#Western Trick | Western AU

[virtie333]

Trick or treat!

For this treat, I'm going to go with my other WIP, my Western AU!

All the families ate their dinner, and then while the women cleaned up and the children ran around playing tag among the grazing oxen, several of the men gathered together to talk. Gossip, Poe thought, though they would deny it if one were to call it that. More than once, even in the fading light, Poe could see one or more of the men looking in his direction. He wondered how often he was the subject of their nightly discussions. Of course, they cast almost as many looks toward the Skywalkers. Though Rose and Finn intentionally kept to themselves, letting Rey do all of the communication with Ren and the guides, the rest of the travelers still exhibited dislike and distrust toward them. It disgusted Poe, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Except stay alert. Watch. Protect.

And do his best to not become too attached to Leia Solo’s adopted niece.

[pacificwaternymph]

trick or treat!

Western AU Hermes eventually starts going out traveling when he gets older. He always has the wildest stories from his youth (being saved by a vigilante, being taught to shoot by his bounty Hunter aunt as a child, knowing how to get away with tax fraud thanks to his aunt/stepmom). He gains… something of a reputation out in the west

[randomwriteronline]

Terusho joined the Survey Corps because the Professor caught them trying to figure out how to use his photocamera.

They had started out as an apprentice of the Manufacture Corps, and had gone to the ground floor offices to ask for something they had forgotten. The strange abandoned gadget had captured their attention.

It wasn't a punishment, truly - the Professor had been ecstatic to see someone interested in the technology and willing to learn how to use it. He had managed to rope Dagero into teaching them the basics and encouraged them to take pictures of Jubilife Village to practice and document its development.

So for a while, Terusho was 'the One-Eye Kid'. Wandering the world with only one eye opened behind mechanical lenses.

They took photos of buildings at first, then of people: the first ones were average at best, but that was to be expected. One day they took a marvelous one of Colza, and they blushed deeply at the praise it received.

The Professor had a lot of film for his camera, because he wanted to take pictures of Pokémon while he studied them; so one day, even though they were terrified and their legs trembled, Terusho followed him out to the Fieldlands to photograph a few of the mysterious creatures as he wrote down their behaviors from a safe distance.

As nerve wrecking as it had been, they had both returned to Jubilife safe, sound and satisfied with the day's research. The Professor was very enthusiastic about their improvement in photography, and especially complimented their pictures of a Shinx yawning and of a Starly caught in the middle of its first flight.

That was all it took them to become 'the Professor's assistant'.

Terusho wishes they would not have to go around catching and battling Pokémon as Survey Corps duty, that they do.

They're not good at either, basically a lost cause: how can you take on something that makes your blood freeze solid, and having to rely on one of its horrifying kind to booth?

They'd rather spend hours making all sorts of Pokéball for Choy to sell. They are good at that.

So while it is a little embarassing to be outclassed by an 8-year-old, they aren’t exactly complaining when AkaRei excitedly takes over the most perilous part of the Survey Corps gig, leaving their senior to just craft items they might need - because they are too young to properly grind medicinal leeks and Oran berries into potions, let alone carefully cut and carve an Apricorn to turn it into a functioning capsule.

One of the strange and good things about AkaRei is that they love to catch Pokémon: they love to complete the Pokédex pages, and they love to hear the Professor talk about Pokémon.

Being only able to carry six of them, this means that there are plenty docile specimens sitting around in the pastures - perfect for one to make a small collection of up close and personal pictures that Terusho would otherwise be too scared to even just try and attempt to take.

Terusho takes AkaRei’s second photograph in Hisui (the first one was taken by the Professor, of course): they have just gotten Lord Wyrdeer’s approval and promised aid. They look so small, sat upon the imposing creature’s back, little hands lost in the white beard; they smile brightly as they nuzzle the Lord’s neck.

It comes out beautifully.

AkaRei always smiles when told they are having a picture of them taken. They also sometimes say “cheese!” for no reason. It’s very curious.

Mr. Emmet of the Survey Corps also smiles wider when he notices Terusho is photographing him: he tips his hat, as if to get in a pose of sorts, like he’s used to it. He is surprisingly photogenic, too. He has a special look to him on account of his... Well... His entire face, really.

White of hair and eyes despite not being that old (as far as anybody knows), skin so pale that if he stood in the sun a minute too long he would turn completely red, a long straight nose that jumps out of his profile whenever he turns to the side. He has a certain piercing glare and frozen smile that make him seem unpercievable, yet curious.

(In the photograph of him and AkaRei to celebrate the quelling of Lord Kleavor, despite being forced on the ground by the aching in his bad leg, with that toothy grin and his eyes almost squeezed shut as he raises the triumphant kid's hand in the air declaring them the winner of the battle as if he’d been a mere a spectator and not a helper in it, he looks so friendly.)

It starts only with him, and then it snowballs: Terusho begins stealing secretive photos of the people around them.

It’s by no means new - this is what they do with wild Pokémon. They sneak about with their mechanical eye in hand and snap! A photo is taken without anybody noticing.

But with people it’s different, they think.

Sometimes there’s an expression that paints a face in a special way, and so they scramble silently to capture it before it disappears. Sometimes it’s just a certain way of being, repeated day after day, that when looked at from a slightly different angle turns it into a gorgeous scene.

The Professor stretching after a long day or the Captain resting her eyes a moment as she lays back in her chair. Captain Zisu crouching while she warms up. Beni making mochi batter. The Commander meditating. The Ginko merchants setting up and tucking away their caravan.

The Clans going about their lives.

Their first visit in the Diamond settlement was a year ago, actually - and they were nervous as all get-out about going around with a photocamera, eyed with at best an intense suspicion.

They had not at all expected for the quiet lady to ask for a picture - to be honest, there were so many thing they had not expected, like her apparent recognition of the gadget and quick approach of them with a shine in her eyes as soon as they had met her gaze, let alone for her to very enthusiastically invite them amidst her people's confusion to take a photo, even striking a bit of a pose. It did certainly ease her clansmen about the strange contraption enough for some to accept having pictures taken of them.

Miss Elesa seems to appear breathtakingly beautiful in every one of her photos, and Terusho is just an amateur. Who knows how heightened the effect might be if they were done by a professional.

(Even in the one where she is being helped back down from Lilligant’s arena, tired and pained and so unable to stand on her legs that she is only able to leave because AkaRei carries her on top of Ursaluna, she still flashes the lenses a genial, genuine smile by the child’s side. Her expression makes her eyes too small and her face too round - and yet she is still so pretty.)

They don’t need to hide that they’re taking pictures with her: she is always glad to be their subject or show off some clothing.

Terusho’s parents used to be weavers, working close with Anthe’s family (their child moved to Jubilife with her after all, as if she were their aunt), and when they were little they used to comb through wool and fur and fibers of all sorts to help around, watching as they were turned to vests and robes and coats. They were never too good in that trade - their hands were clumsy with needles and too heavy on the scissors - but they had remained fascinated with handywork all the same, with the ways one could spin thread to sew clothes, carve wood to make tools, melt ore to fabricate blades, mush herbs to produce medicine.

The guildsmen know how to make all sorts of things, of course. They learn quickly too, to the point where Choy jokes that they’ll put Anvin out of work with all the potions they learned to make from him. Not like they didn’t have their own recipies for that sort of thing - but many of the ones for Pokémon had gone lost in a very long oral tradition, as it happens sometimes.

But most of that knowledge is safe, and while not necessarily eager to share it they don’t mind it being documented in pictures if asked politely.

And Terusho is a very polite kid.

They have a way of singing that doesn’t sound like anything else, and they’re very good at making textiles and fabrics and ropes on their long journeys across Hisui, and wooden utensils: they’re great carvers. Must be why their pipes are so... Elegant, for lack of a better word.

Mr. Briosa always plucks hers from her mouth and snuffs it out when she sees kids around her - though once she didn’t notice Terusho in time, and they managed to snap a photo that they think is lovely.

From what they’ve heard she must know a lot about cooking, but they can’t really say they know a lot about her. They know more things about Volo, whom she always hangs around for some reason - probably to pull him along when he starts getting sidetracked while asking a million questions and such, and he said once half-jokingly that he lets her stick to him only because she can make a mean fried Barboach - and Volo is a secretive person himself.

(The closest they’ve ever come to her in a non-commercial context was after AkaRei had handled Lord Arcanine, on the shore of Firespit Island. They took a photo while she was tending to a big burn on the child’s arm: her mouth was perfectly flat, and her eyes wide, like she didn’t expect that. They can still hear her yelling in another language what was unequivocably a swear right after.)

They do know she can throw Volo, who is much taller than her. So. That is certainly something to remember.

Something else they need to remember - the Nobles. They need pictures of them, too.

...To be honest, Terusho doesn’t think they could ever approach any of the Nobles without their wardens around them. Actually, they feel safest when AkaRei is there, rolling around and throwing treats at them in a safer version of the frienzied trials the commander imposed on the kid as if to beat some record.

It’s only partially a matter of fear, though for Terusho that’s obviously the main point; but ignoring the natural scare factor, the main obstacle has more of a religious root. Rather understandably, considering they are holy descendants of blessed beasts, the Pokémon’s wardens are less than keen on having just any stranger come waving some strange device to make sounds and flashes at them for what seems like no good reason. The opinion of the Nobles regarding the camera are also something to take into consideration - some seem curious, others look at it with suspicion; some remain completely neutral to it, or might get frightened once it’s properly in motion.

The wardens tend to relent once informed that the purpose is only documentative, and that it won’t hurt them nor their wards. They still discuss with the Pokémon first, and only officially agree once they’re on board as well.

Terusho likes to photograph both the Nobles and their humans together. On one hand, it serves to show the unusual size of the creatures when compared to others of their own kind, though that’s usually achieved much more easily by putting them side-by-side with specimens grown or caught by AkaRei; on the other, it documents the wardens, their existence, their work. Terusho asks often if they’re allowed to take pictures of how they care for the Nobles, and notes if they’re permitted: this is also part of the research after all, isn’t it? For the betterment of relationships between Humans and Pokémon, one must know how to care for them, no?

Warden Ingo is often happy to dispense his more practical wisdom, if not to just invite them to come with him in Sneasler’s den to show them examples of what he’s talking about. Where others are skittish or focus their explanations on only a few things, he enjoys talking at length and very precisely about every aspect of caring for his ward or her kits - and his own team, too.

His face was awfully familiar when they first met him, what with that long straight nose, those piercing white eyes, the snowy hair, the squalid skin, something in the sharp angles of his mouth. They feel terribly silly for not piecing it all together sooner, but in their defense, neither had anybody else, it seems.

(The photograph Terusho took after his and AkaRei’s succesful quelling of Lord Electrode is gloomier than the other ones. It’s not a matter of lighting, nor because of the warden’s constant frown; it’s the kid’s furrowed expression despite a weak smile, and the bandages being wrapped around them. He made them laugh afterwards, though: so Terusho thinks of that instead.)

Ever since he started spending a lot of time in the training grounds of Jubilife, he’s been eager to explain battle strategies as well, to both them and Zisu, and a few of the Security Corps. They don’t really understand what half of the things he says mean, but they appreciate the effort and enthusiasm.

As for Terusho specifically, they already have a tutor. That’s AkaRei.

It would be much more embarassing if the 8-year-old wasn’t one the most skilled battlers in Jubilife, and also the only one who can explain battles simply enough for someone as hopeless as the professor’s assistant.

But it’s working! Their fear has eased up considerably, Pikachu actually likes them, and they’ve even managed to evolve Mime Jr! Even the prospect of participating in excursions through the various lands of Hisui makes them excited to capture wildlife scenes instead of causing them a stomach ache for the dread and anxiety that used to overtake them. They’re still as cautious as ever, but it feels much less daunting.

The clan leaders speak to them, even. This is something they would have never expected - Terusho is nobody important, let alone someone interesting to speak to - but they come to camp from time to time and greet them politely, asking news from Jubilife or wardens they’ve visited recently while the professor barely manages to tear himself away from his work enough to welcome them. The two of them even asked how the camera works, in a different occasion each - and Terusho did teach them, to the best of their abilities.

(They had to physically guide Adaman’s face closer to the device, as he kept getting further away and trying to squint into the lens, while Irida was so tense in handling the machine that her fingers jerked the focus too quickly, constantly pulling the image out of it. Their skin was rough in different ways, one dusty from remains of sunbaked muds, one harshly carved in by wind and ice, and if Terusho starts thinking about those little photography crash courses they gave them they end up spending the whole day in an embarassed daze, thinking only about their hands and faces and everything.)

(Their first photographs were of Terusho. Of all the subjects they had pointed to the two leaders, both insisted on chosing some Jubilife kid instead. Irida smiled, proud of herself, as she thanked them and apologized if it ended up all blurry despite her attempt at keeping her hand as still as possible; Adaman repeated the click with his tongue and changed pose and framing a few times, as if taking multiple pictures, and laughed sweetly at their bashfulness.)

(Terusho hadn’t had the guts to ask to take a photo of them until after Avalugg had been quelled. Hands clutched tight in AkaRei’s as the kid raised them into the air solemnly, Adaman does his best to fight the shivers that would make him a shaky mess while Irida remains unbothered by the cold. Despite wearing worried faces, they smile at the photographer: Terusho’s heart skips two beats.)

“We are zoologists, my dear!” the professor said when they first complained about the dangers of photographing wild Pokémon. “We aim to discover the secrets of mysterious and strange creatures to understand them! To better our relationship with them!”

Isn’t man too a strange, mysterious creature?

Despite all their works on human subjects, the professor has never chastised them for wasting film. Maybe he understands their fascination with mundane things - with making and washing and sewing, and living and eating and talking.

What Pokémon do - eating and flying and burning and sleeping and shocking and hovering and yawning - it must be mundane for them, too. 

Everything looks so... Weird. Behind the lenses.

The world closes in and focuses on a little piece of itself in perfect clarity. That’s the moment, the place: click! Immortalized.

All is where it should be.

Even the five of them, of all things and people, look in Hisui’s landscapes like Pokéball halves slotted together in a perfect fit.

They call them ‘the Misplaced’ - through time and space, and maybe even fate, why not. This is not where or when they belong, although they’ve molded themselves in the ways of the land enough to be plenty comfortable in it.

Terusho has documented gods and ghosts by now, beasts that tower over houses and others that barely reach their ankles; they’ve stuck them in photographs as they raged in battle with incredible feats of strength and mastery of the elements.

Still, they like above all to capture the subtle differences between the warden and guard while they watch a battle, to pause the forager in the perfect moment as she raises her arm in a certain graceful way, to press onto paper memory the way the merchant’s muscles carve into her skin. To catch the hero of Hisui off guard as they rub the tip of their cold red nose on the back of their hand.

They take one of the four adults as they speak to one another in the Highlands, sitting on the ground in different stances, hands flying; they call for them and they turn, and click! A smile, a frown, a small ‘o’, a perfectly flat mouth. A catalogue of human emotion in one shot.

If they were to count the ones where AkaRei joins them, it might take them a week and a half, both night and day. In part because they’d have to distinguish the from all the other ones with AkaRei, who likes to do what they call a ‘photobomb’ by jumping into frame when they see Terusho ready to take a picture, and whom the older kid likes to amuse by not telling them to move away and letting them pose.

A good number of the ones with their fellow Misplaced feature Mr. Emmet, usually with him holding them in his arms; this is because - as they themself said - he is their favorite one. (This doesn’t seem to happen often, asafter the initial surprise he moved on to bragging to his brother about this for a while.)

The picture that they’ve taken with Miss Elesa which they like the most features both of them showing the lens their tongue, noses all curled from how hard their squinting eyes are shut, index and middle fingers in the shape of a V, the child proudly displaying the badge they just earned on their kimono.

Their best one with Mr. Briosa has them in the middle of being thrown onto a futon. They’re just about to leap off of her bare shoulders and are clearly laughing madly; grinning wide, sarashi and ribs out in the open like nobody’s business, she’s clearly dosing her strength as to not hurl them in the sun.

Warden Ingo doesn’t have much luck with photos despite being as photogenic as his twin - he’s awfully embarassed by them, by his lackluster expressions. But they managed to take a lovely one during a long day, of him sprawled under a tree, the kid resting on him, the both of them snoring peacefully.

There’s a lot more, of course. But aside from a few  that migh interest future historians, and an even smaller part they gladly gift to the four adults, Terusho will probably end up keeping them for themself.

Never to be seen by anybody else. Maybe passed down in the family.

It’s not at all a bad thing.

On the last day the five spend in Hisui, because their return home has finally been granted and they want nothing more, they have two photos taken of them.

The first one has the professor behind the camera. They stand in a nice row for him just before the snowy patch of land preceding the cave that leads up to the peak of the mountain, an artful mismatch of what survived of the clothes that came with them and new garments in place of the uniforms they’ve worn for years or months, looking into the lens for a picture they can’t sign the back of and that they hope to maybe see one day, perhaps in a museum; after it’s done the kid runs into the poor man’s shins and hugs him tight, saying thank you and goodbye as he embraces them back and cries a bit.

They say their goodbyes; they go.

Terusho watches them for a while, until they seem to disappear. A knot in their throat makes their eyes prickle.

It takes a look to get the professor’s undying support as the camera gets almost shoved in their hand, and off they bolt! Their feet are cold and the tips of their socks are a little wet, and thank goodness the Electabuzzes and the Alpha Electivire have taken a vacation today so they don’t have to worry about dodging lightning strikes as they run - there they are, all set to get in the tunnel - wait, wait, hold on, just one, just-

“Hey!”

All five turn towards them.

They stop without reaching them, seeing as the Misplaced don’t continue on their path, instead waiting for them. Their heavy breaths, tired from the sprint, turn into clouds as they leave their mouth.

Terusho raises an arm and waves, smiling.

AkaRei raises both of them and waves back, smiling.

Click!

The Misplaced say one last goodbye to Hisui, arms up in the air caught mid-motion, smiling.

Terusho, professor Laventon’s assistant, the One-Eye Kid, turns around satisfied by a photo nobody will ever care for and walks back to the camp near Moonview Arena, rubbing their cold red nose against the back of their hand.

(”I know this one!” Luce tells their mother, gasping as their hand gently caresses the old glass frame that preserves one of their great-grandparent’s photos from deterioration, and recognizes first and foremost their pijama peeking through the large plush kimono they’re still not done growing into of all things: “Terusho took it right before we came back home!”)

[temsikfates]

verse tags drop

[writingforstraykids]

Whispers of the Moon - Birthday Special

Pairing: Minchan (short mention of Felix / very short mention of the other boys)

Word Count: 6325

Summary: In the heart of Seoul, beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and ancient palaces, lies a hidden world of magic and mystery. Chan, a gifted healer, and Minho, a shapeshifter hiding as a sleek black cat, find their destinies intertwined in this enchanting underworld...

Warnings/Tags: magical!au, shapeshifter!minho, healer!chan, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

A/N: The happiest birthday to my dear unnie @zehina. I actually went all nerdy and wrote loads about the world as well since I know you love it (and included the rest of the boys that way hehe). I hope you like it, love🖤

Seoul, South Korea's bustling capital, is known for its towering skyscrapers, historic palaces, and vibrant street markets. It is a city where ancient traditions and cutting-edge technology coexist in harmony. However, beneath its well-lit streets and modern facades lies a hidden realm—a magical underworld known only to a selected few. This subterranean world, rich with history and mystery, operates parallel to the everyday life of Seoul's residents, governed by its own rules and inhabited by beings from myth and legend.

The gateway to Seoul's magical underworld is not a grand archway or a secret door; it is a modest, unassuming teahouse in the bustling district of Insadong. The teahouse, known as "Moonlit Haven," has been in operation for centuries and has been passed down through generations of the same family. Its wooden exterior and traditional hanok architecture blend seamlessly with the area's historic atmosphere.

To the ungifted human, Moonlit Haven appears to be an ordinary teahouse serving fragrant teas and traditional Korean sweets. However, those who know the secret can access the portal to the underworld by ordering a special tea called "Moon's Whisper." Upon drinking this tea, a shimmering door appears at the back of the teahouse, leading to a stone staircase that descends deep into the earth.

The staircase spirals downward, lit by glowing blue lanterns that float in mid-air. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes with magical creatures: the nine-tailed fox, the dragon king, and the heavenly warriors. As one descends, the air grows cooler and tinged with a faint scent of jasmine and pine.

At the bottom of the staircase, a grand archway looms, its surface covered in glowing runes. This is the true entrance to Seoul's magical underworld, a threshold between the mundane and the extraordinary. Stepping through the archway, one is immediately enveloped in a world unlike any other.

The magical underworld of Seoul, known as Secret City, is a sprawling subterranean metropolis that mirrors the city above but with its own unique twist. The sky here is an eternal twilight, illuminated by floating orbs that mimic the phases of the moon. Streets are paved with luminescent stones, and buildings are constructed from materials that shimmer with an inner light.

Secret City is divided into several districts, each with its own distinct character. There is the Enchanted Market, where vendors sell potions, enchanted artifacts, and rare ingredients. The Celestial District is home to beings of great power, including dragons and celestial foxes. The Whispering Woods, a dense forest of silver trees, is said to be haunted by spirits and home to elusive forest guardians.

The residents of Secret City are as diverse as the city itself. Humans with magical abilities live alongside mythical creatures. Among them are the Gumiho, nine-tailed foxes who can shapeshift and possess immense magical power. There are also Dokkaebi, goblins, mischievous but generally benign beings who love to play tricks on humans. Dragons, both Eastern and Western varieties, make their homes in the Celestial District, guarding ancient secrets and treasures.

The city's governance is overseen by a council of elders, composed of representatives from each major group. The council ensures harmony between the various inhabitants and that the secrets of Secret City are kept from the surface world, which is why any sort of magic is forbidden in the mundane world. 

The Enchanted Market is the heart of Secret City, a bustling bazaar where the air is filled with the scent of exotic spices and the sound of lively discussions. Stalls line the streets, their wares illuminated by lanterns that float overhead. Vendors shout out their goods, from enchanted scrolls and rare herbs to mystical artifacts and talismans.

One of the most renowned vendors in the market is Master Hyun, a potions master whose shop, "Elixirs of Eternity," is a treasure trove of magical concoctions. Shelves upon shelves are filled with bottles of all shapes and sizes, each containing liquids that shimmer with otherworldly light. Master Hyun is a man of twinkling eyes and ethereal beauty, always ready with a story about the origins of his potions.

One of his most sought-after potions is the "Dream Weaver," which allows the drinker to enter the dreams of others. Another popular item is the "Phoenix Tear," a potion that can heal any wound or ailment. Master Hyun's potions are known for their potency and reliability, making his shop a favorite among both the magical and non-magical residents of Secret City.

Another notable figure in the Enchanted Market is Ji-Sung, an artifact dealer whose collection is the envy of many. His shop, "Treasures of Time," is filled with rare and powerful artifacts from across the ages. Among his prized possessions are a mirror that shows the true nature of any being, a fan that can summon the wind and a sword that can cut through any material.

Ji-Sung is a mysterious figure, always dressed in elaborate silk robes and adorned with jewelry that seems to pulse with magic. He is known for his keen eye and sharp wit, and it is said that he never forgets a face. His shop is a place of wonder and danger, for while many seek his artifacts for their power, they often come with a price that is not measured in gold.

The Celestial District is home to some of the most powerful beings in Secret City. Dragons, with their majestic forms and ancient wisdom, reside here in grand palaces that float above the ground. These palaces, constructed from crystal and gold, radiate a light that can be seen from anywhere in the city.

Each dragon in the Celestial District guards a specific aspect of magic or nature. There is Aran, the dragon of water, whose palace is surrounded by a moat of liquid silver. There is Seraphine, the dragon of fire, whose abode is perpetually surrounded by a ring of flames. These dragons are both protectors and advisors, and their counsel is sought by the council of elders and other residents of Secret City.

Sharing the Celestial District with the dragons are the Gumiho, or nine-tailed foxes. These beings are both feared and respected for their immense magical power and their ability to shape-shift into beautiful women or men. The Gumiho live in harmony with the dragons, their abilities complementing the dragons' strength and wisdom.

The leader of the Gumiho is Jeongin, a fox spirit with silver fur and piercing dark eyes. Jeongin is known for his grace and intelligence, often acting as a mediator in disputes and a strategist in times of conflict. His palace, the Silver Moon Pavilion, is a place of beauty and tranquility, where the moonlight dances on the surface of a crystal-clear lake.

The Whispering Woods is a dense forest of silver trees, their leaves shimmering like moonlight. The woods are said to be haunted, with whispers echoing through the trees that speak of forgotten secrets and ancient magic. The path through the forest is winding and treacherous, known only to a few who dare to venture into its depths.

The Whispering Woods are guarded by forest spirits, ethereal beings who protect the ancient magic within the trees. These spirits, known as the Guardians, are invisible to most and reveal themselves only to those they deem worthy. They are led by Elder Bin, a spirit of great wisdom and power who has watched over the woods for centuries.

The Guardians are both protectors and guides, aiding those who seek knowledge or refuge in the woods. They are also the keepers of the Sacred Grove, a hidden sanctuary where the most potent magical energies converge. The Sacred Grove is a place of healing and renewal, its waters said to grant visions and its flowers capable of curing any illness.

Among the trees dwell the Spirits of the Lost, souls who have wandered into the woods and never found their way out. These spirits are not dangerous but rather sorrowful, seeking closure or redemption. They often appear as faint, glowing figures, their presence marked by a sudden chill in the air.

The Spirits of the Lost are guided by Lix, a gentle and compassionate spirit who helps them find peace. Lix is a beacon of light in the darkness of the woods, his soothing voice and kind heart offering comfort to those who have lost their way. Under his guidance, many spirits have found the closure they seek and moved on to the afterlife.

Scattered throughout Secret City are hidden temples dedicated to various deities and elemental forces. These temples are places of worship and power where the faithful come to seek blessings and guidance. Each temple is unique, reflecting the nature of the deity or force it honors.

One of the most revered temples in Secret City is the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and quiet reflection. The temple is built from white marble, its domed roof adorned with silver filigree that glows softly in the moonlight. Inside, a large pool of water reflects the light of the floating orbs above, creating an ethereal ambiance.

The Temple of the Moon is dedicated to the moon goddess, Haneul, who is believed to watch over Secret City from the skies. The temple is tended by a group of priests known as the Moon Brothers, who perform rituals and offer prayers on behalf of the city's residents. The head priest, Brother Seungmin, is a wise and gentle leader, his presence bringing a sense of peace and tranquility to all who visit the temple.

Another secret society is the Shadow Blades, a group of elite warriors and assassins who protect Secret City. They are skilled in martial arts and magic, and their training is rigorous and demanding. The Shadow Blades operate from the Shadowsong Keep, a hidden fortress deep within the Whispering Woods.

Commander Ji-Won is the leader of the Shadow Blades, a formidable warrior known for being both ruthless and just. Under his command, the Shadow Blades carry out missions to protect Secret City from external threats and internal strife. They are the unseen guardians of the city, their presence felt but rarely seen. Minho is one of them, slowly working his way up the ranks but facing struggles with his colleagues. He’s not as powerful with magic as most of them but has the ability to shapeshift into a cat, making him perfect for secret missions. Which pissed a lot of people off. 

Throughout its history, Secret City has been protected by heroes who have risen to defend the city against threats, both internal and external. These heroes, known as the Chosen Ones, are individuals of great courage and power, often possessing unique abilities that set them apart from others.

No hero is complete without a healer, and in Secret City, that role is filled by Chan, a gifted healer whose touch can mend even the gravest of wounds. Chan is a member of the Temple of the Moon, his gentle nature and healing magic bringing comfort and hope to those in need. He carries a staff, the Moon's Grace, which enhances his healing abilities and allows him to channel the power of the moon goddess.

Seoul's magical underworld, Secret City, is a place of wonder, danger, and beauty. It is a city where the mundane and the extraordinary coexist, where ancient myths come to life, and where the balance between light and dark is constantly maintained. The residents of Secret City, both human and mythical, live in harmony, their lives intertwined by the magic that permeates their world.

As the gateway between the two realms, Moonlit Haven reminds visitors that there is more to Seoul than meets the eye. For those who dare to seek it, a world of magic and mystery awaits, hidden beneath the bustling streets and modern skyscrapers of South Korea's capital. In Secret City, the impossible becomes possible, and the ordinary becomes extraordinary—a true testament to the enduring power of magic.

-

Minho had always been different. As a member of the Shadow Blades, the elite warriors and protectors of Secret City, his abilities made him a target of both admiration and envy. Unlike many of his comrades, he lacked powerful magic but possessed a unique talent: the ability to shapeshift into a sleek, agile cat. This ability made him invaluable for espionage, slipping unnoticed through shadows and tight spaces. However, his success and the recognition it brought only fueled the resentment of his peers.

The tension reached its peak after a particularly challenging mission. Minho had been instrumental in retrieving a stolen artifact from a rogue mage, but his success was met with scorn rather than praise. Whispers of jealousy and accusations of favoritism swirled among his colleagues, resulting in an unjust decision by his superior officers. They accused him of withholding information and acting independently, charges that were untrue but impossible for Minho to refute without pushing himself even further away.

"You think you're special because of your abilities," spat one of his fellow warriors. "But you're just a liability. We don't need someone who can't follow orders."

The decision was swift and brutal. Minho was stripped of his rank and cast out from the Shadowsong Keep. The sense of betrayal cut deeper than any blade. He was alone, exiled from the only family he had known, forced to fend for himself in the vast, mystical underworld of Secret City.

With nowhere else to turn, Minho fled through the Whispering Woods, a dense forest known for its haunting beauty and perilous magic. The silver leaves of the trees shimmered in the eternal twilight, casting an eerie glow on the winding paths. Here, the whispers of ancient secrets and lost souls filled the air, a symphony of sorrow and mystery.

Exhausted and wounded from his escape, Minho made a desperate decision. He transformed into his cat form, hoping the change would allow him to navigate the forest more easily and evade any pursuers. The transformation was both a relief and a curse, offering him agility and stealth but stripping him of his human voice and hands.

As a cat, Minho's senses were heightened. He could hear the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the soft murmurs of the forest spirits. His fur provided some protection against the chill, but the pain of his injuries persisted. Despite his resilience, the journey through the Whispering Woods was grueling, each step a struggle against fatigue and despair.

Lix found him curled up beneath a tree and noticing his injuries he knew there was only one way to save him. He scooped him up from the ground and soothingly caressed his head, able to tell there was more to him than just an innocent, hurt cat.

After days of wandering, they finally reached the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and powerful magic. The temple, constructed from white marble and adorned with silver filigree, stood as a beacon of hope amidst the dark woods. Its domed roof glowed softly, reflecting the light of the floating orbs above. Lix set him down on the ground and gently shoved him forward. “I’m not allowed to enter, but you are, little friend. Go and accept the refuge they have to provide.”

Minho hesitated at the entrance, his feline instincts wary of the unknown. He had heard of the temple's head healer, Chan, a gifted young man whose touch could mend even the gravest of wounds. Desperation outweighed caution, and Minho limped into the courtyard, collapsing near the temple steps.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the temple. Chan, carrying a staff that radiated a gentle light, approached the injured cat. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the wounded animal, but his expression quickly softened into one of compassion.

"Poor thing," Chan murmured, kneeling beside Minho. "Let's get you inside."

Chan carefully lifted Minho and carried him into the temple. The interior was as serene as the exterior, with moonlight streaming through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor. Chan placed Minho on a soft cushion and gently examined his injuries.

"You're in bad shape, but we'll get you fixed up," Chan said soothingly. He placed his hands over Minho's wounds, and a warm, healing light emanated from his palms. The pain began to fade, replaced by a soothing sensation that spread through Minho's body.

As the healing progressed, Minho watched Chan with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. Chan's touch was gentle, his expression focused yet kind. There was something inherently calming about him, a presence that put Minho at ease despite his recent ordeal.

When Chan finished, he sat back and smiled. "There you go, little one. You should feel better soon."

Minho meowed softly in response, his eyes conveying the gratitude he couldn't express in words. Chan chuckled and scratched behind Minho's ears. "You can stay here as long as you need to. I'll take care of you."

Days turned into weeks as Minho recovered under Chan's care. He adapted to his new life at the Temple of the Moon, observing the daily routines and rituals from the shadows. In his cat form, Minho found a strange sense of peace. He was safe from his past and had a chance to start anew.

Chan grew fond of the cat he had rescued, naming him "Moonshadow" for his sleek, dark fur and the way he seemed to blend into the twilight. Minho, in turn, became Chan's silent guardian, following him around the temple and offering companionship.

Whenever Chan was away, Minho would revert to his human form, cleaning the temple and performing small tasks to help ease his guilt for deceiving him. He hoped that his actions would repay some of the kindness Chan had shown him, even if Chan never knew the truth.

Chan, however, began to notice the small changes around the temple. Rooms were tidier, supplies were replenished, and the garden seemed to flourish under an unseen hand. He attributed these miracles to the blessings of the moon goddess, unaware of the true source.

Five months later

In the eternal twilight of Secret City, the Temple of the Moon was a sanctuary of tranquility and magic. Within its serene confines, Chan sat cross-legged on a plush cushion, his gentle eyes scanning the pages of an ancient tome. The moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows cast a colorful, ethereal glow around him, creating an atmosphere of peace and contemplation.

Beside him, Minho, in his cat form, stretched lazily, his sleek black fur shimmering in the soft light. As he yawned and settled into a more comfortable position, his eyes never left Chan. There was a bond between them that went beyond mere companionship—a connection forged through trials and a deep mutual understanding.

Chan noticed Minho’s gaze and smiled warmly. “Hey there, Moonshadow,” he said softly. “Come here.”

Minho’s ears perked up at the sound of Chan’s voice. With a graceful leap, he landed beside Chan and began to nuzzle his head against Chan’s outstretched hand. Chan’s fingers moved instinctively to scratch behind Minho’s ears, a spot that always made the cat purr contentedly.

“There we go,” Chan murmured, his voice soothing and gentle. He could feel the vibrations of Minho’s purrs under his fingertips, a rhythmic reminder of the trust and affection between them.

Minho closed his eyes, leaning into Chan’s touch. The sensation of Chan’s fingers running through his fur was blissful, and his purring grew louder, filling the quiet room with its soothing sound. It was moments like these that made all the hardships and uncertainties of their lives seem distant and unimportant.

Chan chuckled softly. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

In response, Minho rubbed his head against Chan’s cheek, a gesture of affection that made Chan’s heart swell with warmth. The simple act of being close to Chan brought Minho a sense of security and happiness he had never thought possible before meeting him.

“You’re such a sweet kitty,” Chan whispered, continuing to scratch Minho’s head and under his chin. Minho’s purrs grew even louder, and he started to knead Chan’s chest with his paws, his claws retracting just enough to avoid scratching the fabric of Chan’s robe.

Chan shifted slightly, leaning back against the cushions and creating a more comfortable space for both of them. Minho took this as an invitation and climbed onto Chan’s chest, circling a few times before curling up in a tight ball. His tail wrapped around his body, and he rested his head on his paws, looking up at Chan with half-closed eyes.

“You look so peaceful,” Chan said, his voice barely above a whisper. He rested one hand gently on Minho’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Minho’s eyes closed fully, and he let out a contented sigh. The warmth of Chan’s body, combined with the rhythmic motion of his hand on his back, lulled him into a state of deep relaxation. His purring continued, a soft, steady sound that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the temple.

For Chan, having Minho close was a source of immense comfort. The bond they shared went beyond that of a healer and his pet; it was a connection of souls, a partnership forged over time. Chan found solace in Minho’s presence, a sense of completeness that he had never experienced before.

As the minutes passed, the tranquility of the moment deepened. Chan’s thoughts drifted, the worries of the day fading into the background. All that mattered was the gentle weight of Minho on his chest, the soothing sound of his purrs, and the warmth of their shared affection.

Minho, on the verge of sleep, shifted slightly and nuzzled his head against Chan’s chest. He felt safe, cherished, and loved—a stark contrast to the loneliness and betrayal he had once known. In this sacred space, with Chan’s heartbeat as his lullaby, Minho found a peace that transcended the physical realm.

Chan continued to stroke Minho’s fur, his touch light and tender. He could feel the trust dripping from the small creature in his arms, a trust that was both humbling and empowering. Chan knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond unbreakable.

“I promise to always take care of you,” Chan whispered, his voice filled with emotion. 

Minho’s purring intensified for a moment, as if acknowledging Chan’s words. Then, gradually, it began to fade as sleep overtook him. His body relaxed completely, his breathing slow and steady. Chan watched him with a soft smile, his own heart filled with a profound sense of gratitude and love.

The Temple of the Moon, with its timeless beauty and serene atmosphere, bore witness to the deep connection between Chan and Minho. In this sacred place, under the watchful gaze of the moon goddess, they found a moment of perfect harmony—a testament to the enduring power of love and trust in a world filled with magic and mystery.

As Chan closed his eyes, his hand resting gently on Minho’s sleeping form, he knew that their journey together was far from over. But in this moment, they had everything they needed: each other. And that was enough.

-

One evening, as Chan prepared for his nightly prayers, he looked at Moonshadow, who was curled up on a cushion nearby. "You know, sometimes I feel like there's more to you than meets the eye," Chan mused aloud. "You're special, aren't you?"

Minho's ears perked up, and he watched Chan with wide, curious eyes. Chan smiled and continued, "I think the goddess sent you to me for a reason. Maybe you're my familiar, a guardian spirit to protect and guide me."

The words struck a chord in Minho's heart. He had always felt a deep connection to Chan, a sense of duty and protectiveness that went beyond mere gratitude. Perhaps there was truth in Chan's words, a destiny that had brought them together.

That night, Chan performed a ritual to bind Moonshadow as his familiar. He drew intricate symbols on the ground, lit candles, and recited ancient incantations. As the ritual reached its climax, a surge of magical energy enveloped Minho, strengthening the bond between them.

Minho felt a profound shift within him, a merging of their spirits that filled him with newfound purpose. He was now bound to Chan, his protector and companion, their fates intertwined by the magic of the moon.

-

As Chan's familiar, Minho took his duties seriously. He remained vigilant, always on the lookout for potential threats. His heightened senses allowed him to detect dangers before they could reach Chan, and his presence provided comfort and reassurance.

One day, trouble arrived in the form of dark mages seeking to disrupt the balance of magic in Secret City. These mages, practitioners of forbidden magic, targeted the Temple of the Moon, believing its powerful magic could be harnessed for their nefarious purposes.

Chan was in the garden when the attack began. Dark figures emerged from the shadows, casting spells that warped the air and sent tremors through the ground. Chan's staff glowed as he raised a protective barrier, but the dark mages' assault was relentless.

Minho, sensing the danger, leapt into action. He transformed into his human form, his body a blur of motion as he intercepted the attackers. With a combination of agility and ferocity, Minho fought off the dark mages, his cat-like reflexes and strength giving him an edge.

Chan, focused on maintaining the barrier, was unaware of the true identity of his savior. He glanced over in shock as he saw a young man fighting with the grace and power of a guardian beast.

Despite his best efforts to hide his true nature, Minho's ears were visible, a telltale sign of his shapeshifter abilities. As the last of the dark mages fled, Chan lowered the barrier and approached Minho cautiously.

"Who are you?" Chan asked, his voice a mix of awe and confusion. Their eyes met and Chan’s eyes widened recognizing those soft brown orbs he’d come to love so much. His eyes wandered up where Minho’s dark cat ears peaked from his messy brown hair. "Are you... Moonshadow?"

Minho hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I am. My name is Minho. I'm a shapeshifter, exiled from the Shadowsong Keep. I've been living here in my cat form, afraid you would kick me out if you knew the truth. I know we aren’t very welcomed around here.”

Chan's expression softened, and he reached out to touch Minho's shoulder. "You protected me, Minho. You've been by my side all this time, helping and watching over me. I don't care about your past or your abilities. You are my familiar, and I am grateful for everything you've done."

Tears welled up in Minho's eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude flooding his heart. "Thank you, Chan. I promise to always protect you, no matter what."

-

Minho’s revelation had lifted a weight off his chest, but it also left him feeling vulnerable. Living as a shapeshifter meant hiding his true self, something he’d grown accustomed to. Yet, in front of Chan, he was completely exposed. For Chan, the revelation was a mix of shock and intrigue. The gentle healer had always felt a special bond with Moonshadow, but knowing that the affectionate cat was also a brave young man named Minho deepened that connection.

Their daily routines continued, but with a newfound understanding. Minho still shifted into his cat form, now more out of comfort than necessity. He still enjoyed curling up on Chan’s chest, feeling his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his body. Chan, on his part, welcomed Minho’s human presence when he transformed, appreciating the help around the temple and the companionship Minho offered.

The first night after Minho’s revelation, Chan found it hard to sleep. He kept glancing at Minho, now in his human form, tidying up the temple’s main hall. The moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a soft glow on Minho’s face. He moved gracefully, his actions efficient and almost mesmerizing to watch. Chan felt a strange flutter in his chest, a mix of admiration and affection.

“Minho,” Chan called softly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Minho turned, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Yes, Chan?”

Chan hesitated, then smiled. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard. Come sit with me.”

Minho’s expression softened, and he abandoned the broom he was holding, walking over to where Chan sat. He settled down beside him, their shoulders almost touching. There was a quiet intimacy in the moment, a shared silence that spoke volumes.

“I never thought I’d find someone like you,” Chan admitted quietly. “Someone who understands and accepts me for who I am.”

Minho looked at him, his eyes sincere. “I feel the same way. You’ve given me a place to belong, Chan. For that, I’m grateful.”

They sat in silence for a while, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Chan’s hand moved almost instinctively, reaching out to hold Minho’s. Minho’s fingers intertwined with his, the simple touch sending a warm feeling through both of them.

-

As days turned into weeks, the relationship between Chan and Minho deepened. They developed a rhythm, a balance of shared tasks and quiet moments of companionship. Minho’s presence brought a sense of stability to Chan’s life, while Chan’s gentle nature provided Minho with a sense of peace he had never known before.

Chan’s duties as a healer often took him to various parts of Secret City. Minho, always in his cat form, accompanied him, providing silent support. He became Chan’s shadow, always alert and ready to protect him if necessary. Their bond as familiar and master was strong, but it was the bond of friendship and growing affection that truly defined their relationship.

One afternoon, while Chan was tending to a patient in the Celestial District, Minho, in his cat form, explored the area. The dragons and celestial foxes were impressive, their majestic forms and ancient wisdom evident in every interaction. Minho’s keen senses picked up the subtle undercurrents of power and respect that flowed through the district.

As Chan finished his work, he called out for Minho. The sleek black cat appeared almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with ease. Chan smiled as he picked Minho up, cradling him gently.

“You always know where to find me,” Chan said, scratching behind Minho’s ears. Minho purred in response, nuzzling against Chan’s cheek.

Their return to the temple was peaceful, the twilight sky casting a serene glow over Secret City. Minho transformed back into his human form once they were inside, stretching his limbs as he did so.

“Another successful day,” Chan remarked, setting down his staff.

Minho nodded. “You’re an amazing healer, Chan. The way you help people… it’s inspiring.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you, Minho. But I couldn’t do it without your support.”

Minho’s heart swelled at the words. He was finding it harder to keep his feelings for Chan hidden. The healer’s kindness, dedication, and the way he made Minho feel valued and appreciated—it was all becoming too much to ignore.

Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, but so did Minho’s feelings for Chan. He found himself drawn to the healer in ways he hadn’t expected. Chan’s smile, his laughter, the way he cared for others—it all made Minho’s heart race.

One evening, as they sat together under the soft glow of the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a thoughtful expression. “Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Minho replied, curious.

“Why do you stay in your cat form most of the time?” Chan asked gently. “I mean, I understand it became your natural state by now, but you can be human whenever you want. Why do you choose to be a cat?”

Minho looked down, his ears twitching slightly. “It’s… complicated. When I’m in my cat form, I feel safe. I can protect you without drawing too much attention. And it’s easier to hide my true feelings.”

“Your true feelings?” Chan echoed, his curiosity piqued.

Minho hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Chan, there’s something I need to tell you. Ever since you took me in, I’ve felt this… connection. It’s more than just being your familiar. I care about you deeply, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I’ve been afraid to show it, afraid that you might not feel the same way.”

Chan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take Minho’s hand. “Minho, I care about you too. You’ve become an important part of my life, and I can’t imagine it without you. I think… I think I’ve been feeling the same way.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

Chan nodded. “Yes. I’ve been trying to understand these feelings, and now I realize that I’ve fallen for you, Minho. Not just as my familiar, but as someone I want to be with.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears of relief and happiness. “Chan, I’ve loved you for so long. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Chan pulled Minho into a gentle embrace. “You don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. We’ll face this together.”

Minho clung to Chan, the warmth of his embrace filling him with a sense of belonging. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other under the moonlight, their hearts beating in sync.

-

With their feelings out in the open, Minho and Chan’s relationship took on a new dimension. They were no longer just healer and familiar; they were partners, united by love and a deep sense of understanding. Their bond grew stronger, their affection for each other evident in every touch, every glance, every shared moment.

Chan continued his work as a healer, and Minho remained by his side, providing support and protection. They faced challenges together, their love giving them strength and resilience. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became a backdrop for their blossoming relationship.

One day, as they walked through the Enchanted Market, Minho in his human form, Chan took his hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

Minho looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

Chan led him to a small shop filled with beautiful artifacts and magical items. The shopkeeper, a kind young man, greeted them with a warm smile.

“Welcome, Chan. I see you’ve brought a special friend today,” he said.

Chan smiled and nodded. “Yes, Minho is very special to me. And I want to give him something to show how much he means to me.”

Jisung’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, I have just the thing.”

He led them to a display case and pulled out a delicate silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon. “This pendant is filled with protective magic. It will keep the wearer safe and strengthen the bond between two hearts.”

Chan took the pendant and turned to Minho. “I want you to have this. It’s a symbol of our bond and my promise to always be there for you.”

Minho’s lip quivered slightly as he took the pendant. “Thank you, Chan. I’ll cherish it always.”

Chan fastened the pendant around Minho’s neck, and they shared a tender kiss, sealing their love with a magical promise.

-

Their love continued to grow, but so did the challenges they faced. Dark forces still threatened Secret City, and Minho and Chan found themselves in the midst of several battles. Their bond was tested, but their love gave them the strength to overcome every obstacle.

One evening, as they returned to the temple after a particularly difficult mission, Chan collapsed from exhaustion. Minho caught him, his heart pounding with fear. “Channie, are you okay?”

Chan smiled weakly. “I’m just tired, Minho. I’ll be fine.”

Minho carried Chan inside and laid him down on a soft cushion. He tended to Chan’s wounds, his hands trembling with worry. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard, Chan. You need to rest.”

Chan reached up to touch Minho’s face. “I’ll be okay, Minho. I have you by my side.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears as he leaned down to kiss Chan’s forehead. “I love you, Chan. Please take care of yourself like you do with everyone else.”

“I love you too, Minho,” Chan whispered, closing his eyes. “Thank you for being here with me.”

Minho stayed by Chan’s side, holding his hand and watching over him as he slept. The trials they faced only strengthened their bond, their love a beacon of hope and resilience in the face of darkness.

-

As time passed, Minho and Chan’s love continued to flourish. They built a life together, their bond unbreakable and their hearts intertwined. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became their home, a place where their love could grow and thrive.

One evening, as they sat together under the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a smile. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

Minho nodded, his eyes filled with affection. “How could I forget? You saved me, Chan. You gave me a place to belong.”

Chan took Minho’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “And you gave me a reason to believe in love. You’ve made my life complete, Minho.”

Minho leaned in to kiss Chan, their lips meeting in a tender, loving embrace. “I promise to always be by your side, Chan. Forever.”

Chan smiled, his heart filled with joy. “Forever.”

As they held each other under the soft glow of the moonlight, Minho and Chan knew that their love was eternal. In the magical underworld of Secret City, their hearts had found a home in each other, a love that would endure through any challenge, a bond that would never be broken.

Together, they faced the world, their love a guiding light in the darkness. And in each other’s arms, they found a love that was truly magical, a love that would last forever.

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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[bilehwit]

Just read your Bilehwit Au on Ao3 and was greetes by the amazing ref for the lamb here on tumblr!

And yes i absolutely love it when people explain clothing choices in character design especially since you wrote Lamb culture is based on the Old English pls do ramble 🙏

Well hello!! This my first ask from someone I've never met before, so I'll ask you to please be patient with my wild trails of thought.

This will be a long one, but I'll focus on two main outfits - the daily wear and the ritual outfit, as they have the most symbolism.

The easiest one is obviously the leaf outfit - cute, I love it so much!

The leaf was chosen for its symbolism in English mythology. The tree itself is well beloved as a symbol of strength and a symbol of fertility - acorns are often depicted as lucky, and an oak full of acorns is a good sign of fertility!

I also chose oak because I think they're very beautiful trees - they can live for up to 1,000 years, and they can grow to 30 meters wide in their leaves. That's amazing to me. They also smell nice, and I remember climbing them when I was little, so it's nice to share the oak with my lambsona.

Next, let's talk about the sacrifice outfit - it's oddly bridal, no?

Well it's intended to be!

The use of white/silver to denote Purity is an old concept, but white wedding dresses in England were only truly popularised after Queen Victoria wore the colour to her wedding - previously a mourning shade.

I chose silver satin as the fabric, and a simple design, as I wanted a bridal look but also something that felt sleek and pure. Bilehwit is a virgin (virgin sacrifice in all ways) and it's a cruel trick to play.

Also, Shamura in my fic struggles to see/differentiate between objects, so having an all white lamb made it easier for them to stay focused.

So while this outfit feels bridal to us, the symbolism in fic is more that it was easier than dying fabric, just raw spider thread spun into a dress.

Shamura did make the veil themself, though, for reasons you will see later ;3

Now, we get to the heavy hitters! First up, the daily outfit.

Now, Anglo-Saxons were all about those layers! So this outfit actually has more layers than you'd even think.

Under the base dress is a thin cotton chemise, or under dress, made to soak up the oils of the skin and sweat, changed most often. Bilehwit would use these as pyjamas in the summer months, too, to keep cool while covered and decent.

The next layer is the linen, with the thin dark band. This would be a slightly tighter layer to the body, and would be long sleeved to offer protection from the sun and the cold. Linen would be the lighter colours, as they'd be protected more, and linen was used as a middling layer to hold heat in winter. Air would be trapped between layers and keep people warm, and also it protected them from any scratchy wool. The woven ribbon at the bottom is decorative.

The next layer is my favourite. This is the red layer, the thicker dress, made often from wool or from linen again. This is made from wool, using a technique called naalbinding, which is what the Anglo-Saxons would have used, as they didn't knit like is common today.

Anglo-Saxon embroidery and weaving was actually really well known in Europe for its fine work and was gifted to Emissaries and Kings. The weaving and sewing business in England went hard as hell, and it's where most people would be employed for personal use or as gifts.

The embroidery of flowers on the cuffs of the red dress, as well as the colar, are those of Achillea millefolium, or 'Red Velvet', flowers. These tiny buds are native to Europe, western Asia and North America, and are small blooms that self seed and explode into colour. I chose them after seeing the flowers on a sketch, and decided that I had to include them.

Red in flower language is always to do with romance and passion. I wanted Bilehwit to show that desire, as they are a hopeless romantic at heart, and they also just feel a deep-seated loneliness that they want filled. The red flowers are the only flowers they've ever been given, and they've spent hours tracing the embroidery threads and staring silently at the sky.

The final apron layer is just that - an apron. It's a thin, boxy piece of fabric that is played on top to ensure the front of the dress stays somewhat clean, and there is a secret pocket behind it that they store honey-sweets in for children (and themself). Just a length of plain cut cloth!

Tied together with a woven belt, this outfit is my second favourite - I love every detail, and when I can talk in fic about it, I will spend thousands of words trying to detail what it means to me, and probably failing.

The final outfit now, one that definitely won't be seen in fic for a good long while - the Fancy/Ritual set.

Look at ittttt ahahahahagahqabqgagagquipqguqugjv

Okay, keysmash over, serious time!

Now, this outfit is interesting, because not only does it have embroidery and styles of old English culture, it also has mixes of Indian influence too!

"Well, that's random to add," I hear you murmur, and you're right. Why would I add that?

Well, because originally I was going to make Narinder have a more Egyptian vibe! I thought; ah, perfect, he'd do great as a Sphynx cat, the Egyptians loved those cats.

See, as it turns out, Narinder is actually a Sanskrit/Hindu name. It's a form of the name Narendra, a masculine name that means "Lord of Men". It's a very formal name, and one I immediately knew I had to switch things around for.

Following this, I was also able to determine the domains and cultures of each other Bishop, by tracing back names and meanings! That's a whole other post I fear.

Back to the dress!

The outline is far more recent than Old English, medieval style dresses, and that's because, uh... I wanted it. (This one is not very historically accurate. Forgive me.)

I wanted a mix of English style embroidery and Indian embroidery styles. Will come back and edit in which style I went with specifically, but I wanted the ritual set to be a touch more dedicated to Narinder, with darker colours, and more Indian fusion embroidery.

The black is velvet, the red is silk, and the white is linen - why? Again, it looks cool.

I can't lie, I have very little explanation for this besides the fact it looks bangin'.

But yes!! That's all my explanations at this current point in time for outfits! However, if you have any further questions, please ask away, and I will happily detail everything and anything about my AU and fic! Thank you for joining me on my rambling!

[ananke-xiii]

Although I mainly see the first six episodes of s13 as an engaging portrayal of two grief-stricken people lacking the tools to deal with what has happened to them, I can also totally see them as the so-called "widower arc". Two things can be true at the same time because yes, Dean was totally grieving Cas' death. But I'll make it worse for you.

Maybe I'm biased by the many times I've read the term "widower arc" but Dean was 100% looking for a consort in Cas in s12 (yes, "consort", I'm tired of "partner" or "boy/girlfriend", they're weak terms, give me "sharing destiny" type of old words) so I think this interpretation is not so far-fetched.

We have a grieving widow(er), a desired consort who's dead and then resurrects and a son who's been defined as "the rising son". As I've already said these are some of the elements of one of the most ancient myths in Western culture, that is the myth of Isis and Osiris.

Now, of course it was not a retelling of that myth, I don't even think it was a conscious effort to shape the story that way but sometimes symbols will be symbols, what can you do?

First of all, two brothers: Set and Osiris and Lucifer and Cas. We know how it goes, one brother kills the other (As an aside in one version Set built a wooden chest and tricked Osiris to enter into it just to seal it and drown it in the Nile. We have totally NEVER seen this image in Supernatural. Not even ONCE).

Things get very interesting from here on because in the myth there's a lot of focus on the body of the deceased brother, Osiris/Cas. The most famous way Set disposed of his brother's corpse was to cut it into pieces, to... tear him apart if you will. It is then kinda WILD that AU!Michael kills "his" Lucifer the same way:

MIchael: I killed my Lucifer. Tore him apart in the skies over Abilene. But hey, can’t get enough of a good thing.

Apparently, the body must be somehow intact for resurrection to happen. In the myth Isis has to find his husband's bodyparts scattered all over Egypt in order to resurrect him. So we need to pay extra close attention to Cas' body which we are actually shown in that tragic scene where Dean prepares him for the pyre. So it's Dean who takes care of Cas' body, who "collects" it, just like Isis. Interesting.

In SPN "What gets burned stays dead", therefore Cas cannot resurrect, or so they think. The mantra is repeated by Jack in "Tombstone" when he first sees his father. To be honest, we don't really know how Cas resurrects. For the first time we see what happens to him between death and rebirth but we miss the technicalities. We can only assume that Cas' ashes were enough. Or maybe, just maybe, that's just a rule that applies in Chuck's story. Just saying.

I'm not sure if they try to discover how Jack managed to do that but the point remains: it was Jack who woke Cas up in the Empty.

And why did he do that? Well, because he can. The very first thing that Jack does is resurrecting Kelly in an episode aptly named "The Future", where Jack is sort of introduced via his mother's resurrection. He doesn't know how to use this power but he unconsciously does it again with his father. And I ask again: why?

Jack wakes Cas up in "The Big Empty", four episodes into the season. He could've done it sooner? No. Because what prompts him to unconsciously act is Dean's grief. And Dean reaches his boiling point when Sam finally provokes him. Osiris/Cas dies and his consort Isis/Dean is inconsolable. Other people like Sam can forget about it, but Dean can't in every sense of the verb.

In the myth it's Isis who resurrects Osiris and has a child, Horus, with him. But she got help. Dean's only human but there is a demi-god running around in his bunker so I think that helped. And Cas must be credited for the effort and the pushing.

Let's just say that resurrecting Castiel took three, actually four people okay? It required a team effort. Because none of them is a fully-fledged god like God or Amara or some Archangel who can just snap their fingers and boom welcome back to Life. Coaxing someone into resurrection (a resurrection with consent) takes a lot of willpower... and a lot of love.

I said four people because the last character in this little story is The Shadow. And we see this in the myth as well!

Isis doesn't "just" resurrect Osiris, she has to convince the motherfucker. Cause, you see, Osiris's heart was tired. A tired heart! Oh so beautiful! He didn't see the reason to go back to life. He was sooo tired. Isis has to literally seduce him back to life. And... this is kind of what The Shadow does, but in reverse? It tells Castiel to go back to sleep, to find peace, it's been in his mind and he wants to sleep, it knows!

The Shadow is Cas' tiredness, all his failures and regrets. But, as I said, it takes a lot of willpower and a lot of love to resurrect the dead, this is what Isis teaches us actually. To love more and then some more. And Cas loves back and he loves hard.

Castiel: You can prance and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I’m awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for…ever. For eternity.

He didn't come back because he annoyed an ancient cosmic being. He came back because he loved.

So Osiris/Cas are back to life and that's good, right? Well... yeahhh. The thing is that Osiris will then live in the world of the dead so he kinda doesn't really really stay alive for long. And Isis will follow him. Things will likely go bad for Cas.

But the story continues!

Set/Lucifer and Horus/Jack engage in a rather disturbing (in the myth) struggle for power. The myth has different endings: in one they reconcile, in another they divide the realm, in yet another one Horus is the one true winner. So we don't really know (from this point in the narrative) how things will actually turn out for the two of them.

Isn't it interesting? Well, it's not surprising because there is a connection between christian stories and greek and egyptian ones but still? Kinda cool to see how myths keep repeating and repeating. As if we're still trying to understand them.

Anyway: yes to the widower arc, yes to love piercing through the veil of death. Both ways! It takes the love of two to resurrect.

[pastelcheckereddreams]

Four Seasons Manor WIP update

What's this?! A drafting update?! Yes! Only a year after the first one 😂

I admit I did fall down a massive rabbit hole with the set sleuthing, but I felt I just couldn't move on without solving the mystery of the two sets' layouts. Links to that three-part saga here:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

With that mystery solved and the layout plans all set, I can finally bring you some previews for my drafting project as a whole!

Recognise anything? 👀

I'm aware that no one likes reading walls of text (I say while producing nothing but lengthy text posts like it's its own art form). So, for more info on how this draft will take shape as a final piece, follow the cut below.

Please also considering supporting me by reblogging my art and research posts, donating to my kofi, or buying one of my prints 🙏✨

Further artist links can be found in my pinned post (project list).

project list | kofi | prints

So, if you're one of the crazy people who actually read through the previous set sleuthing in its entirety, first of all I love you. Second of all, you will be aware of the artistic dilemma I posited at the end of the layout updates:

How can I merge these two very different sets together? Should I merge them together? Do I present an architecture draft that is simply reportage - showing both sets, and summarizing their different uses in the show, or do I draft the Four Seasons Manor I see emerging in the crossover of these two sets - the one I can feel starting to take shape in my brain?

I have decided to do both! 😃🤡

This piece will follow the draftsman style of my previous set design projects, and include buildings from both sets - but only as much as we are presented with on-screen, rather than the wider film set.

This is because, at its heart, my drafts are a way to better understand the locations that are presented to us by the show - a further way to enrich the scenes by understanding the space they are set within, and as an exploration of any cultural cues that I for one, as a Westerner, may not spot a lot of the time.

What kept bugging me, though, was that my fantasy world-building brain was not satisfied - I could not envision a whole, cohesive location for Four Seasons Manor because I kept noticing the switch from one set to the next. (Location spotting in cdramas has now become somewhat of a party trick for me 😂 The fourth wall has been broken.)

Now, I have not written fic in a long time, as the posting dates in my hanwenzhou tag can attest to, but we all know the persistence of the blorbo brainrot. I wanted to be able to imagine a place for all my happy wenzhou family, rebuilt Siji aus!!

So, going forward, I will be producing some more art that marries the two sets together and I can present as my interpretation of a full, rebuilt Four Seasons Manor in bloom - drawing on much of the set designs I have seen through my research, and my own personal headcanons.

I'm not sure how I want to do this yet, but I may start out using Siji to practice my marker art skills. So expect it to look a little like these pieces from my previous projects:

And, of course, the birdseye view of the Siji set at the beginning of this post.

I'm excited to begin!

That said, once the Four Seasons Manor draft is done, I also want to return to my CQL project and continue drafting the major sects. I better get moving 😂

Thank you for your support and encouragement, as always 💛

project list | kofi | prints

[kingkenzieofmold]

The Jewelled Maverick AU: ‘Pink Starlight’ Ashley Jang

Hi, I have a habit of yoinking other peoples characters and making them into Alternate Versions of themselves. I have created many and have gotten the green light to show off and talk about! This is my Role Swap AU that I made with @mai-mai-lim characters! Ashley Jang and Henry Stickmin [Min Seung-Jae] have Swapped Roles.

Mentioned Characters belong to Respective Creators: Brutus - @smoresthehalloweenqueen Cameron Copperbottom - @rarestdoge

Ashley went on to be a Dazzling Thief Named ‘Pink Starlight’ or ‘Starlight’. She failed at breaking into the bank and was arrested. It took her too long to pick pocket a guard of a phone but she eventually lawyer up!

She heard about the diamond and was not about to fail again. looking into it she discovered the Toppats Plans to steal it and executed the plans before they could. Successfully stealing the diamond and picking up a Mary Popins bag from the museum old movies section.

The government impressed kidnapped her to inflate the airship. Offering her to pardon of her crimes, which is rude cause she worked hard on her criminal record and instead asked them to add more crimes after she done. She gets onto the airship pure blood thief and private Investigator style, heading to the records room she meets Brutus and they have awkward moment. Ashley disguised as a Toppat gets Brutus to help her find a file on the newest heist. He does and she has her file for Galeforce.

Eventually she makes her way to the cells which lead to the vault room. As she wants to rob the Toppat of their Ruby on top of their files. She kidnaps Dave by lock picking his cell and making him get into her Mary Popin’s bag of holding. Fiddling with the door, she can’t get it open and ops for the vents.

She in counters Cameron on the way and after some convincing they head to the vault. Cameron who is really suspicious of her is ready for if she try’s anything. Ashley tricks him and lipstick tasers him, yoinking the ruby making a get away. You see, Ashely did grab the headset for PI. She just never put it on but now in the dark photo room she does. Charles is asking and Galeforce is demanding what’s happening she explains that she needs a distraction and ask if Charles can hack into speaker.

He can and so she makes her move. Heading to the Cargo bay she encounters Cameron again pissed the fuck off and ready to kill her. Speaker hacked they end up in a Friday Night Funkin’ inspired battle. Ashley ends up winning and dipping out of the cargo bay doors. The files she grab were not the correct ones but she did kidnap Dave and handed him over to the government as a witness.

Of course the add crimes made her a prime Wall target and she gets captured by them. Without her bag she has no way of getting out just yet.

In the background between Infiltrating the Airship and Fleeing the Complex both Ashley and Cameron developed a rivalry to have as many articles written about them in comparison to the other. They are determine to be the better thief and have been creating elaborate heists. Sabotage each other’s heists and Cameron has been trying to learn ‘Pink Starlights’ Identity as he doesn’t know it yet.

When Ashley is captured by the Wall it is posted all over the News ruining Camerons mood, so he spends a week planing a heist to break into the wall and Rescue all the Toppats there. Brutus has to convince him not to bust in and they sneak into the facility. They get to the control panel of all the cells and Cameron being impatient key smashes the panel, freeing everyone including Ashely.

Running out of her cell she find the room where her bag is being stored and cartoon style climbs in and charges into her normal thief outfit. Running to the exit she is in a western face off against Cameron and the Toppats. About to have a face off, to which Brutus interrupts and yells at them that they have to do that later cause the Wall is about to be on their asses. Ashley and Cameron give each other the ‘I get you next time’ look before awkwardly exited out the same doors.

The Toppats make their escape towards there stole truck before Brutus gets grabbed by Dimitri, Cameron flipping off Dimitri distracts him and they get away. Cameron about to enter the trucks get pulled out by Dimitri, who is pissed the fuck off by Cameron. Ashely seeing this is not letting it slide and drives up on the motorbike slamming Dimitri with a roundabout sign. Silence before Ashely and Camron start arguing again before Brutus grabs him again and forces him into the truck. Ashley drives out to the small bar and ask Charles for a pick up leading us into Completing the Mission.

The space station launch site is a battle felid when Charles and Ashely arrive. Fighting their way through the chaos they mange to make it to the Space Station just as Cameron Launches it into the air. Managing to grab hook her way onto the cargo bay she climbs in. Charles yelling into her ear that she is going to high altitude and to abort mission looking into the cargo bay determined. She see him.

Seung-Jae, her cousin, who she has not talked to for nine years.

“Ashley?” He whispered unsure whether it’s her or not.

“actually, its Starlight now.” Smiling she jumps from the cargo bay doors pulling out an umbrella and floating down grabbing onto Charles Helicopter rails. Upon Climbing in Charles asks her what happened and she smiles a wide sly grin.

“meet an old acquaintance again.”

On the cargo bay Seung-Jae is stunned not expecting to see his cousin after everything. Brutus in the background looks startled at the realization that Henry Stickmin Knows who ‘Starlight’ actually is. This changes everything.

I hoped you enjoyed my little role swap AU I made from my friend’s characters. I have some more but want to wait to ensure I get the green light on them! I had to leave out a lot of details, as this was meant to be a synopsis. Still ended up way too long so if you made it this far… Hi! I wish you a wonderful day and hope you enjoyed!<3

Any further questions ask maimai please!

Bonus Art

✨Sly Starlight Emote✨

[wolfdrawer]

Alright so, who's ready for a cowboy au!!

General premise of it:

Gideon Coal is on the hunt for the hobgoblins that took his family away from him and has left him a permanent scar. With the help of a crew he hired, he'll finally seek his revenge.

All characters are their normal races just not their classes. So...Avantris that got hit with the western stick. Just so there's no confusion.

And they all have different nicknames but I haven't thought of much...still a work in progress.

Characters:

Gideon Coal:

•The leader who's fiery revenge is gonna make for a mighty risky plan.

•His outfit is like Orville Peck's if it was more chaotic and messy.

• (Thank you @obsidiancreates for this idea) He looks like a mess on purpose, since he's had too many people doubting him, might as well adapt to it. His guns doesn't look clean so people assume he's got no game and will get himself killed.

•His fine weapon of choice is his Pappy's trusty shotgun and a dingy revolver that was left behind when the hobgoblins invaded. He's a tank that likes to go head first and do as much damage. Although he's not fully advanced with the revolver, he gets the job done with it.

•He's a massive risk taker, getting into fights with the wrong people to get what he wants and a big shit stirrer whether it's flirting or sleeping with another man's girl or just pick pocketing from his winnings. If it's a risk, it's already worth it.

Kremy Lecroux :

•The proud owner of the Hungry Catfish after running away from his old employer. When he's not making sure the patrons of his bar aren't ripping each other to shreds or causing mayhem or doing finance, sometimes he likes to go down and give a show. Whether dancing or singing, he'll put on a show for his patrons.

•He's the only one not affected by the hobgoblins because he runs away whenever he's paranoid and feels like they are too close to his business or his life. But he knows too many stories.

•He can be a flirt but it never goes far because although he doesn't look like it, he's a fighter.

•He's the closest one that maybe has magic, however, it's all just a magic trick, smoke and mirrors as he performs.

•His performing outfit consists more of a regular button up, a corset, leather gloves, normal leather pants, and a big jacket. And his actual outfit is something I have to get drawing on. He does wear his makeup for each outfit, his performing outfit more of the typical voodoo paintings and then when he's out, it's a hand made skull mask he made.

•Weapons of choice would be his two ranger guns that sit on the lower back of him and his cane that doubles as a hidden sword because I do love me some hidden swords.

•You can make a deal with him, whether it's getting him for a heist or helping you get the money you need from a game, he's your man as long as you can pay him with as much as you got. (60 - 40 like he said)

Morning Frost:

•A working farm hand that got his knack for shooting things across the way when he had to quickly grab his mom's rifle and snipe a hobgoblin that was about to grab his friend. He got a few more shots in before the hobgoblins finally got away from his village. He was regarded as a hero and forced to learn the ways of the world pretty harshly. Now in the future, his knack for the rifle has landed him to be able to turn off his emotions in a pinch to get the job done, although it bleeds through when the going gets tough.

•His outfit, and this may be obscure, is going to be a sort of ref to Tigerclaw from the 2012 TMNT, just without the eye patch and adding a few more details to make it more cowboy aesthetic.

•His weapon of choice of course is his mom's trusty rifle that he cares for deeply and makes sure it's in tip top shape everyday.

•He's calculated, knowing risks and how dumb it would be to do something, but he's not above going in and sniping for a job if he desperately needs the money.

•He still lives in his village, now a protector of sorts and still practices his shooting to hone it even though he's already good, but good just isn't enough.

•He has 2 lockets around his neck that his mom and dad wore, each containing a faux gem that he feels represents them with a picture of each them. I will say the jewels later but I have to do my research on jewels.

Gricko Grimgrin and Hootsie T. Grimgrin:

•A man in the midst of woods and barely any civilization, Gricko lives for the hunt. With his daughter and trusty companion Hootsie, they scavenge all they can for their meals. Unlike the rest of the guys, they are so far into the woods, that they don't know any stories about hobgoblins nor have they even heard anything that sounds like a train. What is a train to them?

•Because of hunting, he's mastered the art of traps and the usefulness of materials. Everyday, he makes a new trap or stocks up on old ones, just to be ready. On his scavenging, he finds things that people who venture too close have and makes more of his weapons like makeshift bombs or fixing himself a knife as best as he can. Basically a wild man.

•Weapons of choice would be his makeshift bombs, think of Sokka's bomb from Avatar, and a janky knife he tried to make using bullets he found on a random corpse. It does it's job and that's all that matters to him. I am debating on whether or not to give him a gun, but I want to get everyone different guns. Still debating.

•Hootsie was going to be one of Gricko's marks, but Gricko does understand nature more than anything and took pity on the owlbear cub that lost its momma, and now he raises her as his own, inseparable. Now, she helps with scoping out prey and sniffing out when people are near.

And that's what I have so far! Hopefully I can fully get more of an idea for them and can get the map fully to really scope out how much these hobgolbins have fucked with everyone, but for now, take these disconnecting things. Torbek and Twig will be here as well, but I'm also trying to figure out their backstory and their roles in this without overlapping a bunch. The drawings I will have to add later because Gricko's and Frost is something I have to workshop. Especially Gricko because I want to make him a wild man but not a savage, anyone catch what I'm putting down, you know. If not it's fine, but I just have to think of his outfit. Anyway Enjoy!

[impulsivefanwriter]

Other Emperors AU — Ninjago

So. The beloved Ice Emperor. The corrupting potential of the Staff of Forbidden Spinjitzu + Amnesia + Vex.

Now what if the Ice Emperor came in other flavours?

That’s right, introducing the Other Emperors AU, a collection of different “What ifs” for if other people had been zapped with the staff by Aspheera!

Different Versions:

Earth Emperor / King of the Underworld = Cole

Lightning Emperor / Thunder God / Lightning Striker = Jay

Fire Emperor / Western Wildfire / Fire Maker = Kai

Energy Emperor / Lord of Energy / Luh-Lord = Lloyd

Water Empress / Commander of the Sea / Wrath of the Waves = Nya

Empress of Technology / Automated Empress / Overseer / The Technodrome = Pixal

Creation Emperor / Second Spinjitzu Master / The Creator = Wu

Not all of them are fleshed out (honestly most just have… one or two minor ideas, but I’ll gladly bounce ideas back and forth with people in Reblogs, comments, and/or asks!), but here’s what I’ve got—

Earth Emperor / King of the Underworld

- Got zapped into the Neverrealm instead and lost his memories from a concussion in the fight

- Vex finds him and the staff and convinces him to take it

- He raises/sinks the Earth to create a stone dome over the realm and make it a cavern of tunnels; some call him the King of the Underworld (Hades vibes) for it and he hates it even if he can’t remember why (haha forgotten Skulkin memories)

- Master of the Mountain mixed with ancient mythology vibes

- His hair grows out and becomes partially lava because come on that look just is so cool on him ; his armour is also formed of obsidian/onyx and crystals

- Difficult to anger (a very patient emperor that listens to his people whenever Vex doesn’t interfere) but if you do (usually on Vex’s manipulation) OH BOY you’re in for it now

- Built a dangerous labyrinth King-Minos-style complete with a stone minotaur in the centre that he sends prisoners/people Vex tricks him into thinking are enemies

- Is very fascinated by Kai’s fire (and Jay’s lightning) because the only light source in the caverns are glowing crystals formed from his powers or special regulated flint/coal-based fires

- He keeps Kai with him when the Ninja arrive and banish the rest to the labyrinth to “prove themselves” on Vex’s manipulation (possibly specifically dropping Jay in the minotaur room as a sacrifice because Jay made a menace of himself in the throne room)

- The Ninja make it through the traps because they’re all kinda Cole-themed (like one involves the Triple Tiger Sashay) and arrive back at the throne room after defeating the stone minotaur, much to Cole/Vex’s astonishment/ire respectively

- Cole realizes the Ninja are telling the truth and that Vex has been lying to him and ends up dropping the staff after reverting the Neverrealm back to its original state

Lightning Emperor / Thunder God / Lightning Strike

- Realizes Zane’s vision (yeah, Jay is the only person who knew Zane had a vision and he DISMISSED IT, hecking come on) is about to come true and shoves Zane out of the way of Aspheera’s shot

- Cracked his head on a rock falling through the portal and has zero memories <3 Should he be dead? Probably. But he’s Jay, so he survives, especially with his boosted element lashing out

-  Vex finds him and is so confused over the lightning appearance but realizes he can use it

- Skybound / Lightning Ruins parallels with Jay ripping up chunks of ground and making floating magnetized islands

- Has a very ominous cult following Vex leads because its Jay, of course it would happen, its not the first time

- Is kinda revered more as a ‘godly figure’ than an emperor (Vex uses his status to make orders in Jay’s name)

- Kinda unhinged, but you can blame the staff + Vex + the concussion and blood loss

- Fascinated by Cole because he absorbs/grounds lightning fine ; also fascinated by Zane who is a walking metal lightning rod

- Constantly zapping around

Fire Emperor / Western Wildfire / Fire Maker

- Lost his powers to Aspheera, battled her with the second staff, and got his butt yeeted to the Never Realm- that’s rough, buddy

- Gets his well-deserved focus season

- He really means well and just wants to keep his people safe, but unfortunately it comes across as overly possessive and tyrannical 

- Older brothers so hard that he comes across as evil/possessive and aggressive when he’s trying to be caring and protective

- Don’t have much for him because the fandom already has insanely cool Fire Emperor AUs

Energy Emperor / Lord of Energy / Luh-Lord 

- So many Lord Garmadon parallels

- ONI-DRAGON LLOYD ONI-DRAGON LLOYD

- Also a surprising amount of Morro parallels about making his own destiny

- So, so traumatized and got corrupted simply for wanting to take his fate into his own hands for once

- Punts Vex out of the castle because he’s had enough of people telling him what to do

- Kinda goes back to S1 Lloyd because this kid just wants his childhood back

- Goes from “scary emperor who’s going to execute you” to “excited little kid” the second he sees his siblings

- Taking the staff back hurts because Lloyd isn’t mad, he’s just super sad and confused and pleads with them not to do it

Water Empress / Commander of the Sea / Wrath of the Waves

- The Never Realm just became the Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker

- All the ice and snow melts into an ocean with islands

- Nya builds a big ol’ palace that’s both above and below the water’s surface

- Seabound parallels in terms of architecture (lots of accidental Wojira foreshadowing)

- So. Much. Rage. You anger Nya, you’re done for.

- The staff + her element amplified the ocean’s whispers and she’s kinda merged with the sea but not fully, her memories are a bit scattered

- Was going to take on Vex as an advisor because he convinced her she knew him before her memories got lost/scattered, but then her memories associate him with Krux, and she kicks him onto a lone island

- Her brothers have to face the ocean to get to her. They hate it, but they do it anyway 

Empress of Technology / Automated Empress / Overseer / The Technodrome

- Pixal gets to sacrifice herself for Zane

- While the staff doesn’t amplify powers for her, she still gets boosted strength, speed, smarts, etc., her processor running at 300x proficiency

- Is able to get the mech up and running— she DID build it, after all

- Still loses her memories from Vex’s interference, somewhat reverts to S3 Pixal

- Makes the entire realm “efficient” and rapidly revolutionizes technology

- Easily one of the scariest rulers because of how good she is at it

- Took Vex on as an Advisor because of his knowledge of the realm, then fired him once she was done. 

“But you— you cannot FIRE me! I am your loyal, most trusted advisor—” 

“And you are no longer necessary. There is more important matters to attend to.”

- It’s very difficult to dismantle her empire

Creation Emperor / Second Spinjitzu Master / The Creator

- Aspheera blasts her intended target

- Wu is sent to the Never Realm with the other staff

- The Ninja are devastated because they just lost their Sensei AGAIN just after getting him back

- Wu refuses to use the staff at first but then… well, he starts getting desperate to return. He misses his family. And his essence— creation— could be used to help the people of this realm. So he uses it once or twice, sparingly, to help the villages, to help travellers— and slowly gets more and more addicted. Why does this realm hurt the people in it? If his essence is one of creation, couldn’t he use it to… reform this realm into something more peaceful? More habitable? Remake it in his own image? Correct all the mistakes he’s made, start again, start better—

- FSM and Pilots-S2 Garmadon parallels

- His students manage to get into the Never Realm only to find it “prosperous” and “thriving”

- Bonus if there are copies of them, but the way Wu sees them— uncanny valley alert

- EXTRA bonus if there’s a fake Morro that’s based on how he was as a student / if he’d lived , and a fake Garmadon cured of venom and evil

- Breaking their Sensei out of this illusion of a perfect world really hurts

- Wu is traumatized by all his mistakes and they get acknowledged in this AU whether he wants them to be or not <3

[dinlukeweek]

💚🖤DinLuke Week 2023 Prompts List💚🖤

Hey there, DinLukers! It’s time! Can we get a drumroll, please?🥁

June 11:

Mand'alor & Alo'riduur - The Senate Deals with DinLuke Shenanigans

June 12:

Arranged Marriage AU - Fake Relationship

June 13:

Din & Grogu Captured on Tython, Luke to the Rescue - Battle Couple

June 14:

Western AU - Pre-A New Hope AU

June 15:

Courting Gifts - Assassin/Prince or Prince/Protector AU

June 16:

Growing Old Together/Old Married Couple - Bathing/Hair Washing

June 17:

Teacher!Luke/Single Dad Din - Accidental Secret Marriage

Here are the final prompts for DinLuke week this year! Thank you to everyone who submitted all these awesome prompts (you more than doubled the submissions from last year!).🎉🤍 Since some of the prompts were very similar to last year’s prompts, we didn’t include them in the final tally (you can check out last year’s here and all the entries!)

We hope these will inspire all you wonderful fanwork creators. And if these aren’t enough, we also have some prompts that didn’t make the cut, but we thought were just as amazing! Just like last year, we decided that they deserve honorable mentions and wanted to share them as well! Here is the list of this year’s honorable mentions:

70's DinLuke

Comic Con Cosplayers

Din & Luke Find a Mythosaur Egg

Tea & Blue Biscuits

Ted Lasso AU

Tricked into Self-care

Luke & Grogu Come to Save Din from Gideon

When posting week arrives, @dinlukeweek and/or include #dinluke week 2023 in your tags so we can find and reblog your submissions! If you're posting to AO3, you can also submit your creations to the DinLuke Week 2023 collection!

And if you're looking for a place to chat about your works or collaborate or just to scream about DinLuke, send an ask to the Star Dads blog to join our Discord server!

We can’t wait to see what you'll come up with this time around 💖

@swfandomevents

[leonawriter]

Fantasy/Royalty au where Toichi's mother went on the run with him after court intrigue, Toichi himself grew up effectively (but not legally) in exile after the incident, and although he kept planning to tell Kaito the whole story after he was born, he just... never got around to it. What with having become a thief in order to find a gem before the people who were the reason his mother went on the run did.

And then he dies, and Kaito grows up, and then Kaito finds out his dad was actually assassinated which is wild because he always thought his dad was just the most amazing and best performer in the kingdom and several others besides, and now there's all this other stuff he just... doesn't know.

So Kaito starts out closer to home, which is the easiest and objectively best thing since dad had ended up staying here and he must have for a reason, but on the other hand his childhood friend Aoko's father is the captain of the guard, and the prince is way too observant.

It's a good thing Kaito's got a knack for Hiding things as one of his personal special abilities. If someone's really paying attention then they'll be able to see through it. Aoko's dad doesn't, really. Most people don't. And they expect everything he does to be Real Magic, too, meaning they put counter-measures in place that he just slips past with his sleight of hand and Hiding tricks.

Saguru, though. The Hakuba family being the rulers of the Ekoda kingdom, and Saguru's father being all indulgent and encouraging to help the guard catch that thief (he'd have been around for Toichi, in this story, recognise the style and methodology if not who it is), and Saguru is fascinated.

I'm just thinking of a bunch of crazy adventures and hijinks in which Kaito's kind of courting Aoko as Kaito but also kind-of sort-of flirting with Saguru as Kaitou Kid.

Secrets come out (first with Aoko, because she knows him better, and he fully expects her to turn him in to her father but instead she cusses him out while healing an arrow injury while he whines and tries not to move) and then with Saguru (which starts with Kaito panicking because oh gods the prince has him figured out, he's gonna be executed and ends with "Aoko wants to meet you, is that okay? Be warned, she may try and give you a shovel talk because she's been like, my only friend since I was a kid, but she's been wanting to meet you ever since she realised I look the same when thinking about you as when I'm looking at her."

For a while things get a little dicey because it's a bit of a political scandal that the prince is getting involved with someone who doesn't even have a title-

And then the king throws a tournament and people from the surrounding kingdoms all turn up to join in the fun, and this one guy from one of the Western Kingdoms with a strong accent comes up to Kaito and starts talking with him like they're close friends, and when he's corrected he drags Kaito over to where his actual friend, who'd sent a messenger because he'd been waiting, is.

And then Yusaku, one of the neighbouring kings, takes one look at Kaito and recognises Toichi in him.

A not even a few days later, and Kaito is still coming to terms with having a cousin who's royalty, an uncle who's a king, and oh, huh, looks like the scandal's called off, because he's royalty and no one in the kingdom's gonna care about how he's basically married to Aoko too so long as they can see he loves their future king as much as he does and they don't screw up the new treaty negotiations the king's making with Kaito's uncle.

(Kaito's rather less impressed with his cousin, who sees through his tricks and is the worst sort of critic - one who even prefers Real Magic over sleight of hand, because in Shinichi's words "at least Magic still works along a set of rules, while tricks like those rely on pulling the wool over the audience's eyes and lying to them."

They're known for getting along when they really need to, though.)

[modelbus]

Overall Masterlist

MCYT Masterlist

Call of Duty

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He Doesn't Look Back

Romance Readings

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Workplace Hazards

Western AU - Mayor [EVENT]

Soulmate AU - Cage [EVENT]

John Price

Too Sweet

Soulmate AU - Sorry My Love [EVENT]

Six of Crows

Kaz Brekker

Tricked Target

It's All an Act Part 1

It's All an Act Part 2

Events

Flufftober 2024

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

You know the drill. Some unstructured thoughts about All Hallow's Eve in the literal grim reaper Akai!AU

Halloween, the night of the living dead. Rei would call it Westerner nonsense, dismiss it in favour of Obon, if he couldn't feel the veil growing thinner.

He is sensitive to death on a good day, and that night is simply the worst. It's easy now, to hear their calls - they haunt and taunt him, those he lost, beckoning for him to join them. Akemi and Date. Matsuda. Hagiwara. Elena. Mother.

In a way, it is worse that he can't hear the one voice he's missing the most: Hiro's.

Each year, Rei holes himself up in his room and stares at the fading photographs; each year, it gets harder to recall the joy that once filled them during his vigil. Maybe he shouldn't have asked for Death to come back into his life; Akai is quiet, and the dead only seem louder by comparison. It's only a matter of time until they catch up with him.

And if he's bridging the gap, one bottle of scotch at a time, who could blame him? Just Death himself, and really, who is He to talk.

(Rei tries not to think about the young woman in his contact list who left him on read.)

A knock at the door interrupts his musings.

At this hour of night, it's probably Kazami; no one else would dare bother him. And on his day off, too - it must be important. Rei grabs his gun and coat, ready to head out.

He's greeted instead by an unexpected sight.

For all the time he's known him, Akai has always appeared in inconspicuous, everyday clothes. If one doesn't look too hard, he blends in, whatever the scenario. Tonight, though, he wears an all-black suit, a red rose pinned over his heart. A candle burns in a small glass lantern, radiating warmth.

The porcelain mask can't obscure his identity, not to Rei.

"Why are you here?" The eerie chill of death that usually accompanies Akai is missing. Rei checks himself - no burning, stinging, numbness, not any of the usual signs of being close to death. The hallway is empty, quiet, too - no shrieks of bloody murder, gunshots, crying.

Just the same cool quiet that follows Akai, in the moments after.

"Let's just say that tonight is a special occasion."

Rei crosses his arms. There's no need to invite Akai in; if he wanted to be, he would've stepped inside between two blinks. "Oh? Have you finally changed your mind and come to claim me?"

He knows better than to get his hopes up, but just for a moment, his breathing stills, the pull to Akai intensified. Then, his traitorous heart continues to beat the countdown to the inevitable.

He can't see behind the mask, but he can hear the same old wistfulness in Akai's voice. "Of course not. Please stop asking for what I cannot give you."

Rei has half a mind to slam the door in his face. This is a waste of time.

"I was simply close-by, and wanted to try out a custom I heard about." Akai straightens, coughs, and then, with a certain innocence, asks: "Trick or treat?"

He extends a gloved hand, expectantly.

Rei blinks. He feels just a little bad for having to squash Akai's enthusiasm immediately; it's not like he has many others he could ask that question. "I have no treats to give you, and you can't play tricks on me." At least that's what he hopes. Maybe all of this is a trick, already. He doesn't think he drank that much, but usually, Akai doesn't show up until he has.

"Ah, but you could treat me." Akai takes his silence as a cue to continue. "Would you care to accompany me, for a night?"

A shiver runs down Rei's spine. Follow Akai even deeper into blood-stained misery? One day, he'll surely be numb to the suffering of humanity; unfortunately, or perhaps thankfully, today is not that day.

And hopefully, it won't be any time soon.

"I would rather not. I think I've seen enough of your" - our - "work."

Akai's shoulders slump. The candle flickers, fought by unseen winds.

"My goal for the night is something different. I promise that no harm would come to you - body, mind and soul. Cross my heart and hope to die."

Against his better judgement, Rei is forced to smile - a useless promise, from Death himself. Admittedly, he is curious about how that would work out. But if Akai were to disappear from his life again, Rei would really rather die. Death is a poor excuse for a friend, but at least he's reliable.

"Is this a ploy to get rid of me?"

Akai does him the favour of flinching - whatever his true emotions are, if he can even have them at all, they remain looked behind the mask. "No. I simply thought your skills would be most useful. There's a lot of struggling lost souls around, tonight. Not all of them know that they are, but they still require guidance."

Now that piques Rei's interest. "I could be meeting the dead, with you?"

Akai merely shrugs. "The living. The dead. The ones lost in-between. There's very little difference, tonight."

Hm. If there's any chance at all he might get to see the ones he loves again, this might be it. Besides, if it's to help others, he can't very well decline, either - it feels like forever ago that he swore an oath to his country, but it glimmers within him, still. What difference is there between going out to fight crime with Kazami, or picking up the pieces with Akai?

"Fine. I'm coming with you."

Not in the way he really wants, but it's a start. He'll need to be patient.

It's insanity to trust the words of Death; but Akai has proven himself time and time again, through some of the worst times in Rei's life. For better as well as for worse, Rei knows he means him no harm. And if he did, well, that would only suit Rei just fine.

He takes Akai's hand. Even through the thick leather glove, the familiar cool spreads through his arm, into his core. It nestles in his chest, slows his heartbeat to a crawl, but Rei is not afraid. He's hated Death, screamed at him, fought him. But never once has he feared the reaper.

At the corners of the mask, he thinks he sees Akai smile.

.

They walk like ghosts among the bustling city streets. People get out of Akai's way - if he had to guess, Rei would suspect they can instinctively sense something inhuman moving about, and try to avert their eyes, hoping to escape without the beast noticing. He's never walked the city as unimpeded as he does now, trailing in Akai's wake. The feverish enthusiasm pulsing through the city at night fails to excite his heart.

It quickly becomes apparent why Akai asked for his help. There's a certain difficulty involved in trying to guide lost souls when they can't see him, or actively avoid him. Granted, there's some that are susceptible, but he's not nearly as solid to them as he is to Rei. It's just easier for him to do the talking.

Some of the souls are simple enough to deal with; give a young man some change so he can take a train home and see his family. Let a foreigner know where to find their hotel. Others, not so much.

The little girl might look up at Akai in wide-eyed innocence, too young to have learnt to fear Death, but her smile doesn't tell them where she's from. It's simple enough for Rei to look up the local missing persons cases and figure out her address. His badge provides them with cover for bringing her back to her family. Akai squeezes her little hand, once, and then she's off, suddenly unable to hold back her tears, as she huddles into her father's legs.

The parents thank Rei profusely. It feels improper, to take all the credit when he wouldn't even have known where to look if it wasn't for Akai. But there's simply no way he can tell them that Death was the one who found her and brought her home. It would just scare them needlessly.

The smile painted onto the porcelain mask will have to be enough, for Rei.

.

Akai makes sure to accommodate Rei; he takes doors and stairs where he normally wouldn't, walks with him instead of just appearing as he pleases.

They lock doors so people don't get lost in the first place, and guide those lost in the dark by the light of Akai's lantern, so they may find their way back home safely. Despite for how long they walk, the candle never seems to get smaller.

Through every interaction, Akai walks quietly by his side. He's clearly driven from target to target, but rather hands-off when it comes to actually handling them.

"I don't recall you being this lazy", Rei grumbles after making sure an old lady has reached her nephew's home safely. Nobody should be alone, tonight, if they can help it. Especially not the vulnerable demographics, the young and the elderly.

"I could help them", Death says quietly, sombrely. "But your solutions are preferable."

The cheeky retort dies on Rei's lips, and he hurries to stay in the light of Akai's lantern.

.

None of the souls they meet seem particularly dead, to Rei. It's possible Akai lied to him - though he has never done so, before - or that, for the sake of his promise, he's keeping them away from the ones that would be too dangerous. Or maybe Rei simply can't tell the dead apart from the living, anymore. It wouldn't surprise him.

.

There's mercifully few brushes with death, though they seem unavoidable in Akai's company.

Rei keeps telling himself that it's not Akai's fault people want to die - he knows this, both rationally and from first-hand experience.

But it still hits too close to home, when a middle-aged businessman tries to jump off a building. Before he really registers it, Rei sprints up the stairs; it's not Hiro, he's many years too late to help his friend, but he can't help himself. He's projecting; his frantic pleading isn't for this man he doesn't know, but for the ghost he can't hear, anymore.

Rei's still shaking, long after the man has climbed back over the fence and started to make his way home. The direct way down seems so much simpler than bothering with the stairs. His knees give with relief. He did it.

Oblivion calls, and Rei...Rei...

"Rei." Cool hands pull him back against something sturdier than the fence. "Please don't run off on your own. You're making it rather difficult to keep my word."

That's funny. If he didn't know any better, Rei would think Akai is struggling to breathe - but that's not possible, death can't be out of breath. It must simply be Rei's own ragged breathing that he's projecting onto Akai. The overflow of sensations is difficult to sort out; Akai's chill only creeps in slowly.

One by one his thoughts wink out, lights and sounds muted until there's nothing left but Akai's soothing presence. Of course, that's when he's let go. Akai helps him back over the fence, one hand held up galantly.

Even after he's back from the edge, Rei continues to hold on to his hand.

.

Akai makes sure he grabs something to eat - when did Rei last have dinner? Who knows.

Akai steers them clear of people, into more abandoned places. They switch to visiting graveyards - what leads Akai to the particular graves he visits, he doesn't say. Rei still makes it a point to memorize them; maybe they will grant him further insight into the reaper.

Rei wonders if Akai can even pray - is there anyone who would listen, to something like him? Then again, it's also not clear whether the dead would listen to Rei, so all they can do is try and hope for the best.

He wasn't planning to do so, but Rei ends up visiting his friends' graves. Somehow, they're always close-by to the ones Akai seems drawn to. He can't spend as much time with each of them as he would like to, as they deserve. It's painful to really reminisce about them, even as Akai is by his side and all pain is dulled. Maybe it's because death is the source of his pain, that Akai can't help him.

Still, with each grave visited, Rei's head gets clearer, the voices that taunt him quieter. The air smells of cigarettes and autumn leaves. He's not forgotten them, but maybe they needed a sign that he still remembers them. Maybe he needed it, instead.

Of course he does. He could never stop loving them.

The porcelain mask smiles at him.

.

Compared to the icy fog that cloaks their way on the way back, Akai's hand seems almost warm in his. It's probably only an illusion of warmth, though, reflected off the lantern.

His legs should hurt, he thinks, judging by the distance they have covered. Instead, they're merely pleasantly numb. Will feeling return to them tomorrow? Would it matter if it didn't, if he gets to spend as much time as he can, with Akai?

.

"I have a treat for you as well."

Somehow, Akai leads him back home, safe and sound. He sets down the lantern in the entryway, as if that's the end of his night, too.

Rei is glad he went with him; it may have only been small things, but they clearly made a difference to those they talked to. He'll do whatever he needs to, save the world over and over again. But there's a joy in the mundane, and the little things add up to.

Maybe he should start working in café Poirot again.

Rei has the distinct impression they're doing this whole thing wrong when Akai hands him the blood-red rose that was pinned to his suit. Then again, he's never bothered to pay much attention to these sorts of Western customs.

"I apologize. It was supposed to be white, to better suit you. But..."

He puts two fingers to his chest - they come away glistening wetly. Though the colour is indiscernible on the black leather gloves, it doesn't take a genius to guess what it is.

"Don't look at me like that, it barely hurts. And it was well worth the prize."

A wave of nausea sweeps over Rei. "That's not still-"

Akai shrugs. "It merely festers, tonight. Don't worry about it; by dawn, it will close again." For someone slowly bleeding out from a bullet wound, Akai is being way too nonchalant. Sure, he's already dead - but who knows what could still happen to him. Can he feel pain? It sure seems that way, sometimes. Akai seems way too mortal tonight. Maybe if the damage got too bad, he could die again?

Then there truly would be no one left at all that cares for Rei.

Rei drags Akai inside his flat roughly, shoves him onto a chair, and fetches his med kit. He takes off Akai's suit jacket and dress shirt, both sticky with blood. As he slides away the tie, Rei pretends he doesn't see the ligature marks around his neck; there's nothing he can do about those.

Blood seeps out of the bullet hole Rei left in anger; if it didn't hurt him just to look at it, he'd be impressed by his accuracy, even while drunk. A shot straight through the heart. He can't bear to see it any longer than necessary.

Akai lets him work as he pleases, merely watches him. Brilliant green from behind the mask.

It's somewhat strange to bandage the grim reaper, but Rei can't seem to think of a better idea to stop the bleeding. He hopes it will hold, and that Akai spoke the truth - there's very little time left until morning.

Rei needs to see that he'll be alright, won't let him go before that time.

Thankfully, Akai isn't leaving, either.

They sit side by side on Rei's bed, wordlessly watching the sun rise. Akai starts growing colder, his shallow breathing stills. The heartbeat that made him bleed stops, while his usual frostbite returns in full force. Rei is forced to let go of Akai's hand, lest he wants to lose his own.

Akai gets up. He takes off the bandage to reveal a scar over his heart. Not pretty, but not bleeding at least.

"It seems this is as much time as we are going to get." He takes off his mask. The same usual, melancholic smile greets Rei. Though there's a quirk of amusement to his lips as he adds: "And here I thought you didn't want to treat me."

Agitation still burns through Rei. "How could I not?" It was his fault, after all.

"As of tonight, we're even, Rei." A brush of cold against his temple, numbing all thought. "Rest well. I'll see you again."

The rose stains his bedside table red, as Rei succumbs to sleep.

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 13

Author's Note: It's been an intense week for me, my loves, (I quit my job of 9 years!) so this was severely delayed, but here you are!

Description: You're forced to make a really tough decision, and as the war rages, you finally realize what it's gonna take to win.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Angst. Severe injuries. Word Count: 6427 Author's Masterlist

   You’re not quite sure how Simon’s managing to change the oceans so quickly, unless he’s concentrating all his efforts solely on the Atlantic, not trying to expand in all directions at once. Still, there is a lot of ocean to get through, and he’s advancing terrifyingly fast, turning thousands of square meters of the water into the same goop you saw in the Mexican Gulf, every few seconds.

   This is what allows him to stay at the front of his army, riding a bizarre wave of dead things at the head of his legion, while Oberyn circles above, keeping just under the shadow of the cloud, as if itching to reach new land to destroy.    Seeing him sends shards of glass through your heart. He’s not a spirit, which means your light won’t be able to save him, and you have to be prepared to kill him if you wanna win this war. There’s no other way this ends.

   But no matter how badly changed he is, you still see your beloved prince when you look at him. Your heart won’t stop choosing to see the love he gave you. It just won’t.    His gift will live on in you for as long as you survive this world, and in Day for the rest of all time, which is the only comfort you can find while you stand there in front of the now once more glowing lighthouse, waiting for the storm to hit.

   He is lost. But not gone. You can still save one small part of him.

   The cloud reaches over your heads just as the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky, no doubt a precisely calculated time-plan on Simon’s part, but the dragon pulls back then, remaining above the mass of the army as the gunk which replaces the sea makes landfall.    You guess that he’s being held back so he won’t kill too many people before they can be converted and added to the ranks, but it makes no difference as the island itself rejects their arrival.

   It’s more than a little satisfying to see the Darkling literally fall over when his wave of death is brought to an abrupt stop, as if hitting a wall, once it tries to spill over land.    You can’t help but grin smugly at him when he glares at you while getting back up, which of course, only further angers him.    But there’s no use. The light holds.

   “That’s a neat little trick, Lux. But you won’t keep me out forever,” he growls, and the slight tone of incredulity in his voice tells you this is something he hadn’t anticipated.

   Which must mean your spirit has never managed something like this before.

   “I thought you were the new and improved dark one. The best one ever,” you taunt, feeling a tad superior to have finally found an angle he can’t immediately break through. “I thought you knew all my tricks and had already figured out how to counter them.”

   “Like I said, it’s just a matter of time.”

   You refrain from replying that you can reach around the entire world like this, since angering him further isn’t gonna do you any favors.    Then Oberyn’s flame suddenly drops on you from above. As if spewed from one of those airplanes with water-tanks, used to combat wildfires, it cascades over the entire western coastline.    The dragon is sick of waiting for his cue, it seems.

   You can protect the island from the dark forces, which means he can’t land or swipe at people or animals on the ground, but his fire is just fire. Neither belonging to light nor darkness.    The people aren’t frightened of it, so they just stand there as it hits them, melting their bodies in mere seconds.

   If you don’t do something, the entire island will be destroyed. But the only thing you can do is try to kill the dragon.    The thought fills you with pain and sorrow, and Simon immediately senses it.

   “Poor little Boo. How awful it must be to know you have to kill your lover if you want to save these pitiful people.”

   You can feel him prodding at your mind, trying to slip past the light so he can disrupt your power, but you’ve been down this road before and you’re still immune to him.    Flooding your mind with all the happy memories, all the curious conversations in the beginning of your time at the castle, the immediate connection you’d felt with Oberyn and how it had eventually blossomed into love, you shove Simon out of your being with such force that it once again unbalances him.

   And when the dragon lines up for his next run, you use your connection to all the people around you to increase the strength of your beam, before unleashing it from your chest.    It hits him at the base of his throat before he veers off, but you maintain the beam, chasing after him until you’ve hit him again, leaving a glowing trail along his spine.    He crashes somewhere to the northwest, and the sea of malice swallows him whole.

   It’ll heal him, you know it will. He isn’t nearly damaged enough to be out of the game, but it gives you a while to think. And what you think is that you can’t fight a war by being only defensive.    Your enemy can and will wait practically forever for your barriers to fall. His army isn’t dependent on food and water to survive, whereas yours is.

   The only offensive measure in your arsenal is your light-beam but it won’t be enough to decimate Simon’s forces. You need to find a way to put a weapon in the hands of every living thing you’re connected to. But how?    While you’re working that problem, the Darkling continues to let his evil spread through the ocean, killing millions of water-dwelling creatures in the process, and when you see the black goo travel past the island, you suddenly wonder why your light hasn’t seemed to reach the underwater population at all.

   Reaching out towards Europe, you try to feel if your powers seem to have reached into the landlocked rivers and lakes, but the only answer you find is no.    Which means, given time, all water on the planet will eventually be infected and undrinkable, killing everything no matter how much light you try and infuse things with.    If you can’t find a way to protect the water, you’ll lose.

   You can’t see Caelum anywhere, so you have to assume she’s hiding and waiting for her moment to strike. But you’re also highly aware the other spirits are absent as well, meaning Simon knows you can restore them and is keeping them out of your reach.    Fuck!    You need more time. There are too many unanswered questions.

   Then something unexpected happens. A person on the beach below you loses his light, and the darkness instantly swallows him through the gap in your armor, giving it a foothold on the island. It can’t spread any further unless more people give in to it, but it still worries you.    The dark one must be whispering to them, reaching into their minds just like he tried to do with you and just like you expected him to. But you didn’t expect him to succeed in persuading anyone so quickly. It’s only been minutes…

   One problem at a time, that’s as much as you can work on, and right now, weapons take priority. You need a way to distribute light through something other than yourself.    Another person falls, further inland, leaving a second beast in her place. It writhes and screeches, clawing at the invisible barriers which contain it, already hungry. Desperate to consume.

   Consume… wait, that’s it!    Using your hand, you shoot a highly concentrated beam at the newly formed creature down on the beach, turning him into glowing dust. Your light has now consumed and transformed him, just like the darkness does to the living. Except the dust he becomes also becomes a part of you, because it’s light.

   Out of seemingly nowhere, Caelum suddenly swoops down over you, heading straight for the glowing dust and then beating her wings against it, sending it flying off over the blackened sea.    Taking the opportunity given, you attempt to amplify the light of those little specks as they disperse, and it works.

   Like fireworks, each and every particulate becomes a sizzling little bomb, which when it hits a creature of the dark, multiplies and creates a chain reaction which kills thousands in mere seconds.    Simon manages to stop its rampant progression by throwing masses of thick vines in its path, essentially drowning the fireworks. But this time, you’re the one who can sense his fear growing, because this is an effective weapon, and one he won’t be able to wait out or prevent.

   There’s no reason to hold back, so as soon as the first volley is extinguished, you launch a second one, and Caelum is right there, helping you disperse it with her microbursts of powerful winds. This time, you use both hands separately and aim your beam along as much of the front lines of the dark army as you can endure, before your hands are once again charred.    But it pays off. The chain reaction which follows is massive, destroying at least a tenth of Simon’s army before he can halt it.

   Then, just as the battlefield grows louder with the shrieks of anger from the decimated forces, there’s a rumble from below the semi-solid surface of the black ooze, and then Oberyn comes thrashing out of it.    It holds him back, weighing him down with its oily muck, leaving him struggling to get his wings up, having to beat them hard repeatedly before enough of the shit has been removed to allow him to take off.

   He comes straight at you, fully aware that you’re the one who brought him down and obviously eager to retaliate.    It takes less than a second of seeing his distorted and enraged face glare at you, before your mind reverts into thoughts of grief and despair, and just like earlier, the moment you do, the Darkling pounces and tries to invade your mind.    You’re not threatened by it, but it does scatter your resolve, leaving you frozen.

   It tortures you. Seeing this, knowing that it’s your Oberyn but you’ll never get to see him proudly glide across the skies again. Knowing you’re the one who has to end him.    There isn’t enough light in the universe to keep those thoughts away.    He closes in so fast, and yet it seems to happen infinitely slowly. Jaws wide and the churning heat within, trained solely on you, needing to destroy with such desperation.

   You wonder if there’s more behind it.    His very existence depends on your obliteration, that much is easy to conclude, but somehow, you feel as though this need is fed by more than just the fear of death.    It was the fear of losing you which brought him here, so it stands to reason the same fear is still what ultimately controls him, even if his memories are gone.    But none of this really matters. It’s just thoughts, coming to you now as your own desperation is brought to a head. A last attempt to put off the unthinkable… but inevitable.

   Stop..

   An image flashes before your eyes, obscuring the jaws which are about to reach you, and you hear your own voice whispering inside your head, just as it had sounded back then, while something occurs to you on instinct.    You’d made it stop that day in Detroit. The creature attacking the policemen. But it hadn’t been sunlight you’d put in its way.    Once again you scream the word, not as loud as you can, but with all the might you possess… and the dragon stops.

   He’s brought to a halt so abruptly that he flinches backwards and then crashes down onto the beach below you as if an invisible rope had snared and pulled him down.    You look up, checking if there are reinforcements on the way to try and aid the dragon, only to see Simon’s face contort into pure rage at the sight of his presumed perfect weapon against you flailing as he tries to get back up.    But the monster makes no attempt to help his minion.

   Turning back to Oberyn, your breath is suddenly stifled as pain floods your being with the knowledge of what you’re about to do. He’s helpless to defend himself while you hold him down, pinning him to the sands as you try to prepare. Except there is no preparing for this. No amount of conditioning is going to make this one damned bit easier.    You need to touch him to finish it, so although it’s the last thing you want to do, you start to walk down towards the beach.

   He thrashes against the invisible chains you have wrapped around him, screeching through his ruined throat for his master to save him, but the dark one isn’t going to spare his resources on a lost cause.    Whether he knows what you’re doing or not, he knows he’s powerless to stop it.

   “Shhh…” you soothe, making your way to the once so mighty king of the skies, and his writhing eases up a little. “It’s gonna be alright.”

   By the time you’re standing in front of him, he’s completely stopped moving, laying his head down in the sand, staining the tiny crystals black with the oil that seeps from his ruined skin.

   “It wasn’t the sun which stopped that creature in Detroit,” you explain, even though you know he doesn’t have the ability to understand you anymore.

   You just need to. One last conversation. Your final chance to ever say anything to him again.

   “It was conviction. In that moment, I truly believed myself strong enough to stand up to something so evil. And I believed it so completely, so fiercely, that my voice reached into its dead brain and sparked the idea that maybe there is something more powerful than darkness.    That’s all it took to stop it in its tracks. Just an idea. The barest hint of a flaw in the fabric of reality woven by the evils of this world.”

   Taking one final step, you lay your hands on the tip of his nose, ignoring the thick, oily goo you sink into slightly, and which starts to trickle down your lower arms in sluggish dribbles.

   “Such a simple thing. And yet, I couldn’t convince you of it. Because around you, I didn’t think I had to be that person. With you, I thought I could just be… human,” you shrug unhappily, giving yourself just a few seconds to let the tears fall. “I should’ve known better.”

   He watches you, giving no indication that anything you say is affecting him, and even though you knew it wouldn’t, it still hurts you to know he’ll never look at you with those big brown, adoring eyes again.    Light flows through your hands and your chest, and you watch as he slowly dissolves before your eyes, until all that’s left is the glowing dust. And the love of your life is truly gone.

   Pain overwhelms you, bringing you to your knees, but there’s no longer any fear within you.    The worst thing that could ever have happened, has already happened.

   What’s left is agony and loneliness, but this doesn’t concern you, because you now know those feelings won’t take away your love or your hope. That they don’t eliminate positivity, but each exist alongside one another instead.    You now realize both are born from the same place. Equal parts of the same core, and each vital for the existence of the other.    And this understanding makes you truly untouchable to the Darkling.

   But you can’t force this kind of understanding on other people. It’s not something one can be taught, so there’s no way for you to render others equally untouchable.    Oberyn’s final act was to make you invincible against the darkness, not so that you can singlehandedly stop it, but so that the forces of light will always have a leader.    No matter how long this war rages.

   “You may have temporarily weakened me, Boo,” Simon snarls then, “but so long as the spirits belong to me, you will lose.    I have all of eternity to wait for you to recognize that.”

   With those words, he and his army retreats, although the Atlantic remains ruined after their departure.    He’s not defeated, not even close. He’ll regroup and head for another coast, another continent to try and infect, and he’ll keep doing that for however long he has to.    Because he’s right. Without the spirits, you’ll never stand a chance.

   As if knowing you’re thinking about her, Caelum comes to your side and lands in the sand beside you.

   “We can’t let him drag this out,” you say through the tears and the snot which has accumulated in your nose, while you follow your enemy’s departure with your gaze. “I don’t know how, but we need to free your sisters and we need to do it soon.”

   In your periphery, you see her nod decisively, probably also aware the longer this takes, the more people will eventually succumb to the darkness no matter how diligently you try to safeguard them. And perhaps even more importantly; the more of nature will be destroyed.    As you stand there, a plan begins to take form inside your mind, and you wonder if she somehow speaks to you, because you don’t feel like all of this is coming from you.

   “Has it ever been this bad before?” you ask her, turning to meet her eyes now.

   She holds your gaze for a few moments, but if she replies, you can’t tell. You don’t know if she even remembers things from as far back as the last dark one, but you also feel like whether she does or not, she’s no longer the same thoughtless entity of raw emotion she’s meant to be.    Her stoic stillness somehow feels like an answer, though, and not a good one.    But however bad you might try to imagine things could get from this point; nothing could’ve prepared you for how truly awful they would become.

--=¤=--

   You sigh heavily as you feel another person die. Not by the Darkling’s hand, though, this was natural causes. A young man somewhere on the northern Australian continent, you’re not sure exactly where.    It stopped being important a while ago. The exact locations. They’re all just losses.    Caelum senses it too, and you feel her sorrow, which annoys you. You’re not sure when you stopped being able to grieve the lost ones anymore, but it seems like a long time ago.

   You still care, perhaps even too much. Because each and every one who dies feels like your failure, but after so long and so much death, it’s gotten harder and harder to let yourself feel it. To let your love for the world carry your burdens and lighten your heart.    It’s so hard when you’re connected to everything, because people die, in all sorts of ways, every minute of every day. And even if it isn’t traumatic or horrible, even if they just die in their sleep, you feel all of them as they leave the light.

   How long has it been? How many deaths have you felt at this point?    The fight takes you all over the world, so time-zones have stopped having any meaning to you. You battle the dark for as long as you can, and then you find a place to rest, sleeping for what you assume are a few hours, and then you get back to work.    That’s the routine. Day after day.

   The world fights with you, holding off the black hurricane and the senseless death it protects, even when you sleep. Determined not to fail, feeding off the light you still pour into it with as much hope as you can muster.    But for all their courage and strength, Simon’s power has not been weakened. You’ve made almost no progress in recovering anything he’s already corrupted, leaving the American continents his adult playground.

   He’s frustrated, though. You can tell. His need to consume makes him crave fresh bodies. Living things to torture the light out of so he can feed his stale existence and give it purpose.    His army is restless, spending its time tearing at itself in search of relief from such a pointless existence, needing to tear, rip, destroy something. At times it gets bad enough that they even start dismembering themselves, further mutating their bodies as the removed limbs grow back even more distorted.

   Time, it seems, is no more their friend than it is yours.

   Caelum has changed as well. She’s no longer limited to non-verbal communication, having learned not just how to speak telepathically with you, but how to remember things from one moment to the next.    Ordinarily, she shouldn’t be capable of thought or reasoning of any kind, but circumstances have forced her to evolve.

   “Please, stop,” you ask her without saying a word out loud, when she continues to grieve for the dead man, and her sharp eyes refocus on you.

   “You are the one who recognizes the strength of caring,” she chides, not for the first time.

   “I’m aware. But lingering on the dead won’t help, will it?”

   She doesn’t respond to that, but something about her gaze makes you feel guilty.

   “I just mean we need to keep looking ahead, find solutions. We’re not a single step closer to ending this war and it’s been… how long now?” you ask, genuinely trying to work it out but coming up short.

   “Three and a half years,” she replies, and for a moment you just stare blankly at her.

   Your own assessment was off by about an entire year.

   “Fuck…” you sigh, bowing your head in recognition of your absolute failure.

   It’s the fifth time since that day you’re back on Faial Island, standing in front of the lighthouse and looking out over the Atlantic.    You had eventually figured out how to heal the ocean, and all water, once Simon had left, so today it glistens blue against the horizon to the west. It turned out that all you had to do was change the wavelength of your light for it to travel through water.    But that’s also about as much as you’ve accomplished.

   The plan you’d once had, to try and sneak back into the States and covertly reach some of the spirits by using your conviction to gain control over a darkened creature and use it as cover, had failed on multiple occasions, leaving you scratching your head for some other idea.    Brute force wasn’t gonna work, because as much as the world would stand behind you, they couldn’t operate offensively and would be of little help to you. And powerful though you are, even if you could muscle your way past an entire army, you still can’t kill Simon.

   But somewhere deep inside you, there’s a glimmer. A truth, or knowledge, you’re not sure which.    What you do know is that this glimmer is the answer, if you can just tap into it and learn what it’s trying to tell you. Because there is a way to win, you’ve never doubted that, and you never will. You just need to find it.

   “Hey,” a voice quietly greets from behind you, and you recognize it as Andreia.

   She comes to stand next to you, and you glance at her with a polite nod and small smile. She always comes to see you whenever she sees you arrive by the lighthouse where she still works.    That’s another thing which seems very odd to you. How the world still has to keep going as usual, even with the truest evil trying to devour it. How the stock market has been affected by Americas destruction, how the politics of the world have shifted.

   It feels like all that should’ve just stopped. Been put on indefinite hold while you all band together and fight. But that’s not how it works.    Oddly enough, the planet has probably never seen a more peaceful time in all its existence, with the entire population so devoted to hope. There are no ongoing conflicts, virtually no crime even on the smallest scale of offences, and people are generally behaving more helpfully and tolerantly.

   What a strange world this is, where the end of this war will see it return to those darker traits in very little time.

   “Any progress?” she asks, following your gaze across the sea.

   “No, not yet. I’m… stuck. In my head, you know?” you ponder, grateful to have someone other than the owl to talk to, just because humans relate to you better and understand things which no spirit can. “I keep trying to look at the problem from new angles, looking for something I could’ve missed, but as much as I know in my fucking bones there is an answer, I just can’t find it.”

   “Maybe you need to write it down.”

   At first, you dismiss her suggestion, since you can’t see what difference it would make, but when she continues to explain her reasoning, you start to come around.

   “It activates a different part of your brain, which sometimes helps with problem solving.    Singing does too, but I don’t think there is a song for this situation.”

   “I don’t know. People have been making music for ages, covering every topic under the sun. I’m sure if we looked hard enough, we could find something eerily appropriate,” you shrug, laughing lightly at the subject.

   Ever since you lost Oberyn, laughter hasn’t come as easily for you as before. It’s harder to let yourself be happy when he can’t be there to share it with you.    But it’s also so important that you do hold on to the good moments and allow their brightness to infect you.

   “How about… Ironic by Alanis Morissette”, she offers, making you snicker.

   “Definitely. Or Everybody by Backstreet Boys.”

   She hums approvingly, and a few more songs are exchanged between you, getting more and more ludicrous.

   “Mr. Brightside by The Killers. I mean, come on, both the song and the group are appropriate,” you suggest, and by now you’re both struggling against incessant giggling.

   “Lose Yourself…” Andreia replies, but then forgets the artist for a second, “…by uh…Eminem!”

   But your laughter dies then. Partly because while the song does fit the theme overall, the message you’ve always taken away from it is simply about living in the moment and appreciating what you have, however unimportant or insignificant it might seem to someone else, which doesn’t really fit with going to war against ancient evil.    And partly because of how the woman herself doesn’t seem to know why she chose that song at all. The moment she said it, confusion flashed over her features and with every second since, she looks increasingly befuddled.

   “Lose yourself,” you repeat on impulse, but this time saying it as a suggestion to yourself.

   Immediately, there’s a strange little click inside your head, and then the glimmer suddenly comes into full focus, so distinct now that you know it.    How did you never think of it before? Oberyn even said it to you, in your final conversation on your way north from Antarctica.

   You cannot possibly think that anything but giving it everything you have is going to be enough to free them all.

   Every word he ever spoke to you or around you, lives in your mind, remembered in such vivid detail you can even recall the slight tremor in his voice as he’d said it.

   “Andreia,” you say, turning to face her and pulling her into a tight hug which she bewilderedly reciprocates. “Thank you. You may have just saved everyone.”

   You pull back and smile at her, but before she can say anything, Caelum picks you up and flies off with you, having heard you call out to her in your mind the moment the realization hit you.

   “Am I to head west, then, Lightbringer?” she asks even as she aligns her beak to the shrouded horizon.

   “Yes. It’s time to end this,” you answer out loud, because these words should be heard. The time for sneaking around and whispering between shielded minds is over. “I finally know how to free your sisters.”

   Your once again brimming confidence rubs off on the owl, and she sets a nearly impossible speed, excited by the prospect of seeing her fellow spirits restored to their rightful glory.    It doesn’t take long before you’re back underneath the poisonous cloud, and right away you can tell that it’s changed since your last visit, maybe a year and half earlier.    The air is so thick with soot and ash that it clings to your skin and colors you black, while also wreaking havoc on your lungs in mere minutes.

   Undoubtedly, this is what the entire world would eventually become, once all life had been consumed and all that was left for the armies of death to occupy themselves, was to torture each other, flooding the air with their oily blood and mutated skin cells.    You’re grateful to know that this will never come to pass, while you cough up some of the black goo which has already begun to accumulate in your throat and lungs.    It doesn’t harm you since you’re continually healing the damage it does, but it hurts more than one might imagine.

   Looking up, you can see that Caelum isn’t affected by it, beyond how it obscures her sight, so you do your best to help her navigate by trying to get a sense of where Simon is.    You find him quite quickly, detecting a massive surge of energy as he realizes his enemy is back. Which is probably the only thing he’s had to be excited about in a very long time.    Directing the spirit there, you instruct her to drop you from an altitude high enough that she’ll be safe even if Octopus should be around and attempt to reach her with its enormous tentacles.

   “Such a fall will break many of your bones,” she notes, not really out of concern, but more like she’s just making sure you know.

   “I’m aware. It’ll be fine.”

   The weightlessness is strangely liberating. Instead of falling, it makes you feel like you’re soaring, maybe because of how hopeful your realization has made you. But still no more than a trick of the mind.    Hitting the ground removes the illusion when your legs completely shatter, all the way up to your hips, and fractures to your spine, ribs and arms make themselves known moments later.

   You can still move, though, and as you feel Simon approach, you manage to claw yourself up to a seated position, finding that ignoring the pain is easier than you’d thought this time, which gives you comfort even as your enemy reaches you, sporting a large smirk on his disfigured face.    Whatever’s been going on here for the past three years, he’s clearly begun to mutate himself, because his features aren’t entirely recognizable as human anymore.

   He still has two legs and arms, and only one head, but the true shape of the Darkling has started to emerge, and it’s fucking hideous.

   “Eww… the hell happened to you?” you ask, breathing hard through the pain, but otherwise mostly disgusted by his appearance.

   Unlike his minions, the dark one is dry. His skin is a pale grey and where it’s cracked from the lack of moisture, mostly on his arms and hands but everywhere else too, there are miniature faces growing out of his flesh. Not like images of faces, but rather as though tiny people are actually trapped inside of him, trying to crawl out through the gaps but held back by some thin, partly transparent film.    He’s at least ten feet tall now, so there’s much more space for these trapped people to crowd around, but they’re still fighting each other for room.

   “You don’t like it?” he asks, and even his voice is unrecognizable. “This is my collection. The ones I like the most get to live inside me. The ones who are the most frightened… they make such delightful music inside my mind.”

   You were hoping it wasn’t what it looks like, but clearly, it is. He probably grows larger with each soul he devours, and since he couldn’t have infected any new people for a long time, these must be his own creatures.    Which would mean, once the mutated body is destroyed, the original human soul is still there, to some extent.    But not in a way that would enable them to be restored. Their bodies are gone and no power on earth could bring them back. But at least the destruction of the Darkling will set them free.

   “You’re using them to protect yourself.. aren’t you?” you ponder, trying to buy time for the spirits to reveal themselves, but also hoping to understand more about him, since that will help you take him down. “You cover yourself with them to make it harder for anyone to reach your dead heart.”

   “Well, of course. Who’s gonna try and reach into this mess of scared little people, so desperate to escape their hell, they’ll crawl into the skin of anyone who touches me, driving that person mad.    Ingenious, wouldn’t you say?”

   “I suppose. In a devilish sort of way.”

   “You will make a very nice addition to the flock…” he pauses, and puts a finger to his lips as if trying to think of something which evades him, “…oh, what was it Oberyn called you? I only heard it once, but it was something Egyptian, wasn’t it?”

   You don’t really wanna hear that name spoken by anyone else, but since you’re still not sensing any spirits, you play along.

   “Kaivalya.”

   “Ah, yes! Freedom. How insulting a name to give to a creature whose entire life has been doomed to this ending from before she was even born,” he laments, putting on a very noticeably fake tone of compassion just to irritate you.

   His voice already grates your eardrums. It’s so dry and course he can’t get much volume to it, but it still manages to cut straight into your brain with how it breaks on the high notes.    The fake sentiment only manages to mildly annoy you in comparison.

   “It was a promise…” you spit through teeth held tight against the pain of your legs trying to realign themselves so that the bones can be set, only to hurt more when the angles they’re trapped in won’t allow the movements.

   “A promise? That old prince promised you freedom, and you believed him?!” Simon squeals before starting to laugh, further abusing your ears.

   “No,” you counter, once you’ve adapted to the new level of pain. “He didn’t promise me freedom… He couldn’t have, because I was never his prisoner.    He named me Freedom because that’s what I gave to him. A heart free to love again.”

   You can tell he’s about to counter, it’s easy because his smirk returns every time his own thoughts amuse him, but you’re done with this distraction so you continue before he can.

   “That’s what you took from him. I gave him this amazing gift… and you ripped it out of him.”

   “Prince Martell sealed his own fate by allowing his fears to rip him apart,” he challenges, no longer smirking, though. “He was so scared for you. So worried you’d lose and he’d have to live on without you.    And so, the coward you loved, the man who knew better than anyone how important it would be to keep hope alive in the time of the Darkling, chose to die rather than fight for you.”

   Fuck. He’s found your weak spot and thrown a knife into it.    You shouldn’t care what he says but you can’t help how his words cut through you, because they’re the same ones you’ve battled with in your nightmares. The same ones you’ve been unable to answer ever since it first dawned on you that he’d turned.    Why did he give in? He knew what would happen. How could he leave himself so vulnerable?

   But this is why you’re here. To set things right, no matter what happened in the past. You’ll never get those answers, so all you can do is let the questions go.    And just as you begin to calm yourself, you feel it.    They’re coming. He’s summoned them to watch as he devours you. And to protect him, should you have some trick up your sleeve.

   “Tell me something, Si…” you start, giving them time to come closer before you get this over with. “Did you really think you’d ever get me to surrender to you?    Is that what all this flaunting of your achievements is meant to do? To win me over?”

   He sours while he listens, clearly unable to think of a witty comeback because you’re right. He absolutely thought that this, beating you, would be such a triumph you wouldn’t be able to resist admiring him.

   “I’m the fucking goddess of all light, you prick. I was never gonna bow to you, you’re nothing but a shadow under the bed, a cockroach hiding in the bottom of the sink.    You named me Boo, remember? Because even back then, I was better than you.”

   You’re not actually trying to antagonize him, you just really wanted to give him a piece of your mind before you get this show going.    But true to form, he’s enraged by your insults and comes at you with his arms raised and ready to beat you into the ground.    The nine all are there, too far away for your eyes to make them out in the dark and dusty air, but close enough that you can feel them, standing in a circle around you and their master.    And Caelum circles directly above you, just as you’d asked her.

   “Don’t hesitate,” you tell her, as you watch Simon measure his first punch.

   “Your sacrifice will not be in vain… Kaivalya,” she replies, and unlike the Darkling, her use of your most beloved name shows you just how much she respects you.

   Nothing else is said between you. Nothing more is needed.

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

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