overall, I enjoyed it, but again, that's only with knowledge of the future. Despite that, I sincerely praise Hypergryph for actually having the balls to try a narrative approach like this one on a mobile game. The thing is, just because an idea is interesting doesn't mean it's good, and I think a lot of aspiring writers and designers need to hammer that in their head, especially armchair game designers that like to theorize oh so much about how cool it would be to have a game that did this or that. I don't care if it's cool or not, is it enjoyable to experience?

And that's just the thing with Specter's Operator Record: It felt lackluster in many regards. The approach was definitely interesting, bold, I'd even say, but that doesn't really matter too much if the result isn't a success, now, does it? Let's immediately address the Originium Slug in the room: Specter doesn't even appear in it. Now, is that an interesting approach to an Operator Record? Sure! Is it good? I don't really think so, especially with a character that fans really have been clamoring to see more of in actual cutscenes, given the wealth of clues they've put regarding Specter in other places:

Blue Poison' Files -> We learn that Blue Poison knew Specter personally before her descent to madness, addressing her with her real name.

Skadi's Dialogue -> Skadi implies that Specter was on a very important mission, and more or less confirms she knew her before she went crazy.

Several pieces of official art -> Specter is associated with the phrase "All seas are singing your name".

Ceobe's Fungimist -> It's implied the cursed painting depicting the end times is the same confusing painting Specter painted in her Token.

Rosmontis' Files -> It's confirmed that Specter's spinal cord is filed to the brim with originium fluid, and the Medical Team theorizes that, just like Rosmontis, her infection was artificially induced. It also confirms that they have no idea how Specter is able to fight such an insanely high level of infection.

So, see, this has been a character that fans have really been clamoring to see again. The only cutscene Specter's ever been is the secret cutscene of Grani and the Knight's Treasure AKA the very first event in the game. Understandably, after two years of the game existing, people were a bit miffed that once again we just get breadcrumbs and a non-participation 'appearance', to say the least, in what's supposed to be her day in the limelight.

Now, personally, I kind of get how they are handling her, and the Operator Records are a very faithful reflection of this: Specter is meant to be this mysterious force that we don't have clearance to know about, as Kal'tsit herself is the only one authorized to treat her or even enter her containment quarters. And, in this regard, I think the Records succeed:

It all starts innocently with Suzuran drawing Specter in a Secret Santa and then having to start deep diving to find out who the hell even IS Specter, because absolutely no one knows of her. Eventually, Suzuran lucks out by asking Meteorite, who did participate in a mission with Specter once, to which Suzuran immediately reacts: "Hey hold on, don't they send you on pretty dangerous missions all the time?", and Meteorite's answer is, "Yeah, and she's right at home there."

Now, this is really interesting because we, as Doctor, have some level of clearance: We know things about Specter and can even converse with her to a certain degree, because Doctor is a high authority in Rhodes Island, but the average Operator, like Suzuran, Aosta and Chiave, doesn't even know of her existence. She's one of Rhodes Island's well kept secrets, even within Rhodes Island. Even Meteorite, a veteran Sarkaz mercenary and a bombardment expert, only knows about Specter in a need-to-know basis (because they deployed once together). More telling is the fact that Meteorite doesn't think she'd get along with Specter, simply based on the fact that, just on that one operation, the level of violence and carnage brought upon by Specter unnerved even her, a Kazdel Sarkaz veteran. Well, to be precise, it's not the sheer level of destruction that Specter is capable of that unnerved Meteorite, it's the fact that she does it all seemingly without a care in the world, expressionless, soundless, simply following orders to the letter without showing or taking in a single emotion. To paraphrase Meteorite, "someone that can unleash such destruction and violence upon others so easily, and that can then just not mind it in the slightest, has something wrong and concerning going on with them, no doubt".

Next up, we also learn that Folinic has very restricted, also on a need-to-know basis access to Specter. Keep in mind that Folinic is extremely competent and not at all a stranger to danger: She handles Phantom. So this is a huge hint: There's perhaps more to the secrecy regarding Specter than just her being a dangerous, unstable element. Folinic could reasonably handle Specter professionally, but it's not about whether she can or not, it's about information, and this brings us back to Grani and the Knight's Treasure: Kal'tsit makes it clear to Skadi that Specter is, as a whole, inaccessible to everyone but her, that only she has clearance to access Specter's quarters. Keep in mind that Skadi does not operate in the same conditions, despite also being an Abyssal Hunter. In fact, it's well known that Skadi is infamous among other Operators for being unreasonable and obstructive in operations, as well as unapproachable outside of them (unless you are Grani, who managed to successfully befriend Skadi and vouches for her). There's things about Specter that are so sensitive, so important, that Kal'tsit can't risk them getting out, and even using her as an Operator is something reserved for very dangerous operations. Not even Warfarin, senior staff and Operator that's been with Rhodes Island for a very long time, has full access to Specter, but she clearly knows the importance of keeping her under curtains, given she immediately diffused the Folinic-Suzuran situation by coming up with a compromise on the spot.

There's another interesting contrast between Files and the Operator Record: Meteorite describes Specter as "dead silent". Mind you, we knew from before, thanks to Specter's Files, that the shark is completely silent in battle, but we also do know that she incoherently rambles quite a lot. Folinic sheds some light onto this, explaining that Specter intentionally stays silent most of the time so as to not say anything that could be misunderstood when around others. When she's in a more private setting, however, she does let loose with the insane talk. This is confirmation of something that had been hinted at before: Even though she's insane, there's a fervent part of her clinging onto sanity for dear life with bloodied, splintered fingers, and it manifests itself in how she'll never harm an ally, and how Specter is, to a certain degree, aware of how far gone she is, and thus keeps her mouth shut around others that aren't Doctor or Kal'tsit, so as to not spook them out or accidentally threaten them with her insane rambling.

Then, at the very end, after Suzuran managed to get her present to her, Specter does in fact deliver a thank you present back to Suzuran: A music box, consistent with Specter's love for the arts. Of course, the gift might have been chosen by a proxy of hers (Skadi or Blue Poison, both known to also enjoy music), but the message is all the same: Specter clearly appreciated the gift, and was mentioned to see an improvement in her condition after receiving the doll Suzuran gave her.

So, in paper? All of this? I love it. Of course I do, she's my favorite character, and it was such a bold way to present her Record, too, I respect them trying out new things, it managed to capture the essence of "the mysterious, terrifying fighting machine Operator they don't want us to know about that's actually a pretty sweet and decent person, just going through some really hard stuff" that they've been going for with Specter, it's just, I can also understand (and agree with) fans because... It's been two years, bwahaha, let us see her again, you know? It's her Operator Record, we've gotten some VERY good insights into the lives and days of other Operators through those, like with Angelina's or Kroos'! Of course we also wanted something like that, bwahaha.

What I would've loved, and what I think would've made it all better with fans, is if the final scene had Specter actually show up in Suzuran's room like the cryptid she is, with Suzuran noting the security door had just sort of been casually pried open, Specter's perpetual smile on her face as she's holding her thank you gift before Warfarin and Folinic just sort of storm into the room like "DUDE, WE SAID YOU CAN'T--", she thanks Suzuran wordlessly, gently hands her the music box, and then she calmly turns back and walks back to her confinement quarters.

But, yeah, I've gone on for long enough. I appreciate it overall, knowing what's coming, and I appreciate the idea, I just think they could've handled it better, but the whole essence and message of it, I think lands pretty nicely.

[m-aster-of-spinjitzu]

golden power; never wielded

my first work for @ninjago-angst-week! prompt - abandoned (16/08) Lloyd's never known what it's like to share his heart with another, linking two lives together as if one had found the melody to their chorus, now a song in perfect harmony. If he’d always felt like he was invisible; wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with his inability to touch others’ hearts, then, well, that was no one’s business but his own. Of course, that was before he quite literally fell for someone - the first person, actually - who seemed to care. Of course she was too good to be true. Or, the S8 angst I've been wanting to write about 'game of masks' and the aftermath. trigger warnings - suicidal thoughts, brief mention of implied self-harm, not really a warning but it talks a lot about loneliness. "How did you know?"

"It's an Oni Temple. It's safe to assume that only an Oni could take it."

"No. How could you know that I was part Oni?"

How could you know that I was part Oni?

The question repeated itself in his mind, echoing into the blizzard.

Sometimes, he wondered what would've gone down at the temple if he hadn't been so observant.

Well, he thought bitterly, probably not the temple itself.

The walls collapsing, he'd caught a glimpse of his terrified face as the room filled with swirling inky blackness, freezing him to the bone.

But the real pain came from her words.

Ah. Your emotions. You can't get rid of them, can you?

No, he'd wanted to yell, staring listlessly at the shaking grey semblance of sky.

He'd always felt like he wielded the element of light; invisible, trapped behind a barrier that no one cared enough to break. Isolated; locked away from the world. Longing for - yearning for - a single soul to want to know his heart. Pain that almost felt tangible, bleeding into every motion, every day.

Everyone else seemed to find it so easy - so effortless - simple as breathing, taken for granted like it was ingrained into their bones. Everyone else seemed to have given away a little piece of their heart - to their parents, friends, or lovers.

The fact that his was, and had always been, entirely whole?

He was either cursed, the venom from the Great Devourer passed down to him, or there was something fundamentally unlikable coursing through his veins.

By this point, he assumed it was the latter.

Maybe, if anyone had ever cared - wanted to know him - he'd never have felt like it was pressing down on his chest like a casket; a useless block of ice that no one wanted, not even the unfortunate owner it'd been given.

If no one would know his heart, he'd thought, grabbing a forgotten map, he'd strike fear into theirs - until they knew what it was like to sob into invisible barriers, to gaze upon the world with a weary eyes and a heart heavy with the knowledge that if they vanished, no one would even notice.

He'd realized far too late that he had unleashed an evil that couldn't be controlled - or one that could only be controlled by his- by someone else that had sunk beneath the darkness until no light remained-

He'd escaped from the crumbling casket, energy and eyes blazing - only to find that Har- she'd already escaped with the mask.

The Oni Mask of Hatred.

As they had steered the boat through the river, her sweet smile hiding lie upon lie, he'd thought it was somewhat ironic - two lovers, seeking a literal manifestation of hatred.

He'd laughed bitterly; no mirth in the sound.

After his first crush had - well, literally tried to crush him, he didn't think that this day could get much worse.

Until she dropped him into a contraption that was the stuff of nightmares - leaving the others with a seemingly impossible choice.

He'd wanted to yell, scream, that they should save his mother - he'd hurt enough people over the course of his short life, as evidenced by the grief-stricken orphan yelling a foreign language right in front of him.

I'm the expendable one! Maybe she was right - it was my fault the Serpentine were able to release the Great Devourer. And it took thousands of lives - but never the life of the one who was to blame.

He'd grabbed the vengestone bars, the faint sense of numbness they brought a welcoming relief from the storm of emotions that- he honestly had no clue what to do with.

i could drown, he had thought briefly, fleetingly. what if i drowned and i never hurt anyone again-

you have  a responsibility, even though you've pretty much failed to uphold it so far

"Clotho venge! Clotho decer! Clotho haeed!"

Shoving the thought to the back of his mind, he'd gripped the bars tighter, ignoring the sting of the metal against skin.

If anything, he'd welcomed the sting.

Any pain was better than the agonizing reminder that his heart was, and had always been, entirely whole.

He didn't even realize he was trembling until he heard his father's voice echoing from the vortex.

His father hadn't asked to be bitten by an evil snake, the venom coursing through his veins for years upon years. He hadn't asked to be dumped at a boarding school for bad kids, spending what he had left of his childhood hiding in empty classrooms or yelling empty threats as his classmates snickered.

Against all odds, they'd been reunited. Evil snakes, Fangblades, even Jade Blades - none of it had stood between them.

Just when he thought they might have a future - he might have a- a family - the Cursed Realm decided to curse them all.

His father with imprisonment, him with a life devoid of a father he'd loved, at the end.

Now H- she wanted to resurrect him?

His father had been so much more than the Oni blood in his veins. So was he.

But if he was completely Oni-

Lloyd didn't like their odds. He kind of hated them.

"Clotho venge! Clotho decer! Clotho haeed!"

---

A few chaotic hours later... they'd won? They'd won.

The Sons of Garmadon (he'd always thought the name was kind of ironic - he, the only son of Garmadon, wasn't in their crazy biker gang) had been imprisoned by courageous, if a bit overzealous, taser-wielding policeman.

Ninjago was celebrating - everyone was; he should be, too.

Should he really revel in their victory, though? It was his fault that she'd been able to snatch the last mask, all the safeguards the Oni had put in place practically worthless because of his stupid feelings-

H- Harumi had been thrown in one of the police vans.

"You're right - this isn't me," she'd started, her meekness almost convincing him that she really was the girl he'd fallen for - the girl who'd been forced into a mask she never wanted to wear, but someone who still cared about the world... and- and about him.

"Stop."

He'd cut her off, the venom in his tone surprising both of them.

"Save it for someone who cares," he'd forced out, the hurt welling up his chest almost as painful as their unceremonious descent into the jungle, (the descent she'd orchestrated, he'd thought fleetingly, squeezing his eyes together) unable to believe that this- this liar was the same sweet girl he'd fallen for.

With that, he slammed the door of the van, locking her in - wishing that locking his memories away could be easy.

She'd never cared about him; simply needing to use him as if he was nothing more than the power he wielded.

He watched one of the policemen drive her away, the tired-but-enthusiastic cheers of his teammates nothing more than background noise; static.

Vaguely, he realized that his heart wasn't quite whole - he'd given a piece of it to someone whom he had thought would link theirs together in harmony, the melody to his chorus; what he'd been searching for ever since he'd woken up screaming in a 'boarding school' that seemed more like a prison.

She'd taken more than what he'd given - draining the light from his entire being as if she was the Overlord, stealing his golden power without a shred of remorse.

That failure was practically painless, compared to her-

An almost unfamiliar emotion slowly stated to replace the ache in his chest that he'd grown used to for all those years; it'd become comforting, even. Watching the world go by with a heart that seemed more like a curse, he briefly, fleetingly, wondered if he'd be better off without one.

If there was ever a problem that presented itself to Nya while she worked on the Bounty, she used to joke that it'd be easier to just dump their entire hard dive into the sea.

Destruction seemed to be easier than fixing, he conceded - the van now just a glimmer of bright light; one of the many that made up their vibrant city.

"How did you know?" he heard, yet again wondering how he felt so disconnected from his own role in the memory.

How had she known? 

The whisper of a voice long gone bled into his consciousness, his hands shaking at his sides even as the city celebrated.

Why had he even asked that?

Plastering a smile on his face as he walked over to his teammates, the question repeating itself in his mind, echoing into the blizzard.

FSM - she didn't need to be leader of a biker gang to know that.

Who could ever give their heart - the epitome of human connection; golden power all on its own, albeit of a different kind - to an Oni?

Maybe he wasn't the one trapped behind an invisible wall, built on tears and loneliness and yearning and heartache and a lone question - why? Why could no one seem to look past the cage he felt himself trapped in, observing the world rather than playing a part in it.

He hadn't been a- abandoned by everyone, he realized, a weary sense of clarity and shadowed eyes not sure to accept it or push it into the back of his mind like the hours he'd spent there, as if he'd ever want to have hurt his teammates like he did, the twisted ghost-

He trailed behind his teammates as they sang - horribly off key, his mind pointed out, forcing a small smile onto his face - lost in the figurative blizzard, despite the fact that the sun's rays had only vanished a few hours ago.

If no one would know his heart?

FSM - could he really blame them?

(if you read this far, thank you so much, you’ve made my day:D)

[the-dalseum-duet]

IT’S WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!!

hi hi hi I’m back and so glad to be back bc I’m having fun I’m listening to my old playlists and I feel like a silly little thirteen year old again I needed this shit 

also. lots of things are a blur. I genuinely might have shared the original starlight draft with you. I have no earthly clue if I did but I feel like I did. bc it’s in my old notes archive. do not remember if I shared this w you or if it was lamp girl my memory is actual ass I’m sorry so you might already have a vague idea of everything

Changing a few things right off the bat here. Mari and Indy are going to be like… 16-ish. To make this part a little more believable. Also sorry if I refer to Indy as Spade it’s literally engrained in my psyche 

So Indy is obviously a lil freaked out by this. I would be freaked out too if I was a teenage girl who had a divine revelation. This is her first real hint to what her charm even is, so she has no clue what it could possibly mean. Indy is incredibly impulsive, as well, which is not a good combination. She sits on this information for a few days until she physically cannot stand it anymore. Rumors begin to circulate about leadership in the northern region— named La Lueur— planning to implement laws to remove charms and curses from Level 4 charm/curse holders. No one believes it yet because there would be no way to regulate it, but it still causes unease.

Due to piling stress, Indy breaks up with Mari. 

This is a disastrous move. Sapphic breakups are insane.

Because the two are so head over heels in love and can’t live without each other, Mari breaks down. Indy obviously doesn’t enjoy seeing her girlfriend like this, so she attempts to console her. She only makes one mistake— she grabs Mari’s arm. 

Curses and charms are fueled by inner energy, so moments of high tension= easier charm use. Sometimes they unleash involuntarily, and Indy’s charm does just that. The stars shift so aggressively that it propels the world at large into the late 19th century. Only Mari and Indy know that this happened. The rest of the world functions as normal with no knowledge that this has occurred. 

The sheer amount of energy that move took not only knocks out Indy, but bumps Mari’s Level 1 charm of being able to control the flow of ink to a Level 2 curse. Ink briefly bleeds from her eyes and nails. Emo as shit. In an unknown location with her only friend unconscious and herself in critical condition, she leaves to find help for herself. 

But while she’s away, someone new in their favorite stretch of the woods appears— Archie Caruso. He’s, of course, fascinated by this random young woman lying in the middle of the woods with bright purple hair. His charm is ‘flora,” which means he has the ability to manipulate plants. He sweeps her away to a treetop by using some vines to keep her protected. 

He waits for her to awake while collecting some berries or somethin idk and promises her that he has her best intentions at heart. She does not believe him because she’s not stupid. But he quickly proves that he has no ulterior motives. He’s an orphan from La Lueur with nothing to his name but a few stray coins he finds of the street, but he always makes a point to look out for others in need. And he could sense Indy was in desperate need for help. 

Indy, being the clever and impulsive girl she is, accepts his help because she knows she can find her way out of his clutches if necessary. Archie works as a ticket collector at a nearby circus, and they’re on the hunt for some new performers. Indy becomes an aerialist at Viper’s, a shady circus agency known for scamming its attendees. However, she has 20th century skills in a 19th century market. Her signature purple under-layer of hair and free-flowing movements make her a rapid success, and she becomes a miniature celebrity in La Lueur. She also starts dating Archie. A girlboss and her girlboss boyfriend. 

Mari found her way a bruja in La Oscura (the southern region) who performs magical healing on her. She takes Mari under her wing, and she begins practicing brujeria alongside learning how to harness her curse. A girl from the Eastern region (known as the Taung kingdom) visits her store often, and she two become close friends. Little does she know that this girl, named Issa, is soon to inherit the Taung throne. 

So our two girls are happy and thriving. What could possibly go wrong now? 

eeee that’s all for now I need to get a shower then sleep bc QR RAAA 🗣️🗣️

starlight revival arc?

BRINGING BACK STARLIGHT. BRINGIN THAT SHIT BACK BC I’M TIRED OF DALSEUM I’M SAILING AWAY BYE GUYS

um. because I think you would enjoy this somewhat tag @svwhssftr

I feel lowkey bad just tagging you in random shit but sometimes I forget. it’s okay for friends to talk to each other actually. it’s okay to like things and share them. it took me seventeen and a half whole years to realize that I think. cringe is dead. and you can literally just ignore this too that’s also a possibility bc I jus ignored your call bc I’m absolutely exhausted and I do not want any actual human interaction for the next week. I don’t want to return to school tmrw but I must. Sigh. Anyway NEW LORE YAY!

Starlight is one of my favorite projects I’ve ever worked on. probably second to reflections and closely followed by Seong and Adam’s dynamic in the original sv (nope I will never ever be over them ever. he was everything she never was to him and By God HE KNEW IT) but the aesthetics are All Over The Place. The plot is actually cohesive (if I trim some shit down) which is rare for me now. Nowadays I just slap shit down and say “there’s a plot underneath all of this unnecessary symbolism and descriptions of gaudy outfits I prommy!!” but NO MORE! NO MORE OF THAT

so we’re making the whole thing cohesive and changing the god-awful character names tonight

Let’s start with our main character, now named Indy

this name choice is still… idk. I’m torn between Indy and Robin… but I used to have a character named Robin so I’m not sure. though I feel like Robin is an objectively better name (coming from the bitch who names half of her characters after birds though) but I like Indy a lot in the sense of the story overall.

bc her original name was Azure (which is fine but I hate it… debating keeping it) but she was nicknamed Spade because of a spade-shaped birthmark on her shoulder.  Keeping with the blue theme, I think her full name should be Indigo but she goes by Indy, and her husband (who is so goated we get to him later though) nicknames her Ace because of her birthmark.

ok onto the plot stuff we don’t gaf abt this bitch’s name

The world of Starlight has an actual magic system. Crazy stuff! I created a decent magic system that doesn’t involve stupid blood rituals and “just because this character is this character xyz can happen.” (coughcoughRONNIEcoughcough) It goes a little something like this

Humans can be one of three things- cursed, charmed, or neither. Curses and charms are extremely similar, and they’re fairly common. I’d say 50% of the population has one of the two, with 75% of that 50% being “charmed.” Charms and curses are magical powers that a person can be born with at random. They’re often an omen for the personality of the charm/curse-holder, kind of like a zodiac. The only real difference is that curses physically harm the user when used. 

There are four levels of charms/curses. 

Level 1- Basically party tricks. They barely drain any energy from the user and can’t be used to cause major harm. Elio’s charm “light” falls under this category

Level 2- Majority of curses/charms are level 2. They take quite a bit of energy to perform, and they could do some potential damage. Can be very useful if harbored correctly. Archie’s charm “flora,” and Mari’s curse “ink” both fall under this category. 

Level 3- Very risky and hazardous to use. Or ridiculously OP in the opposite direction. They drain enough energy from the user to knock them out for a few hours. Thorn’s curse “flame” and Rose’s charm “heal” fall under this category. 

Level 4- By far the rarest type of curse/charm. This can change the trajectory of lives, and they can only be used a handful of times throughout the holder’s lifetime. Using it only once will sometimes cause death. Indy’s charm “starlight” and Hope’s charm “amore” fall under this category. 

Charms and curses are signified by colored eyes. For example, Elio’s eyes are golden, Thorn’s are red, Hope’s are pink, etc. They’re not insanely noticeable. Just like… tinted. 

Indy lives on an unnamed continent separate from anything else I’ve written. Their stories are kind of like folklore in the grand Lore universe. It’s separated into three currently unnamed parts- the north, which has a culture similar to Western Europe (France, Italy, Germany, etc.) and the south, which has lots of South and Latin-American influences, mainly Mexican. To the East is another kingdom full of mountains based on Northern Africa and Southeast Asian countries like Nepal and Libya. Indy is from a town near the border of the north and south regions, where the overall culture is similar to the 1980’s in style, trends, etc. Except racism and homophobia aren’t really a thing I feel like I get pretty deep into that in Dalseum already. 

Indy Simon, whose family is mainly from the northern region, is dating her girlfriend Marigold Martinez, aka Mari, whose family is mainly from the southern region. They’re probably around 14-15 years old. Little baby high school sapphics. They get along really well. They love each other as much as two fifteen year olds can. They go on adventures through the woods and such. Average girlfriend things. 

Until Indy accidentally activates her charm in a dream/vision-type-thing. Her charm physically shifts the position of the stars, which is essentially time travel because the rest of the earth shifts along with it. She sees her death at the hands of Marigold, shot in the heart on a balcony.

But young Indy is quite observant and crafty. She notices the patch on the chest of Mari’s coat is the seal of the southern region, and she notices the woman beside her corpse— her mother— is wearing one with the northern region’s seal. She overhears someone by Mari say “if the war wasn’t over, it’s sure as hell over now”

She wakes up in pure panic because WHAT THE FUCK?? WHAT THE FUCK 

and what does she do next?? I know. But you don’t. I need to sleep. Tune in next time ig 

[kuroos-moon]

E-girl S/o 

☾ pairings: ushijima x reader, oikawa x reader, kuroo x reader 

☾ request: headcanons for Ushijima, Oikawa and Kuroo reacting to or being interested in/dating a girl that is kinda goth/e-girl/edgy? Like they wear a lot of black, like scary movies and video games, have a very sarcastic personality?

☾ warning/s: none

☾ a/note: not rlly sure if i did e-girls justice on this one im sorry 

Ushijima Wakatoshi 

• Doesn’t get the “oh, I didn’t expect girls like y/n are your type” 

• Like?? Uhm, wdym it’s self-explanatory you’re just so eye-catching 

• Yes, you caught the Ushiwaka’s eye 

• You’re not dating or anything, let alone have started a conversation 

• But there’s an impressive number of people who know he likes you a lot

• Wakatoshi’s blunt and genuinely honest for most times if not all of his life 

• “You like anyone?” “Yes.” “Really? Is it that cute girl from your cl-

• “Y/n L/n.”  

• Knows how much you love black bc it’s not rlly hard to miss, you wear it on you every chance you get

• And now you’ve cursed him with remembering you every time he sees the color 

• You heard of the rumors that one of the nation’s top three aces likes you and you don’t believe them ofc 

• Not that you don’t know you’re pretty, you love your reflection but you just reckon you’re not his type yk? 

• He’s more of an admire and fall for you more from afar type of dude

• Totally stops and stare when you walk in the gym wearing a short black skirt and a black top, with boots and chains and all 

• Doesn’t know a thing about fashion but damn, you’re so hot?? 

• Cannot hear even his own coach

• Hopes you’re not going on a date 

• “Geez, y/n, is it someone’s funeral?” “Ah, Satori-chan, why are you even out of your cascket?” 

• Kinda thinks you’re mean bc you’re sarcastic and his humor rlly isn’t up to your level lmao sorry but he wants to know what’s it like to actually talk to you 

• So he does, once he bumps into you on his way out of the gym and you just awkwardly stare at each other 

• “I like your style. Your outfit.” He says, and he is not even shy on the outside at least

• “uh thanks?” you just kinda smile at him bc ydk what youre supposed to do this is wakafreakingtoshi we’re talkin bout 

• “you like black a lot.” “yeah, I do, what of it?” 

• “you really look good in it. You own the color,” he says that like it’s no big deal before he walks away 

• You totally crush on him after that encounter 

• Basically, he doesn’t have a type. he cannot distinguish cute girls, e-girls, or any ‘type’ of girls

• What he could so naturally distinguish though, is you—his lovely darling in black—and the rest of the female population he couldn’t care less for 

Oikawa Tōru 

• You’re his most treasured babygirl and no he doesn’t take any criticism 

• Your taste in fashion? 💯/💯

• Is maybe a tad bit too in love with your pretty boy and e-girl dynamic in pics bc his Instagram is flooded with them 

• Hypes you up in your socials, in his, and in real life 

• Goes for captions like: “choke me like you hate me, y/n-chan” and “step on me and I’ll apologize instead” 

• He’s so cheesy but you love it :>

• Lets you pick out his clothes once in a while though you have different tastes and preferences 

• You return the favor too sometimes and it’s not even a compromise on either of your parts 

• You just have fun with your own things and you’re having fun in trying out things the other likes too yk? 

• One thing that shortens his lifespan is when you watch horror movies together 

• HOW ARE YOU NOT SCARED? Loves spending nights like this with you nonetheless though

• “y/n-chan is the ghost gone?” “yup, you could open your eyes now.” “thank g- hey!” 

• Is the rare male teenager who’s kinda knowledgeable in make-up products bc of u

• He knows what kind of eyeliner you use and if he sees something kinda cool when he’s out, he’ll buy it for you

• Or tell you about it: “y/n-chan do you know this eyeliner called ***? I don’t know if it was the lady’s sales talk but I think you’ll like it”—wholesome and thoughtful

• Flexes you a lot and will not tolerate all the “Tōru and y/n don’t really look good together” 

• “Right? She just doesn’t complement him right.”

• He’s childish and more so when agitated, not even Iwaizumi could hold him back

• “Oh yeah? THEN LOOK AT MY FABULOUS NAILS” flexes all ten of his fingers which you painted black just last night on your bedroom floor 

• You just flip your hair in their direction and drag Toru away bc you’re too unbothered <33 

• “y/n-chan back me up here, you have the bitchiest attitude towards me so let’s work together and unleash our sass on them so they shut up, okay?” 

• It’s really rare for him to be that way with his fans but he’s the numero uno y/n-stanner ofc he won’t take that crap 

• “your makeup and taste in clothes aren’t even half as good as y/n’s.” sticks his tongue out ✨maturely✨

• Hates when he has to play Karasuno bc you once mentioned you could imagine Tobio having the same aesthetic as you 

• You also might’ve jokingly told him that “Toru I should’ve gotten a boyfriend from Karasuno, it’d be cool to tie their jacket around my waist and cheer for him at the same time.” 

• Was so mad at you about it and refused to talk to you for days because he’s just so not childish at all 

• “Ugh, why don’t they just change their team color to pure orange. Chibi-chan domination.” 

Kuroo Tetsuro

• Already took an interest in you from what he observes is an interestingly snarky character 

• Has been seeing you in only your uniform at first though but then he finds himself thinking a bit too much about you one night

• Stalks your Instagram <33 

• Jaw drops, heart beats a tad bit faster, his yearning grows 

• You’re so pretty. So good in black. Your poses? The whole vibe of your feed? He doesn’t know what to do with his admiration you’re just so freaking meant for him

• He gets it’s not the usual style for most girls in school, and tbh he didn’t know he’d like it so much, he just does now

• Knows there was no saving him once he starts imagining scenarios about you before he goes to bed

• This dork starts to know more things about you—it’s really cool that you play the same games as him 

• Is up to date on your posts, your ig story, and your tweets but why in the world are you still not in bed at 3 in the morning? 

• You just love gaming, huh? Should he start a conversation with you about it? He played that often too with Kenma

• He just can’t seem to though bc he’s nervous and lowkey intimidated 

• Once witnessed you jokingly exchange snarky comments with your friends and you even flipped them off 

• It’s settled then, he’ll graduate without talking to you sad kuroo noises 

• You once posted a pic flexing your matte black nails on a weekend and when the weekday came, he was so excited to see them in person 

• But your nails are no longer painted, and he was so disappointed bc they looked rlly attractive to him 

• Voices out his thoughts mindlessly. “You removed your nail polish.” 

• Everyone—including you—is surprised. Your desks aren’t even next to each other but his body was facing you 

• Cringes internally once he realizes he had said it but is so surprised when you smile at him. 

• “It’s not allowed in school, it’s a shame, you think they were pretty too, right?” 

• He cannot function, he totally did not prepare for this—and to think he had so many nights imagining different scenarios about you. 

• He was rlly popular and you thought you acted too confident; you just curse yourself for it. “Oh, uh sorry I thought you saw my post.” 

• You look away, embarrassed. “Yeah,” he chuckles a bit. You cringe. 

• “Black really suits you, and your nails were pretty, wish I could’ve seen them today, that’s all.”

• And who would’ve thought your relationship would bloom since then 

• All because he’s so interested and mesmerized with everything about you <3 

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle   @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ultzuko

[nickydestati]

duolingo tog prompts #13

prompt: Now he is just a normal citizen (Adesso è solo un cittadino normale)

i am aware this is a superhero au for what technically is a superhero movie already but oh well, i hope you enjoy it anyway!

*

In general, Yusuf likes being Joe. On some days, though, he feels like screaming. Only yesterday night he was chasing down some stalker scum to teach them a lesson and make sure they would never even think of harassing anyone ever again, and now he is just a normal citizen. Just a face in the endless, dreary morning commute. 

He wants to grab someone by the shoulders and yell his secret in their faces. Just so someone knows he’s doing it all for them.

But he buries his hands in his pockets and walks on.

A bell rings when he enters the antique shop. The Old Guard, it is called. And of course, it’s just a facade, but to his surprise, Joe genuinely likes working there. He likes being surrounded by ancient and not so ancient objects, he loves walking around in the chaotic assortment of precious art pieces and absolute junk. He often wonders how Andy has gotten hold of all these things, but however sneakily he tries to coax it out of her, she always sees right through his schemes and just shrugs.

He puts everything ready and turns the sign of the door around so the ‘open’ side is facing the street. He glances at the numerous grandfather clocks lining one of the walls. Booker is late. Maybe on a job Joe forgot about, so he guesses he’s on his own for today.

He’s staring at some lists with a lot of numbers he doesn’t understand much about because 1) this is usually Booker’s job and 2) he’s running on three hours of sleep and caffeine, when the phone rings. He picks up immediately, grateful for something else to do.

“The Old Guard Antiques, with Joe, how can I help you?”

“I’ve got a job for you.” Andy.

“Hello to you, too,” Joe says, glancing about for customers, though the bell hasn’t made a sound yet all morning. He lowers his voice just to be sure. “And a job? So soon? I just finished the last one this night.”

He can barely hide his excitement, he quickly checks his free hand, making sure he doesn’t start glowing by accident.

“It’s urgent. We’ve got word that someone is after Lykon’s bracers.”

“Lykon’s bracers?” Joe’s happy mood sobers. Lykon was one of their team once. But the life of a superhero is never without danger. Things went terribly wrong on a mission a long time ago, and Lykon had sacrificed himself so the rest could get out with the people they were saving. They went back later, but despite his healing powers, he hadn’t been able to use them on himself in time. 

His bracers still hold fragments of his powers, though, just like Joe’s rings will when he dies. Every hero has such a token, and there are rumors it might grant the powers to someone else if used right. But so far, no one has tried yet. All superheroes agree that it’s simply too morbid and intruding.

“Yes.” Andy sighs. “I knew I shouldn’t have given it to the museum. It would’ve been safer with us after all.”

“Hey, boss, don’t beat yourself up. It was the best option back then. So, who’s after it?”

“Some rich megalomaniac called Merrick. You know, the usual. The theft is planned for this Friday. Booker is at the museum now to find a way to get you inside and get a layout from the building. He’ll be on it for the rest of the week so you’re on shop duty alone for a while.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll send you some more details you can look through. How did it go last night?

“It went well,” Joe answers, but it’s a tad too late and of course Andy notices.

“But?”

Joe sighs. “But the Shadow showed up and I had just gotten them right where I wanted them, but when I rounded the corner, he’d taken care of them already.”

“The guy’s good,” Andy says and the appraisel in her voice makes a spike of jealousy flash through his chest.

“Maybe you should ask him to join us, then,” he says and he hates how annoyed he sounds.

Andy chuckles on the other end. “Have to figure out who he is first.”

Just some pretentious bastard thinking he’s too good to talk with other superheroes. But Joe is tired talking about him.

“So how are you and Nile? Have you found her yet?”

“No, no sign yet.” All mirth has left Andy’s voice and Joe’s heart clenches.

“It’s only a matter of time. We’ll find her. Or she’ll find us again, she wouldn’t leave us like that.” She wouldn’t leave you.

“Let’s hope so,” Andy says with a heavy sigh. “Gotta go, I’ll send you the information. Keep me updated, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss. Say hi to Nile from me.”

He’s breaking his head over the lists again when the bell makes him startle. 

His throat runs dry when he looks up because the most beautiful man in all the universe has just entered the shop. Joe really shouldn’t be so dumbfounded by the man, because objectively speaking he is rather plain-looking with that simple hair cut and those pants that are really doing nothing for him, but still. Even like that, he has something incredibly mesmerising to Joe.

He pretends to look back at the lists for a while, but glances at the customer every now and again from the corner of his eye.

When the man has been wandering around for a while and has been staring at those small angel statuettes for five minutes already, Joe slips from behind the counter and goes to him. 

“Good morning, sir, can I be of some assistance?”

The man turns around and a small smile appears around his mouth when he sees Joe, melting Joe’s heart into a puddle.

“Maybe. I’m looking for a birthday gift for my nonna, but I don’t know which archangel she would like more.”

And to Joe’s surprise, the man goes on to explain the different meanings behind them which is incredibly fascinating - and not only because his hand gestures are so elegant and his eyes are alight with a passionate glow that Joe would describe as moonlight in one of his poems. And Joe is all too happy to chip in with his own knowledge of art and iconology. 

They get so caught up in their conversation that Joe jumps when the grandfather clocks start their various announcements of the fact that it is twelve o’clock. The man startles too by the cacophony and glances at his watch. 

“Oh, I should get going. I’ll take this one.” And he picks out Joe’s favorite. 

He follows Joe to the cash register and pays. 

“I am Joe, by the way,” Joe says when he’s wrapping the statue in bubble plastic to protect it.

“Nicky, nice to meet you,” Nicky says and Joe can’t keep the wide smile from his face.

“We should do that again some time,” he says, gathering all his courage. “Talk, I mean, not necessarily buying or selling angel statuettes.”

Nicky laughs, and the little snort makes Joe’s heart jump to his throat. “Let’s grab some dinner then, when are you available?”

“Only Friday wouldn’t work for me,” Joe says.

“I can’t make it on Friday either, so let’s say Saturday? Here, let me get your number,” Nicky says and picks his phone from his pocket.

They exchange numbers and say their goodbyes, Nicky flashing a last smile at him from the door before leaving Joe helplessly lost behind his cash register. 

*

Focus, Yusuf! Yusuf chastizes himself when his mind has wandered off to what he’s going to wear for his date tomorrow for what must be the millionth time. You’re supposed to be watching out for a thief, focus!

Yusuf takes a deep breath and scans the room again. He’s hidden in a very uncomfortable position against the ceiling, holding on to a pillar that grants him a view of the entire exhibition room. If he didn’t have his powers, there was no way he could have endured this position for so long, and while it would have been even easier if the sun was out, he manages. 

The minutes are ticking by, no sign of a thief yet. The bracers are still safely in their display case beneath him.

Then there’s a movement, ever so slightly, by the windows. Yusuf’s eyes latch onto it, but it’s gone so soon that he almost thinks it’s a trick of his mind. 

Always trust your instincts, Andy told them over and over again. Our minds don’t play tricks on us.

Sure enough, there’s another flutter in the shadows. No, not in the shadows. Of the shadows.

One of them is moving.

Joe curses inwardly, of course Merrick has hired the Shadow.

He waits for the Shadow to reach the display case. Then, when he reaches over the glass, Yusuf slides down right behind him. He reaches for him, letting out a sound of victory when his hands guess correctly and circle around the Shadow’s neck. He lets his hands glow, unleashing the heat he’s always containing. 

Surprised by the sudden attack, the Shadow turns visible and Yusuf stumbles back out of pure shock.

He’s all clad in black, with a balck version of a mask not unlike Yusuf’s own, but Yusuf would recognise the eyes peeking through it anywhere. Those eyes that are unmistakably glowing with moonlight now.

“Nicky?” Yusuf exclaims.

“Joe?” 

Nicky seems just as confused as Yusuf who’s still looking him up and down as if he might change into someone else after all - and oh man, these tight pants are definitely��doing things for him. Nicky recovers faster from the shock, though. 

“Sorry, but I really gotta take these,” he says and before Yusuf can make his muscles move again, Nicky already has the bracers in his hands and is dashing for the windows.

“Wait no!” Yusuf sprints after him, but Nicky whisps away into shadow-form again and slips through a slightly opened window. 

“Nicky!” Yusuf screams after him. He opens the window wider - not alarming the guards be damned - and looks out over the city. But there’s no trace of Nicky.

His heart is pounding. Nicky, the beautiful man he is already head over heels with, is the Shadow. Not only is he the Shadow, but he has also stolen Lykon’s bracers for some capitalist asshole.

Shit.

“Is our date still on tomorrow?” Yusuf calls weakly into the night.

[jaskiersvalley]

🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 (for you're such a lovely person who shares so many beautiful fics with us and is always up for talking. ily

I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on this ask because I just love seeing you in my inbox. But, like with everything, I need to stop hoarding and write a little thank you <3

Something wasn’t quite squaring up with Nilfgaard’s army. It spread at an alarming rate, much faster than a regular army could. Whatever sorcery the mages and sorceresses have concocted, it was terrifying. Such an army shouldn’t have been able to sustain itself, it needed food, water, resources to travel. Yet, despite all this, the army seemed to move silently, without the usual almost locust like destruction and draining of everything in their path. Nobody seemed to be able to pinpoint where the army was when it wasn’t fighting, only small scouting groups. People learned to be wary of those groups too. Wherever they went, the army was never seemingly far behind, backing them up at a moment’s notice. It was a mystery that was yet to be solved.

Finding a Nilfgaardian on the run was quite unusual. Eskel didn’t think it was something he’d live to see. They were usually so cocksure, travelling in their little groups. He had learned to spot them, even if they weren’t trying to make a scene. One leader, with five protectors. Those five tended to be on full alert and guarding their leader which was a bit odd, but then again, Nilfgaard as a whole was a bit peculiar.

The man Eskel spotted was obviously from the South, he heard him order, the accent harsh yet lilting at the same time. Watching him find the darkest corner - the one Eskel had wanted for himself - curiosity was winning out. Only a desperate man would share a space with a Witcher and this man, though he shrank away, steadfastly refused to move from the shadows of the corner.

“Got separated from your group?” Eskel liked to make small talk if he could. Especially when it helped solve a curiosity like the man opposite him.

“Something like that.”

Evasive, huddled and not looking Eskel in the eyes. The plot thickened. “So you ran away.” While the man didn’t seemingly react, Eskel could hear his heartrate pick up. “Why?”

Silence stretched. The man finished his food in a great hurry and was up, evidently not wanting any kind of company. Oddly, Eskel didn’t think it had anything to do with him being a Witcher.

The next morning the man was nowhere to be seen. But Eskel caught his scent and, with nothing better to do, he set off at a leisurely pace in the same direction. If they bumped into each other he could always claim it was a funny twist of Fate. He shouldn’t have joked about it, not even in his own head because, not a few miles out of the village, he found the evidence of a scuffle. The whole stretch of road had a tang of death to it which he couldn’t place. However, he soon forgot about it because he could smell blood and hear the pained, laboured breaths of someone. Rounding the small clump of bushes, Eskel tutted. “Run into trouble?”

“No.”

The blatant lie drew a laugh from Eskel. He had to admit, he was intrigued. Grabbing his pack, he approached the man, showing him his hands in an attempt to reassure that he meant no harm. In fact, he was offering a helping hand.

“Did they get what they wanted?” The question tripped from Eskel’s lips as he lifted the man’s gambeson away to reveal a cut to his side. It wasn’t deep but it was in the crease of soft flesh that tended to sting like a bitch, Eskel knew that from experience. His only reply was a shake of the head. “Good. You sent them packing by the looks of it. I’m impressed. My name’s Eskel by the way.”

Still no reply and the man tipped his head back, staring at the sky with gritted teeth while Eskel saw to his wound.

“Well, you’re in no state to travel alone. You headed anywhere in particular?” Another head shake but this time the man watched him with guarded eyes. “Okay. Why don’t we travel together for a bit. I can help keep you safe.”

“I can’t pay you for your services.” Clipped words that sounded tired. "And you probably shouldn't be around me."

It was cute, how the man seemed so determined to drive Eskel away without being cruel. Most refreshing. "I don't need your payment. As I'm not headed anywhere in particular, I figured we could both use a bit of company."

That settled the matter and, for three days they travelled in companionable silence, sticking to villages and heading north. It was only in a larger village that Eskel learned the man's name and not because they were getting more friendly either. The poster bore quite a good likeness to Cahir.

"So-" Eskel said as they camped outside the village, "-want to tell me why Nilfgaard thinks you're dangerous enough to not be approached but your sighting should be reported swiftly and discreetly?"

Cahir let out a world weary sigh, shoulders drooping. "I control a large portion of their army. They want me back for that."

Which was interesting. In Eskel's experience no general tended to command such loyalty. He was also a sucker for those in need. Plus, the chance to fuck Nilfgaard over was quite glorious. He smirked. "Want to come to Kaer Morhen to hide out for the winter?"

It was a bit of a trek north still but Cahir began to relax around Eskel. They shared their first kiss at the foot of the trail up to Kaer Morhen. A few more were traded along the way but, for the most part, they huddled for warmth, cuddled up for the cold nights.

Slowly the keep filled up with its regular winter visitors, all of them somewhat hesitant to greet Cahir until Eskel intervened with a pointed glare from behind him. Everyone settled in, Geralt turned up with Jaskier, Lambert and Aiden did their usual thing, even Coen managed to slip through the gates before the snow hit. Soon, they were all enjoying the roaring fires, drink and songs. Despite his army background, Cahir turned down all invitations to train and share knowledge. It didn't make him very popular but his cooking helped ease any grumblings.

It was all going well until a portal opened up and Yennefer stepped through. midway through greeting everyone she froze and turned to the door as Cahir stepped in.

"What are you?" she hissed, hand curling to cradle an unleashed spell.

"Nilfgaard's finest deserter."

That didn't seem to help ease Yennefer and she looked over Cahir with a critical eye. "I can see Fringilla's work in there with several others'. You volunteer for this?"

"Only as much as someone volunteers to be a Witcher."

"Just what is going on?" Vesemir rumbled. He had a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to jump in. That had Cahir taking a step back, a pained expression.

"I wouldn't advise you hurt me. You have an awful lot of dead buried here."

The growl from Vesemir wasn't reassuring. "Don't threaten me in my own home, boy."

"Vesemir!" The warning came from Yennefer of all people. "Don't."

Something was crackling in their air, Eskel could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was magic but not any kind he had felt before. Even worse, he could trace the source back to Cahir whose eyes were turning black slowly.

"I'm going to go outside. Please nobody follow." Stiffly, Cahir turned and marched out of the keep, into the snow covered woods. Silence reigned in his wake.

"The fuck?" Lambert spat, looking angry in his bewilderment.

As one, they all turned to Yennefer for an explanation. None of them had felt even a hint of magic from Cahir until that moment.

"That-" Yennefer pointed to where Cahir had been, "-is an unnatural necromancer. No innate ability but, with the right stimuli, can raise the dead between here and the bottom of the mountain."

The silence stretched until Jaskier cursed. "Now we know how Nilfgaard's army is sustained."

As big as the revelation was, Eskel had a bigger concern. That was his boyfriend who had just walked out, looking ready to be consumed by his unnatural powers. Stepping out of the keep, Eskel had to whistle. The whole area between the keep and the woods was covered in flowers, a carpet of green dotted with blossoms of colour. In the middle of it all was Cahir, kneeling, eyes closed and head tipped towards his chest. His breathing was forcedly even and deep.

"Go away," Cahir gritted out.

"It's just me."

Looking up, Cahir's eyes were black and bottomless, his breath hitched as a tear trickled down his cheek. "I didn't mean to. I promise. They're everywhere."

Eskel could hear the footsteps, shuffling and shambling. Not all of them human, one alarmingly large.

"Old Speartip," Eskel growled. From the forest around them an army of the undead approached. All the bodies they didn't have the means to burn after the sacking, Old Speartip from his cave, forktails they'd left dotted around the mountain, they were all approaching Kaer Morhen. Along with them came the smell Eskel had scented on the road where bandits had accosted Cahir, now he knew what happened back then.

Cahir let out a shuddering breath, hands curled into a fist. "Threats of violence and pain make them come."

"And when you feel safe, do they go away?"

A miserable nod was his answer and Eskel dropped to his knees. He gathered Cahir against his chest and kissed his softly, demanding all his boyfriend's focus to be on him. The noise of the undead around them stopped, under his knees Eskel could feel the grass wilting back to its winter state. Pulling away, he was pleased to see the blue of Cahir's eyes.

"I'll always keep you safe," he rumbled. A darker thought crossed his mind. "The groups of six scouts for Nilfgaard, they weren't scouts at all, were they?"

From the doorway, Eskel could hear the others shuffling around and peering out at them. But his attention was on Cahir and Cahir alone.

"A necromancer and their guards who're also their tormentors." Cahir sniffled. "There's a reason I've not joined you in the waterfalls. To raise an army, they did unspeakable things."

Eskel pulled Cahir tightly to his chest, wishing he could make everything better. Alas, there wasn't much to be done other than what he'd already been doing; supporting and loving to the best of his abilities.

"We now know better," he tried to reassure. "How would you feel if, in the spring, we continued to travel together? We can take any road you feel comfortable on."

Looking up at Eskel with wide, wet eyes, Cahir licked his lips. "I can't pay you for your services," he said, repeating his words from all those months ago. "But how would you feel about fucking Nilfgaard over? We could rescue a few more necromancers."

It was a daring plan but one that Eskel was intrigued by. So were the others when, over dinner, Cahir haltingly told them everything. The Path was unpredictable at the best of times, the coming year it was going to get even more convoluted.

[mybg3notebook]

Lore: Details about the “Orb”

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

Let's start with the context, because everything related to Gale is packed heavily with Forgotten Realms lore, and since the game is not fully released, whatever extra information that the game could provide to help us understand this is not there yet. Also, it's always important to keep in mind this post about "Context, persuasion, and manipulation" to be sure we are talking in the same terms. 

The lore

I'm going to enumerate some objects or elements related to Forgotten Realms lore that I personally see worth checking out in addition to other “orbs” that I've seen the fandom put attention on. All this information can be expanded using the references and sometimes wiki, even though I personally distrust forgotten realm wiki, unless I can check that info from the original sources.

Shadow Weave

The Shadow Weave is the space between the strands of the Weave. If the Weave is a spider's web, the gaps in between are the Shadow Weave. Shadow Weave reaches everywhere the Weave does, and more. It is not subject to Mystra’s laws or state of well being. If Mystra were to die and the Weave collapses, the Shadow Weave would persist. [Magic of Faerûn 3e. Personal Comment: Yes. It explicitly says in the book that it’s independent of Mystra’s well being. Clearly this has been modified in 4e since the Shadow Weave needs the structure of the Weave to be somehow stable. It collapsed when the Weave did so, so we can see this begins a series of inconsistencies]

Shadow Weave is a dark and distorted copy of the Weave created by Shar, more suited for spells that drag life or confuse the mind (necromancy, control, illusion schools), and gives more difficulty to cast spells that manipulate energy or matter (evocation or transmutation schools). It can't sustain spells that produce light. Both Weave and Shadow Weave are means to use Raw Magic (see at the end of the post). The more familiar a mortal becomes with the secrets of the Shadow Weave, the more detached they become from the Weave. Shadow Weave is NOT a part of Mystra, so Mystra can't block people from accessing magic via Shadow Weave. 

It’s a common mistake to make the analogy that the Shadow Weave is to Shar the same way the Weave is to Mystra. No. Shadow Weave is NOT Shar, while the Weave is Mystra. Shar never developed that level of commitment, making herself one with the Shadow Weave. This is one of the reasons why she could not sustain the Weave during the Spellplague when she tried to corrupt it completely into Shadow Weave. 

All this information belongs to Magic of Faerûn 3e and the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3e and novels of 4e. There is nothing about Shadow Weave in 5e. If it weren't for Ed Greenwood's twitter, we should have guessed it disappeared from the lore. So far we know it's slowly recovering in the same way the Weave is. And the Shadow Weave doesn't feed on Weave. For some mysterious reason, fandom started to think so due to BG3.

Death moon orb

This artefact belongs to the 3rd edition, created by a Netheril wizard. From him, it passed to the hands of Szass Tam, who saw it destroyed when the Spellplague corrupted the magic in it. I won't give more details about this object because it looks so unrelated to what Gale has in his chest. Not only is its shape inconsistent with what we see in-game, its powers and properties are unrelated to what is explained in EA. The object is cursed, compelling its owner to cause greater acts of evil; it has a size that changes and looks like a violet-black sphere. In my opinion, the only detail in common with Gale's “orb” is the name "orb". Which is a fallacy, since Gale says explicitly that he uses the word "orb" for the lack of a better one, because clearly what Gale has in his chest is not an orb, but a mass of Black Weave. 

Netherese orbs

These objects are found in Neverwinter MMO in the quest Whisper in Darkness:

The Netherese are foul plague upon this world, corrupting everything they touch. They have cursed the Gray Wolf Tribe, turning them into bloodthirsty monsters. We must find what the Netherese intend to do with their werewolf slaves. The Shadovar Emissaries use the Netherese Orbs powered by Soul Shards to communicate orders from the Prince of Shadow.

This is all the information we have of this object. That's all. It comes from a Neverwinter MMO game which belongs to 4th edition. Once more, the concept that Gale's “orb” is not an orb but a black mass of untamed magic makes me believe that these objects don't apply either. The nature of their magic is compatible though: Netherese orbs are made from shadow magic by Shadovar, descendant of Netheril stuck in the Plane of Shadow (called Shadowfell later on, read more in the post of "The Netherese in 1492DR"). This plane is the source of Shadow Magic, they don't use Raw Magic. Ethel explicitly said in BG3 that Shadow Magic is Netherese Magic, so maybe we can consider this object filled with Netherese magic? In any case, these Netherese orbs are used for communication... which has nothing to do with Gale's “orb”'s properties. There is also no reference of consuming Weave to remain stable.

Devastation orb

The mention of a "devastation orb" happens only in Yartar in Princes of the Apocalypse (related to the god Tharizdun, the mad god): 

In page 5 we have some context: Four elemental cults grow in power in the Sumber Hills, claiming abandoned keeps that connect to an underground fortress once part of an ancient dwarven kingdom. The leaders use elemental magic to create devastation orbs capable of ravaging the countryside. They’ve been testing these magic weapons, bolstering the cults’ ranks, and infiltrating various communities, all directed by visions the prophets receive from the Elder Elemental Eye (Tharizdun). These orbs are plainly described as: essentially bombs of elemental energy to unleash natural disasters.

In page 222 we have a more detailed explanation of what these elements are: 

Devastation Orb: (Wondrous item, very rare) A devastation orb is an elemental bomb that can be created at the site of an elemental node by performing a ritual with an elemental weapon. The type of orb created depends on the node used. For example, an air node creates a devastation orb of air. A devastation orb measures 12 inches in diameter, weighs 10 pounds, and has a solid outer shell. The orb detonates 1d100 hours after its creation, releasing the elemental energy it contains. The orb gives no outward sign of how much time remains before it will detonate. Regardless of the type of orb, its effect is contained within a sphere with a 1 mile radius. The orb is the sphere’s point of origin. The orb is destroyed after one use.

Again, I don't see a real connection with Gale's “orb”. These devastation orbs are not netherese-based, they have elemental energy, and despite the explosion, they don't have any mechanics that resemble the consumption of Weave to remain stable. However, I do find a link between these devastation orbs, their process of construction, and the book that Gale found out. The remotest concept I can scratch here is that, whoever crafted the book with that piece of blackest Weave, could have used the knowledge of the construction of these devastation orbs. Instead of filling them with elemental magic, they filled it with a blackest weave of netherese magic. A procedure that could have been applied to the netherese tadpoles as well.

That's all the information I could gather that remotely is called “orb” or has some vague chance to be that blackest weave.

The Game BG3

In the game, all the info that Gale provides in EA about the “orb” is given before his revelation. The what it is, the how it works and the how it feels. In the revelation scene we only learn the details that are personal and intimate for Gale: the why he ended up with the orb, and potential solutions he can guess so far. To show proofs:

During the meeting:

Tav [Wisdom/tadpole] Try peering into his mind. If he won't open up, you'll sneak in.  [Success] Narrator: For a split second you see a swirl of untamed magic – then his defences drop like a portcullis. 

During the Protocol:

Tav: I simply want to know what it is you're keeping from me Gale: I'm dangerous. Not because I want to be, but because of... an error I made in the past.  [before Gale speaks of his loss] It makes me dangerous – even in death. [after Gale speaks of his loss/tadpole intrusion] I told you how I sought to win the favour of Mystra. I did this by trying to control a form of magic only one wizard ever could. I failed to control it. Instead it infested me. It makes me dangerous... even in death. […] Tav: The darkness inside you, what is it? Gale: It's magic from another time and another place. It is something that is beyond me, yet inside me. That makes me dangerous... even in death. 

During the stew scene or the ask for artefacts in neutral or lower approval

Tav: [Wisdom/tadpole] you sense secrecy and danger. Use your tadpole to probe Gale's thoughts. [Success] Narrator: you become one with Gale's mind and you can feel something sinister oppressing you. It's... inside of you, a mighty darkness radiating from your chest. You could try to push further, but your hold over Gale feels brittle. It won't be easy delving deeper without him noticing. Delve deeper: [Success] Narrator: “ you see through gale's eye, staring down the corridor of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces. It's teeth, it's claws, it's unstoppable as it digs through you and becomes part of you. And gods, is it ever-hungry.

Gale: The only way to “appease” said condition is for me to take powerful magical artefact and absorb the Weave inside. [...]Tav: What happens if you don't consume any artefact? Gale: Catastrophe. [...] Think of it as... tribute. The kind a king might pay to a more powerful neighbour to avoid invasion. As long as I pay there will be peace. But should I ever stop, along comes a war. I can assure the battlefield would extend well beyond the borders of my body alone. [...] I will consume the magic inside. What was a powerful artefact will be rendered no more than a trinket. But it will save my life- even if only temporarily.

Tav: That condition of yours is a very expensive one. Gale: I obtained it in Waterdeep. Nothing there comes cheap.

Artefacts scenes:

Gale: I can feel the storm abating. [...] I will feel it stir again – like a distant thunder sending tremors through the soul. I will need to consume another artefact before the lightning strikes. There's no choice but to find more. [...] It's good to perceive this constant fear repressed into a quiet scare. Let's hope it will last a good long while.

During Revelation scene:

Gale: The gist of it is that he sought to usurp the goddess of magic so that he could become a god himself. He almost managed but not quite, and his entire empire – Netheril – came crashing down around him as he turned to stone. The magic unleashed that day was phenomenal, rolling like the prime chaos that outdates creation. A fragment of it was caught and sealed away in a book. No ordinary book, mind you; a tome of gateways that contained within it a bubble of Astral Plane. It was a fragment of primal Weave locked out of time – locked away from Mystra herself. ‘What if’, the silly wizard thought. ‘What if after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the Goddess?”

Narrator: You feel the tadpole quiver as you realise Gale is letting you in. Into the dark. You see through Gale’s eyes, staring down the corridors of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces. It’s teeth, it’s claws, it’s unstoppable as it digs through you and becomes part of you. And gods, is it ever hungry… [...] This Netherese taint.. this orb, for lack of a better word, is balled up inside my chest. And it needs to be fed. As long as it absorbs Weave it remains stable – to an extent. The moment it becomes unstable, however.. [...] It will erupt. I don’t know the exact magnitude of the eruption, but given my studies of Netherese magic, I’d say even a fragment as small as the one I carry…. It’d level a city the size of Waterdeep

Tav : I should godsdamned kill you GALE: Perhaps that is what I deserve, but you deserve no such thing. To kill me is to unleash the orb. 

So far, if we don't use the tadpole, we learn from Gale that he is unwillingly dangerous, there is an ancient magic stuck in his chest—acquired in Waterdeep—that he never could control and it inspires a dreadful state of mind (constant fear). It requires Weave to stay stable, and if it is not fed, a catastrophe will happen that will extend past his body. 

With the Tadpole we learn, in addition, part of the details we can learn during the revelation scene: it's a swirl of untamed/chaotic magic which is an ever-hungry "blackest weave". 

During the Revelation Scene all the information acquired by the tadpole intrusion is given, in addition to describing this mass of magic as an "orb" despite its inaccuracy. We also learn that killing Gale will only unleash the orb instead of putting an end to the problem. 

Gale said everything that is important related to the orb before the party scene, excluding only the personal information since he is a private person. This was exactly the boundary he set when he promised during the stew scene that he was going to explain the what, not the why. With the use of the tadpole we only learn details, simple extra descriptions; all information that Gale will willingly share during the revelation scene anyway.

We can learn a bit more of the “orb”'s function if we explore the goblin party. There, Gale explains part of the mechanism of the “orb” in a "poetic" way, that may or may not be taken exactly as such:

Gale: Two shadows are darkening my soul.The shadow within and the shadow without: you. You led me down this path. [...] I don't know myself anymore. All this... It's not who I am. Around you, I'm not who I want to be. I should leave. 

Tav: [Insight] Stay. We make each other stronger. We make each other survive. /OR/ [Deception] You don't stand a chance alone. You're free to go. I dare you. 

[Success][DC15] Gale: [...]. Few things are more powerful than the will to live. But carnage such as this.... the shadow within is spreading like poison, corrupting kindness and compassion. [...]. Tonight I need to wash my hands of blood and my mind of shattering memories. 

This shows that when playing an Evil Tav who sides with the Goblins, we have an extra description for this “orb”. Again, I ponder every bit of information with its context: Gale is a poet, and he tends to speak with metaphors specially when it comes to emotional painful states of mind or when it comes to the “orb” (which puts him in a very emotional state that even the tadpole doesn't), so these lines can perfectly be understood as a poetic way to describe his deep regret for participating in massacring the Tieflings. However, there is this detail that I can't overlook: the shadow within, understood as the blackest Weave, is spreading across his body, corrupting his good essence. As we saw in the post of "Extensive list of Gale's approvals", compassion and kindness are key elements in Gale's personality. This scene shows a potential that is not explored in EA: the “orb” seems to set a path in which it will corrupt Gale. 

Now this could be considered as a potential beginning of a shift of alignment, but it goes against what Sven said several times in interviews and presentations: he stated that they were not considering to change alignments in the companions (if you can imagine all the extra branches that it opens up, it makes sense not to allow it given the already colossal proportions of the game), so it's hard to suspect how Gale would evolve from here, or if this situation will give him reasons to attempt to kill this Evil Tav eventually (which is my personal guess). Sven suggested many times that companions could potentially kill Tav or other companions during their sleep. We saw this happening in EA with Astarion. Using datamining content, we saw the same with Lae'Zel and Shadowheart. I don't see why not to give in-character reasons to make this mechanism work with Gale as well.

As an extra (datamining) detail, we have Ethel's vicious mockery line emphasising the concept of "the shadow within":

Ethel: I can smell what's under those bandages wizard, you're all rot and ruin.

Putting aside the unnerving detail that Gale's concept art has bandages on one of his hands while the game is oblivious to this, the idea of Gale's “orb” as a source of rot and ruin, in combination with that necrotic aura when he dies, gives us a sure idea that there is a “disease” spreading in Gale's body as a consequence of this blackest weave stuck in his chest.

All the in-game information was presented, so now let's drag conclusions: Comparing all the information extracted from the scenes, we can now consider how much potential has the lore object named before:

Shadow Weave: Could Gale's “orb” be a fragment of Shadow Weave?

Strengths of the argument: Gale's “orb” is described as "blackest weave". It could barely be a hint, even though the Shadow weave has no canon colour nor physical description in the corebooks. So this is a very weak strength.

Weaknesses of the argument: Shadow Weave doesn't feed on Weave (this is a fallacy so far I've checked. It would make no sense to feed on the same object that it needs to exist.) Shadow Weave doesn't explode nor is chaotic. 

Death moon orb:

Strengths: It's called an "orb". And it was made by a netherese arcanist, so it must contain “netherese magic”.

Weaknesses: This object was destroyed during the Spellplague. It's a physical orb which changes size, but it's not an "amorphous mass" of magic. It doesn't consume Weave.

Netherese Orb:

Strengths: It's called an "orb". It's made of shadow magic (which is not netherse magic in corebooks but in game Ethel used both denominations as synonymous). We know Shadovar are masters of Shadow Magic. Read more in the post "The Netherese in 1492DR".

Weaknesses: This object doesn't appear in the corebooks. It's used for communication. It doesn't seem to have any explosive properties nor consumes Weave.

Devastation orb:

Strengths: It's called an "orb". They explode with the intensity to destroy a city. 

Weaknesses: It's made of elemental magic (not netherese magic). It's a solid object, a bomb (not an amorphous mass). It doesn't consume weave.

Personal speculation

I don't think any of these canon objects are or inspired Gale's “orb”. If we take the descriptions in-game as they are, and considering the importance that Karsus and his folly have been given in the whole game (to the point that Larian added ingame books explaining part of it) I support two hypothesis that, by now, they must be obvious for lorists since I want to work with what the game (and datamining) gives me: 

1- The concept that this is a piece of corrupted Weave that Karsus' Avatar allowed to have access to when he disrupted the Weave. Gale calls it “primal weave” as well, which is a concept that doesn't exist so far in the corebooks, and one could relate, very barely, with raw magic. Maybe.

2- Heavy magic (key concept during 2e)

To understand this we need MORE lore (I know, this has no end; this is why I think a lot of misunderstandings with Gale’s character come from the big holes of lore that EA leaves, which is obvious, it's EA) So, allow me to clear out the concepts: 

Karsus' Avatar is the name of the spell that caused Karsus' folly and made him a god for just an ephemeral moment. The notes regarding the spell’s essence were nowhere to be found. It’s believed that Mystra, the reincarnated form of Mystryl, snatched the spell information from the ruins of Karsus’s enclave and sent it “on an eternal journey to the ends of the universe” (who knows what this means). Besides, as if this were not enough precaution, Mystra changed the rules of magic on the material plane making it impossible to cast spells over 10th level. Karsus' Avatar was a 12th level spell.

Raw Magic is “the stuff of creation, the mute and mindless will of existence, permeating every bit of matter and present in every manifestation of energy throughout the multiverse. Mortals can't directly shape this raw magic. Instead, they make use of a fabric of magic, a kind of interface between the will of a spellcaster and the stuff of raw magic. The spellcasters of the Forgotten Realms call it the Weave and recognize its essence as the goddess Mystra.” [Player's Handbook 5e]

The creation of the Weave allowed all mortals to have access to magic through study. The Weave works like a barrier and an interpreter to use the real source of magic: Raw Magic. For more information on this, check the wiki (otherwise each of these posts will be mini books of lore). Few mortals can tap magic from the raw magic. Spells like silver fire are part of the raw magic. Some wild mages can tap into it as well, but at the cost of making their spells very random. Only Weave-disruptive events can allow an uncontrolled influx of raw magic into the world (which can be considered what happened during Karsus' folly)

Mythalars are immense artefacts that work like intermediates of the Raw Magic. They don't use the Weave, they have direct access to Raw Magic and were used to power up magical artefacts around them (thanks to these objects the Netheril cities floated in the air). Touching a mythalar causes instant death since Raw magic is harmful for most mortals.

So the first hypothesis (corrupted Weave) means that when Karsus cast this spell and became the Weave itself for a brief moment, he may have access to Raw magic directly. His spell Karsus' avatar started using common Weave, but in the second he connected deeply with the Weave and with Mystryl's powers, he had access to Raw magic as a god. His spell may have changed the source of its power from the Weave to Raw Magic, adding the latter's randomness and chaos to the spell itself and therefore, corrupting the Weave. The transition, so violent like the whole event, may have corrupted part of the Weave that was being used while casting the spell. According to Gale's description, the “orb” stuck in his chest is a piece of Weave with the active effect of Karsus' Avatar (the spell), but the Narrator gives us the extra information that it's corrupted. Apparently Gale never realised this object was corrupted, or may have known it and he tried to cleanse it so he could return it to Mystra. Either way, the source of the corruption may have been the sudden transition to Raw Magic during the casting. My main problem with this hypothesis is how a spell can be stuck in a piece of Weave, since Gale's “orb” maintains Karsus's avatar's effect. 

On one hand, Karsus' Avatar main effect is “to absorb god-like powers”. In that moment of history, this spell was aimed at Mystryl, and therefore to the Weave. The disruption of the event “stuck” the effect of “absorbing weave” in a piece of Weave, while the chaotic nature of this “orb” could be attributed to the direct presence of Raw Magic, also stuck in it. Now, another weakness of this hypothesis is that nothing of this causes a "corruption disease" as Gale implies it (we only know that the failure of the spell turned Karsus into stone). So we don't have a good argument for this effect beyond the one “I believe that since the moment was disruptive, it must have corrupted something, and that corruption is quite unhealthy in a mortal body”. Which it's not of my liking, but this is what we get up to this point in EA.

The second hypothesis I talked about is another lore concept intimately related to Karsus in 2e: Heavy Magic (which I personally prefer over the first hypothesis). 

Heavy magic is physical, tangible magic, usually presented as a viscous mass of chaotic nature. It can crawl, entering into cracks of a wall or a body, for example. Karsus created a distilled version of this magic called super heavy magic, and experimented with people. The subject eating a bit of this magic will have heavy magic spread on all the inner walls of their body and will kill them (it's not a disease, but it spreads inside and kills). The usual effect of the stable super heavy magic was to magnify the powers of a spell or enchantment (it allowed spells to be stuck in it), however it could be used for everything. 

Karsus used this element to enhance enchantments on walls, for example projecting illusions endlessly. This means that this product has the ability of keeping a spell functioning in it (as we see that this black weave keeps the function of the Karsus' avatar). [Dangerous Games, 2e]

Naturally, heavy magic absorbs life energies (maybe another characteristic fitting the concept of disease and necrotic effects). There is an event (2e) related to this aspect in which the renegade arcanist Wulgreth became a lich after heavy magic overflew him [Power and Pantheons, 2e]

As it is easy to see, this concept shares a lot of similarities with the object stuck in Gale's chest. But there is still more:

In the novel Dangerous Games (2e), strongly focused on how Karsus experimented with Heavy Magic, it is explicitly said that Karsus infused himself with super heavy magic before casting Karsus' avatar (probably to magnify the spell power but we also know that heavy magic can get spells stuck in it). He grew taller, and glowed in a white-silver radiance. Babbling arcane chants, the super heavy magic raged within him until he came into a state of being between a man and deity. Then it followed his folly. Karsus “died”, turning his body into red-hued stone, bound in eternal torment to relieve repeatedly the moment he became aware of his folly. 

So there exists a chance that a pieces of super heavy magic (in which Karsus was infused when all this happened) may have kept Karsus' Avatar effect stuck in them. One of these pieces could have been recovered later around the red stone where Karsus is now. This could potentially be the object or, at least, in what it had inspired Gale's “orb”. It's also worth noticing that one of the main characters in this novel Dangerous Games was looking for ways to safely contain heavy magic and avoid its damaging effect, so there is extra lore information about vessels that could justify the sealed book that Gale found in Waterdeep. 

As an extra detail on this matter, we know that the runes of teleportation may have been made with heavy magic: "Gale: See that rune? Netherese, I think. Weave's so thick on it, it's almost viscous." 

Since Gale is calling "Weave" to the element attached to the teleport runes, it makes me wonder if this was a slight variation that Larian made of the canon concept of Heavy Magic to not add new concepts to the already complex world of Forgotten Realms. Maybe, in the end, both hypotheses are the same: the second one is strictly more canon-related than the first one, which is more or less the same but simplified in terms and concepts. 

As a last conclusion from my personal point of view, I see no much sense in calling this thing “orb”. In game it's clearly described as an amorphous black mass, not an orb. And it made me remember Gale's original description, when the EA was not released yet: it's the only way where I can see its nonsensical origin, which was done in a completely different context. 

Gale has one ambition: to become the greatest wizard Faerûn has ever known. Yet his thirst for magic led to disaster. A Netherese Destruction Orb beats in his chest, counting down to an explosion that can level a city. Gale is confident he'll overcome it, but time is not on his side.

After the game was released in EA, Gale's description changed radically, and therefore his current description has a different approach entirely, removing the concept of "orb" for what we know in the game: “ancient chaotic magic”. 

Wizard prodigy: Gale is a wizard prodigy whose love for a goddess made him attempt a dread feat no mortal should. Blighted by the forbidden magic of ancient Netheril, Gale strives to undo the corruption that is overtaking him and win back his goddess’ favour before he becomes a destroyer of worlds.

This is one of the many details that make me believe that Gale's original concept/character was changed significantly before the EA release. But this is a mere personal speculation. For more details on netherese magic, read the post of "The Netherese in 1492DR".

Source: 

2nd edition: Powers and Pantheons, Netheril: Empire of Magic, Dangerous Games by Emery Clayton. 3rd Edition: Faith and Pantheon, Magic of Faerûn 4th edition Player's Handbook 5th edition: Player's Handbook, Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide

This post was written in May 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[violetrose-art]

Disney Animated Movie Ideas

This is a list of ideas for Disney animated movies (in classic 2D animation). These are all just my ideas and I might add more later on, but this is all I have so far. Please feel free to tell me what you think and which idea you like the most

Little Red Riding Hood: The story revolves around an adolescent girl named Rachel who lived with her fathers and aunt in a Victorian village at the edge of a thick forest. Rachel lived a very sheltered live; in fact, her only real freedom was an occasional visit to her grandmother who lived on the other side of the forest. And on her way to visit her sick grandmother, Rachel encounters a werewolf, only she doesn't know it

Rumpelstiltskin: This story takes place in a time similar to ancient Greece. A young girl named Ida who's a talented spinner and weaver is taken to the palace of the King and he tells her she has to spin three rooms full of straw into gold, one room for each night. If she succeeds, then she will be married to the King's only son, the Prince. But if she fails, then she and her family are to be executed. The girl pleads to the Gods for help, but a little old man comes and helps her instead. But when she becomes Queen and she has her first child, the little man comes again and makes another deal with her

Thumbelina: This story takes place in the days of the Wild West. A middle aged couple who had no children of their own are visited by an elderly Native American woman who gives them a magical cactus bud and inside the flower on the cactus is a Native American girl who's no bigger than a person's thumb; they name her Thumbelina. After a run-in or two with a few rotten desert animals and an old nasty politician, Thumbelina discovers a beautiful spirit world (the place where she came from) and meets a prince, but she soon learns that the spirits are in mortal danger. So she'll have to step up and save not only her people, but also her adopted parents and the town she was raised in

Hansel and Gretel: The story revolves around a brother and sister named Hansel and Gretel growing up in the 1940's during World War II. They've been moved from foster home to foster home, each one worse than the last; but their last one featuring a horrid stepmother is by far the worst of them all. In an attempt to escape from this awful life, the two siblings run away into the forest close to the town they were in and they come across an enormous gingerbread house… which is owned by a witch who will stop at nothing until she has them as her supper

The Seven Ravens: This story revolves around a seven year old girl named Madeline. She lived with her mother and father in a Colonial village in New England, but she soon learned that she’s not her parents' only child. She discovered that she had seven older brothers, but a curse was placed upon them; they transformed into ravens and they all disappeared on the day she was born. So Madeline decides to go out and find her seven missing brothers and save them from a new dark force threatening the land

The Princess and the Pea: The story revolves young prince named Wesley who wishes to find a wife, but his overbearing mother is far too picky and quick to judge and doesn't think any of the girls her son meets are suitable for him (mostly because she can't stand the thought of losing the throne or the crown and would practically do anything to keep it). Until a social, outgoing, and beautiful girl named Danielle comes to the castle during a horrible storm one day and she claims to be a princess. The Queen doesn't believe her and decided to test the girl without her knowledge to see if Danielle truly is a princess (which includes using an enchanted pea)

Goldilocks and the Three Bears: The story is set during the American Frontier Age, during the Gold Rush of 1849. An anthropomorphic young kitten named Goldilocks is a spunky, but lonely child and she wishes to make friends, but but she has limited experience and doesn't know how. There also a family of three bears who live in the woods near the river and who work in a magical gold mine. After the Bears and Goldilocks cross paths, they all realize they'll have to work together to protect the mine or a terrible curse will be unleashed if all of the gold is taken

Like I said, this is all of got, but tell me what you think. I'd really appreciate it

[zutarasecrettunnel]

OK I did it I updated my Zutara Week chapter fic. This idea was inspired by the Day 6 prompt for this year, "Spirits".

Story summary:

The war is over for everyone but Katara, who keeps seeing the scarred face of the boy who sacrificed himself for her and for the world everywhere she looks. When she finds out why she is experiencing these so-called hallucinations, she may be led right into a trap centuries in the making.

Here's chapter 2 of Your Face, I See. 

You can also read it on AO3.

Teardrops marked her path like breadcrumbs as she made her way through the empty streets of the Fire Nation capitol. She raced toward the palace, desperate to believe that what propelled her was just another hallucination, albeit much more terrifying this time. She wasn't even sure the voice that sounded so much like Yue had been real. Why had she talked about Tui and La? Why had her visions of Zuko intensified? Why could she now hear his voice? She was convinced that her mind was lost, reduced to ash by the flames of Sozin's comet.

Katara threw open one of the grand, heavy doors of the palace. Her feet pounded into the lacquered wood floor, aching with each impact. Her breath was frayed, lungs inflating jaggedly as she struggled to take in the breaths needed to recover from her long, swift escape. Her passage through the daunting royal halls was blighted by tears and dim torchlight. She wiped at her eyes pointlessly as she pressed on.

The many-legged monstrosity had not followed her. She ran from her fear, her grief, and her doubt. She ran aimlessly, toward nothing in particular. She ran straight into something solid but soft.

"Master Katara?"

At first she didn't want to hear another voice, but when it's owner registered in her mind, she turned her chin upward to meet the surprised gaze of Fire Lord Iroh. His face was gaunt but kind, his half-illuminated expression full of concern. She blinked slowly, finally able to gain some clarity in her blurred vision. This was the first time she had seen this man since the joyless coronation ceremony held shortly after the end of the Hundred Years War. He had used the duties of the crown to avoid the younger war heroes almost completely, only holding audience with Aang and even then infrequently. The reluctant ruler had lost his lust for life with the loss of his nephew. He operated only in duty now.

He gazed at her, confused at her sudden appearance in a misplaced palace hallway. At her silence, he tried again.

"Master Katara? What are you doing in this part of the palace, especially so late at night?" His tone was doleful and flat, but not accusatory. He sounded tired, and uncharacteristically old.

She tried to maintain the facade she had so carefully cultivated over the recent months. She tried to reinforce the levies of her fears and sadness. With the sound of Iroh's broken spirit, the waterbender was overcome. Her emotion spilled over the dams she had built like a tidal wave.

She launched herself at the man's midsection, burying her face in the silk of his robes. She soaked them with all of her pent up mourning, all of the anguish, consternation and madness. Iroh stood for a moment, unmoving, before finally pulling the crying girl into an empathetic embrace. She sobbed, openly and fiercely, the sounds eventually trying to form words that were finally ready to come out.

"I can't stop seeing him."

Iroh resisted the urge to pull away from the soggy girl at her admission, instead placing a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. He waited a moment before calmly asking the question he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to.

"Can't stop seeing who?" It was at that point he felt her tug, removing herself from the sleeve of his robe to look directly at him.

"Zuko."

Iroh took a small step back, regret clear in his features. The suspicion had been present in his mind since the girl spoke her first sopping words to him in the darkness, but to hear it caused his latent guilt to come roaring back to life like a tigerdillo. At the same time, the tidal wave of emotion in Katara had begun to recede. She couldn't continue to meet the old man's forlorn gaze. Her wind-tangled hair fell around her shoulders as she studied the floor.

"He's been haunting me ever since. . ." she paused, sniffling hard, before continuing quietly. "About a week after he. . .after he died."

The aged Fire Lord pondered for a moment. Silence hung between the two figures huddled in the opulence of the royal chambers like the fine tapestries on the wall. Iroh was slow in his words as he responded, returning to the sagely demeanor that had defined his character prior to the end of the war.

"Grief. . .does many things to people," he started, stroking his beard. "It can often feel like a negative spirit hanging over you, or a curse. You most of all were connected to the. . ." the older man lost his words at this point, but regained them after a moment, "the loss we all suffered. You were there. You were. . ."

Katara didn't lift her head or move from the spot as Iroh found himself unable to finish his statement. "In any case, I'm sure you wi-"

The water tribe peasant demonstrated her knowledge of and respect for Fire Nation customs as she pointedly interrupted it's ruler.

"I only see his face, always just staring at me. But tonight he called my name, asking me to help him. Begging me. But this time there was a monster and-" the words tumbled out of her as she faced Iroh again, only coming to a halt when he grabbed her by the shoulder.

"What kind of monster?!" His whisper was a shout in disguise.

"I-it crawled. It had so many legs, like a giant centipede. But it had his face," Katara felt her eyes stinging again as she recounted the features of the miscreation that had poached the scarred visage of the fire prince. "I don't know," she shook her head, hands on either ear, "I didn't look at it too long. I ran straight back here."

The already feeble posture of the lament-laden Fire Lord continued to cave. It was as if Iroh had lost his footing on the thick wood of the palace hall.

He uttered one syllable, his eyes unfocused. "Koh."

Katara let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding on to.

"Who-what is Koh?" she hurled her question more forcefully than she meant to. The possibility that she may not just be going insane had slipped from her weeks ago.

Iroh turned from her, waiting before speaking. "The face stealer, a nefarious spirit," he replied. The wizened old firebender muttered to himself quietly while Katara attempted to process what had already been said.

"A face...stealer?" the information settled into the young girl like a stone in a lake. "You mean it. . .he. . .Zuko. . ."

The waterbender quieted, a different kind of storm brewing inside of her. Her voice was a low rumble when it came from her next.

"Do you mean to tell me that this. . .Koh. . .stole Zuko's face in the spirit world and has been haunting me with it ever since?"

Iroh placed a palm on the crimson painted wall of the palace hallway, steadying himself on this renewed grief.

"It would appear so," he replied softly, sadly.

"So how do we save him?" Again her inquiry was hushed, a murmur of hope too scared to make itself known.

"We don't."

The Fire Lord's voice was a scratch in the darkness as he uttered the short response, as if the words themselves burned in his throat like his element uncontrolled.

The growing thunder in Katara rumbled louder.

"What do you mean 'we don't'?"

"Master Katara," Iroh began, "this spirit is dangerous."

She stared intently at the older man, her lips a thin quivering line of a response not yet ready to be released. In its stead, the tired ruler continued.

"When I was a younger man, after I lost Lu Ten, I entered the spirit world to find him, to bring him back. It took many months of study, and in trying to find my way in, I also found knowledge of Koh the face stealer, a spirit who can take your face if you show any hint of emotion in his presence," he explained, "If you go after him, it will only be to give him your face, too. I do not know of a way to defeat him."

Katara stood firm. The sadness that had hovered over her like a stormcloud for months finally snapped, and the waterbender unleashed the full power of the anger that now coursed through her like the lightning that had been its origin.

"Dangerous? I've been haunted by this spirit for months. I've been seeing Zuko's face everywhere, and I thought it was just guilt, just sadness, just me going crazy because he died saving me. He died saving me and for what?" she cried, her emphatic syllables echoing through the chamber. "For me to do nothing? For me to be afraid? Even if I can't bring him back, I can't leave his spirit like that. He risked it all, his country, his future. . ."

Her words slowed as the tempest within her drained itself. Her voice broke and quieted again as she finished her thought.

"I can at least risk my face. I can at least. . ." She felt her own fingers lightly touching her left cheek as she trailed off.

Her companion waited, ensuring the storm had passed before issuing his decree.

"I forbid it."

The assertion was strong, an uncharacteristic order more suited to the Dragon of the West than the grief-stricken old man he had become.

"You will lose yourself in this doomed quest. Do not try to go after Koh, Master Katara," he softened, adding one final thought to his order. "I will have the fire sages and the healers work to find you a remedy for this influence. You shouldn't see him again."

Tears flowed freely from the girl's eyes as she refused to allow them to look up at the man in front of her.

"I will go to them in the morning, Fire Lord Iroh," she responded weakly, "now I am tired. May I please be excused to my chambers?" He bid her the leave she requested, but not before placing both hands on her shoulders in a gesture of comfort to the wounded girl.

"I promise you will have peace, my dear," he said calmly, his own pain present in his tone, "the sages have access to vast libraries of spiritual knowledge that will be used to heal you of this affliction. "

He barely heard her mutter a thank you before she bowed and quickly made her way down the grand hallway.

[vegalocity]

The Interrim-Red Groom AU

So i’m diving backward into the ‘Dont worry about it’ pool after that finale

SO DON’T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT YOU GUYS WHO’S UP FOR MORE PRINCESS BRIDE AU?

I had to make an entire scene up because for the Story to keep going Princess Bride Style Red Son needed to get fucked over one more time

--

Soon enough three days time had passed and Red Son was ready to make his escape. Due to the nature of his ruse against the prince he hadn't made any arrangements to set up a forge or workshop for his passions, so he didn't have much by way of equipment to make his escape, and every day the prince asked to join him for at least one meal, wherein he would 'politely' ask over Xiaotian, claiming to want to know a little about the man whom had stolen his groom right out from under him.

He said these things in jest and laughter, but Red Son was no fool and could easily see the flint behind his eyes, ready and willing to twist any information Red Son gave about Xiaotian against him, to try and convince him that his beloved wouldn't take him back. Willing to take whatever details he gave him and put them in some falsified letter of rejection in attempt to make him believe his love wanted him no more, so he wouldn't put up a fight any longer.

So he lied. He spoke of not the Inn that he'd met Xiaotian in, but implied he'd always been the lord of his mountain. How they hadn't been able to be engaged due to his parents having a letter of neutrality between his family and Xiaotian's own, and how he'd had to go on a perilous journey to nullify that arrangement, but they'd believed him dead. He told him Xiaotian favored poetry, and was in fact a gifted shapeshifter, preferring a more human appearance like himself as it made travel far easier when people underestimated you.

The prince had soon grown bored of his prattling, and Red Son found it almost ironic that for once he was not speaking of tinkering and his projects when his conversational partner stopped listening. After those meals scarce as they were, the prince ended up straightening his back primly and claimed he had a meeting of some sort with his macaque general, and left him to his devices.

So now here he was, ready to make his escape.

It took actually took the longest time to try and pare down an outfit from this place so that it would be inconspicuous enough to use for travel, but he'd managed, sneaking some nonperishable food and a spare dagger into his pack for preparation and extra protection had been easy. He just made it seem to the servants that he was still anticipating the response to a letter that was never sent, and eagerly awaiting for a letter that would not exist that stated his return to Xiaotian's mountain was expected, and thus was slowly yet steadily prepping for the journey. The pitying glances he could sense the servants shooting him definitely told that they were aware of the fact that he was being 'tricked'.

But Red Son paid them no mind, after all, he knew the prince was full of lies, and he was going to be gone before the night's end anyway.

But then Red Son was summoned for his usual meal with the prince, and he willed his nerves to freeze over. He couldn't let his plans slip, while he'd long since regained his strength form his injuries in the forest he was only one demon and there was a mountain of servants and guards that would be standing between him and making a break for it if he didn't have stealth on his side.

“Beloved.” The prince greeted him as he entered. “My messengers have returned from their trip.” In three days time? How oblivious did he take him for?

Nonetheless he perked up, did his best to look eager and excited. He was never quite sure if he looked convincing, but he just needed to pretend for a few more hours.

The letter was brought right over to him, and he quickly undid the seal to reveal a message that in no way was written by his love. Though they did a good job at pretending, claiming it was written by 'his mother'—Xiaotian had never spoken of his biological parents, and his adoptive ones were both men, but in his prattling Red Son had invented a mother for his fake backstory—and that she was writing in 'her Son's stead as he was too upset and angry to be able to make a readable response. Going on to say that Xiaotian had returned to 'their mountain' in tears and had sworn that this was one too many cruelties Red Son had delivered him, and that he never wanted to speak to someone so two faced he convinced him twice of their supposed love only to twice have his heart ground into the dirt by him ever again.

It was well phrased, he'd give the prince that. It even stung a little when the supposed 'mother' had regaled that 'Xiaotian' had bitterly given 'his blessing' to his impending marriage. The thought of his love, bitter and betrayed, felt so wrong his heart hurt just at the idea.

But he couldn't let himself linger on that lest he lose his courage.

“This cannot be...” he breathed, hoping beyond all hope his knowledge of the deception read as simply denial.

“Is there something wrong?” The Prince asked around his cup. “Surely your beloved made it home safely.”

“This cannot be...” he didn't know what else to say without possibly giving himself away, so he could only hope that it sounded like shock.

“Beloved?”

He stood, he had to get out of the prince's sight before he failed to properly mask his knowledge.

“This is a lie! She... She never approved of us!” Red Son hoped at least that gave his reaction plausible deniability.

“Didn't you recently just regale to me that Xiaotian's mother loved you as a suitor for her son?” He cursed internally, but before he could scramble to cover the lie the prince continued. “Beloved, I know it must be hard to hear, but we had an agreement. Xiaotian wants no more to repair what he believed you threw away, his mother;s missive reveals as much. You gave me your word that no matter his desire you would respect his choices. Don't be selfish, love.” Red Son would be lying yet more if he claimed that that didn't sting a little.

But he'd get to that bridge when he got to it, so he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. The servants gave him a wide berth as he marched towards his rooms, face fierce but mind preoccupied with escape plans.

So preoccupied in fact he didn't notice a particular shadow following behind him.

Upon reaching his quarters he made sure to scare off any staff that would rat him out and began to scream, his fire coursing and bursting out from his body in waves, scorching the furniture around him and leaving piles of soot to build up atop his shoes. Soon enough the room had enough damage for word of his fury to have been carried to the prince, and the servants far too afraid to make their way in for quite some time. He'd have about an hour of being given a very wide berth before someone came in to check up on him.

Red Son darted for his bed and hidden among the luxurious blankets was his makeshift bag, he double checked the contents inside and nodded to himself when he came to the conclusion that everything was in order. Then he approached the writing desk and reached beneath it. Feeling around for a moment he grinned slightly to himself as he pulled out the small bottle. He'd always gotten praises in potion making, but this wasn't a potion that would make his tutors proud. He didn't NEED any magical properties in it, he just needed it to be flammable.

Which it was.

Just as he went over his plan one more time the shadows in the room seemed to flicker, and Red Son felt strikingly cold despite the amount of fire he'd just unleashed.

“I told him you were more clever than he was expecting out of you.” The voice startling him and nearly causing Red Son to drop the potion in his hands, he scrambled with the glass bottle and turned to the source of the noise.

The Six eared macaque had appeared in his room, how had he gotten in there without him noticing?

“Oh... I uhm...” He didn't have a lie prepared, Red Son's mind raced to try and come up with a plausible excuse but improvisation was never his strong suit, he would so quickly grow flustered and frustrated and usually do himself in so how could he be expected to lie convincingly on first bout?

“Don't waste a perfectly good lie trying to cover up what we both already know.” The macaque stated, a sort of boredom in his voice that made Red Son stiffen. “You know the letter was false, you know what the prince has planned for you.” The macaque took a step forward and Red Son prepared to fight him, but remembered after a beat the fire resistance charm he'd had on his person scant few days ago. He likely had it on him right now.

“I love it, he can't stand it, but I love it... Of course that also means his plans are a complete waste of your talents as far as I'm concerned.  If he hadn't planned that whole 'spider queen and her ilk' situation Your lover wouldn't have found out until it was too late, and we probably could have convinced you to go to war if he'd just been a bit more patient.”

“You're talking an awful lot for someone who supposedly is on his side.”

“I'm on MY side, highness.” The macaque said easily. “The Prince is no one to sneeze at, but then again, neither are you. Tell me, should I endorse this little sneak about and help you escape? What would benefit me from not telling the prince about your little explosive and your plans?”

He racked his brain for a moment. “I can tell my parents of your assistance in enabling my escape, they'd no doubt give you the same power you have here, accompanied by my family's resources you'd find yourself with more force behind yourself than you'd know what to do with. Or if I told Xiaotian he could do the same at his own mountain, he's not exactly a nobody either-”

That second part was a mistake, by how the macaque's expression darkened. “Yes I know He's the 'New Monkey King'. Sun Wukong's Body double.” He stated simply. But before Red Son could take it back or just ensure alliance with his own family, he found his arms being restrained. A pair of clones made of shadow clung to his sides and while they dispersed quickly under his fire  it was only for a moment.

Then there was a golden glow, and his arms all at once felt very heavy indeed as a cold pair of cuffs—the second set of wrist cuffs that the macaque had shown him- how had he forgotten about those?—activated and forced his wrists together. The magic quickly worked its way through his system again and he felt a cold shudder wrack up his spine.

“Your 'beloved' was quite loose lipped once I got him going on the machine. Don't hold it against him, highness, I haven't met a single man that could hold up against that level of pain.”

for a moment the words didn't process in his head, abut when they did any other thought flew right from his head.

There was only rage.

It was pathetic really, how quickly he'd been apprehended, how his fire had only a moment outside his body before once again being turned back round onto him, and his body—now remembering the pain he could do onto himself—forced his magic to cease. There was no instinctual blaze to shatter the cuffs this time, because he realized as more of the macaque's shadow clones pinned him down, that he didn't believe him.

There was no way that Xiaotian had been this monster's plaything. He had learned whatever it was he'd implied he'd learned through other methods, maybe as simple as recognizing Flower Fruit Mountain and Xiaotian had to explain the situation to him.

But If it was just his own escape the macaque was stopping then wouldn't he have not wasted the time in toying with him like that? Wouldn't he have just told the prince and been done with it? Put the cuffs on him without the monologue? Why would he waste his time in trying to trick Red son into believing him possible to sway?

Unless-

Unless he'd heard about Xiaotian planning on coming back for him himself

He almost wanted to laugh even as the clones forced him back to his feet and the Macaque crushed his liquid fireball in his hand. He was unsure if anything could make him as fearful or angry or whatever feeling it had been to make him break his restraints again as they did back in the forest, but it explained his knowledge of Xiaotian's identity, as well as his anger, and his attempt to trick Red Son. To test to see how far Red Son was willing to go to to defy the prince and follow his own heart.

But that didn't matter.

Xiaotian was coming for him.

It was a bitter medicine to take, to have to once again rely on his love to save him, rendered with naught but his intelligence on his side and left close to defenseless with these stupid cuffs back around his wrists, but He'd make it up to him.

For everything Xiaotian had done for him and how thoroughly Red Son had proved himself unworthy of such devotion, Red Son swore then to himself, that once this was all over, once he and Xiaotian were safe he'd make it all up to him. For every moment for the rest of their shared lives together.

Because when he saw him again he was never letting go.

–

“Captain I've heard rumors that the Monkey King is planning on killing my groom.’”

“My prince I've heard no such rumors-”

“Are you implying my spymaster lies to me?”

“Of- of course not my prince! What must be done to protect your groom before the wedding?”

“I'm currently having my beloved moved to a safer, more secure room in the palace to ensure no harm shall befall him before the wedding date, and we're moving the wedding itself up a few days. Go to the village and nearby forest, and the closest town, and round up all with former criminal histories. I want every possible hired gun behind bars by the time of my wedding in three days time.”

“Three days time your highness? Such a feat would require more men than we have at our disposal at the moment-”

“Then form a brute squad! You have my clearance! I want my prince safe from all harm! If He dies, then we'll have no choice but to go to war and we lack the men for such an insurgence against the Monkey King! I would have to go to his parents begging for assistance and that is not a bar I am willing to lower myself to!”

“Yes your highness!”

“Go! Waste no time!”

“Of course!”

–

Xiaojiao stared into the bottom of the jug of wine. Drained, just like all the others.

Her head was pleasantly fuzzy and the wine in her blood buzzed comfortably. It was a familiar state, she wasn't dependent on intoxication, but when she was at her lowest she would often find solace in the buzzed pleasantness of a good bender. Because here she was again.

No work, no leads, no friends.

Spider Queen had told her if they got separated that she should go back to where 'it started' i.e. The inn they'd gotten the job at. So she'd rented a room, and spent the next few days waiting, and when it became clear neither the Spider Queen, nor even Sandy were turning up, when Xiaojiao was made aware that she was well and truly alone, she blew most of her money on as much wine as she could get her hands on and began to chug.

She felt much like the scared twelve year old she once was, clinging to the handle of the Jade Sword and telling herself it didn't matter how terrified she was, as she HAD to fight. Her scar twinged at the memory.

At least no one would sell wine to a twelve year old. She didn't USED to be this pathetic when she was lonely and sad and on the verge of despair.  She used to have other avenues to vent it all when it became too much.

Someone could storm right in right now with news on finding the Six Eared Macaque and Xiaojiao couldn't even be sure if she'd believe them for how despondent she felt.

“Long Xiaojiao?” A voice broke her reverie. Xiaojiao blinked blearily up at the tough looking fellow before her.

“Who wants to know?” she slurred.

“You've been arrested twice for assault and once for theft, as a security precaution all with criminal records are behind detained for the next three days by order of the prince.”

She scoffed. “I'd like to see you try, buddy.” Her fingers felt heavy but she lifted the sword easily.

Her form was off, her limbs felt loose and limp, but she still held her own against the brute's clumsy axe swings. It would be pathetic to lose to this chump.

But before the fight could be solved one way or another, a pair of blue hands wrapped around the brute's torso and lifted him into the air.

And Xiaojiao was met with a very familiar (if blurry through her impaired vision) red bearded smile.

“Sandy!”

“Xiaojiao! So nice to see you again!” Sandy set the brute down but kept hold of his torso. “This is the friend I told you about captain, she's far more dangerous alone than she is with me. I'll keep her out of trouble, I can promise you that!”

She loved watching Sandy loom. The aura around him making anyone who didn't know him reel back as every alarm in their brains fired off danger signs. His pleasant grin and tone didn't change but to the people around them that was more frightening than before.

“Just mark her name right off there and I can handle the rest!” Sandy chirped and the shaking brute did just that, stiffly turning and marching out of the inn.

“Sandy you old bastard.” She cooed delightedly as Sandy shifted his focus back onto her and she felt the cool blue hands wrap around her own torso before she was pulled into a hug.

“You smell like wine, Are you okay, Xiaojiao you don't drink unless...-” Sandy shot her a far too knowing look.

“I've been better buddy, I'll admit.”

“Well, If it helps I've heard a lot of rumors and seen a lot of things as part of this little 'brute squad' some things that might interest you.”

“Hm?” She leaned into Sandy's embrace, her friend really gave the absolute best hugs.

“I think I found the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaojiao wasn't sure if it was disbelief, shock, sudden crashing cresting hope, or just the wine, but she suddenly got very dizzy.

And then everything went black.

[thecreaturecodex]

Asura Rana, Cas

Image by Daarken, © Wizards of the Coast. Accessed at the Heroes of Horror Art Gallery here

[Furtober finishes off with a big bang and a Big Bad. Heroes of Horror introduced Cas, the Lord of Spite, and I remember a lot of people making fun of him at the time. The idea that a supervillain evil god has the head of a moose was seen as ridiculous, and comparisons to Bullwinkle were common. Nowadays, the fact that moose are huge and terrifying relict megafauna seems to be more appreciated, and there’s something I find appealing about the idea of a prey species becoming the hunter. Appropriate for a god of spite and revenge. The knee pads and codpiece made of human skulls are admittedly silly, though.

The original Cas was NE and a god, and his CR 25 avatar was basically just a 20th level ranger with some extra outsider HD and a few surprisingly weak SLAs. I’ve moved him to LE to fit with his retribution theme, and because his hatred of the gods seems very appropriate for the asuras. I’ve left some of the ranger abilities, but added some inquisitor material as well, in addition to a few new surprises.]

Asura Rana, Cas CR 26 LE Outsider (extraplanar) This giant has reddish brown skin and the head of a moose, the antlers stained with blood. It has clawed hands, cloven hooves and brandishes a large mace of black metal. Its body seems to shimmer with heat.

Cas Lord of Spite, the Red Grudge, He Who Balances the Scales Concerns spite, disproportionate retribution, vengeance Domains Destruction, Evil, Law, Strength Subdomains Corruption, Ferocity, Hatred, Judgment Worshipers inquisitors, vigilantes, the wronged Minions asuras, devourers, revenants Unholy Symbol a rack of blood-stained antlers Favored Weapon heavy mace Devotion spend one hour ruminating aloud on those that have wronged you, beginning in a whisper and culminating in a scream. Gain a +4 profane bonus on Diplomacy checks to gather information, Survival checks to follow tracks, and Intimidate checks. Boons 1: bestow curse 1/day; 2: transformation 1/day; 3: energy drain 1/day

Cas the Lord of Spite is an asura rana who nurses hate and frustration, stoking the fires of vengeance until they erupt destructively. According to his cult, he was once a mortal huntsman with a loving family. He and his family grew isolated from their community, until violence erupted and his whole family was slain. Due to the social standing of his assailants, he could not turn to the law for recourse, and so turned to the gods. When divine intervention was not forthcoming, he swore vengeance against both his assailants and the divine order, fueling his apotheosis through pure rage and resulting in the destruction of the entire kingdom.

Cas’ ultimate hatred is towards the gods, making him a natural member of the asura ranas. His ambition is still greater; he is currently brooding over his lesser position surrounded by more powerful asuras, the Lords of the Nine and even Asmodeus himself. Cas covets true divinity, but he knows he has a long way to go, and this sulking bitterness fuels him. His violent outbursts at every slight make him a fiend of few allies and many toadies, but more powerful archfiends attempt to steer his rage into useful directions.

The Red Grudge enjoys combat, but he even more enjoys drawing out the hunt of a victim and increasing their terror. He is rarely found without the Ebon Rod of Cas, which he wields in two hands in order to feel more savagely its crushing blows. Cas’ blood boils with the heat of his rage, and the shimmer this causes makes him difficult to strike in combat. Cas is a skilled spellcaster despite his love of violence, and uses magic to inflict pain, forbid actions and heal himself and his allies.

Cas’ faithful are few and far between, and often keep a low profile. His cult broods in dungeons and cellars, not meets in exalted temples. He delights in perverting those with legitimate grievances, as he once was, turning them into ruthless vigilantes who kill to punish minor crimes. His priesthood believes that civilization is a thin veneer beneath which lies nothing but chaos, and it must be kept in order through savage violence. They also believe that anyone, even the most holy and pure, can become a follower of Cas if wronged sufficiently. The faithful of Cas have an unfortunate tendency to rise as undead upon their death, continuing their campaigns of violent revenge beyond the grave.

Ebon Rod of Cas (major artifact) The prized weapon of Cas, he occasionally loans it out to his devout in order to strike somewhere where he cannot go himself. The Ebon Rod of Cas is a Large +3 vicious adamantine heavy mace. It acts as a bane weapon against any creature that has caused injury to its wielder for up to 1 year. It is effectively immune to sundering and other forms of direct damage; a creature that deals damage to it must succeed a DC 25 Will save or take that damage instead. The Ebon Rod of Cas can only be destroyed if it is carried for 100 years by an empyreal lord devoted to peace and forgiveness, whereupon it evaporates into mist. 

Cas      CR 26 XP 2,457,600 LE Large outsider (asura, asura rana, evil, extraplanar, lawful) Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., detect good, Perception +39, see in darkness, true seeing Aura frightful presence (60 ft., DC 34) Defense AC 44, touch 26, flat-footed 36 (-1 size, +7 Dex, +1 dodge, +9 profane, +18 natural) hp 573 (31d10+403); regeneration 25 (deific or mythic) Fort +23, Ref +23, Will +28; +8 vs. mind-influencing, improved evasion DR 15/good, epic and cold iron; Immune ability damage, ability drain, charm effects, compulsion effects, curse effects, death effects, disease, divinations, energy drain, fear, fire, petrifaction, poison, polymorph; Resist acid 30, electricity 30; SR 37 Defensive Abilities freedom of movement, hateful ward, heat shimmer Offense Speed 50 ft., fly 100 ft. (perfect) Melee Ebon Rod of Cas +48/+43/+38/+33 (2d6+25 plus 2d6 vicious/19-20), gore +40 (2d8+7 plus 2d6 fire) or 2 claws +45 (2d6+12 plus 2d6 fire), gore +45 (2d8+12 plus 2d6 fire) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks agony beam, favored enemy (dragons +2, good outsiders +6, evil outsiders +4, humans +4, magical beasts +2) Spell-like Abilities CL 26th, concentration +35 Constant—detect good, freedom of movement, mind blank, true seeing At will—bestow curse (DC 23), enervation, greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. material only), malicious spite (DC 23), permanent image (DC 25), vampiric touch 3/day—command undead (DC 26), fire storm (DC 27), greater dispel magic, instant enemy, quickened major curse (DC 25), summon asuras 1/day—energy drain (DC 28), unhallow, wail of the banshee (DC 28), wish Spells CL 20th, concentration +29 6th (6/day)—blade barrier (DC 25), harm (DC 25), heal (DC 25), mass fester (DC 25), overwhelming presence (DC 25) 5th (7/day)—dispel good (DC 24), geas/quest, greater command (DC 24), mass castigate (DC 24), unwilling shield (DC 24) 4th (7/day)—cure critical wounds (DC 23), divination, divine power, fear (DC 23), greater invisibility, spell immunity 3rd (7/day)—arcane sight, deeper darkness, dimensional anchor, heroism, terrible remorse (DC 22), ward the faithful 2nd (7/day)—cure moderate wounds (DC 21), howling agony (DC 21), knock, resist energy, silence (DC 21), spiritual weapon 1st (8/day)—bless, comprehend languages, cure light wounds, divine favor, expeditious retreat, shield of faith 0th—bleed (DC 19), brand (DC 19), create water, detect magic, read magic, resistance Statistics Str 35, Dex 25, Con 37, Int 22, Wis 28, Cha 28 Base Atk +31; CMB +44; CMD 61 Feats Combat Expertise, Combat Reflexes, Critical Focus, Dazzling Display, Dodge, Improved Critical (mace), Intimidating Prowess, Mobility, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (major curse), Shatter Defenses, Spring Attack, Staggering Critical, Stand Still, Stunning Critical, Whirlwind Attack Skills Appraise +29, Bluff +35, Escape Artist +11, Fly +41, Intimidate +47, Linguistics +29, Knowledge (arcana, history, nobility, religion) +29, Knowledge (local, planes) +32, Perception +39, Sense Motive +35, Spellcraft +29, Stealth +31, Survival +35; Racial Modifiers +6 Escape Artist, +4 Perception Languages Celestial, Common, Infernal, 23 others; telepathy 300 ft. SQ asura rana traits Ecology Environment any land or underground (Hell) Organization unique Treasure double standard (Ebon Rod of Cas, other treasure) Special Abilities Agony Beam (Su) Once every 1d4 rounds as a standard action, Cas can unleash a beam of pure pain in a 120 foot line. All living creatures in the area take 12d12 damage and are filled with pain for 1 minute, suffering a -4 penalty on attack rolls, skill checks and ability checks. A successful DC 34 Fortitude save halves the damage and negates the penalties. Multiple failed saves cause the duration of the penalties to stack. This is a pain effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Asura Rana Traits (Ex, Su and Sp) Cas has the following traits:

Cas can grant spells to his worshipers as if he were a deity.

Cas’ natural weapons, as well as any weapons it wields, are treated as lawful, epic, and evil for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.

Infernal Resurrection (Ex) Cas rules an infernal domain. If he is slain, his body rapidly melts into corruption (leaving behind any gear he held or carried), his soul returns to a hidden location within his realm, and it is immediately restored to life (as true resurrection) at that location. Once this occurs, Cas can’t use this ability again until a full year has passed. An asura rana that is slain again during this year or is killed by unusual methods (such as by a true deity or an artifact created for this purpose) is slain forever.

Immunity to ability damage, ability drain, charm effects, compulsion effects, death effects, energy drain, and petrification.

Regeneration (Ex) Only chaotic, epic and  good  damage, or damage from a creature of equal or greater power (such as an archdevil, deity, demon lord, or protean lord) interrupts Cas’s regeneration.

Resistance to acid 30, and  electricity 30

Summon Asuras (Sp) Three times per day as a swift action, Cas can summon any asura or combination of asuras whose total  combined CR is  20 or lower. This otherwise works like the summon  universal monster rule with a 100% chance of success, and counts as a 9th-level spell effect.

Telepathy 300 feet.

Favored Enemy (Ex) Cas gains the favored enemy ability of a 20th level ranger. Hateful Ward (Su) Cas gains a profane bonus to his armor class equal to his Charisma modifier. Heat Shimmer (Su) Cas’ body radiates heat, warping his position and protecting him from attacks. Creatures gain a 20% miss chance on attack rolls against Cas if they use sight, and a creature that strikes Cas with a melee weapon, natural weapon, unarmed strike or touch attack takes 2d6 points of fire damage. Weapons with the reach property do not endanger their wielders in this way. If Cas takes 30 or more points of cold damage from a single spell or effect, this ability is suppressed for 1d4 rounds. Spells Cas gains spellcasting as a 20th level inquisitor. He does not gain other class abilities of inquisitors, such as the judgment ability.

[longitud-de-onda]

mistakes like this, pt. 2

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; you wake up the morning after, the haze of alcohol gone, and the reality sinks in.  rating; m warnings; talk about sex, light internalized slut-shaming, angst, a tad bit more alcohol  word count; 4.2k previous; part one

mistakes like this masterlist

Waking up hurt. The light filtering through the curtains was enough to send your head reeling in pain. Something heavy lay across your waist and it was warm. Very warm.

The details of the night before came rushing back into your head as you took in Javier, wrapped around your naked body. He was breathing through his nose, the warm air brushing over your bare chest. 

You stared down at the mess of brown hair and tanned skin, curving around you, glowing in the morning light. He was beautiful. If you could have one wish, it would be to lie in his embrace, tangled in the sheets for the rest of the weekend. But to do that, you’d have to admit your feelings, and you hadn’t fully accepted them yourself. 

To further complicate things, Javier didn’t do romance. As his closest friend and neighbor, you knew that better than anyone. He did quick fucks and even quicker goodbyes. You knew you only got to spend the night because you didn’t have keys to your own home.

Drinking messed with your decision making, and if it turned you into one of Javier’s fuck-buddies, you were resigned to never do it again. Lying with him in bed was a dream. But thinking about what led you there? That made your skin squirm. You knew he didn’t mean it.

You were both tipsy, maybe even a bit closer to drunk on the scale of things than you cared to admit. There can’t have been much intent to harm on his part. Just the need to seduce whatever woman was there. That’s how Javier was.

The breath on your chest changed pace then disappeared as Javier moved a bit, tilting his head up to look at you, eyes blinking open. 

“Mornin’,” he said, voice deep and sleep slurred. He grinned up at you before unwinding his arms and legs from you, rolling onto his back, and sitting up.

“Morning, Javi,” you said. It was cold without him, and you pulled the sheets tighter around you.

Javier had already stood up and was putting on his clothes.

You stared at his bare back, his shoulder muscles flexing as he pulled on one of his short-sleeved button-downs. You wanted to say something. To break the silence. But you didn’t want to feel the pain of rejection. You didn’t want a recognition of your actions, a recognition that would kill you.

He ran out of the room, and you hear a few bumps around the apartment before he returned, your shirt and bra in hand, which he threw unceremoniously on the bed, before slipping out again, this time closing the door as if to give you some privacy to change. Why he thought you needed any was beyond you. 

Of your few one-night stands in Colombia, anyone you didn’t sneak out from would hold you in their arms the next morning, cuddle, maybe even initiate some sweet morning sex. Javier hadn’t given you any time, he just disappeared.

You stood up, eyes catching on your jeans lying on the floor. The memory of you from just hours ago filled your head: you, blissed out of your mind, Javier’s mouth and hands all over you after he pulled off your pants and underwear. It was the best sex you’d had in a long time. No one ever cared so much about your pleasure too, no one took the time to care—caress you, hold you, make you cum—like Javier did, which made the knowledge that he didn’t care about you, just the sex, even worse.

You stumbled over to pick them up, along with your panties from the day before. 

“Shit,” you said to yourself.

You had soaked through your underwear the night before, and while they may have dried out, it was still disgusting. You would have to go commando until you got back into your apartment. You slipped into your bra and shirt and pulled on your pants. Wearing the same clothes from the day before never felt good, but it was worse when they were tinged with a memory you were beginning to want to scrub out.

You knew your thoughts were only stressing you out more than necessary, so you decided it would be best to rip off the metaphorical bandaid as fast as possible and walk right out of the bedroom. You needed him to drive you to the embassy, so civility was necessary for at least another hour. You had until the next morning to figure out work.

As soon as you opened the door, you were met with the sight of Javier, walking around the kitchen, the smell of eggs wafting through the air. You smiled, at least he was nice enough to make breakfast. 

You were still best friends, of course he would make breakfast. But after that thought, the fear settled in again. He might not want this, any of it. Your relationship. Your friendship. Not after fucking everything over.

"Hey," you said, walking over to the kitchen. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he wanted to turn around and kiss you and take you to bed again. Maybe he wanted to forget the night, write it all off as drunkenness. Maybe you’d get to return to his couch and binge telenovelas together while drinking beer and eating deep-fried empanadas from down the street.

"Hey," Javier turned around but avoided eye contact. That hurt.

Your heart was pounding as you glanced at the spot on the counter where you sat the night before as he tore you apart with his lips.

You cursed the part of yourself that allowed Javier to take you last night. That part of your brain surely wanted to wreck as much havoc as possible, unleashing your deepest. silenced desires.

You cursed the part of yourself that still wanted him to do it again.

"I made eggs," Javier said. He didn't need to bother checking how you liked them. You had had breakfast together enough to know that much. With the spatula, he scraped the food onto two plates he had set out and handed you one. 

"Thanks," you said.

You pulled out a chair from the small breakfast table and sat down. It wasn't used much; Javi usually skipped breakfast on workdays, and when he ate at home it was at the coffee table in front of the TV or with work spread out around him. 

"I thought we'd go get your keys," Javier said between bites, "I'm meeting with Steve at noon."

It was only 11 am. The embassy was a ten-minute drive away. You knew what this meant. It was Javier pushing you out as fast as possible. Trying to remove you from his space. 

The little part of your brain that said there was still a chance that you were overthinking things was stamped out. Your relationship was over. Over because you knew he liked to have sex. Over because you dropped your pants for him. Over because he never wanted more. He wasn’t the sort of person who did more. You knew that and still let it happen.

"Sounds good," you said. The eggs, which had tasted marvelous, now had a sour flavor. You set down the plate, no longer hungry, blinking back unexpected tears.

"I just have to go grab the office keys," Javier gestured to the other part of the apartment after taking his last bite. 

"Okay," you nodded. He disappeared for a moment and you grabbed the two dishes and placed them in the sink. 

When he returned, you picked up your purse and followed him out of the apartment and down to his car, where you sat in the passenger seat. He started the car, pulled out of the lot, and set off onto the route to work. 

The lack of words between you two was weighing heavy on your heart. Over the years, your friendship had grown such that you always had something to discuss. There used to never be any awkward moments like this. You could listen to him ramble about anything and he would do the same. If one of you was passionate about something, so was the other.

You had so much you wanted to tell him. But to say that you had wanted what you did last night would also mean admitting to yourself that you wanted him. That your heart fluttered when you thought about late nights with takeout dinners or the inside jokes you shared at work that had you laughing hysterically while Steve looked on with disapproval. And now you knew that if you said it, he would throw you even further away.

You stared straight ahead, not wanting to risk making eye contact with Javier. If he caught your eye you knew he’d talk, try to say something to ease the pain of his rejection.  

You let go of your breath when you parked in the embassy and Javier tossed the office keys into your lap.

“I’ll wait here, we can go as soon as you find your keys,” he said.

You ran up the steps, punching in the code to enter the building before jogging through the halls. There were plenty of people who worked on Sundays, so the route was dotted with ‘hellos’ and ‘why are you in today?’s. The keys were right where you knew you had left them.

Work on Monday was going to be rough. This room was small, and with three of you in there, privacy didn’t exist. Steve was going to be caught in the middle of whatever was going on between you and Javier, and he didn’t deserve it. You put your hands down on the desk, as your headache worsened alongside a wave of nausea.

You didn’t want to get back into the car; not for another ten minutes of painful silence with Javier. But getting a ride from a coworker here wasn’t an easy task, plus you’d have to tell Javier you weren’t going with him. That was a conversation you wanted to avoid. Instead, you walked back to his car and planted yourself in the passenger seat.

“I’ve got them,” you said, handing him back his office keys.

“Good,” he started the car up to head back to your apartment complex.

You stared at your apartment keys in your lap. If it weren’t for them, you would be lying in your apartment, hungover but happy. You would have ignored the feelings that bubbled inside you when Javier helped you up the stairs, said goodnight in some stupid drunken demeanor, and collapsed on your couch.

But you had to have forgotten these keys. And Javier had to be so damn friendly and invite you in. He offered you food and painkillers, and you practically took off your shirt for him.

He had smiled at you throughout the night, the way he usually did. And when he was drunk and horny as usual, he had you, guards down and vulnerable in his own home, he pounced. And you let him. You knew his history better than anyone. You knew what would happen. He wasn’t one to settle down, so why did you let him do it anyway?

‘Y/N, I, uh,” Javier started. You had pulled into your apartment complex and were ready to get out of the car. You looked up to see a lot of emotions you couldn’t place crossing his face. It used to be that you could tell what he was thinking, just by looking. He was almost unfamiliar now, probably reserved these emotions for his hookers. And you had just joined the club.

“What?” you said.

“Um, never mind,” Javier looked back to the steering wheel.

You opened the door and slipped out. It had started drizzling, which was refreshing in the hot, tropical air. By the time you got to the front door, you’d be soaked.

You heard the car start up behind you, and you stopped in the rain, turning around as the large car pull out and drive away.

It was about two minutes later that you realized you hadn’t moved, lost in your thoughts about losing Javier. You used to be friends and now you weren’t sure what you were. If you even were anything anymore.

You looked down at yourself, now properly soaked through by the precipitation. You still wore the clothes from the night before, dirty from the long day at work, sweaty from your partying, and seeped in the memory of them being ripped off by warm hands. Not having underwear didn’t help.

It felt disgusting. You wanted to burn these clothes as soon as you removed them. You wanted to curl up in your pajamas and drink to forget.

Back in your apartment, you stripped off and jumped into the shower. You lingered, letting the hot water wash off the feeling of impurity. When you got out, you stood in front of the mirror and stared at the reflection of your bare skin.

Hickeys. The color of wine sucked into your skin. At least thirty. There was a line running straight down your stomach, and more covered your breasts. Some lay above, dotting your chest and climbing up towards your jaw.

You reached a hand up to your neck, your fingers brushing over the marks. In the moment, Javier’s mouth on your skin was the best thing you had ever felt. It had elicited a number of obscene noises. Javier knew how to work you into a writhing mess. And you had loved it. You closed your eyes and exhaled. Fuck.

Slipping on some new clothes, you set out to spend the rest of the day doing some errands and trying to distract yourself. You got one day off a week, so groceries were a priority. However, since you had arrived in Colombia you had fallen for the coffee and a stop at your favorite café was first on the list.

You took one last look in the mirror before you left. With the warm weather, there wasn’t much you could wear that would be comfortable and cover all the marks covering your body. You would just have to settle for a few exposed bruises on your neck.

No one commented. Which was good, but to be expected. No one would dare call out a stranger for visible marks. In all likelihood, they glanced at you and looked away, knowing the telltale signs of a prostitute. It didn’t help that you felt like one too.

The worst was when you got back to the apartment and Javier was a flight of stairs ahead of you. He was never good at opening his door in a timely manner and you reached your floor while he was still fumbling at the lock. When he heard your approach he looked up before turning back to his apartment, jiggling the keys until the door flung open and he slipped inside.

He didn’t even say hello.

You entered your apartment and locked the door behind you. The nasty feeling in your chest had been growing all day, and now it was worse than the hangover that morning. It seeped out of your heart, consuming your stomach and your core, spilling outwards into your limbs, and overtaking your head.

You needed to sit down. Your head was spinning.

The couch was closest, and there was a half-empty bottle of wine along the way there. You grabbed it. Collapsing on the sofa, you grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. It was a rerun of a show from a couple years ago. Some Colombian romance about an ex-soldier. You and Javier had watched it together on late warm nights a few years back. You flicked off the bottle stopper and let it clatter onto the vinyl floor. You brought the bottle to your lips and took a large swig.

Leaning your head back, staring at the ceiling, you let out a loud groan. This was the worst possible outcome. Javier just ditched you this morning, threw your soiled clothes on the bed, then barely said anything, uprooting everything your relationship used to be. And now you felt like a whore.

You didn’t want to go to work the next day. You didn’t want to sit in the same damn office with Javier, closed off, regarding you with the dismissiveness he never used on you.

Another sip of the dark wine. It was good, the numbing effect. So good you felt your eyelids drawing heavier and heavier until you drifted off.

You woke up on Monday morning, reeking of alcohol with a sore neck from sleeping in the less-than-ideal position on the hard couch. The TV was still on, now playing the morning news, and a breeze wafted in from a window you left open. The pale yellow curtains floated around in the room. You blinked a few times, wincing at the bright light.

You pried yourself off of the sofa and into the shower. You were dressed before you checked the time and realized you were going to be a half-hour late for work.

“Fuck it,” you said to the empty apartment, sitting down to have a pastry you bought the day before.

It used to be that Javier would knock on your door if he was leaving and still saw your car in the parking lot. He would have made sure you had breakfast. He would have made you that plate of eggs.

He didn’t do any of that. You supposed it was to be expected. You had gone and fucked it all up. It kept repeating in your head: Javier was drunk, and you just let him fuck you.

Traffic was a bit lighter when you missed the morning rush, so you weren’t as late as you feared.

“Looks like someone had one hell of a weekend.” Steve joked as you walked into your shared office.

“What?” to say you were confused was an understatement. How would he know about what happened? Unless Javier had told him when they went out the day before. Shit.

“Have you, perhaps, found yourself a swarth of lovers like Javi’s ‘informants?’” he smirked.

So he didn’t know about you and Javier? But why was he—? And then it dawned on you.

The love bites, still dark red as ever, covering your exposed neck and the part of your chest that was exposed in the blouse you chose to wear.

You felt your face turn hot, your skin probably turning into a bright flush, but you knew Steve was only trying to get under your skin.

“And you haven’t? I saw you and Connie about to get it on right in the booth,” you quipped, but it didn’t have the same punch as usual. You weren’t even sure if it had even made sense because halfway through saying it, you caught sight of Javier.

He sat at his desk, sinking into his chair. He looked miserable. There were dark rings below his eyes, his eyelids were red and puffy, and his shoulders slumped. There was no energy keeping his body upright, much like a half-deflated balloon, hovering a few feet above the floor.

“You doin’ alright, Peña?” you asked.

You didn’t usually use his last name like the others at the embassy did, but it didn’t feel right to call him Javier when less than 48 hours ago you were moaning his first name like it was the only word you knew.

He looked up at you, and his face turned sort of queasy-looking. It’s like a punch in the gut. He can’t even look at you.

“Just fine, Y/L/N.” he muttered, and turned is attention back to whatever file he had been reading before you came in.

Steve just glanced between the two of you, confusion filling his face. He shot you a quizzical look. You shook your head back at him and shrugged. There was no way you could explain this.

It was possibly the quietest day you had ever experienced in the five years you had worked there. Every so often you would look over to Javier, usually staring at the same page of a file from 30 minutes before. Paperwork days, like this one, were always a drag, but the easy conversation between you three helped.

You felt bad for Steve. He might not have felt as shitty as you did or Javier looked, but he had to sit through the silence too. There was no reason why he should have to suffer, yet you saw no solution.

At exactly 12:30 you pushed your chair back and announced you were taking your lunch break. You needed to get out of the room. Fresh air and some fresh food were beginning to sound more like water in a desert than was likely healthy.

Lunch was a short affair, but it was nice to walk outside the embassy to the café a couple blocks over. You returned, hesitating before ascending the stairs to the main entry. 3 more hours, then you could go home. There wasn’t really a schedule keeping you there that long, but there was work to be done and a mutually agreed-upon commitment to keep the paperwork evenly spread.

You reached your office knowing you should feel refreshed. Instead, you were dreading any moment in which Javier might have to talk to you. You didn’t think you could handle another one of his foreign expressions or the look of unease upon seeing you this morning.

The door was open, and you could hear hushed voices inside.

“...ruined everything now,” that was Javier’s voice.

“What could have been so bad?” asked Steve.

“God, Murphy, I—Y/N, she was,” Javier took a breath, “she was drunk.”

They were definitely talking about you. Steve obviously knew now. Knew about you drunkenly throwing yourself at Javier. They hadn’t noticed you watching from the side of the doorway, and you stepped back a little further from sight, but not out of earshot, as to continue listening. It wasn’t the most moral of your decisions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care much about that. Not after everything else that had happened.

“So were you, Javi,” Steve said, “I saw you when Connie and I left that place. You were on your fourth glass.”

“We stayed for another hour, I maybe had one more. By the time we were back at the apartments, I was almost completely sober.”

“And?”

“And Y/N can never find out! If she did, Murphy, she’d hate me. More than she probably already does.”

“Why would she? You two are best friends. I don’t think she could ever hate you.”

“She would. If she found out that I initiated it while sober? With her? While she was in a compromised state? She’d hate me for using her like that.”

You couldn’t believe it. Everything. All of your worries. Right there, laid out by the man who’d caused them. He had used you. Used you and left you like all the other girls he fucked.

The pain was bubbling up and you could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes. How had you fucked up so much?

“Javi, she might be mad, sure,” Steve said, “but you need to fix things. She’s your coworker. And work isn’t happening because of this.”

“I just—I regret sleeping with her, Steve,” Javi said and you felt your entire body go numb. “I wish I hadn’t let her into my apartment, anything to keep what happened from happening.”

An ugly sound erupted from you before you could stop it, something halfway between a sob and a silent scream, and you flung your hands up to cover your mouth.

Steve and Javier turn at the noise. Javier tensed up and his eyes widened. It was like you were standing naked in front of them, all your insecurities bared raw to the world.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

You turned on your heels, needing to get out of there as fast as possible. The tears were now streaming down your face.

“Wait, Y/N!” Javier yelled, causing plenty of others in the building to turn their heads.

You kept walking, faster. You burst through the door and continued to where you parked your car. You were almost to the lot when you felt a hand on your wrist, gentle but firm.

You whipped around to see Javier, standing, out of breath, his lips half-parted and he looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Leave me alone, Javi,” you sighed, trying to pull yourself out of his grasp.

“Can I explain? Y/N? Please? I—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said with finality, managing to yank yourself from him, and storm into your car.

The car started and you backed out of your spot. You drove away, Javier remained standing where you left him.

next part

tags; @pascalisthepunkest​ @raven974​