#With Arcane taking over my brain it feels good to go back to my Star Wars roots for a little bit.

[the-osborn-way]

Plan 99 and a bottle of wine for Valentine's!

(The only way I can watch this godforsaken episode-)

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!!

[the-littlest-goblin]

*shows up to @essek-week 6 days late with all the prompts shoved into one fic*

based on this post by @slayerscake​

___________________________________________________________

Essek, for all his magical skill, had very little experience being a fighter. But you pick things up when you travel with a group that gets in as many scrapes per day as the Mighty Nein—you don’t necessarily learn how to fight well, but you certainly learn how to fight alongside the Mighty Nein.

While Jester is a cleric, try to go unconscious near Caduceus. 

“It’s not that she refuses to heal,” Fjord explained gently as he inspected the gash across Essek’s sternum for signs of poison. They were all a bit paranoid now since discovering that their previous monster encounter had, unbeknownst to them, injected a slow-acting venom into every bite. “She just prefers to take the enemy out first. It’s a strategy thing, you know. Save the healing for after the fight, once the danger’s gone.”

Essek turned his gaze over to Jester. In their post-battle huddle, while Caduceus hummed a healing prayer for the group and Fjord dressed Essek’s wound, she was several yards away helping Veth saw off one of the beast’s talons as a trophy.

 Fjord continued, “Of course, if you’re like, actually dying in front of her, she’ll heal you. I mean…” he trailed off. Sure, Essek hadn’t exactly been dead-dead when he’d collapsed next to Jester during the fight, but he wasn’t far from it. The last, ironic thought he’d registered before consciousness slipped away was how fortunate it was to fall in battle right next to a cleric. As his eyes fell shut, it was with anticipation that he would be up again in a second to rejoin the fray. 

When he had finally awoken, it was Caduceus’ face smiling over him, not Jester’s, and the ferocious monster had long since been turned into a carcass.

“Mm-hmm.”

Fjord sighed and sat back on his heels. “Just, maybe next time, if you have to go down, try to go down closer to Caduceus.”

“Noted,” Essek grumbled, watching with nauseated fascination as his skin knit itself back together in time with the melody of Caduceus’ spell.

When in doubt, polymorph.

“I am a bit surprised you don’t already have this in your repertoire. I have found it to be incredibly useful.”

Essek shrugged, shoving off the automatic sting of embarrassment that came with admitting ignorance. He didn’t need to feel that way around Caleb.

“Well, I have rarely found myself in a position to fly over rough terrain or transform a terrifying monster into a sloth. Until now, that is.” 

Caleb laughed lightly. “Such is the adventuring life, I suppose.” He smiled, taking a break from flipping through his spellbook to look up at Essek. Even this brief moment of eye-contact felt so charged with energy that Essek had to avert his gaze, the sense-memory of guilt welling up in his throat threatening to choke him. The intensity of Caleb’s undivided attention was still difficult for him to bear. His fingers twitched to rub at the burning spot on his forehead. Instead, he gripped his pen tighter. 

“Here.” Caleb flipped his book around to show Essek the page dedicated to the Polymorph spell, covered in transmutation runes. Essek recognized a few of the symbols in passing. “This should be easy for you to copy down. Then we can practice a bit. I think you’ll find casting it on yourself makes for a rather enjoyable pastime.”

Buff the lesbians. 

Essek’s eyes darted between Caleb and Caduceus, unsure how to interpret this piece of advice. “Um, can you be more specific?” 

Caduceus blinked at him, seeming confused. “Specific how? You mean like, which spells you should use on them?”

“No, I meant specific as in to whom you were referring. I just…” Essek glanced awkwardly around the table. Most of the group was distracted, digging into the enormous feast provided by Caleb’s clowder of feline servants. They were all worn out from a long day of hard travel and enjoying the warm reprieve of the tower.

Essek cleared his throat, trying to discreetly lower his voice without making it obvious that he was being secretive. “I have not exactly been given a briefing on all of your individual sexual preferences.”

“Oh, I can fix that!” Jester cut in. Apparently Essek’s attempts to be clandestine had failed, as they always seemed to with this group. “Caleb is—”

“That is alright, thank you,” Essek swiftly cut her off. His cheeks were already burning red-hot. “Can you please just tell me who ‘the lesbians’ are in this circumstance?”

He could feel Beau’s glare boring through him all the way from the other end of the table as she stared incredulously over her magical flask of whiskey. “You should really be able to figure that out yourself, man.”

Squishy wizards stay away from fights.

“Stay. Here.” Yasha’s growl was twice as terrifying as the insectoid beast screaming over their heads, and Essek was pretty sure the force from her shoving him behind the rocks was going to leave just as big a bruise as getting smacked by the creature’s tail, if not bigger. “Hide.”

“I was trying to help,” Essek muttered, a mixture of shame and indignation pushing him to defend himself to her.

“I know. You can help by staying alive.” A hint of softness entered Yasha’s gruff voice, although its effect was mitigated when she hefted up her massive sword. Essek instinctually slunk away from the arc of the blade. “Fighters get close, wizards hang back. That’s how we do things in this family.” She smiled at him, and another layer of the ice around Essek’s heart melted. “That’s how we keep you and Caleb from snapping like twigs. Save the close-range spells for when things are really desperate.”

Essek nodded his affirmation. Yasha turned and began running back into the melee, letting out an almighty roar. Just before she went out of range, Essek reached out his hands, whispering the incantation and twisting his fingers around the fabric of time that surrounded her large frame. Yasha paused for a moment as the effects of the Haste spell hit her, then turned to flash Essek another smile and a thumbs up.

That’s how we do things in this family.

You have to look sexy when using spells.

“I really do not understand the purpose of this.”

“We’re just trying to help you out!” Veth grinned at him mischievously. Somehow, the ghost of a goblin’s snarl showed through her straight halfling teeth. “Every good adventurer knows aesthetics are crucial to effective spellcasting.”

“That’s not—”

“Plus, we’re not fighting in the cold anymore,” Jester added. “We don’t want you to get overheated in the middle of battle.”

“That… really isn’t an issue.” But he knew resistance was useless when it came to these two. Resigned to his fate, Essek dutifully lifted the mantle over his head and began undoing the fastenings of his cloak. 

Outer layer discarded, he lifted his arms up half heartedly to show his self-appointed image consultants the results. “Is this satisfactory?”

“Hmmmm,” Jester tilted her head to the side, considering him. “Can you try rolling up your sleeves?”

“I’m not taking off my shirt!”

“No one asked you to!” Veth hopped off her chair to circle around Essek, studying him with an intensity she usually reserved for things she was about to shoot. “Now, show us your stance.”

“My what?”

“You know, your sexy fighting stance.” Veth stopped in place, whipping out her crossbow and striking a dramatic pose. 

“Um…” Essek attempted to mimic her, one hand on the meteorite pendant that served as his arcane focus, the other reaching out as if he were about to cast a spell. “Like this?”

Jester tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it, that tank top did look really good on you, Essek.”

Essek put his head in his hands.

If you get charmed there is going to be a very high chance of Beau punching you to snap you out of it. 

A constellation's worth of stars swam in Essek’s vision, pain bursting through his head like a reverberating drum; he could feel the nasty bruise blooming at his temple where Beauregard had struck him. Blinking away the stars, he turned just in time to see Beau’s fist heading towards him once again, this time making expert contact with his jaw. The force of this second blow sent him hurtling toward the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

Amid the pain, a sense of clarity slowly came over him, cutting through the pleasant, misty haze that had overtaken his faculties. It gave him just enough presence of mind to scream an indignant, accusatory, “Ow!” at Beau.

She flashed him a cocky grin, seemingly amused by his tone. “Look man, this is what happens. Get charmed, get hit. Now square up.” 

Essek held up one hand in an attempt to stave her off, gasping for breath. The buzz in his brain was receding; somehow, Beau had punched the spell’s effect right out of him. “No really, I’m fine now, it worked—”

But she was already going in for another punch. Helpless to stop her, Essek braced himself for the hit, thinking that if nothing else, he had to admire her thoroughness. 

[nightshade-minho]

Alive Again

Warnings: necromancer!hyunjin, death, fingering, themes of satanism, necromancy, witchcraft etc.

Wc: 1.9k

There he was, again.

You let out a long, annoyed sigh as you watched from the shadows. Leaves crunching under your feet, you stepped out from behind the bush, having had enough.

"Hey!"

The man crouching before the gravestone glanced up, raising an eyebrow as his eyes landed on you. He looked you up and down, a small smirk growing on his features.

"Uh...can I help you?" He asked, straightening up and taking a step towards you. You immediately took one back, swallowing as you registered just how tall he is- he was basically towering over you.

Your words caught in your throat for a second as you tried to remember exactly why you'd been mad at him. His gaze, directed at you, was thick with intrigue and another emotion you can't decipher. It's throwing you off.

Your mouth opened and closed as the man rolled his eyes, turning around and heading back to the grave at your lack of response.

"Wait-"

He looked over his shoulder, his eyes cold this time. "What? Spit it out, little girl. I haven't got all night. In fact, you just interrupted my ritual."

Ritual? Suddenly, the candles and chalk circles on the tombstone made sense. You swallowed, mind swimming with a million thoughts. So, your suspicions were correct.

"I..." You clenched your fists. "I see you here everyday. This- this is my spot." You mumbled, realizing just how stupid you sounded as the words left your mouth.

The look he gave you only served to reinforce that.

"Your...spot?" He chuckled, crossing his arms and walking back towards you. "Do you own this graveyard, princess?" He asked, his tone filled with mock curiosity.

"I- no. But- there's never been anyone else in here with me-"

Hyunjin put his finger on his chin. "Why do you like this place so much, anyway? Someone your age should be out there, partying with your friends and what not." He said, sounding like he was talking to himself more than you.

"I like this place. It's quiet here. I've spent every night here for more than ten years." You explained, swallowing.

"Hm. Bad home life?"

"Understatement." You said softly, shaking your head. "It's been more than a year since I left home for good. Now I live here."

Hyunjin hummed, his tone filled with what seemed like genuine sympathy. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that...but unfortunately, I can't just pack up and leave. I have work to do. " He gestured to the pentagram. "I expect I'll be here a while."

"But..." You don't want this. You don't want him encroaching your space, leaving his arcane items and trinkets everywhere. You hated unfamiliarity, the way it made you feel cold and fearful. You'd spent all these years alone, after all...gotten used to the solitude.

"No...you c-can't." You muttered, steeling yourself to deliver your reply. It was extremely difficult denying this beautiful man. There was a part of you that was inexplicably pulled to him. Something about him excited you, sending tingles all over your body and melting away your inhibitions one by one.

"I can't? This place is big enough for the two of us, love. Why don't you want this?"

You grit your teeth. All these questions were irritating you. "I don't have a reason to let you stay."

Hyunjin bit his lip at that, nodding slowly. He pursed his lips, staying silent for a minute before his eyes slowly lit up with an idea.

"Tell you what...why don't I give you one?"

"Give me what?"

"A reason to let me stay."

You didn't miss the way his eyes sparkled with mischief as he uttered the words. Feeling your cheeks flush, you internally reminded yourself to stay strong. 

No, you weren't going to budge, no matter what he offered you. Although...you had a small idea of what he was insinuating, and you'd be lying if you said the thought wasn’t enticing. 

"Elaborate." You said cautiously, eyes widening a little when he backed you up against the statue behind you, catching you off guard.

"Why do that when I could just show you?" He asked, voice low and deep. His eyes bore into you, searching yours with an urgency.

"S-show me? I-"

He cut you off, leaning closer until your lips were brushing. His proximity made the words fizzle and die on your tongue, your cheeks burning as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

"So flustered. I haven't even done anything of significance yet." He chuckled, a finger coming up to trace your jawline.

"I don't-"

He rolled his eyes, closing the minimal distance between the two of you to press his plump lips to yours.

It felt like stars were exploding in your belly. You'd never been kissed before, and it seemed a little unfair to you that he would be your first. This devilishly handsome intruder, barrelling into your life without prior notice.

You kissed him back, though. Any shred of rationality left in your form was quickly disappearing as he nipped at your lips, letting out a soft moan into the kiss. He snaked his hands under your thighs, spreading them apart to fit himself in between. "Fuck..." His lips wandered down to your neck, kissing the spot gently before sucking on the smooth skin.

Pulling away after a few minutes to catch his breath, he grinned down at you. Your lips were red and kiss-bitten, your neck covered with marks. He prided himself in the masterpiece he'd created.

Inhaling, he leaned in again, lips ghosting your jaw. "Do you want this? Tell me you want this, Y/n."

"I...I do..." You said softly under your breath, avoiding his eyes as the embarrassment flooded your being.

"Louder." He hissed, pressing himself against you to let you feel the bulge growing in his pants.

"I want you!" You cried out, holding onto his shoulders as he lifted you up slightly. "Please, it's been years since I've been touched- I n-need it."

You closed your eyes, having caught a glimpse of his triumphant smirk and not wanting to see it for any longer than you had to. He had started to squeeze your thighs, warming you up as he placed a line of wet kisses down your neck.

"Good girl. Don't worry, I'll make you feel good. Promise." He assured, setting you on top of the base of the statue. The statue was that of an angel, and you would have found the situation funny if Hyunjin wasn't sliding his fingers up and down your covered clit, causing your brain to blank.

"So wet. You weren't lying when you said you haven't been touched in years, hm?"

You stayed silent, biting your lip in order to prevent a moan from bubbling out. He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Thought so."

He grabbed the waistband of your panties with one hand, dragging it down and discarding them on the floor. Bringing his long fingers up to your lips, he pressed them in. "Suck." He ordered, staring at you intensely. His stare was so deep, You realized the undecipherable emotion had been lust all along, and your heart pounded.

You obeyed him immediately, sucking on his digits eagerly as your pussy throbbed, needing attention. You bucked your hips slightly, a needy expression directed at the man in front of you.

"An impatient one, are you?" He winked, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, travelling downwards to stroke your entrance.

"Lucky for you, I'm feeling pretty impatient tonight, too." He breathed, leaning forward to suck on your jaw as he pushed the digits past your walls, hissing at how tight you were.

"Fuck, I can't wait to feel you around my cock-" You exhaled shakily at his words, whining as he crooked his fingers up, finding your sweet spot with no difficulty. The sensations flooding throughout your body as he thrusted them into your cunt were incredible, ones you had never experienced before. It felt like your drab, dreary world confined to the cemetery was exploding with a burst of color as his fingers brought you to the edge.

"So pretty for me, baby. Am I making you feel good?"

What kind of question was that? Your moans were loud despite your best efforts to hold them back, your legs shivering and your lips quivering. The answer to that should be fairly obvious, you thought.

"Y-yeah. Love it- ah!" You cried out when his pace increased, his fingers almost a blur from how fast he was slamming them into you. He was able to fill you up so well even like this, and you found yourself drooling at the thought of what was to come.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this." He hummed, his thumb pressing onto your clit and rubbing gently. His other hand came up to your breast, flicking your nipple over the fabric and causing you to let out a gasp.

You were nearing the edge, hurtling towards it. Hyunjin didn't let up, adding a third finger and moving the trio at a speed that was almost inhumane.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you? I can feel you clenching."

You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes as he slowed down his thrusts, making his fingers go as deep into your heat as he possibly could before pounding into you once more.

"You're a sight to behold." He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours gently, sucking on them. It was the last push you needed to fall over the edge, combined with his movements down south.

You'd never felt any sensation more otherworldly than the one taking over you at the moment. Your orgasm seized you mercilessly, sending electricity shooting over you and leaving you quaking in its wake.

His lips were still on yours as he groaned at the feeling of you squirting all over him. Pulling away, he observed the amount of juices that had spilled out of you and let out a wry chuckle.

"Fuck, I really want to make you do that again. On my cock, this time."

You spoke through pants, chest heaving. "Yes- yes please. Want." You mumbled incoherently, your brain turning into mush as you slumped in his hold.

He kissed your forehead, smiling. "And you will. Let's continue this at home, shall we?"

"Home?" You asked in confusion, peeling your eyes open. The graveyard was your home. What was he talking about?

"My home." He repeated, rubbing circles on your skin. "You'll be living with me from now on, baby."

You averted your eyes from him, disappointment filling you as he said the words. Tempting, but it would never happen. Your fate lay in this graveyard, your destiny an eternity of floating just beyond the veil.

"I..." You closed your eyes, a sob caught in your throat. "I can't...leave. I'm not-"

"I know."

You looked up, puzzled as his expression softened. He pulled you close to his body, picking you up. "You don't have to worry, love."

"You knew?" Your eyes widened in shock. You looked back over what had just happened, small clues that he was aware revealing themselves. You remembered suddenly that he'd known your name, even though you hadn't told it to him outright...he'd touched you, even felt you. The tiniest flicker of hope lit up your heart as he stared at you fondly.

"Yes." He kissed your forehead as he started moving to the gate. "You're no longer stuck here, darling." He said firmly.

You could barely contain all the emotions tangled in your heart as you tried to make sense of it all. Looking over his shoulder as he carried you, you ran your eyes over your tombstone and the candles he'd placed in front of it. The pentagram on top was still shining, illuminating the grave and setting it apart from the others.

"You're alive again, Y/n. And this time, you're mine."

Happy Halloween!

[thewheezingwyvern]

For Arcane April, maybe Shinso w/let’s say number 12? I’ve really been loving any Siren!Shinso stuff I can find. Thank you for your writing! It’s a pleasure to read 💕

This took longer than I thought but then again this ended up longer than I thought. I wanted to try and take like an urban fantasy spin on this but go a bit...grittier? idk. This was just where my brain took me so I hope you like it! <3

Gossamer Web

Siren!Shinsou x Thief!Reader (a bit of sexual tension)

Warnings: Brainwashing, Dubcon (kissing) and blackmail

It was just another party, a gathering for some fundraiser or another that he honestly couldn’t even remember anymore. When you held a position like Hitoshi, seated among the rich and influential, a certain degree of public relations was necessary. And doing events for charity in the eyes of the public was just another part of maintaining his image.  While Shinsou couldn’t remember what party he was even throwing anymore, his assistant would inform him later, he did like to think he knew the face of every important figure in the city. And plenty abroad too.

So his surprise was quite palpable when he saw you.

His lifestyle constantly had him around pretty people, coiffed and waxed to perfection, top of the line brands to smooth over any flaws that could possibly be present. Pretty faces to hide pretty fangs and pretty paint to coat their pretty claws before sinking them into someone. However, yours was a very different sort of attractive. Naturally at an event like this your makeup was applied and done so artfully, but it was in such a way that it enhanced what you had rather than attempted to bury whatever perceived flaw could be seen.

Most women attended these events hoping to look like the most beautiful one in the room, while the men sought to look the most powerful. But you moved and spoke and looked with a different purpose. You were searching for something. Indigo eyes slipped down to eye the gossamer threads of your dress, a stunning thing of spun shadow that fit your body like a glove. But it was only more exquisite whenever you moved, showcasing the elaborate enchantment that was woven into the very threads. Stars would wink and burst from your body, along with tufts of purple black clouds. But strung on a simple silver chain was the bespelled glow of a crescent moon. 

HItoshi found himself breaking away from whatever boring conversation he was caught in to approach you, eyes glinting with interest. You were even more stunning up close, showing that you held a natural glow all on your own. With every step closer, the wink of starlight woven into your hair like constellations would catch his eye, beckoning him further to you. Whatever witch had magicked your clothes and hair was very talented and knew what they were doing.

“You look a bit lost.” he said to you after drawing very close to your back, close enough that it pulled a startled squeak past your lips, “Can I help you find something?”

Hitoshi deliberately laid the smooth demeanor on thick, a crooked smirk quirking on his lips. If he wasn’t so good at reading expressions, he might have missed the string of emotions that flitted across your face and in your eyes but he caught them. First surprise followed closely by recognition which melted to a look of worry or fear. And then it was gone beneath the smouldering curve of a coy smile.

“Hmmm and what if I just found it?”

A line he’d heard before but there was something lacking behind the delivery. Shinsou couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there wasn’t enough spice between the lines that gave the tell tale sign of someone looking for a quick fuck. Curious. A charming smirk wormed its way onto his lips, hiding the way his mouth had already began watering at the prospect of finding out more of what you were looking for. Anyone who came here with a purpose usually intended to use something against him. 

“Well I guess that depends,” Hitoshi purred lowly to you, “what was it you were planning to do after you found me?”

This would have been the perfect opportunity for you to make another pass at him. To hint at how you wanted to be pressed against him in the throes of passion or whatever other way that it could be worded. But you completely skipped over that chance. One of your hands drifted up to toy with the luminous crescent moon that hung around your neck, deep and thoughtful eyes assessing him carefully.

“I guess I just wanted to see the man behind the name in person.”

A predatory glint sparked in his eyes, indigos boring into you as he drew impossibly close. Even through the well made fabric of his Armani suit, Hitoshi could feel the warmth of your body. He tilted his dark lavender head, drinking in the sight of you and how you seemed to fidget with him drawing nearer. The CEO decided he was going to make use of a power that he had at his disposal that very few people knew about. 

He tipped your head up to look into his face before purring out, “Tell me your name.”

The magic woven into his very vocal cords twisted around you, bewitching you, until a glaze had fallen over your eyes, pupils swelling beneath the grip of his enthrallment. It was almost unfair how easily he could twist people to his whim with the power of his voice, have them spill their deepest secrets and desires to him. So to hear your mouth and tongue curl delightfully around your real name, it sent a surge of satisfaction.

“A beautiful name, Kitten.” a thumb traced along the curve of your jaw, “What were you really looking for tonight?”

“You keep the Wayfarer’s Orb here, third floor behind a wall of several enchantments and and a summon from the Infernal district,” you recited to him almost dreamily, “I’m going to steal it.”

Hitoshi tilted his head, dark smirk on his lips, “And what else? I know you didn’t risk pissing me off just for that.” he pressed a taunting kiss to your temple before leaning back, “Tell me the story while you walk with me, I want to hear all about it.”

He pulled your body close to his, your side pressed up against his as he led you away with an arm wrapped around your waist possessively. To anyone else, it would just appear as if he had found a new play thing that he was taking off to have some fun with. And in a way that was true. Indigo eyes swept over your delightful body and he couldn’t help but think how satisfying and how it would be to see you a broken little mess under him. A wet tongue snaked out to lick at his lips, arousal spiking in him. You’d look so pretty arching your back, column of your tender throat bared for him to bite as he speared inside of you.

“The orb was just a bonus and a way to cover my true intentions. I’ve already begun uploading valuable intel from your security databases and placed trackers so I can find more information about you and sell it.”

“What a clever little thing…” Hitoshi hummed down at you, fingertip tracing small circles on your hip, “And I’ve no shortage of enemies so you could charge whatever you wanted and they would pay it.” He led you deeper into his mansion, guiding the way up to the wing where he kept the stone you had planned to take, “You looked scared when you saw me...did you know that I’m a Siren?”

“Suspected but wasn’t sure.” 

The dry drone of your voice was so satisfying. It was a song in and of itself, tongue curling around your forced submission to him anything he wanted you to. Hitoshi only stopped guiding you when the both of you reached the room which held the Wayfarer Orb on a pedestal. It was a smooth, polished stone of milky white with flashes of crimson red flecked throughout its surface.  He had acquired it at least a year ago, an ancient stone said to help bring protection to the owner. It seemed necessary given how rapidly he had grown his empire.

“Look at me Kitten.” he yanked you to him, the sweet swell of your breasts pressed against his front, “Would you like it if I kissed you?”

He would be lying if he said that he asked this question with completely innocent intent. The thought of claiming your mouth was tempting but he wanted to know if you had at all been tempted by him in the brief time he spoke with you. Or while you did your research. Hitoshi swept a thumb along your lower lip, parting your mouth for him as you stared blankly at him.

“Yes.”

Shinsou dipped his head and brushed his mouth faintly against yours, murmuring, “When did you start feeling attracted to me?”

“We’ve met before. Enji’s holiday gala. We danced together.”

Now that was interesting. He pulled back, brows shooting up as he looked down at you. Despite how closely he studied your face, the sweep of your cheek bones, the hue of your eyes, he couldn’t remember you at all. Indigo eyes lidded lazily, a stray fingertip dragging along the arch of a brow.

“Why don’t I remember you then?”

“I spiked your drink with a memory potion.”

Shock zinged through him then. It had been proper years since the last time anyone had gotten the jump on him and yet there you were, speaking only honesty for his ears as his voice compels you. Had this encounter never happened, he never would have known. If you could pull a stunt like that then the skills you have were unspeakably valuable and he had every plan to use them. Shinsou chuckled softly before dropping the enthrallment of his voice around you. 

The world came spinning back then, awareness creeping into the edges of your thought as you tried to grasp just where you were. By the time your pupils had refocused, he was crushing his mouth down onto yours. A muffled squeal was his answer along with you pushing at his chest. But the sensuous way his mouth moved against yours had you melting in his arms, soft moans humming in your throat as he kissed you.

When he finally broke the kiss, both of you were panting while you glared daggers up at him.

“What the fuck?!” you ripped yourself free of his grasp, staggering backwards with a hand clutched to your mouth, “What’re you doing?!”

The look of frustration blended heavenly with your flustered expression. Mirth spilled over in his open mouthed smirk. Casually he slipped his hands into his coat pockets, cocking a brow and half lidding his eyes at you. Tilting his head to the side, a soft laugh rumbled in his chest, drinking in your more outraged expression.

“Nothing you don’t want me to do, Kitten.”

“And how do you work that out?”

“You told me yourself.” Hitoshi gestured out towards the vault, hand showing you the glint of the Orb you came to steal, “Along with your goals. Your suspicions proved right.”

“Shit…”

“Now here’s how things are going to go,” he slowly advanced on you, “you’re going to put those skills of yours to work for me.”

You glared at him, “And if I refuse?”

“Well, I use my abilities and have you out yourself to every powerful figure here tonight.” that smirk widened, “You’re that one thief that’s been targeting all the high rollers, aren’t you? I imagine that they would all love to meet you.”

Fear flooded your eyes then, “You...you wou-”

“Wouldn’t I? If you’ve done your homework about me then you know how much of a dangerous man I can be.”

You had done your homework and that was truer than you would like to admit. Hitoshi’s public image was great but if you dug a little deeper, strange disappearances that surrounded him. Brainwashing you and having you out your secret to some of the most influential people of the city who would love to see you punished for your work. It would be the end of you and he knew you would have no choice but to work for him. 

And that was how you, The Firefly, thief of rich assholes extraordinaire, came to work for Shinsou Hitoshi. Through blackmail and the threat of one of the most powerful men in the city ruining you.

[sprnklersplashes]

5 with Karen and Gretchen?

It’s time to fight the boss and if I don’t tell you now, I might not live to tell you

I have no idea why my brain decided to make this a fantasy/DnD style AU, but it did.

Karen’s hand is the warmest thing in this place.

There’s no light, save for the setting sun at their backs and their dwindling torches. Hers flickers again, blown about the cold wind, and she bites back a scream. It wouldn’t do at all to lose the one advantage they might have; the element of surprise. So she clamps her mouth shut, and begs the Goddess to keep their torches lit until… until whatever is going to happen, happens.

“It should be just up here now,” Janis says. Her voice is thin, trembling, a far cry from what she’s come to expect, and it sends another shiver up Gretchen’s spine. Janis is the strongest person she’s ever known, stronger even than Regina, and were it not for the arcane law that only men can be knights, she’d be serving in the King’s army right now. She’s known her from childhood and despite everything that she’s watched her go through, she’s never seen her truly scared. Until now. “Just around this corner.”

“Any last prayers, say them now,” Regina announces flatly. If she meant it as a joke, it didn’t come out as one. The time for jokes has long since passed, she supposes.

Quickly, Gretchen closes her eyes and mutters under her breath, a prayer she’s known her whole life. A protection prayer, for her and the people around. Because Goddess knows they’ll need it. A victory prayer too, in case their entire village’s prayers aren’t enough.

Karen catches her eye when she opens them again, and she gives her a small smile.

Of course, if anyone were to be the one smiling, it would be Karen.

Suddenly, the cave is slightly less cold.

None of them move. Six pairs of eyes look anxiously from one to the other, each eventually landing on Janis. She’s the leader of this group, the one who roused them Damian and Cady and told them she was going off to track down the monster that had been terrorising their village. And of course, they both insisted she wasn’t going anywhere without them. And then word accidentally spread to Regina, who picked up her daggers and invited herself, daring Janis to turn her down. Safety in numbers after all, and so their old rivalry is buried. And when she heard Regina was going, Gretchen asked to come too. Nobody understood her reasons why, even when she explained them. To protect her friends, she thinks. To be a part of something. Because she’d had enough of sitting around her house waiting for the monster to attack. Because they didn’t have a tracker, and it was either her or Shane. That persuaded Janis.

And when she said she was going, Karen decided she was coming too. Because she’s Karen, and they’ve done everything together since they took their first steps. Even when Janis explained the dangers to her, she was still insistent on coming as long as Gretchen was there too. She said that they’re in it together, and there was no changing her mind after that.

Gretchen’s glad she came. Not just because her magic has proven useful on more than one occasion, but because she’s been the reason for her smiling, for any of them smiling, throughout most of this journey. Standing there with a joke, a laugh, a promise that they’ll come out on the other side and sit on the hill overlooking the village again. Because she sits with Gretchen when it’s her turn to keep watch, because she shares her blanket with her, because she lets her lay her head in her lap and runs her fingers through it until she falls asleep.

Because she holds her hand.

But she also wishes she wasn’t here. Because there’s a new scar on her cheek that she’ll have to explain to her mother and a set of likely-permanent burns across her left arm. Because she cries in her sleep, scarred by the things they’ve seen. Because she doesn’t belong here, with her soft smile and softer hands that should be sewing or painting in her house, not skewering a dead squirrel on a stick.

Because on a journey to track and kill a monster is the worst possible time to realise that you are in fact, in love with your best friend.

And you still haven’t told her yet.

Janis goes over the plan one more time, speaking in a hushed voice that just about masks her terror. Cady scales the wall, perches on a ledge and fires her arrows into the beast, wounding it enough. Regina takes the other side and does what she does best with her daggers. And Karen stands at the side, uses her magic to hold it in place. Meanwhile, Janis and Damian approach it and bury both their swords in its heart. Gretchen’s diagram of the beast now sits in Janis’ pocket. If she’s right, two good thrusts into its chest should end it. And as for her, she stays with Karen, a few throwing knives in her bag should anything go wrong.

That’s it, and then it’s over. One way or the other.

Janis turns, the dimming light of her torch turning her pale face golden, her dark braid tucked into her hood.

“Last chance to turn away,” she says. “I won’t blame anyone if they do.”

“Absolutely not,” Cady says, and she’s speaking on behalf of all of them. No matter how scared Gretchen might feel, she’s not turning back now. She may be terrified, but she’s felt more alive on this journey than ever before. She’s done things she never would have thought she could if she’d just stayed at home. If-when… if-they return home, she’ll be different. She’ll make something of herself.

Maybe she’ll tell Karen how she feels too.

Janis looks around at them, unshed tears glistening in her eyes, and she nods. Her face breaks out into a grin, one that’s reckless and burning with courage, and she draws her sword.

“Let’s rock this bitch,” she says, and she heads into the cave.

Once Gretchen goes to follow her though, a wave of thoughts run through her head, dizzying her when she needs to be sharper than ever. That when she hugged her mother, it might have been the last time. That there are so many things she never said to people. That this could be the last thing she sees.

That if they die tonight, she’ll never have told Karen how she feels.

That scares her more than the monster does.

“Karen.” Her name comes out sharp and quick, and Karen turns, her eyes wide and face pale in the near-total darkness. Something rushes through Gretchen, her heart hammering against her chest, and she has to think, is this courage, before she says “I love you.”

She doesn’t know what she was expecting to happen. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She hadn’t thought at all.

But what does happen is that Karen grabs her by the collar of her shirt and kisses her. Her hand was warm, her lips warmer still, chasing away the chill that the cave brought. She tilts her head just slightly, and lets Gretchen tangle her fingers in her hair. For a few blissful, beautiful seconds, everything else melts away and there’s no danger, no monsters, no nothing. Just her, just them, just two girls kissing each other because they can.

“I love you too,” Karen whispers against her lips, breathless. Gretchen laughs, the sound feeling strange in her chest, and touches her forehead to Karen’s.

“When we go home,” Gretchen tells her. “I’m holding your hand. And I’ll dance with you in front of everyone.”

“Promise?” Karen asks. The other girl’s smile dips slightly then, the dawning realisation that going home isn’t a guarantee. Still, Gretchen reaches up and tucks a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

“I promise,” she says, so firmly she surprises even herself. “Now let’s go.”

Karen holds her hand tighter, and together they venture into the cave, Karen’s magic crackling at her fingertips and a knife poised in her hand.

They make it home. Bloody, bruised, beaten, broken and exhausted, but they make it home. Their families rush to greet them the minute they cross the village threshold, Gretchen’s strength fleeing her the minute her mother wraps her arms around her. She chokes and sobs into her shoulder, the feeling of her touch both so comforting and so unfamiliar, having been away for so long.

It takes a week for them to recover properly, all of them sleeping for days on end and only rising for meals. The village healer comes and checks over her, tutting at the many bruises that cover her skin and gasping when she tells him how she got each one. He tells her she’s lucky to be alive. She only nods. She doesn’t like to dwell on that fact for too long. All that matters to her now is that she’s still here. That they survived. And because of them, there will never be another attack on their village again.

Once the party is on their feet again, the King decides to throw a party in their honour.

Gretchen wears a blue silk dress, one of her mother’s own making, and Karen weaves white daisies into her hair. She tries and fails not to blush, and her mother catches her eye through the open door. It only takes one glance for her to work it out, and she’s glad of it.

They go to the party together, and Gretchen keeps her promise. She dances with Karen all night, in front of everyone, and kisses her when the sun sets, and when the stars come out, and when the full moon shines. They just dance, and kiss, and Gretchen hopes the night will never end.

It does, but Karen comes home with her, and she can kiss her goodnight.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 6.4K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which history is written on the walls.

Some of my other fics have been showing up in the tags when I use the link post option, so I’m doing an experiment this time. Fingers crossed it shows! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Chapter 12: Beta, Part 3

Having long since heeded Ruby’s advice to take a mental break, Steven sits criss-cross with his back pressed against the hodgepodge aquarium. If you ask him, this position is a two-in-one miracle, allowing him both an unobstructed view of the doorway, and sparing him from the deep rooted horror of the creepy dismantled plush still floating an aimless arc through the tank. He loves Peridot to death, but good golly, this latest meep morp is deeply unsettling. He shudders at the mere thought of its water-logged stuffing oozing out from the seams, and then— inhaling deep through his nose— steers his focus back to the phone clasped tightly between his fidgety fingers.

Back to the story, you doofus.

With nothing better to do for the moment and a hyperactive mind to satiate, he’s finally started to read the Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic that Connie sent him a link to a few days before. True to her words, it’s super, super good. Well written, great characterization, and best of all, the author keeps throwing in hints of future romance between Lisa and Archimicarus! Considering that, he’s almost surprised Connie likes this fic so much. She’s normally not much of a shipper. To be fair though, romance definitely isn’t the point of the story. Instead, it’s an AU focused on the mystery of the main character’s origins.

He can’t help but let out a sympathetic sigh as— in chapter 5– Lisa tries to calmly explain to her fellow Stonehearth Coven members that somehow her father, the revered founder of the coven, used to be a prince of the wicked Arcane Court. Most of her once-close friends don’t swallow the news well. As a result, Lisa is left alone to seek the truth of her father’s past, with no allies except her trusted familiar at her side. Lip quivering, he presses his thumb solid against his phone’s screen for a while, as if yearning to reach a healing hand beyond the barrier between fiction and reality and let the young witch know she’s not alone, that he sees and supports her. He makes a mental note to thank Connie profusely for sending along this really good fic, and presses on to the next chapter.

He’s halfway to the end of it when Peridot returns.

For someone who appeared super frazzled by Lapis’s terror-struck outbursts the last time she stood at his side, she sure seems fit as a fiddle now, walking with a slight bounce in her step as she crosses past the fence line and onto the property. At least, he assumes she is. He can’t help but immediately doubt this assessment when she spots him sitting against the inner wall of the barn with that piercing focus of hers and bounds through the doorway like a Gem fleeing the apocalypse.

“Steven, Steven, Steven, Steven!” she cries as she runs to his side, flapping her arms urgently.

Practically tossing his phone to the ground to free his hands for combat, he leaps to his feet so fast that his head grows woozy. His rose-thorned shield shimmers into tangible existence in front of his barred fist.

“What, what is it?” he exclaims, the pounding of his heart devolving into an untamable cacophony as all his darkest fears rear their ugly heads at once. “Is- is it Lapis? Did she leave anyways?”

“Uh, no…?”

“Or, or, or- are we under attack?!”

“Steven, I—“

“Who’s here for me this time?” he blurts, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “Is it Homeworld? Jasper? The Diamonds? Tell meeee!” he whines, roughly shaking her.

“I- No one? It’s no one!” Peridot exclaims when her head finally stops jostling back and forth under his force, waves of confusion coloring her expression. “I’m… just happy to be back?”

His cheeks burn red as he drinks in her obvious statement and eventually catches his breath. He lets go of her. “O-oh,” he stammers, willing the shield floating before him to disappear into glimmers of light and desperately wishing he could do the same at this precise moment of existence. “Okay. Glad to see you back! Did, uh… did you find Lapis?”

She nods in confirmation, but visibly deflates a little at the reminder of her roommate. “Yeah, she’s perched in a tree in the woods. She said she wanted some ‘alone time,’” she emphasizes with air quotes.

Steven clasps his fingers together in front of him as he lets this news sink in, digits tussling without end for the most comfortable alignment. Bleeding heart that he is, he hates the idea of letting anyone be alone, especially after a revelation this jarring, but he must admit that he himself found some comfort in solitude the night his human half took for the beach, inert diamond in hand. If anything else, it was nice to retreat from all the noise, to allow himself the opportunity to form his own opinions about the situation. Perhaps it’ll be beneficial for her, too.

“That’s understandable,” he says, glancing out the barn door towards the forest his friend is taking refuge in. “She’s been through a lot.”

He squats to pick up his phone from the floorboards then, frowning as he notices a fresh crack on the glass at the corner of the screen. Knowing that— despite his desperate desires— there’s nothing he can do to fix this right now, he shoves it in his pocket and pushes against his knees to stand up. The bottom of his shirt catches on his arm as he does so, briefly exposing the unfamiliar facets of his rotated gem. Peridot’s brows nearly shoot above the upper rim of her visor.

“So,” she begins, nodding towards his stomach. “Your gem.”

With a tired sigh, he tugs his shirt back down. Boy, does he already know where this conversation is heading, and boy, is he sick of having to walk everyone through it. “Yup,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ and getting ready to deploy the exasperated eye roll.

“All this time everyone thought you were a hybrid quartz, but now you’re telling me…”

“...that I’m actually a dia—“

“...that I, Peridot, certified Kindergartener, a skilled specialist on every variety of Gem to ever exist, was wrong??”

“Hold on, what?”

She holds her hand over the diamond emblazoned on her chest as she passionately continues, wholly oblivious to Steven’s bemusement. “I was the brightest Gem of my cut back on Homeworld, and yet somehow I mistook a perfectly formed diamond for a quartz! Ah, hahahah!” Eyes glinting with what he can only describe as a borderline feral energy, she moves to clutch at the sides of her head, thick tufts of lemon yellow spilling out from between her fingers. “Oh, my stars. I’ve lost my touch!”

“Wait, who’s out of touch?” Ruby’s curious voice chimes from nearby. Overjoyed to see her again, Steven whirls to face her with a huge grin as she enters the barn and lounges against one of the support beams, propping a hand on her hip.

“I- it’s nothing important,” Peridot mutters, flushing as she smooths her hair back into place.

Immediately making note of the hint of shame dancing across her features, he nods. “Yeah, we were just chit-chatting! Hey, how’s Amethyst doing, though? You went to talk to her, right?”

Ruby huffs in frustration at the mention of the quartz Gem, grinding her boots against the floor so hard that for a second he’s genuinely concerned she might spark a fire under her very feet. “Tried to. But then she slashed her whip towards me and said I couldn’t help her, so ‘go away!’” she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air. “Can you believe it? I’m trying to provide some love and support, and she, she just- tells me to scram!”

“Aw, that’s not very nice,” he says with a frown, feeling his heart pulse in sympathy as she begins to pace back and forth across the wooden slats, grumbling under her breath.

“What’s her problem today, anyways?” Peridot asks, crossing her arms. “She’s usually much more amicable.”

Steven nibbles at the inside of his lip as he considers the concerning downward trajectory of Amethyst’s recent behavior. Sure, she can sometimes get snippy when she’s in a bad place, but this past week her outward attitude has built into a continuous problem. He himself has been on the receiving end of her acerbic words more than a few times, such as that afternoon they goaded each other into a duel at the Sky Arena, and that barbed retort she pierced him with at the fountain. Then there’s her fight with Pearl, her resulting emotional seclusion, today’s callous treatment of Peridot, Lapis, Ruby…

He desperately wishes he could pin all the blame for this on a single person, a single event, (because oh, wouldn’t that make his life so much easier), but when he tracks the evidence of her unrest it becomes blindingly clear that her problems began long before Rose’s betrayal was revealed.

“Well, beyond all the, uh… latest stuff, she’s been super insecure about Jasper,” he offers. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his flip flops rhythmically clapping against his heels, he rummages his brain for the easiest way to explain the root of the situation. “Basically, Jasper took Amethyst out in a fight a week ago, and ever since that she’s been training super hard a whole lot. I think she’s desperate for a rematch, to prove she’s good enough.”

“Wait, wait, wait—“ The green Gem holds her hands out, palms open. “You’re telling me she’s got an inferiority complex about Jasper? With where she came from?” She lets out a raucous peel of laughter, holding her sides. “Oh Amethyst! That’s ridiculous! She was made way better than that clod.”

He squints at her inquisitively, crossing his arms as he tries to make sense of the interesting new conversation thread that just flowed out of her mouth. “But what do you mean, where she came from? Isn’t she from Homeworld, like you?”

Ruby freezes in place upon hearing this question, clear worry threaded through her creased browline. Her mouth bobs open as if she’s gearing up to answer his question, but amidst her hesitation— a timidness that, the more he thinks about it, is bizarrely out of place from the bold, confident Gem Steven’s gotten to know from all the other times Garnet’s unfused— Peridot beats her to the charge.

“Pfft, are you kidding? She emerged right here from Earth, and not even from its good kindergarten!”

He slams his hands against his cheeks, internally reeling from this revelation. “There’s other kindergartens?”

“Well, sure! There was supposed to be one in every facet. Until the rebellion put a swift end to the Diamonds’ colonization efforts, that is,” she adds quickly, adjusting her visor. “There’s Amethyst’s Prime Kindergarten in Facet Five, but there’s also the Beta Kindergarten in Facet Nine. And that piece of work is where Jasper was made… poorly!” Giggling in excitement, she rapidly shuffles her feet beneath her. The glimmer of light reflected in her eyes is bright enough to rival a distant star. “You guys have to see it!”

Steven balls up his hand at his chin, deliberating. He has to admit, after the recent emotional upheaval that he now can’t help but associate with this place, he really likes the idea of spending time somewhere other than the barn.

“Huh. Might be worth asking if she wants to check it out,” he says with a shrug. “Ruby, you in?”

The Gem in question nibbles at the corner of her lip, humming low under her breath as she considers his offer. A small bead of sweat hangs above her brow. Sporting a good natured grin, he nudges her in the side with his elbow, hoping he can cheer her up a bit.

“A little more time with your favorite Steven and Peri? Eh? Come on, you know you wanna!”

“Do it, do it!” Peridot chimes in, pumping her fists up and down.

He eagerly joins in with her rallying cry, and in no time at all they’re both circling around their friend chanting those very words. Ruby stands center with her arms crossed and her back erect, desperately trying not to break her stoic facade with a smile. It’s ultimately futile, of course. After all, no one can resist the good ol’ Universe charm forever!

“All right, fine, fine, I’ll come,” she finally acquiesces, and with a smirk, plants both her hands on her hips. “After all, someone’s gotta keep an eye on all you trouble makers!”

Now that Ruby’s officially on board, the trio ventures outside to find Amethyst, Steven and Peridot giggling as they begin to skip around the perimeter of the barn side by side, arms linked together. Brushing a few flyaway curls out of his face amidst the comforting breeze, he glances over his shoulder when they reach the first corner to make sure they’re not leaving their friend in the dust. And thankfully she’s right on their tail, but he can’t help but notice her enthusiasm seems muted. He presses his lips together in concern. Does she not want to go with them? Is he only forcing her into this? His stomach twists with guilt as he ponders this quandary further. It’s not his intention to be pushy, but maybe— between coercing Amethyst to take a break and accompany him to the barn, begging Lapis to stay, and now, nudging Ruby to come to the Kindergarten— he’s only being selfish and manipulative about all this. He thought he was bringing people together, but what if he’s wrong? What if he’s only straining relationships, tainting the already tense atmosphere, making everything worse?

(What if this is the same sort of excuse his mom Rose used to make?)

With Amethyst slashing her whip at a few old rusted cans in the clearing before them, however, there’s no time to waste drowning within what-ifs. It’s like that day he learned about Garnet’s future vision for the first time: if he lets himself get tangled up in the possibilities he’ll never truly live. He sighs under his breath, lips pursed. Of course. Garnet’s right even when she isn’t here. As much as he’d love to go crazy psychoanalyzing the impact of every solitary step he makes, at this point he’s made his choices and whatever happens, happens. It’s time to live now.

Initially, the purple Gem is rather indignant at the idea that the three of them were gossiping about her behind her back— eyes clouded with hurt— but once Peridot explains that the point of their proposed Kindergarten field trip is to check out Jasper’s no-doubt lame hole, she blinks away her bitterness and seems to eagerly climb aboard.

“Sure, why not? ‘S not like there’s anything more fun than roasting your enemies.”

“I strongly agree,” Peridot says, nodding with pride.

But before the newly expanded Shorty Squad can begin their journey, there’s something Steven really needs to address. Something that’s been troubling him all day. Nervous butterflies filling his stomach, he leans up close to his sibling-in-crime and whispers so the others don’t hear:

“Amethyst, can I talk to you for a bit before we leave?”

Her expression curdles, but thankfully, unlike in Ruby’s unfortunate account, she doesn’t make a move towards her whip to push him away. Instead, she meets him with a gaze so hardened and difficult to read that his eyes can’t help but drift away, perhaps a little intimidated by the intensity of this contact.

“Yeah, I guess,” she mutters eventually. She flicks her wrist up at the other two, gesturing for them to get a move on. “Go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Ruby and Peridot nod, the red Gem with a good deal more sympathy drawn on her face, (but for him or Amethyst?), and promptly set off towards the warp pad. He continues to watch until they disappear beyond the curve of the grassy hillside, both conversing comfortably. The last he hears before the warp shoots its cyan stream of light into the sky is a hooting laugh from Ruby. Despite how non-ideal this visit has been so far, he can’t help the smile stretching across his cheeks, or how his chest grows all warm and fuzzy. It’s really nice to see Peridot getting along so well with the others now. She’s made such huge strides in the past few months.

Something metallic clangs behind him. Flinching, Steven whirls around. A crumpled, abused soda can lays overturned by the side of the barn. Amethyst— arms crossed tight just under her gem and her hair more spiked and untamed than usual— glares at that poor hunk of tin as if it’s solely to blame for all of this galaxy’s problems. She moves to lean against the barn’s outer wall and peers at him expectantly, like a troubled child expecting judgement from a parental figure.

“So. You wanted to talk,” she says, tone clipped.

“I… wanted to be honest,” he mutters, threading his fingers together as he grasps for how best to word this. “Amethyst… I know you’ve been going through some hard stuff lately. I know everything that’s happened in the past few days doesn’t help. But you’ve been so inconsiderate of like, everyone here.” He swings his arm in a wide gesture towards the barn. “Peridot and Lapis didn’t deserve the way you treated them earlier.”

No response.

Steven frowns, and— a glimmer of quiet frustration bubbling deep within him, the sort he’d never admit to out loud but can’t help but harbor whenever he catches wind of small injustices that he can never seem to fix— scratches an burgeoning itch at the nape of his neck. He… oh stars, he’s going about this completely wrong, isn’t he? He’s being too confrontational. Hmm. Maybe he should try a new angle. Time for take two.

“I know you only acted that way because you’re hurting and don’t wanna think about it,” he continues, “but please, you don’t have to box your emotions away like that. I wanna help. I wanna listen.”

Slowly, gently, he moves to place a hand on her shoulder. It feels like a small victory when she doesn’t shift upon his touch.

“Believe me, you’re not alone in feeling this way.”

Again, nothing. She’s not even looking at him right now, and her jaw’s locked. Even her form feels tense under his fingers, with hard light pulsing back and forth under her illusory skin at an alarmingly unusual pace.

He sighs, gaze dropping towards the ground, towards the battered can she kicked aside earlier. “I’m worried, y’know? But... I understand if you’re not ready to talk… about Jasper, and—“

“Oh, hoh! That’s rich!” she explodes suddenly, jerking her arm away. “You seriously wanna bury your head in the sand and pretend this is just about Jasper?”

He tiptoes away from her rush of anger, eyes growing puffy. “I—“

“You wanna know how I feel, Steven? About your mom, and the whole awful mess she made? Do you really? ‘Cause I don’t have a single CLUE what I should feel anymore!”

Amethyst pauses for breath amidst her tirade, briefly locking sight with him with a glimmer of hurt reflected in her violet irises, showing that deep underneath all those twisted layers of anger and resentment she’s just another scared, abandoned Gem like him.

“Rose was everything to me, okay?” she says, throwing her palms wide for emphasis. “And all this time, I thought she was the one Crystal Gem who could be real with me. The only one who wouldn’t sugarcoat things or treat me like a baby. ‘Oh, you’re perfect the way you are, Amethyst!’” she coos in a fake, silky-sweet voice, cupping her cheeks as she openly mocks the very Gem who gave her life so he could exist. “You’re such a strong little quartz, you mean so much to me!’ Hah!”

She pauses to force a bitter laugh, clenching her hands into insufferably tight fists.

“And wasn’t that just a huge load of silt,” she spits, staring off into the rosy distance as if it were but a cruel mirage, the pain more than evident in the taut features of her face. “All along I thought she was this great, faultless person, just like you did. Except she wasn’t. She’s a liar, like everyone else. I’m worthless, just like Jasper said… and Rose knew it.”

Hesitantly, compassionately— heart breaking for the internal struggle she’s caught within, a struggle he intimately relates to—  he tries once more to reach out in comfort.

“Amethyst…”

She sniffles, wiping away the leaking fluid pooling at the corners of her eyes.

(She does not, however, brush him away this time when he wraps his arms around her torso and nestles his head against her chest.)

“Just— forget it, okay?” she says after a quiet moment’s embrace, gently stepping back from his affection. “It’s whatever. Come on, Peridot and Ruby are waiting for us. Let’s dump this joint.”

__________

Ruby quietly shuffles across the loose soil, directing her eyes as low to the ground as possible to avoid having to stare at the Beta Kindergarten’s steep cliff walls. Red sandstone, Peridot proclaims a few feet away to their newly arrived sightseers, whirling in place with her arms extended wide. We’re lucky this place hasn’t blown away. Beta, am I right?

Steven manages a soft laugh at this. Amethyst continues onward with her arms crossed, unimpressed. But Ruby herself? Well, she’s the only Gem here who can say she crossed this infamous swath of sedimentary rock at its very beginning, on the day of emergence. The others may choose to laugh about how soft and unideal the soaring sandstone cliffs are, or about the uneven exit holes and curved walls, but in her opinion it’s no laughing matter. She’s seen firsthand how deadly even a so-called ‘imperfect’ Homeworld soldier can be. Even Garnet barely escaped with her gems intact.

Nervously flexing her fingers at her side as she tries not to dwell on that tragedy, she flashes her gaze upward, daring to catch even a passing glimpse of the top of the vast canyon. In an instant her vision swims with endless pillars of rusty oranges and reds.

Everything on this planet might as well tower over her without Sapphire. The once-welcoming arms of their temple? Monolithic. The vaulted ceilings of the beach house? Her eidetic memory can’t help but remind her of her early days spent marching through Homeworld’s diamond sized hallways with the rest of her squadron, patrolling the same route for well over five hundred cycles straight. The kicker? The Diamonds never had any reason to visit the shipment sector in person, anyways. The hallways were only constructed with such high ceilings to remind any Gem passing through of their rightful place under the Authority.

Over two hundred years, she adhered to their twisted rhetoric. Two hundred years of allowing everyone and everything around her to make her feel small, like she only existed for a singular purpose. Two hundred years of ignoring the tug of dissatisfaction at the core of her gem because of the misplaced belief that orderly subjugation under the Diamonds was simply the rightful pattern of existence. Then, in a beautiful bloom of light… she caught a glimpse of true freedom. And for the five thousand seven hundred years after that, Garnet didn’t feel quite so small anymore. She felt capable, confident, satisfied. Aided by Ruby’s physical strength and Sapphire’s future vision, she finally dared to challenge Homeworld’s rhetoric. She dared to live for herself.

Sighing under her breath, Ruby touches her fingers to the place in her right palm where her missing gem is, tracing the triangular shape of its illusory facets.

There’s no use arguing; Garnet was a better Crystal Gem than she can ever hope to be on her own. And now, because Rose just had to go and manipulate all of them, there’s a strong chance she’ll never get to be Garnet with her Sapphy ever again. Which means that until further notice, she’s stuck like this: short, stubby, and woefully insecure. Hah! Figures. All those years spent fighting against Homeworld’s warped notion that Gems had stagnant purposes and couldn’t grow beyond their stations, and now it’s as if she’s been dumped back at the beginning, like the past five millennia never happened.

It’s a cruel irony.

And yet it’s no crueler than this awful place: a cradle of birth manufactured as a tool of war, a Gem’s very existence leeching the life out of this once-fertile ground. The scars on the walls tell a mournful story, and as Ruby slowly trudges after her loved ones, fingers numb and fidgety in the wake of haunted disorientation, she can’t help but wish she wasn’t present for its prologue.

“Ruby…?”

Her sight trains on one of the tilted exit holes closest to ground level, on the messy silhouette it provides. She remembers this one, in fact, Garnet watched her emerge. She was a carnelian. By Homeworld’s standards, an imperfect one. That doesn’t matter, though. None of Homeworld’s lies matter. Running on nothing but the primary orders she was incubated with, (it wasn’t her fault, it was the Diamonds’, she reminds herself with a bitter growl), that Gem still emerged to poof three fellow rebels on sight. If Garnet hadn’t been so quick to retrieve their gemstones, they might have been shattered that day. Many of the others assigned to her squadron weren’t as lucky. Inhaling shakily, Ruby pauses to trace her fingers across a raised ridge in the rough, brittle sandstone.

“Hey, Ruby!” his energetic voice calls again, snapping her out of her intense focus like a fusion splitting in half.

“Aaaah!” she cries, swinging around and pulling both fists up in defense. Her hands uncoil rapidly once she catches a glimpse of that cheery yellow star.

Aw, scrap! she chides herself, repositioning her feet solid on the ground to regain some sense of internal balance. Damned startle reflex.

Unfazed, Steven grins boyishly, skipping a few steps away from the rest of the group to join her by the cliff wall. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Amethyst and Peridot are watching now too, she realizes, her brief but audible outburst thoroughly diverting their attention from their Beta Kindergarten roast session. Their quizzical glances pin her in place, her hard-light form heating in embarrassment as she struggles to organize the flow of her emotions in a way that might make sense to anyone beyond a fellow ruby. She scrunches up her nose and considers her next words carefully, attempting to strike the proper boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate to say in front of a half-human child. Stars knows Amethyst, Pearl, and herself haven’t had a great record with that over the past few days.

“Just thinkin’ about Sapphire, mostly,” she admits, offering him a saddened shrug. “Can’t seem to stop that, even half a world away.”

“Speaking of that... Why did you run after us?” Amethyst asks in a notably less cranky manner than earlier, lightly kicking at the dirt with the toes of her booties. “You never said.”

“Y’know, I…” She pauses, pressing her hand to her chin. “I’m not sure. I spent days waiting in front of the temple door. And eventually, I guess I figured that if she’s gonna make me wait no matter what, I might as well do something with myself until then. ‘Sides, I didn’t want to be lonely,” she adds, suddenly feeling just as small and vulnerable in front of all of them as her timid voice sounds.

She felt lonely enough when she ran away from home a few days ago, tears streaming in messy rivulets down her face, utterly spurning their attempts at comfort so she could pretend she was anything else than powerless amidst this nightmare. She never wanted to split, not at all. She begged Sapphire to give their relationship another chance, to believe in the strength of their love more than the fear of a diamond’s control, but tragically, her partner couldn’t hold up under the pressure. If one individual doesn’t wholeheartedly want to be Garnet, then Garnet cannot exist. They can’t synchronize. It’s simply the nature of fusion. And given her love’s avoidance, refusing to so much as leave her room to begin with, Ruby’s beginning to lose hope that their fusion will ever exist again. The crippling isolation that realization affords is the worst form of loneliness she can imagine.

Thus, the least she can do at the moment to mitigate these all-consuming feelings is to get off her butt, leave the temple, and ensure she’s surrounded by loved ones.

Peridot steeples her fingers together in front of her chest. “Well, what if you moved in with us?” she offers in a meek tone at first, her expression brightening as she continues to explain her idea. “The barn’s got plenty of room, and with two roommates you’d never have to feel lonely again!”

Steven’s dark irises practically sparkle. “Aww, Peridot, that’s super sweet of you to offer!”

“Wow, thanks,” she replies earnestly, puffing out her chest in a rush of personal pride. “I do try!”

“Yeah!” Ruby says with a hesitant laugh, scratching at the back of her neck. “That sounds amazing, but…”

“You should do it, Ruby!” he encourages, bouncing up and down on his sandaled feet amidst his excitement. “You should totally move in with them!”

“D’ya… d’ya really think so?”

“Yeah! It’d be like your very own vacation, but you’d only be a warp away!”

“And you’re sure you’d be fine with it? Y’know, with everything at home all…” She blows a juicy raspberry, jabbing her thumb down.

Amethyst serves her a big shrug. “I ain’t got a problem. Go crazy.”

“There’s no need to worry about me,” Steven says, smiling evenly. “I only want what’s best for you. And if you think not staying in the temple all the time would make you feel better, you should give it a try!”

Her concerned glance drops on the young half-Gem. Sure, it’s very compassionate of him, actively choosing to care so deeply for everyone’s emotional needs all the time, but home life for him hasn’t exactly been nurturing and hospitable lately. He already lost one of his pillars of stability when Garnet unfused. Pearl and Amethyst are at each other’s necks again. Sapphire hasn’t emerged from her room for days. Greg’s… doing whatever it is Greg does when he’s not hanging out with his son, probably keeping his distance from Gem business as usual. So with all that in mind, even if temporarily living apart from Sapphire is sure to be a beneficial move for her personal well-being and sanity, is now actually the proper time to consider a change in scenery? She purses her lips.

“I’ll think about it.”

Peridot lets out a sharp squeal of delight, apparently ecstatic about the prospect of possibly gaining a new roommate. Ruby can’t help but grin at this response. In truth, if she didn’t have to consider the well-being of Steven and the rest of the Crystal Gems, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. After all, she’s never gotten the opportunity to make many decisions on her own. Heck, she’s never gotten the opportunity to do much of anything on her own. Every time she’s unfused within the last five thousand years, her priorities have always been about what Sapphire would want, what Sapphire would do.

Well, what about Ruby, this time? Aren’t her desires important? What does she want?

Long term… she has no clue. But right now? She’d prefer to avoid dire reminders of old sorrows at all costs, thank you. So when Peridot declares that she’s 99.9% positive she’s found Jasper’s exit hole, Ruby declines to join them in their roast session. She never came here for sightseeing, anyways. She came here as their lookout. Just in case. She’s never trusted this awful tear in the ground one bit, and she’s not about to start now.

Running instinctively on old programming she was incubated with, she creeps deeper between the narrow mouth of the cliffs and summons her gauntlets at her side. Sure, so maybe they’re not as daunting in their size as Garnet’s, but they can still pack one heck of a punch. She’s still good at punching on her own, yeah? Hopefully? Stars, it’s been so long since she’s gone solo for more than a few measly hours.

And then, at the cliff base in front of her, she spots the most unusual exit hole she’s seen in this miserable canyon yet. For one, it’s low to the ground, like Amethyst’s. That fact alone is enough to set off alarm bells in her head. On top of that, its silhouette is almost comically wide and indistinct, not resembling any cut of Gem she’s aware of.

“Huh. That’s different,” she murmurs, pacing closer to investigate.

Maybe an off-color topaz could punch a hole as wide as this? But… no, no. That can’t be right. Hard light coursing wildly through her form, Ruby dissipates one of her gauntlets and runs the tips of her fingers across the crumbly inside surface of this hole. A few granules of sandstone break off upon her touch and clatter against the ground, and she jerks her hand away as if touching impossibly cold ice. Something about this feels... wrong. To be fair, she’s no expert kindergartener like Peridot, but she’s pretty confident the interior of exit holes should be smooth, with striated rock layers extending all the way back. Instead, this bizarre scar in the cliffs almost seems like—

“It’s dug out,” she says, eyes widening in dawning horror.

Which means they may not be alone in this rusted relic of a Kindergarten after all.

Her body suddenly feeling staticky and unbalanced amidst all this damning uncertainty, she tiptoes away from this mysterious feature, slowly at first, and then— as the fear begins to bubble up within her core like boiling water transformed under her power— transitioning into a sprint. We’re not alone, she repeats to herself in a harried mantra. Not alone. Not alone, we’re not alone, we’re—

Ruby’s foot catches on an uneven lip of stone jutting up from the ground, and she quickly plows headfirst into the coarse dirt, promptly ending her terror-stricken flight.

“Ow,” she whines as she recovers from this fall, rubbing at the side of her head. Not only is she a little dizzy, but her surroundings are made further hazy amidst the overbearing sunlight pounding indiscriminately upon the ground floor of this canyon. It’s enough disorientation to allow the jumbled code of her gem to begin to play tricks on her. For one, she swears she can hear this low, timid skittering, like thick claws rhythmically scraping against rock. Second, she’s half-convinced she can feel a surplus of physical vibrations radiating from the cliffs surrounding her. Squinting, she shields her eyes under a raised arm so she can begin to gain her bearings again. The blinding light recedes.

The red Gem gulps fearfully amidst the burning colors of the harsh sandstone landscape. “Wait, is that—“

She’s stumbled her way into a massive clearing, lined on all sides by stacked rows of holes physically dug into the sheer walls. Each opening is barred by a number of thick metal rods, stripped from the legs of the injectors that once incubated this hell in the first place. The thoughtful engineering imbued in this setup is impressive and terrifying all at once. Ignoring the tangible tug of hesitation at her core, she pushes herself back on her feet and creeps towards the closest cage to investigate further.

“Uh, you guys?” she calls loudly as she walks, the unusual curves of this canyon an undisputed blessing as they carry her message back to the others.

“Yeah?” Amethyst chimes back, her voice notably distant. Too distant.

“We’ve got, um—” her hand glides across one of the bent, rusty bars— “a bit of a problem here?”

“What?? Speak louder, we can’t hear you!”

Before she can even prepare to reply, a fur-covered monstrous creature leaps from the shadowy abyss of its prison and snaps its tusks at her. She yells, jerking her hand away from the cage and stumbling a few feet back. Her brow creases in abject confusion as she attempts to process what she’s seeing in front of her. It’s… it’s a corrupted Gem? This one’s most definitely a quartz; she recognizes the faceting, as well as the distinctive fur-covered quadrupedal shape of its corrupted form. But why on Earth is it being trapped within a cage in the middle of a defunct kindergarten instead of being placed in a bubble’s comforting stasis? The ground beneath her feet grows noticeably warmer as a rush of impassioned anger surges through her hard light form. She grinds her teeth together, flexing her fists at her side in the name of this cruel injustice. Caging isn’t part of Crystal Gem protocol for a reason!

Unfortunately, the horror show continues as her gaze passes over each and every cage in this clearing, finding scared, thrashing, corrupted Gems in almost all of them. Fluid builds up at the corner of her eyes as they scream and wail at her, riding a fresh wave of cacophony spurned by that Gem she spooked just a moment ago. How could anyone ever build such an awful place? And why?

Heavy, assured footfalls suddenly bounce across the acoustically encouraging slopes and surfaces of this ravine, magnified tenfold in their wake. Ruby gasps, wasting no time in ducking behind a tall rocky formation at the mouth of the clearing. That’s definitely not Amethyst or any of the others. It sounds too large, too bulky. She kneels low so she can still peek over the topmost layer of sandstone, a knot of dread coiling within as the footfalls continue to grow louder. Groaning, she clutches at her head. The unknown, the impenetrable shadow of the future… stars, it haunts her more than loneliness itself.

And then, the specter of her history reveals herself, making Ruby’s tangible form stutter in the sheer terror her appearance affords.

Jasper— her opponent, her nightmare, the Rebel Slayer herself— emerges from a plume of rising dust at the edge of this populous arena and enters the game.

[timeforelfnonsense]

The Bargain

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M 

Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series  

I want to add a TW up here: The first half of this fic depicts Astarion having a panic attack/being in fight or flight. The portrayal was informed by my own struggles with BPD and panic attacks. I think it's important to remember our responses to trauma are often flawed and imperfect. It was very cathartic for me to write tbh. I'm very proud of this one and I think a lot of Dafni's character really shines through! This one has a good bit of canon d&d lore mixed with some homebrew/folklore about the fey (WotC pls feed me more feywilds canon I am DESPERATE for it!). Elvish Translations (via candle keep): arael’sha: Heart-friend (used in contexts like beloved or my heart) The stars shining right through your eyes: A common elvish idiom referring to one's youth or naiveté.

A gust of wind blew through the putrid bog carrying the damp, acrid smell of rotten vegetation and sulfuric swamp water. The gray, splintered walls of the tea house groaned, the top half of the gnarled structure swaying. It was shocking the poor construction of the ramshackle hovel hadn’t killed the hag for them. Astarion had made his way to the small alcove hung above the crumbling foyer hoping to find his paramour. He felt his heart sink when he was met with nothing but the witch's clutter. Astarion rocked on his heels. There was something deeply wrong with this place, even with Ethel dead. Oppressive energy hung on the stale air. Filling the whole space with an undoubted misery that left him feeling raw and exposed.

Deep down you like being leashed, don't ya?

Gale and Wyll had begun to make themselves at home below him. He observed them as they languidly poked about, looking for anything of the hag’s that would be of use. Wyll had already summoned a raven to send back to camp, a note attached to its foot informing the others that they wouldn’t make it back for the evening. The old bat had not given up without a fight and they’d been left battered and exhausted. Astarion winced, his arm brushing against the wall.

He was bleeding. Fantastic.

He had been too preoccupied with the feelings this place drew out of him to notice the long gash running down the top of his forearm. Ethel had tried to drag him to the gaping chasm at the center of her abode when the fight was no longer in her favor. He had struggled and thrashed against her but she only dug her twisted claws in deeper. She’d nearly succeeded in pitching him over when a fatal arrow from Dafni’s longbow sunk into her eye with a wet squelch, exiting the back of her skull.

He already felt like shit from being tossed about by a hag and that discomfort was only compounded by the growing need for a drink. The scorch of thirst started to lick at the back of his throat. He must have been bleeding into his sleeve for some time. His body was eager to replace what was lost.

Is there still rat stuck in your teeth? Slave!

Perhaps Dafni would allow him a little nibble. Just the thought of the sweet strawberry wine in her veins eased some of the discomforts. Astarion pressed his back against a hideous wardrobe, sliding down until his backside hit the ground. He had made a point of exercising restraint when it came to drinking from her. He never wanted her to be under the impression she was only a meal to him. But he was famished and she was his favorite treat.

You're one thirsty night away from betraying everyone!

Or maybe not...

There had to be something else edible nearby. He took in a deep breath only to be met with the nauseating scent of an overripe corpse. He coughed and sputtered, forcing the repugnant smell from his lungs. Any thirst he might have had was chased off by the gut-twisting aroma. It seemed he wouldn’t be taking a breath for the rest of the night. While his undead nature freed him from the necessity of breathing he’d always been partial to it. The feeling of his chest moving up and down had served as a steadfast reminder he wasn’t  truly  dead despite all he had endured at Cazador’s hand.

Vampire? Ha! You’re nothing but a ravenous cadaver, spawn!

“You bastard! You ruined it- You ruined everything!” Mayrina squawked.

“Are you daft! I helped you!” Dafni spat back.

Well, he found her.

It would seem Dafni’s damsel in distress was none too pleased with her would-be hero. Astarion groaned, bringing his head to his knees. He was agitated as it was and the squabble happening outside was only making the tightness in his chest worse. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to tune them out. Astarion grit his teeth, the pain in his arm was growing more acute by the minute and the strange magic of this shithole had his nerves ragged. His body jolted at the crack of a hand against flesh ringing out across the yard outside followed by a string of elven cursing. A torrent harrowing memories shot through his brain as the appalling noise hit his ear. The simmering dread morphing into fury. A low growl fell from his snarling lips as he tore down the stairs towards the yard.

“The hag promised she’d bring my husband back from the grave if I gave her my baby! I just needed to wait a little longer but you had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong!”

“You promised your child to a hag? You do know hags devour babies, yes? They swallow them whole and within a week the child is reborn a hag daughter.” Dafni’s yelped as Mayrina‘s palm came down across her cheek. She brought a hand to the stinging flesh in disbelief. Foxglove bells dripped from her battle messed hair, hot summer rage threatening to boil over. She took a deep breath in attempting to soothe her nerves but her soundings did little to help. The magic that covered this swamp, was arcane and wild- Much the same as dark and forbidden places in her home plane. Hags often built their homes in places where the barrier between the material and faerie was thin enough for fools from both planes to seek them out. It was unsurprising the shadowy influence of the hag had mingled with the magic of a crossing to create a bubble of negativity. It was likely provoking more extreme reactions from the already distressed woman. “I understand you are upset, but my patience is growing thin. I am only trying to help you. I’m no stranger to hags. They are creatures of my homeland and I can assure you there is always a greater price. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Don’t you judge me! You can’t possibly understand-” Mayrina sobbed raising her open palm for another strike only to her wrist caught in the iron grasp of Astarion’s alabaster hand.

Oh no.

“You foul little wrench!” Astarion’s voice was acid, his teeth bared, “She saved your miserable life and you dare raise your filthy hand to her? I have half a mind to tear your throat out but that seems kinder than you deserve.”

Dafni’s heart was pumping a mile a minute. She’d seen Astarion cross but this was completely different. Astarion’s body was completely rigged. His shoulders forward, back straight. His red eyes glowed with ferocity as his grip on Mayrina tightened. Normally when he was upset he’d get stroppy or belligerent. He’d needle the target of his disapproval with snide remarks until they were as frustrated as he was. He could be rather rude and bab tounged when he felt like it but it was always a cool, controlled vexation. This was unfettered wrath far stronger than Mayrina’s actions had earned.

“I-I’m sorry!” Mayrina uttered with a shaking breath, “Please, let me go!”

“Why?” He snarled, cocking his head to the side, “So you can attempt to strike my beloved a third time?”

“Please, arael’sha, let her go…” Dafni wrapped her hand around his shoulder, her eyes soft and concerned, “I’m fine. She shouldn’t have hit me but I’m in no danger from her and you know that.”

“Fine.” He shot her a loathsome look but yielded to her request, tossing Mayrina’s hand with disgust, “You and your gods damned bleeding-heart. Let the shrew disrespect you if you’d like. I don’t care.” Astarion turned on his heels staking back into the tea house his fists balled tight at his side.

Dafni nibbled her lower lip, her fingers worrying the hem of her sleeves. Astarion had made himself scarce after the incident with Mayrina. It upset her to see him so distressed. Her instinct had been to tear after him when he stormed off. But, she knew him well enough to understand he would need space and time to calm down before they discussed it. Any attempt to talk to him before that would only serve to upset him even more. She made herself busy tending to her friends in the meantime. They had a few injuries but nothing she couldn’t patch up. She might have been too worn out for magic but Ethel had kept a decent supply of herbs and tonics for her less exotic ‘lotions and potions’ that would do nicely. She even found a few things worth snagging for her own medical kit back at camp. If they had to be stranded for the night, at least it was somewhere well stocked.

Gale had a burn on his arm she’d treated with a salve of aloe and quince. Wyll a nasty knock to the head, that while painful, by the Protector’s grace, didn’t appear to be a concussion. She’d put on a kettle of willow bark tea and instructed him to drink at least two cups of the stuff as soon as it was ready. She had done all she could for now. More than anything they both seemed fatigued. With a little rest, they’d be on the mend.

The worn staircase creaked under her weight as she made her way to the second level of the house. Astarion sat on the splintering floor, his back propped up against a cluttered cupboard. His scarlet eyes glassy and fixed on a far off point. He was clutching the top of his right forearm. Between his fingers, Dafni could make out a tell-tale dark stain of red on his sleeve.

“You are hurt!” She gasped racing to his side, “Why didn’t you fetch me! Let me clean and bandage that for you.”

“Don’t touch me.” His voice came out in a low growl as he twisted away from her.

Dafni took a step away, her hands held up. “I won’t touch you without your consent but I need to tend to your arm soon. I’m worried about you.”

“Why should I want your help?” He glared at her arm still held tight against his chest. “You certainly don’t want mine.”

Dafni let out an exacerbated exhale, “Is this about what happened earlier?”

“No, it’s about you and your compulsive need to martyr yourself at every chance! It is foolhardy, reckless, and incredibly selfish! You can be so juvenile- The stars shining right through your eyes! And I can’t always be there to mind you, Dafni! Today it was just a slap but one day you are going to try and save the wrong person and I’m going to find you bled out in an outer city gutter or worse!” He was scolding her in earnest now. His bottled-up feelings coming out in a torrid of icy words. “Is rushing into other people’s disasters to prove to mommy and the gods you are a big girl really worth it? ”

“I do tend to put the needs of others before my own” She admitted, “Oftentimes to my own detriment but, please, don't talk to me as if I am a misbehaving child.” Dafni kept her tone calm and even as she continued, “I care for you and I can tell you are feeling overwhelmed. I want to support you but I can’t do that unless you help me understand what’s going on?”

They sat in silence for a while. His lean frame was closed off and wound tight. As if he was prepared to bolt at the slightest disruption of his already fragile state. An anxious tremble coursing through him every few moments. He refused to face her but Dafni could have sworn she saw the wet shimmer of tears forming in his eyes.

“My patience was already rather thin and then I heard that insolent twit strike you…” He spoke at last, finally met her gaze with an absolutely despondent expression. “And something just snapped in me.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that shouting. I’m sure listening to her smack the daylights out of me wasn’t pleasant for you. Especially when you were already feeling uneasy.” Dafni said as she slowly brought her head to rest on his shaking shoulder. Astarion dropped a smidge of tension from his body as he buried his face in her roseate, satin-soft curls. His breathing grew more steady by the second. She could sense the storm of his disquiet coming to an end. “I want you to know I appreciate you standing up for me. I might not have agreed with the method but I know your heart was in the right place.” She hesitated, “Can I ask you a question?”

He gave her an uncertain look but nodded, “If you’d like to.”

“Do you feel like it’s your job to protect me?”

He shifted a bit his eyes darting away as his good arm rubbed the nape of this neck. His body language all but screamed the answer but he was clearly still trying to craft a response. “Sometimes. Is that a satisfactory response?”

“Hmm?” Dafni mused, “If you elaborate, yes.”

“Why?” The word came at a long, petulant whine. His brows were knit tight, “I answered the question, did I not?”

Dafni brushed a delicate finger along the straight line of his ear. She smiled as a shiver of delight ran throughout him. A faint flush made its way across the bridge of his nose and to his cheeks. So light you’d miss it if you didn’t know what to look for. “Humor me?”

“I don’t like seeing people hurt you.” He said toying with a stray tendril of her hair, “You always see the best in everyone and everything. The world is full of malefactors who would be more than happy to take advantage of that and for some reason, beyond my control, I’ve decided keeping you happy and whole is just as important to my survival as my own well being.” He groaned pinching the space between his brows with the hand of his unmarred arm, “So you see my motivations are far from selfless. Happy?”

Dafni tried to will the bright grin that threatened to take shape across her lips away. Worried she might frighten him off with her enthusiasm. “Your elaboration was sufficient.” She tittered, no longer suppressing her smile. Her eyes shimmering with mirth as she spoke, “I have an idea! How about we strike a bargain?”

Astarion’s mouth quirked with a warm smile of his own, “Wasn’t it the dangers of fey bargains that caused this mess in the first place?”

“Yes, but I am no hag and I’ll give my word to say only what I mean. No tricks. Creatures of Faerie are bound by our word, we never go back on a promise once given.” She explained, “Now, I respect you far too much to lie and say I’ll stop helping people when I think they need it but, I, Dafni Ríwen of Gwynneth, Daughter of Thesmia Ríwen, cleric of blessed Corellon Larethina give you, Astarion of Baldur's Gate my word that I will try to pick my battles rather than jumping in headfirst at every opportunity. In exchange, I ask that you treat me as your equal from now. I watch your back and you watch mine. We protect each other. Always. Do we have a deal?”

“I can agree to that.”

With a bargain struck between them she leaned in close brushing her lips against his cheek, a gentle tingle of magic, sweet as spring spreading through them both. “Now, I insist you give me that arm. You might like the smell of blood but to me, it reeks of iron.” With a half-hearted laugh, he relinquished the injured arm to her at last. Drat. Was nothing simple? The gash was much deeper than she’d thought it to be. “ Hmmm, this will need stitches, unfortunately. At least until I can rest and heal you with magic. I’ll need to boil some more cloth for bandages and find a needle in this mess.” Dafni procured a small flask of pale yellow liquid from her pack, a bit strong for such a simple procedure but with his, she didn’t want to retrigger his fight or flight by stabbing him with whatever dull needle she could scrounge up. “In the meantime take a  very  small nip of this. It’s a bit of poppy syrup diluted with dandelion wine for the pain and nerves. Drink up. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Dafni made her way back downstairs creating a list of supplies in her mind: She’d need to boil some cloth in witch hazel for dressing, a steel needle, and thread, alcohol to clean the wound, something to keep everything clean and safe while she worked in the filthy alcove...

When Dafni returned she found Astarion lounging rather contently with a lazy grin on his beautiful face. She had told him to take only a small nip! Oh well, at least he’d sit still for her. She sat back down, carefully placing the silver tray of makeshift medical supplies beside her.

“This stuff is great, Daffodil!” He chuckled, swirling the remainder of her laudanum around the flask.

“A nip, Astarion. A nip! Now give me that.” She scolded, snatching the glass bottle from his loose grip. He only laughed, completely bemused by her annoyance. “Alright, I’m going to clean out the cut with some alcohol. It might sting a bit.” Dafni explained, rolling her eyes, “Though I hardly think you’ll notice in this state.”

He winced a bit as the alcohol came in contact with his flesh, his nose scrunching up in displeasure but he sat otherwise stone still. Methodically, she began the work of suturing his arm. He was very lucky she’d been able to bum a needle and thread off Gale otherwise she would have been forced to get creative.

“You are a cleric. Doesn't daddy Corellon grant you all kinds of healing power? Why did you bother to learn how to mend people without magic?”

“Ok, first off  please  do not refer to the divine being that created our people as ‘daddy’ ever again.” She shook her head with a giggle all the while continuing her task, “Secondly, I learned because of situations just like this one. Magic takes a lot of energy. I can’t just cast unlimited healing spells and the wilds can be dangerous. I never wanted to find myself in a situation when I was unable to care for myself or my sisters. Besides, I needed something to study while they and my mother worked on their wizardry.”

“I want to know something else. Why did you let that fool girl get away with slapping you?”

Dafni mulled the thought over for a bit as she finished the final stitch, snipping the thread with a pair of sewing shears she fully intended to steal. “Because I felt sorry for her. She had clearly already suffered enough without my vengeance. Humans live such fleeting lives, Astarion. They are over before our people even reach adulthood. They experience so much loss and decay in such little time. I think it can make them blind to the long term implications of their choices.”

“I still think you should have let me kill her for disrespecting you.” He shrugged, “But I suppose I can understand your thinking.”

“As I said, she’s suffered more than her fair share. But I appreciate the sentiment.” She gathered a length of linen, winding it snugly over his arm. “All done! You were a model patient!” She teased before adding with sincerity, “I hope that wasn’t too bad.”

“It wasn’t bad at all. Thank you. For everything.” He paused for a beat, his eyes falling to the well-worn floorboards, “You are the first person to treat me like a man in a very long time. You make it easy to forget I’m an undead horror. I’m eternally grateful for you even if I’m not the best at expressing that.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that Astarion.” She scowled, “It hurts my heart when you say things like that about yourself. We might not always see eye to eye and I won’t lie, you can be an absolute pain in my backside. But you will always be a person to me. Never a monster.”

“Always so sweet.” He sighed, slumping against her shoulder, nuzzling his favorite spot in the hollow of her neck. “I wish I understood you. All that time and I don’t think I’ve ever really understood you- how you can be so... good. Yet, frustratingly you’ve always seemed to understand me better than I understand myself.”

He spoke with an unmistakable familiarity, far beyond that which they’d formed over the past few days. Their people lived many lives. Longing to return to Corellon’s side in Arvandor but unable to as punishment for confining themselves to a single shape. Two elves could find each other in more than one lifetime. It was far from unheard of.

The Feywilds did funny things to a person's memory if they weren’t used to its magic. Even affecting the reverie of those from other lands who spent time among their eladrin cousins. The crossing or the magic of her bargain could possibly have provoked things long forgotten.

Or he was simply three sheets to the wind.

Regardless it was refreshing to have such a candid conversation with him. Free of affectation or pretense. Even if he was almost certainly going to forget all of it and be right back to his cocksure self by morning.

“I disagree.” She stated, “I think you understand me better than you think. You’re just a little out of practice when it comes to letting people close to you. You didn’t ask but, as I’m positive you’ll forget this little talk by tomorrow, I also want to add that I think you are secretly very sensitive. I’ve also seen the puppy eyes you give me when you think I’m not looking. Totally adorable! You are just afraid to let people see that side of you.”

“Puppy eyes?” He chuckled nipping softly at her throat, “I think I preferred thinking you were scared of me.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetness.” She tuted placing a light peck on his forehead, “You need to rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Oh, my darling, Despoena.” He muttered exhausted against her shoulder. “It was so lonely here without you. I’m glad you found me at last.”  

Dafni’s heart stopped dead in its tracks.

How?

He named her.

The memories of one’s primal life were lost after their first century. Leaving only glimmers and fragments behind. For the fey eladrin, true names- The names they had carried when they sprung from the blood of the Creator, were the most sacred and personal of those precious among them. Names held power in the land of Faerie but none so much as a soul’s true name. They were not to be shared with even the closest of loved ones, and yet in his haze, Astarion somehow knew?

“Astarion… I’ve never told anyone my true name. Not even my mother knows it. How did you know it? And what do you mean by ‘I’m glad you found me’? Are you having some kind of waking reverie or are you just high out of your mind? I’m a little taken back- And you are snoring. Great. You blurt out my only true secret and then it's off to Sehanine Moonbow with you.”

As desperately as she wanted to puzzle out the evening's events she was tired in mind and body. The others had already settled in for the night and she’d be wise to do the same. She settled herself in for trance, Astarion’s head on her shoulder, his hand intertwined with hers. Praying her reverie might provide some answers.  

[sophi-s]

Cost of Kindness

Chapter III: Between joy and sorrow

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 7,405

Characters: Raphael, Darksiders OC

Warnings: None

Summary:

After a crazy adventure outside of Haven, Nicola finally is in shape to try and find her way back. As sad as she is about it, she bids her farewells to her new angel friend. However, it seems Raphael isn't quite ready to say goodbye just yet. And so the fearful human finds herself in the company of an archangel stuck to her like glue.

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Until the sun peered shyly from behind the horizon to announce the arrival of another dawn, Nicola slept like a log. Literally. She hadn't stirred throughout the whole time of her dreamless, magically induced sleep. Were it not for her steady breathing, because as pale and motionless as she was, some might have thought her dead, not sleeping. After long hours, she finally opened her eyes as the remnants of the arcane haze fell and left her mind unshackled. The fog receded from her sight and she was fully expecting the ceiling of the room she occupied in Haven to greet her. Only to be met with disappointment when the dark interior of an underground tunnel filled her vision instead.

For a couple of seconds she was absolutely stunned, unsure where she was or why. The shock of waking up in a strange place had her frozen while her brain was trying to process what in the actual Hell was happening like when she awoke after her first night spent in the Maker Tree. Slowly, the memories of the recent events creeped back into her head. Raphael. Kitten. Demons. My leg… Right… She did feel much better than before but still a little woozy, possibly because half of her brain wasn't fully awake just yet. Massaging her eyelids to rub away the vestiges of sleep, Nicola sat up and scrutinized her surroundings blinking groggily. The same, damp sewer, the same cold darkness. Yawn, which followed, was so wide one might think Nicola intended to swallow everything in this "room".

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the aforementioned angel sitting a couple of feet away, supporting his head on his hand, elbow on his knee while a small cat slept in the rumpled fabric of his green waistcoat. His hood concealed his features as his wings rested against his back and shoulders which steadily moved up and down in the rhythm of a calm breathing. For a moment it might have seemed Raphael was dozing as well but at the quietest move Nicola made, his wary eyes open to look at her without any traces of sleep in them, glimmering like two bright stars from the shadow the hood was casting over his face. It was so abrupt that it made her jump a little.

"Oh! H- hi! Good morning. If it is morning, I mean.."

At her greeting, the cat perked its head up with a "mrowf" noise and shot her a dirty look for daring to interrupt its rest before yawning almost as widely as she did. Raphael answered her with a nod and a small, affirmative sound in the back of his throat but otherwise remained quiet, content with watching her in silence when Nicola leaned down to inspect her thigh and determine whether or not she was in shape for walking anywhere. And to her not unpleasant surprise, the wound was almost fully healed and moving her leg wasn't painful anymore. She did feel the recently present damage to her muscle but she wouldn't call it "pain". More like strain. And that was in like seventy percent of her body from the previous day, even if not as intense as she expected it to be. She really did over exert herself quite a bit. Still, with all certainty she could say Raphael did an unbelievably good job. If only human doctors were in possession of even a teeny tiny part of the healing abilities he had, the world would've been a much safer place.

Though, she couldn't really decide whether the fact that her leg seemed to be perfectly fine was a good thing or not. On the one hand it would mean that nothing hindered her any longer. If the sun is really up then she should wait no longer and set out to make sure the nightfall doesn't catch her again and look for a way back home. Home… In spite of herself she smiled sadly. How quickly she started to refer to Haven as her second home. Her own was irreversibly lost after all.. Reduced to nothing but a grim rubble with all her childhood memories buried underneath. Nicholas died so that she may get out of there alive. He would love it in Haven if he had a chance to see it… In this last safe sanctum for her kind, other survivors, makers.. They were her new family. She could only imagine how they're feeling right now. She should've been back ages ago. She has to return as quickly as possible. The idea of asking Vulgrim for help wasn't completely off the table. She could probably promise him something in return for taking her to the Tree and give it to him later. Nicola can be pretty convincing if she has to but she wouldn't put that past Vulgrim to deny her still. She'd have to play it smart should she fail to find the way back herself. He doesn't trade in favors in exchange for promises after all. No matter. One way or another, she will get back to Haven. That, or she can say goodbye to her wretched life.

But on the other hand… Glancing up at Raphael, who was half-busying himself with petting the very content cat and half-watching her, she realised with a twinge that she'll have to leave him. In those few short hours he'd done so much for her.. so many things she was grateful for… And on top of that, with how sad and lonely he was, Nicola couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor man. She'd never met an angel before and hadn't come to know one well but those she'd seen when this nightmare started didn't make a good impression on her. Raphael was so much different from his kin. She still wasn't sure why he decided to help her even though he didn't have to. And that made her feel empathetic towards him, especially every time he gave her this suffering look which told her a long story of pain and misery. Nicola may have known him for barely a couple hours, if not less, but somehow the thought of leaving him here possibly never to see him again was making her heart sink. Because of the apocalypse, she was running really low on friends and so no one could blame her for wanting to keep every single one she had left or recently made. And honestly, after the angel saved her life and treated her wounds she would lie if she said he wasn't on the right path into the alarmingly small circle of people she held dear to her. Such experiences have a way of bringing people closer to one another, despite the differences they may possess. And besides, what would leaving him here be if not cruelty?

"You seem… troubled."

Raphael stated, making Nicola look at him again. Even after only a few hours spent with her, he sensed her current mood without a mistake. He was pretty insightful. Not that Nicola was trying overly hard to hide it but still. Maybe that's just something the angels do. She sighed in response. I really am.. She thought. It wasn't as though she didn't have a lot to be grim about but this particular thought at the forefront of her brain bothered her the most at this given moment. She didn't want to go just like that but she knew she had to. If only to make sure other guys are alright. But honestly she doubted that Ulthane would ever let her out of his sight again after the stunt she pulled, no matter what she tells him afterwards. In turn, this might be the last time she sees the kind and selfless, not all there angel. Whether she likes it or not, it was time to bid farewell.

"I… I wanted to thank you again for what you did for me."

She started as she stood up - still a bit wobbly from all the crazy stuff that happened so recently - looking around in search of her backpack and shotgun. Both were resting under a wall not far from where she was laid down before, right next to the place where the mummified Goreclaw used to be. Raphael must've moved it further down the sewer where the rest of the corpses were when she was sleeping. Sooner or later it would start attracting pesky flies and other nasty vermin if not things far worse, not to mention the smell of decomposing meat. A little reluctantly, she flung the backpack over her shoulder and picked up her gun before turning to face Raphael. An increasingly unsettled Raphael who seemed to have taken the hint what she intended to do.

"Really, thanks. It's been very nice to meet you. But I have to go now."

"Go? Where to?"

The barely audible note of fear in his voice and the look he gave her made Nicola feel even worse for having to part ways with him.

"I'm going.. home."

Nicola to some extent knew how to read certain people but the blank stare of the angel before her was giving her a really hard time.

"Look, I can't stay here and I'm sorry but I have to go.."

She said hesitantly and turned towards the exit from the tunnel to leave for the surface, quietly wishing she didn't suck at saying her goodbyes. This was one of her greater weaknesses, right after small animals. Especially cats.

"Goodbye. And good luck! I hope we'll meet again.."

With that short farewell, Nicola turned away to walk off into the sewer and begin her search for Haven. But a firm grip on her shoulder stopped her from taking more steps and made her glance back in bewilderment. Somehow, Raphael shifted from a sitting position to standing and closed the distance between himself and Nicola in one beat without producing a single sound. Not going to lie, it was quite scary and Nicola couldn't help a startled squeak that escaped her. But even though he spooked her yet again, the distressed face he pulled made Nicola bite her lower lip. And the hesitant plea leaving his mouth made it even worse.

"Stay…"

"I- I can't! I really need to go!"

"Please…?"

Raphael quietly begged her. His flared and bristled wings were quivering anxiously and his face bore the most pitiful pleading look she'd ever seen. God, why do you have to make this so difficult? It was strange. He'd been doing fine without Nicola for who knows how long. Well… fine might not be the right word to use in this case but whatever. Though, now that she thinks about it, it makes sense that he wouldn't want to be left alone again. Especially because loneliness doesn't serve healthy people well and Raphael looked like someone who could use the help of a specialist. Still, Nicola found herself asking.

"Why do you want me to stay?"

Instead of answering, Raphael glanced down from her face, looking at the point on her chest, just below her collarbone. Nicola awkwardly cleared her throat to get his attention once she felt like his gaze was going right through her mortal shell and piercing into her very core.

"Uhh.. What exactly are you thinking about?"

Not bothered by it, Raphael squinted and lifted his forefinger, extending it to the place he was looking at. And seriously, for a second Nicola was considering batting his hand away since it could without a doubt be viewed as invasion of personal space when the pad of his finger connected with her chest where it ended and her neck began. And in this moment white flash passed through Nicola's eyes, followed by a deathly chill somewhere inside, tearing into her heart from within with icy claws like a vicious beast. As though someone had poured freezing cold water into her body. And amidst this coldness was a tiny wisp of warmth pressed against her ribcage, as if it was trying to get out. To get as close to Raphael as possible. She gasped in shock and fear and from the unexpected and not physical pain - so intense it made her feel sick - which wasn't really… her own. She felt it, experienced it but she knew it wasn't hers. Somehow Nicola knew that it belonged to someone else. And this someone was standing right in front of her.

Slowly but surely, it was starting to make sense. Why Raphael was constantly so shaky, so easily frightened, so… wrong. It all lasted barely a fraction of a second before both she and Raphael abruptly backed away with astonishment painted across their faces. Neither of them was entirely sure what on God's green earth just happened or why it happened. Whatever it was, neither of them would say it felt pleasant. Nicola was fairing better than the angel however. While she was only mildly frightened and befuddled, he immediately retreated into the corner and curled up on the floor, wrapping himself up in a feathery cocoon of his wings, trembling like a leaf on a gale.

"Raphael..?"

She huffed trying to steady her own breathing as she cautiously approached him just when he started to mutter obscene nonsense again. This time Nicola couldn't even determine what exactly he was saying. He spoke way too quickly and he was only able to pick up single words like "torment", "soul" or "help". This odd sensation, this pain she felt was undoubtedly in him. All. The time. Every day of his existence. It became clear. Nicola could imagine that even she would sooner or later go absolutely mad if the suffering he's experiencing without a moment of rest was hers. It was nothing short of a miracle that he retained at least some small semblance of who he used to be. Ever since she came to him, he did start to make more sense than before, possibly because she could at least partially distract him from this pain. But if he needed distraction, why would he leave his White City behind? Angels may have been mean to her race but surely they would help out their brother in need, right?

All questions Nicola had most likely could be answered by a story of his past which he wasn't ready to reveal just yet. Perhaps, if she's careful enough, one day he will open up and tell her about it. But until then, she remained in darkness of uncertainty. Still, she couldn't help but wonder.. Carefully, she crouched and laid her hand on Raphael's shaking shoulder, making his head snap up with a fearful look to his round, empty glowing eyes.

"Who… who did this to you?"

The angel opened his mouth as if to answer her but no words came out. Only a soft huff. Tears welled up in Nicola's eyes when his face scrunched up in something between anguish and misery. And that was enough for her to snap. In spite of herself, Nicola reached around the angel's neck and pulled him into a tight hug burying her face into the side of his green hood which despite the stench surrounding everything here still held a barely noticeable scent of something that brought to mind clean cotton with a tint of vanilla. His entire body went rigid as she did but only for a moment. Merely seconds later, he relaxed, his breathing evened out and he moved his own arms around her back to return the embrace that brought a tiny bit of comfort that could at least partially fill the emptiness he felt within for so long he couldn't even remember how it is to not feel it.

"Don't leave me alone…"

He breathed against her ear, clinging to her desperately as if letting go of her would mean his inevitable end. Up this close, Nicola could feel his heart - much bigger and more powerful than her human one - hammering uneasily against his ribcage. Similar, but completely different. And for some reason, her own heart suddenly skipped and beat once alongside his in the exact same rhythm before everything returned to normal. Or maybe she was just imagining things? Possibly…

This warm and tight embrace, even though it was meant to comfort him, still gave Nicola an odd feeling of safety. All of the sudden Raphael seemed to her not like a stranger she met by chance not even a day ago but like a good, old friend she knew she can trust no matter what. The decision of leaving Raphael behind was difficult enough before but now… her heart fell to pieces. It was next to impossible. She couldn't just leave him like this. He doesn't deserve to be abandoned again. No one does.

What do I do? Nicola knew she could neither stay with him, nor can she return to Haven without risking that her conscience would make her feel shitty for the rest of her goddamned days and that a thought that she doomed some poor soul to descend into utter insanity would make her share his fate. But there has to be something she can do.. Anything.. Then, an epiphany struck her.

"Wait.."

She said once Raphael let her go and she could look him in the eye as he gave her a questioning yet hopeful stare.

"You could come with me!"

"Come with you..?"

"Yeah! The Tree is much safer than here and there's a lot of useful stuff there. Also, it doesn't stink that much…"

Not only that. Other survivors, even as skeptical as they are towards angels, surely wouldn't mind Raphael poking around. Having a skilled healer on their side would certainly change their mind even if they weren't eager to let him stay. Ulthane, Elanya and Yarin can be persuaded if they don't agree at first. After all, if Raphael's presence will mean that "wee uns' " are even safer, then Nicola couldn't think of a reason why they shouldn't relent. Not to mention that Raphael can fly. It would make it a child's play to find the Tree. Back in Haven she could also get the poor angel patched up and cleaned up a bit, since he himself is in a rather sorry state. That's the least she could do for him in return. Only one thing was left to do, considering how uncertain Raphael looked. Convince him.

"What is this… Tree?"

"This is a safe place for us, humans, and it's… kinda our new home now."

Before, Nicola was absolutely certain Raphael's eyes couldn't turn bigger and rounder but he was very quick to prove her wrong. Not to lie, it was quite impressive. He blinked a couple of times as if to make sure he heard it right.

" 'Us' ? There is… more of you out there..?"

Nicola nods enthusiastically once she realises she's on the right path.

"Yeah! Ulthane made us a safe place to-"

"Ulthane?"

He interrupted with confusion on his face, making Nicola stop in mid sentence to look at him questioningly.

"Ulthane… the Black Hammer?"

"Yes, he's a-.. Wait… you know him?"

Humming thoughtfully, Raphael drummed his fingers against the cold floor. His answer didn't clarify much however.

"No.. Azrael does.."

"Who?"

An angel most likely. Probably one of Raphael's former acquaintances. Mentioning this "Azrael" seemed to have brought some memories back, very fond ones at that since for the first time today, a ghost of a smile passed across Raphael's face and an absent look in his eyes turned warmer and not so frightened anymore.

"Friend.."

Seriously, for a moment Nicola wanted to say that she's sorry because she just assumed that Raphael's friend could be dead but she bit her tongue before she could tell him that when she realised he actually used the present tense and not past. Which indicates that Azrael, whoever he is, is still out there somewhere. Instead, she wanted to tell him more about Haven but he once again interrupted her.

"The Balance is upset.. the Third Kingdom is vital to it… Humans. Humans live still? Not everything is lost then.."

Oh boy, here we go again. Unwittingly, Nicola pulled an annoyed face. For the umpteenth time, Raphael unintentionally made her feel like an uneducated imbecile. Why is the Universe even more complicated than we initially thought?

"Yes, he does the right thing.. They need a protector."

Nicola decided to patiently wait until Raphael is finished thinking out loud, even though she once again had no clue what he's saying. What Balance? Third Kingdom? The what?

"The Horsemen cannot do this alone… It is the duty of us all… to- to uphold the Balance."

The WHO??? Nicola could only imagine how stupid she looked with that dumb face she just made. What. The actual fuck. The Horsemen? As in… the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? They are real too? So it is a legit end of the world like the one in the Bible! How lovely! It's honestly a miracle that anyone has lived if that's the case. What else? Maybe it will suddenly turn out that snow is warm, sun is cold and skunks don't stink. Though with all the chaos going on around, Nicola would hardly be surprised if dogs suddenly started chirping and birds barking. She really just wished for the things to calm down already.. Returning to normal seemed to be off the table unfortunately but for God's sake, can the demons at least just go home or something? But… Now that she thinks about it… Could the mysterious warrior clad in crimson be one of the infamous Four? He didn't look like an angel, even though he bore quite a few similarities to Heaven's denizens, nor did he seem purely demonic in nature. And he was there when the Apocalypse began.. Curious. Especially because if it wasn't for his interference, Nicola would have probably been dead by now. All he did was stop for just a second to tear the bus door out once he saw her struggling to open it from the inside. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't, who knows? Eventually, Raphael glanced at her with a more certain look on his face.

"You don't stand a chance. Not against the Destroyer."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.. Nicola thought, still having the clear image of the flaming dragon standing barely fifteen feet away from where she was hiding in her head as if it happened yesterday. He was terrifying, no one is taking this away from him, but screw that! That's one gigantic motherfucker. Nicola was pretty sure she could comfortably live in a room that was the size of his goddamned head. If he tried to eat her, she'd probably get stuck between his teeth at best. And so far that's the last place she wanted to find herself in. She really didn't need help in figuring out that a bunch of humans still shitting their pants at the sight of a single Wicked could stand up to the bloody Destroyer. What are they, the legendary dragon-slaying knights or something? Not to be pessimistic or anything.. but Nicola wouldn't be surprised if that thing could kill her by so much as breathing in her direction. He does breathe fire after all. It goes without saying that he also has a huge horde of ugly assholes under his whim, jumping at the tiniest flick of his tail. So yeah. Chances for success in an open confrontation are pretty miniscule. Fortunately, what Raphael said next made her sigh with relief.

"You need all the help you can get… I will come. If this is your wish…"

Victory! Now that was the solid dose of serotonin Nicola had been missing for quite some time. Not only can she return home and assure her strange little family that she's alright but also she doesn't have to leave her newfound friend behind. Her conscience will stay clean, Raphael will be safe in Haven, maybe even recover to some extent, and the humans will have a powerful angel healer on their side. To her it was a win-win.

"You will?! That's awesome, thanks!"

Nicola was quick to gather her humble possessions and waited for Raphael to get up and take whatever he needed. But surprisingly, all he took was the kitten which he held against his chest since it wasn't really pleased about being manhandled but the angel simply ran his finger through the fur on its head to put it back to sleep again before depositing it to a small knapsack he had on his belt where it could rest safely. Apparently, he wasn't attached to anything he stored in his hideout over the time he spent here. Well, there weren't many useful things to take anyway. At least that's what Nicola thought before, because Raphael leaned over one of the bigger crates and reached for something apparently hidden behind it. And oh boy, the thing he pulled out… An ornate, gilded staff, as tall as Nicola is. The centerpiece was flanked by two slender serpents coiling around it in a beautiful, symmetrical way to the very top crowned by a pair of wings and a ring between them.

"Whoa…"

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hide her amazement. That was some sick looking staff. The design seemed to ring a bell but she couldn't quite tell where exactly. Unlike Raphael himself, the staff was well kept, clean and undamaged, even if a bit tarnished. Apparently in his solitude, the angel cared for it well and often. For this last piece of home he has, Nicola realised with a pang of sadness. Even in his fond expression she could see the attachment to this one small part of his past. Okay, maybe not that small… Once Raphael was ready and glanced at Nicola to confirm it, she nodded and walked off into the dark tunnel with the angel trailing after her like a duckling.

"Oh, and by the way…"

Considering what Nicola had seen before, she figured it would be best to warn Raphael about some of Haven's denizens. Well.. by some she specifically meant Vulgrim. Despite his queer way of being and shiftiness, Nicola still somewhat liked him. The demon merchant was hardly a good material for a friend but so far he proved only two things to her. That he can be cunning and annoying. And that he's unbelievably helpful. And in truth, Nicola couldn't help but grow a little fond of her exceptional neighbour. Especially because Vulgrim was the only demon so far that didn't try to kill her where she stood but instead engaged in a conversation. That might be because he's just scared of Ulthane but he seemed rather harmless. Hell, he even sometimes provided useful resources if Haven could afford a trade with him. In a way, he too was helping humans survive. But if he suddenly jumped out of that Serpent Hole of his… Nicola could already see Raphael blasting the demon into Oblivion without a second thought. And that was something she didn't want to happen. Better safe than sorry.

"There's this… guy sometimes swinging by to say hello to us.."

Even as she spoke, she didn't stop walking and the quiet tapping of the end of the staff against the floor told her that Raphael kept following. How do I explain to an angel that a demon means no harm?

"The name's Vulgrim. He's a little… Ugh, how do I put it?"

"A demon… Crafty fiend, far more powerful than he lets on. Yet, so… deceivingly docile.."

Nicola halts as though she's just come face first into an invisible barrier once she heard Raphael grumble distastefully to himself. Turning around, she gawked at him with non hidden shock. And while she expected anger or at least disgust, Raphael looked rather… resigned for the lack of a better term. And only ever so slightly annoyed.

"You know Vulgrim?"

That literally came out of nowhere. The description of Vulgrim Raphael just gave was so unbelievably accurate. Nicola already suspected that the demon is much more dangerous than he seems but simply refuses to put his power to use and do something constructive with it. And now she got a confirmation. From a very unlikely source but still. Raphael was quick to offer a clarification and answered her question with his own.

"Who doesn't?"

"Ah, that's fair.."

She chuckled. Vulgrim is that kind of a "person", who seems to know everyone and has been to pretty much everywhere. He offers his merchandise to every creature that can afford it and it shouldn't be that surprising that some people, even angels like Raphael know him, or at least know of him. She suspected the latter part in this case. This makes it much easier to explain to Raphael that he's a friend.

"He's cool though! He's helping us keep it together and doesn't really bother anyone in the Tree. Vulgrim is really helpful if he wants to."

To this, Raphael answered with a doubtfully raised eyebrow and a thoughtful hum. He didn't seem convinced but what he said fully satisfied Nicola.

"Hmmmm… so I was told.."

Before they even noticed, they were right below the well lid which was Nicola's original entrance to the sewer. And honestly? She was so glad that she decided to come down here. Otherwise, she wouldn't have met Raphael. Some part of her still dreads to wonder what would happen to him if she didn't find him. He was already at the brink of losing it but now it didn't seem as bad as before. In a way, Nicola saved him too, it seems. Before, he was barely registering what was happening around. Now he was more or less capable of a relatively normal conversation. Sure, he tended to talk to himself quite a lot but she supposed that the solitude and whatever nightmares he'd been through have taken their toll. Climbing up the ladder, Nicola pushed the lid out of the pavement and immediately the golden light of the new day spilled through it, banishing the darkness and ouch, it hurt her poor eyes.

Even though Nicola wasn't in utter blackness all the time thanks to the arcane wisp of light that followed Raphael everywhere whenever he needed it, the bright pillar of sunlight struck her like a physical force, leaving her mostly blind for a good ten seconds. Still, another breath of fresh air tasted like ambrosia to her. No stench of the sewer and rotting meat. Thank God.. It took only a few seconds afterwards for her sight to get used to the brightness but still she needed a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes. Before she exited the sewer however, a quiet hiss behind her made her stop.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Raphael recoiling from the light with his eyes squeezed tightly shut and a grimace on his face, shielding himself from the radiance with his left wing. Right.. How long he'd spent down there, Nicola could only guess but she could understand how dizzy it might've made him and how much it burned his darkness-adjusted eyes. More than that, to him the sunlight probably felt like it does to a goddamn vampire.

"Raphael? You okay?"

The angel didn't answer her, simply kept still, slowly lowering his wing to look at the light flowing through the opened way out, blinking rapidly so that his eyes adjusted to it quicker. And once they did.. Without a word, he hesitantly reached out towards the bright sun rays and put his bandaged hand right through the border where the light and dark clashed with one another. And immediately, once the warm glow caressed his skin, his face brightened in mute fascination. The fact that he hadn't seen the daylight for way too long became ever so apparent to Nicola and made something twist inside of her sadly.

"The sun…"

Raphael breathed and let his mouth form a wide grin once he fully entered the illuminated area and turned his face up with his eyes closed to soak it in.

"Blessed Creator, I missed it.. oh how I missed it…"

It took less than a second for Nicola to decide that she's going to let him have that moment. They were in a rush, true, but she simply didn't have it in her to tell him to hurry. She didn't want to interrupt him because even with all the dust and grime on his emaciated face, for the first time since she'd met him, Raphael looked so unbelievably happy. Truly happy. Just because he could feel the warm light of the sun upon his skin. And with a full smile he underwent a sudden change. All fear left him, his features softened and Nicola would dare say that even as broken, mad and defeated, in this short moment he looked… beautiful. As an angel, which humans often imagined, should. Under all that dirt something was glistening from the surface of his skin under his eyes, on his cheeks and forehead, the sunlight painted warm streaks on his long, white hair that fluttered on the cool breeze from above. In spite of herself she smiled too. This look to him suited him far better than a sorrowful, troubled frown. She could already tell, she will be always trying her best to save this precious smile.

With a deep breath of fresh air, Raphael opened his eyes to look out at the clear sky in shades of delicate blue and… in a flash of gold accompanied by a quiet whizz disappeared. Nicola's jaw fell open. Her human mind will never stop getting surprised over the stuff like that. And even if it will, it's going to take a long time. Before she could even start wondering where the angel vanished to, a large silhouette blocked out the sun. Still a bit surprised, Nicola looked up right at Raphael's kind face and his outstretched hand as he offered her help in getting out of the stinking well. So he can teleport. Lucky bugger. To be frank, Nicola felt a small sting of jealousy. And while she expected him to simply let her hold onto him as she pulled herself out, he hoisted her up in one fluid motion and set her on the pavement beside him the moment she took his hand.

The odd angel kept surprising her. Despite his thin frame, he was quite strong. For human standards that is, she didn't know how his physical strength was viewed among his brethren. During the initial armageddon she caught glimpses of much more sturdy-looking angels after all. The memory actually made her wonder if Raphael knew that one angel she saw talking to the warrior in red. The one who got… brutally squashed by that gigantic fuck-off demon that nearly made her heart refuse to keep fighting out of pure horror before she booked it. At least she could only assume that he got squashed because as soon as she saw the hand shoot out from the pit of boiling magma below she averted her eyes not to look at it and all she remembered now was a female voice desperately crying out a name she couldn't quite recall right now.

I'll ask him another time. She thought as he was pulling her out into the outside world. Still, the caution he did it with… Sighing inwardly, Nicola realised that Raphael already has something in common with her other bizarre friends. He too handled her as though one uncareful move could harm her and treated her as though she was made of porcelain. For quite some time Ulthane was afraid to even touch any of them not to break something and there were very few people in Haven who could resist poking a little fun at the maker. Oh well. Looks like it's a privilege that last members of the human race get. Everything is either super gentle with you or is trying to ruthlessly murder you. Nothing in between so far. Only Vulgrim seemed to be mostly neutral towards them but that was one exception.

Outside of the sewer the day was unusually warm. The sun was shining down at the crumbling Earth from a clear sky, no clouds hindered its rays and the air movement was a bare minimum. Nicola didn't wait long before unzipping her vest. Cooking inside of it was the last thing she fancied right now. Judging by how high the sun already was, she'd say it was far past the morning hours. Actually, maybe even somewhere around midday. Looking down at her watch confirmed that she guessed it right since it showed the exact time of

11:56 A.M.

Now's the high time she started looking for a way back. She walked over to one of the tallest buildings nearby to search for a suitable vantage point - careful this time, not to get jumped by some asshole again - and glanced back to see if Raphael was still following her. And in agreement to what he'd accidentally shared with her back in his hideout, Nicola has taken a note that he's.. limping. He was leaning on his ornate staff heavily and his eyebrows were furrowing with each step he took but his eyes were quickly shifting between all directions of his surroundings, always on watch for a threat. Still, there was an ever-present weariness to his pace. To put it simply, Raphael looked tired and moved with difficulty, as though he was in constant pain. In a way, he was.. But somehow Nicola knew it wasn't really the same pain one feels when getting injured or ill. This was something… else.

Nicola decided maybe she will ask him about it later, once they're safe. Maybe. They had to find Haven before the sun sets after all. No time to waste. Though… she didn't really know how to approach the matter. Raphael had done so much for her already. Asking him for help and a lift made Nicola feel incredibly awkward. Especially because she wasn't quite sure if asking an angel to fly her somewhere was considered rude by his people. But it had to be done. Otherwise, they might not make it on time.

"Hey.. Raphael? I forgot to say that but… there's a little problem.."

"A problem..?"

Raphael cocked his head to the side as he looked down at the small human woman wringing her hands nervously. Why was she nervous? The archangel could no longer sense or even see fear in her, yet something was still wrong. For some reason she was feeling uncomfortable, whether it was his presence or something she was about to say.

Why should she ever trust you? Your kind destroyed her life!

And that was unfortunately the truth. Half of it at least. Demons too had their part in it. Raphael knew he holds no ill intentions towards her or her kin hiding from the Apocalypse in the Tree she kept talking about but something told him that Nicola is still afraid of him. She just doesn't know it yet.

"I'm not entirely sure where we need to go.. I got… a little lost..?"

Ah. So that's the problem. Honestly, Raphael was half-expecting something truly horrendous but if being lost is the only problem they have - for now that is - then there's nothing to worry about. The directions to the safe place are surely buried in her mind somewhere, accessible and possible to dig out. All she needed was a gentle nudge in the right direction. And if that doesn't work, Raphael can always try to search through her memories himself if she won't have a problem with that. Though, considering how fragile humans are, both physically and mentally, Raphael didn't want to risk irreparably damaging her mind that way. This was the last resort. Instead, he reached out to her and laid his hand on her shoulder, summoning his magic to take both of them to the top of the crumbling block of flats looming over them.

"Wh- whoa! Hoo.. lee!"

Nicola loudly exclaimed to make her astonishment apparent once they reappeared on the rooftop high above the destroyed city. Raphael could only imagine how odd teleportation must feel to a human who's absolutely devoid of any magical abilities and not used to it being used around them.

"Will this help?"

Shrugging off the surprise, the human walked up to the ledge, so close it made Raphael feel mildly uncomfortable, and looked out at her ruined home bathed in daylight. Squinting at the sun and shielding her eyes from its shine, Nicola looked around, murmuring under her breath

"Gimme a second.. The cathedral is there, the shopping mall there… So the Tree should be somewhere around-…"

She tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment before she turned to her left and her face immediately brightened as she pointed into the distance.

"There! Look!"

Glancing towards the place Nicola was pointing out, Raphael could barely make out a massive shape between ruined buildings. It really did look like a grand tree. An enormous shadow standing tall above the ground. And Nicola was pretty much vibrating with ecstasy and shifting on her feet like a small child impatiently waiting for something amazing to happen and beaming.

"It's right there! We did it!"

She squealed like an excited child as well. But Raphael knew it might be too early for celebration. That was quite a long way… How she even got from there to here anyway, he may never find out. What's more important, if Nicola wanted to make it all the way back there, it might take her a whole day if not longer and each minute spent out in the open means that demons have a bigger chance of discovering her and putting an end to her existence. And that Raphael couldn't allow. Every human that survived counts. He could see why she asked him to come with her and he decided he won't fail her. He won't fail anyone ever again. The faster they leave, the better. Turning to the excited woman standing beside him, the archangel unfolded his arms and crouched.

"Hold on to me…"

Nicola's mood shifted instantly. Sometimes it was kind of disturbing how humans can turn from happy to sad, angry to calm, excited to apprehensive and vice versa in the matter of seconds. Her eyebrows wandered up as she eyed him cautiously.

"Huh? You want to-..."

In response, Raphael gave her the most reassuring smile he was capable of despite the coldness of his tattered soul feeling especially troublesome today after he unwittingly created some sort of a link with Nicola. Or maybe not as much with her, as with the bright, heavenly spark inside of her. By all means, the flash of blinding pain, as intense as the day he tore out the first fragment of his being and multiplied by the amount of times he repeated this, was not a pleasant experience. The memory still lingered at the back of his head but he tried anyway.

"Trust.."

He simply said, making Nicola swallow and smile nervously, half-heartedly joking

"O- okay. Just don't drop me, alright?"

“Of course..”

She uncertainly conceded and wrapped her arms around Raphael's neck for the second time this day, holding on so tightly that for a human it would surely be excruciating. No wonder. A human doesn't need to fall from a very high place to get themself killed or at least crippled for the rest of their life. But Raphael had no intention of letting her fall. Putting his free arm around her, holding her securely against his chest, the archangel unfolded his grand wings. The soft breeze rolling above the city immediately caught in his feathers, calling and beckoning him into the vast skies. It's been way too long since his last flight. Luckily, it's an ability that once learned is never forgotten.

Raphael shot up into the air just as Nicola tightened her grip even more, holding on no worse than a koala bear. Not wasting any more time, he swept over the human city turned into a dreary graveyard, heading towards the Maker Tree and gladly leaving the sewers behind in favor of the brighter future opening up before him for the first time in centuries.

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

Listen, Raphael needs and deserves a hug, okay? For being a precious guy <3

Send over all the hugs for him 💓

EDIT: Gonna upload it on AO3 tomorrow

[mariofallenstar]

Kamek’s Answer

Bowser Jr. had not been pleased when he’d been told Kamek was too busy to see him.

“Tell him he’s not busy anymore!” he’d barked. “This is urgent!”

Since his childhood, Bowser Jr. had more than doubled in height. The Koopa trembling before him was reminded vividly of the old king in his prime.

Still, his fear could not change his answer.

“I-I’m terrible s-sorry, Your Surliness, but Kamek gave us strict orders not to interrupt him for any reaso-”

He hadn’t even finished before Bowser Jr. rose to his feet with a snarl of irritation. The Koopa yelped and ducked into his shell, but the shell only bounced and clattered harmlessly against the floor as the infuriated king strode past him.

Junior knew there was only one line of work that would keep Kamek from seeing him, but he was determined not to let his old caretaker escape. The castle was as imposing and hollow as the pipes of an organ, and many of the souls living there heard the reverberating booms and crashes of their king’s progress down the twisting castle steps.

Junior burst through the doors to the basement lab, and squinted against the flickering solar flare he found there. The mass of incandescent orange and yellow lights flashed with a brilliance that tore through the eyes like butter and seared the tissue of the brain.

Silhouetted below this agonizing light show, a small cutout in black threatening to be drowned out by the dancing aurora behind it, was Kamek. The round, black goggles over his eyes held a double image of the dancing beam as he flicked his wand and gestured his hand in an arcane pattern of commanding loops. The magic circle on the ground turned steadily on the floor before him, each facet of the ring sending forth a magic chain to wrap tightly around the outraged light. The tightly-wound chains warped the shape of the light until it no longer even remotely resembled a star, just a rod of crumbled, warbling energy.

It was these chains, this circle, that kept the Havoc Star contained.

The Star, as always, emitted a high-pitched wailing that pierced through the eardrums like a dentist drill, but even so, Junior’s booming voice was able to cleave through the noise.

“Kamek! I need to speak with you!” he roared.

Kamek turned, indignant. 

“Your Majesty, this is a very delicate operation!” he screeched at the top of his voice. “Wait outside!” 

“NOW, KAMEK!”

Kamek frowned. Even over the earsplitting noise, he recognized that tone. He had heard it for decades from Junior’s father, and he had heard it for decades from Junior himself. Kamek feared Bowser Jr. no more or less than he had when his ward was smaller than himself, but he knew no amount of reason, wisdom, or basic fact could prevail over that tone. It was a commanding voice accustomed to shaping reality. 

Kamek flicked his wand, and a bubble crisscrossed with geometric shapes enveloped the chained Havoc Star. The siren-like wailing was abruptly choked off and the flickering glare dampened by the slowly turning bubble.

Kamek lifted up his goggles with an unimpressed look and fished his glasses out of his robe. “I suppose if not blowing this castle sky-high is so unimportant to you, I can spare a few minutes,” he said dryly.

“Can the sass!” snapped Junior, “I need to ask you something.”

“Well, what is it?”

Junior stepped further into the room. The ceiling entered Kamek’s range of vision as he looked up to meet his gaze.

“Do you remember when I was a kid, I asked you if dad was a bad person?”

Behind his glasses, Kamek’s eyes narrowed. He had not been expecting this, but he wasn’t surprised, either.

“Yes, what of it?” he said.

Bowser Jr.’s voice was stern. “You never gave me an answer,” he said.

Kamek huffed. “As I recall, Your Majesty, I told you you would have to determine the answer for yourself.”

“Like I said, you never gave me an answer.”

Kamek snarled in irritation. “It wasn’t my place to judge your father’s actions.”

“I’m asking you to,” snapped Junior. “So answer.”

Kamek threw his arms out. “What, you can’t make up your own opinion? You need me to figure it out for you?

“Will you stop DANCING AROUND IT?” With a roar, Bowser Jr. slammed his fist into the lined shelves of glass bottles. Shards of sopping glass spun over the floor. Kamek felt a familiar cold shill race under his shell, and he shrank down.

“The entire world hates us, Kamek!” Junior thundered. “The entire world! They call us monsters! People are killing themselves to get rid of us! You don’t do that for things that are good! Do you?”

Kamek bristled. “Well, you seem to have made up your mind, so I don’t see the point of asking me.”

“The point is you lied to me!” Junior roared. “All the time I was a kid, you made me think we were doing something right!”

“When did we lie to you?” Kamek spat. “When? When we told you we hated Mario? That was the truth! When we told you we wanted the Mushroom Kingdom? That was the truth! What part of what we said was a lie?”

Junior faltered. He had been so full of righteous fury as he’d thundered down the steps, so sure that he had been wronged. He knew he had been deceived, but upon Kamek’s words, he inexplicably found himself put on the spot. He floundered, groping through his memory for anything definite, anything unmistakably duplicitous.

“He... He told me Peach was my mother,” was all he could manage.

Kamek snorted. “Even as a child, you didn’t believe that! Are you honestly telling me that little white lie is why you barged in here? You can’t fool me! This is about that girl, isn’t it?”

Bowser Jr. felt suddenly as though the front of his shell had been ripped open, exposing something raw and quivering underneath. 

“She... She has nothing to do with this!” he yelled, and he couldn’t stop the shaking in his voice.

Kamek snorted again. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. I know exactly what’s going on here. You were content to sit on the throne your father won for years, and then all the sudden that girl appears and flashes you that arrogant smile and you want to throw it all away!”

“It isn’t like that!” Junior felt his cheeks burning with a heat that had nothing to do with the captive star or the embers popping in his own throat. 

“Now who’s dancing around it?” Kamek knew there was a decent chance he would pay for these words later, but he had seen the troubling signs of interest in the young king, and he knew them all too well.

“Your father spent years running himself ragged for one woman! He hasn’t even glimpsed her face for years, and the thought of her still haunts him! Do you want that to happen to you? You think that girl will ever accept you, stand with you at an altar with a bouquet in her hand? Give me a break! It’s a fool’s errand! It always was! You can’t win her! Crush her, throw her away, and forget her! It’s for your own good!”

In his mind’s eye, Junior saw her. The girl with the wild, brown ponytail. The girl with the bold brows and flashing blue eyes underneath the brim of her pink cap. The girl who’d once said to him, “You are standing in between me and my throne.” Then she’d said, “I’ll be a better kind of ruler. That’s why I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

And then, she had said: “You deserve to be free, too, Junior.”

“I... She’s not... We don’t...”

“Very well!” Kamek shrieked. “If she really means that much to you, then by all means, run away with her! Bend down on one knee, offer her a ring, leave all this, your castle, your subjects, your family, leave it all behind! Abandon your father and tear down the home he built for you! Everything else has abandoned your father, why shouldn’t you?”

Junior winced. He couldn’t help it. “I never said I was going anywhere!”

“Of course you’re not! Because you’re not an idiot!” Kamek thudded the bottom of his staff against the cavernous floor. “You ask me about right and wrong, good and bad? You’re not a little boy anymore. You should know by now that there is no distinction. Good and evil are just words to dress up ‘us’ and ‘them.’ Tell me, do you truly feel it’s ‘right’ or ‘good’ to turn against your family?”

Junior looked away. He thought of his aged father, ailing, bitter, consumed with obsession and rage. “Torch that little brat!” he’d roared. The “little brat” who fought so ferociously and, every once in a while, smiled at him so kindly.

It was true. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. It had been a long time since he’d thought of Peach as his “Mama.” It had been a long time since he’d thought of Mario as a “bad man.” 

But his father was still his father. And his father was alone.

A low, rumbling snarl poured out between Junior’s teeth as he abruptly turned to pound back up the stairs. Kamek blew out the huge breath he had been holding in and flipped his goggles back into place. 

Doubt was a new thing. His father had never wrestled with doubt. Kamek was too old, too set in his ways to change course. He hoped he had convinced Lord Junior the same, but he was not fool enough to believe it. He knew better than anyone of the obstinacy of the young.

Junior, for his part, found himself stopping partway up the third staircase. He knew he couldn’t abandon his father. But forget her? He might as well try to detach his own arm. Every time he saw her face or heard her voice, he would think of the sad look in her eyes when he’d...when he’d offered her the kingdom.

“We could rule together! It doesn’t have to be like this! I’ll take care of you, Stella!”

Did Kamek know about that? Did he know that he had already tried the “idiotic” thing Kamek had railed against? Perhaps, by turning him down, she had proven herself to be less idiotic than him.

“That won’t work, Junior. Don’t you see that?”

He could never kill her. But if she had made up her mind to fight, then he would just have to beat her. He would thrash her so painfully, so completely, that she would retreat and never return. It was her only chance. 

For a moment, he imagined a scene from a different world. Mario was alive. Junior was still a kid. The stands surrounding the tennis court were filled with cheers and banners. And Princess Peach, still lovely with her golden hair that tumbled below her waist, pulled forth a squinting, brown-haired toddler as she smiled down at him patiently.

“Junior,” she would have said, “this is my daughter, Stella. I hope you two can play nice, at least for today.”

Junior shook his head and pulled himself further up the stairs. That had never happened. Don’t torture yourself. You know the way things have to be.

For the remainder of the day and all through the night, the castle was quiet.

[writings-from-the-hart]

Writebr Intro

Writeblr Intro Time!

Hiya! This is so overdue and I apologize for that lol. I’ve been meaning to write this but school seems to always be getting in the way of just that. Writing. But here I am finally writing this! And yes my username is a pun of my own last name but I just couldn’t resist.

So basically, I really want to surround myself with other writers and have stumbled across tons of writeblr’s (I think that’s what they’re called lol). Instantly I was in love and wanted more of what the community had to offer. I’ve been a self-proclaimed “author” or writer since my early years of grade school. I was that child in the back of the class with ADHD that couldn’t sit still (the cliche bouncing leg and always chewed down nails) and had what my mother called an “overactive imagination”. My notebooks in high school were often filled with wild stories about “galaxies far far away” or dystopias with cruel governments ruled by dictators. Now I’m in my second year of college swamped with classes about the Psychology of criminals (or I like to call the science of murder), and trying to find time to write a novel. So the struggle is real my dudes.

A little about Me:

Hana

20

She/Her

Pisces

Asexual

Forensic Psychology Major and English with a concentration in Writing Minor

Book hoarder

Dog Mom

Vintage AF

Low Key Emo Punk because I’m no average white girl!

History nerd (Love learning about the old wars and cultures)

Movie nerd (There’s an endless stack of DVDs in my house)

Fandoms:

The Mandolorian (or the ManDADolorian)

Star Trek

Star Wars

Hannibal

X-Files

King Falls Am

Welcome to Nightvale

Transformers (Obviously not the bad movies lol. Bumblebee is baby and must be protected always.)

Good Omens

Sherlock

Lord of the Rings

Marvel (There are so many shows and movies in this category we would be here all day if I tried to list them.)

Timeless (Not sure if the fandom is still alive after what the writers did to one of our ships lol)

DC (I’m a huge Batman geek and adore Wonderwoman, but I take the good with the bad when it comes to this fandom. Especially movie-wise anymore.)

And there’s probably more but my memory isn’t working currently.

Goals?. . . maybe:

Get my novel finished (This has literally been on my To-Do List for who knows how long.)

Meet more writers/new writers.

Improve my poetry (I suck at poetry so I bad I never let it see the light of day, so I need to work on it.)

Start my bullet journal.

Wips:

Okay by now you all know I have at least 1 Wip because I mentioned getting a freaking novel done, but just as a precaution as to what I mean by Wip or Wips. I get distracted quite easily, for some odd reason my brain absolutely loves to jump from one idea to another for no absolute reason. Like WTF dude we already have an idea we’re working on why do you keep bringing all these new ones to me like stray dogs. And like any good dog Mom or distracted writer, I want to keep all the ideas/stray dogs. So, when I say Wip I mean “Look at this cool idea I came up with” and I’ll make sure to specify which one is hogging most of my time.

Renegade: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

This is my baby. Most of my free time is dedicated to adjusting plotlines, character arc’s, fixing freaking plot holes, and other important stuff other than just plain writing. I’m hoping to finish this also monster of a story by 2020 and get it published. So big stuff!  

“So tell me little wolf do you want to punish those who have wronged you?” An assassin known as the Crimson Ghost makes their way through the corrupt city-state of Ashton completing a job given to them by the Black Rose. What is a seemingly normal job though turns into something far more complicated when they stumble upon the fractions of an abandoned notebook from the past. A past the Republic is trying to desperately hide and bury no matter what. On the other side of the world in the Republic’s capital Eshar, plainly referred to as “The Prodigy” or “machine” by his superiors,  Eric Coalwood has built a life upon the ashes of his family, striving to meet the high expectations set before him by his mentor General Wolfheart. However, his life falls out of its normal day to day routine when the unexpected is asked of him. Command a task force made up of the Republic’s most wanted or his life is over. Eric doesn’t need reasons for why he must do what he has to, all he needs are orders and the Republic is more than happy to give them. Either way the clock is ticking for both the Crimson Ghost and the Republic’s prodigy and with time running out they both have two options. Either get over their different beliefs concerning the Republic or allow the world to once again succumb to war but this time nobody is going to survive it. “Legends are slippery things. For the glory that coats them hides the pain, suffering and death that created them.”

The Trouville Files: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

Not my biggest priority but definitely one of them considering the plot of this story. I mainly use this wip as a reference for Renegade because it’s actually the prequel to it. Also, it’s great to use as writing practice when I’m plagued with writer’s block for Renegade or frustrated with a plot hole. So this is my double-edged sword that does a lot of good.

“Death in these black days is neither kind nor quick.” The year is 2153, the world we know is nothing more than a wasteland strewn with the dead and a sky being choked by their ashes, not glorious and thriving but desolate and starving. The Red Death, a pandemic with a steady progression and a gruesome countdown to the demise of those infected. No one outruns it or survives it. “United we stand, divided we fall.” The Allied Nations, a totalitarian superpower, promised a united people but all they gave this world was more death and destruction. The Red Death isn’t the only thing slowly killing humanity anymore, we are in the form of the War of Broken Pacts. The spark of revolution is lit, but if it will remain so is a question asked by everyone. Does it stand a chance against the iron-fisted government holding the people in shackles? “Rebel with a cause.” Genius Medical Officer for The People’s Republic, Cyprus Ramiro works day and night in search of a cure for the Red Death exterminating hundreds, at least before this war kills him first. But he is also a man on the run and the rebellion can only shelter him for so long. “Duty over pain.” Cunning Spy and Soldier, Orion Ultor is ordered by the Allied Nations to infiltrate and gather information on the ever-growing People’s Republic. In bold letters is Search and Destroy; make a ruin of the rebellion and ensure the Allied Nations remains as it should -- unquestionably in power. No matter the cost unless he wants to suffer the consequences again. “If we fall we shall rise from the ashes like a phoenix.” They should have never met, battlefields don't make good friends. It wasn't fate, it wasn't destiny, only war throwing people together.  The Allied Nations is trying to stamp out something they fear, but can they before the Red Plague? Or will humanity find itself extinct.

Beyond his point is where I house my stray dogs/ideas

Hiraeth: Paranormal, Horror, Mystery, and Thriller.

Scooby-doo who?

Hiraeth means a homesickness for a home which you cannot return. That is how Arcane feels like she’ll never be home no matter how hard she tries to connect with her family. The closest she feels to being home is with her friends and in the worn leather seats of the van they all pitched in to buy. It all started out as a way to pass time and for all of them to escape their families because to be honest parents never understand, but it all turned sideways when a simple “ghost hunting trip” stirred something that was meant to remain buried. The truth never remains buried though, not really, somehow it will always creep back in ugly and twisted. Arcane has never felt “at home” but she’ll do whatever it takes to keep what she considers her family safe.

Sweet Dreams: Historical Fiction, Thriller, and Romance.

A literal dream turned into story plot and no I’m not kidding.

The Red String of Fate, The Lovers, and War. These are the three elements intertwined within the plot of Sweet Dreams but before anyone makes any assumptions this isn’t some chummy rom-com. There will be tears and heart strings may get yanked clean out because the angst is real. War and love never mix well, it leaves a sour taste in ones mouth and makes the mind question things it shouldn’t. Like is the woman in his dreams the same woman he sees in all his dreams? Constantly he somehow ends up spotting that same ruby red lipstick, honey golden eyes, and brunette hair laying in perfect curls. She’s everywhere except in his actual life. They say you and your soulmate share dreams, living proof of how intertwined souls are. She doesn’t believe in love or the idea of souls, not with the monsters roaming around the countryside and battlefield carrying assault rifles. Society tells her where her place is, but she disagrees and rather create her own destiny.

The Prophet: Paranormal, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.  

A short story I can’t seem to let go or it doesn’t want to let me go, but either way, this story has the makings for something great. It also at times seems strikingly similar to Good Omens, so don’t be surprised.

There’s no anti-christ in this story, he already has a book about himself so let’s not make another one besides there are other stories that need to be told. Such as, have you ever heard of modern day prophets and I’m not talking about those people with cardboard signs saying “the end is near!” or giant churches with people preaching about the end times. No, I’m talking about a kid with messy hair and dark circles under their eyes because sleep is no longer a choice due to migraines that plague them every night. Migraines that bring weird cryptic messages that make one question their own sanity. And what happens when strange people start asking about said migraines and messages?

Virago: Fantasy, Thriller, Historical Fiction, and Romance.

I’m not a huge fantasy reader, for some reason I can’t stay invested in them, but here I am with a fantasy story in my wips. It has mages, knights, assasination plots, and one super badass general who takes zero shit from her king. That’s right women empowerment, my dudes! I don’t really have much of a synopsis inline or a plot because this is only of those wips I let rattle around in my brain from time to time. But I will say it does give me that LOTR vibe but also Game of Thrones.  

Don’t be surprised if you see my stray doggos from time to time because I will admit I love to play around with storyboards. Even if I don’t have a fully planned out plot put together for it.

And that concludes this what was supposed to be short Writeblr Intro. I hope I have peaked some of your guys’ interests because the community definitely got a hold of minee. Feel free to send me a message about anything I mentioned (even if it’s just fandom shit I don’t care) and don’t be shy. I’m a huge introvert but somehow love talking, so don’t worry it won’t be awkward and odds are I’m equally nervous about conversation lol. Also, feel free to add me to any taglist and reblog/like if you’re active and would like more Writeblr mutuals!

Happy Writing,

Writings-from-the-Hart

[jamiebluewind]

Fantasy High Characters 2.8

As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

***

New Characters

Three Elves from Falinel

3 beautiful wizard elves in long flowing robes

Surrounded by motes of silvery white light

At least 1 has a will o whisp in their ear used to communicate

Serene and filled with arcane energy

One used a globe of invulnerability (probably Kear)

Unnamed Conjurer Elf Wizard

Beefer with light mage armor and thick long red braided hair

Summoned a large sized air elemental (size of a small truck) with 90 movement

Unnamed Goth Elf Wizard

Porcelain skin with jet black hair covering left eye and black robes

Uses fesh to stone (6th level spell) on Adaine

Smiles and walks away once they have Adaine back at the tower

Kear

Pronounced key-heir or khear

Name spelling unknown, but Kir was the spelling on closed captioning

Wizard

Most serene

Extremely young child-like elven maiden with long brown braided hair and a white gown

Banished Tracker, but failed to charm Adaine during the battle

"You did a very noble thing. You saved your friends' lives."

Used detect thoughts on Adaine and asked "When was the last time you saw your mother?"

***

Modified Characters (with added facts)

Aelwyn Abernant

Kept in large large beautiful elven chamber with silver and marble with ambiant light glowing from the white stone

Trapped inside a 15 foot diameter orb that's constantly turning so she can't trance

Stuck crawling on her hands and knees, shaking with the effort of it

Severely trance deprived (probably hasn't been allowed to for nearly a year) with thick bags under her eyes

5 levels of exhaustion with some kind of magic the only thing keeping her from death

(more info in 2.9)

James Wicklaw

Fought with his saber in right hand and the crown in left

Brought 8 crew plus himself to menace the party while the rest of his crew went into the row

Injures the crew with him in order to injure the party, stunning all but Cathilda, Sandra Lynn, and Riz.

Has legendary actions (attack and teleport out of initiative order), mind blast, and tried to eat Gorgug's brain

Shot by a pistol square in the stomach. After he goes prone, a horrifying blast of something in his gut goes off as he shutters and goes still. But it was a trick to get Riz close so he could shoot him point blank.

Gorgug got the killing blow on Wicklaw after Fig heavily damaged him. Wicklaw's body fell into the Row.

The other pirates killed Wicklaw's remaining crew after he died

Fabian

Lost champion subclass and lost all fighter class features while keeping proficiency bonus, base stats, and hit points

No coat and 2 levels of exhaustion

Took a single hand crossbow shot which missed and spent the rest of the fight stunned.

Was repeatedly shot by Wicklaw

Gorgug had a private talk with Fabian to try to help. So did Kristen. Then Gilear came up and threatened him Gilear for 250 gold.

Fabian's mother's family have lands near the tower Adaine is being kept.

Cathilda

Dark steal sabers (scimitar type swords)

"Time for talk's over." Then got a nat20 on Wicklaw and sliced off one of his tentacles.

Feels pure determination more powerful than James can feel hatred and protects herself from his stun

Can give allies a reroll as reaction

Kicks just... so much ass.

To Riz "Is almost died the same as having died?"

Van

Was crashed by Gilear

Loaded with provisions by Jamina, Garthy, and Ayda

***

Other Characters

Anguin Abernant

Adaine's father

4th elf in the battle that was hidden in the beginning under greater invisibility

Enchanter subclass wizard

Casts dominate person on Adaine twice (and fails)

"Adaine. This is unbecoming. You are behaving rashly and irrationally."

Adaine

Resisted charms and dominate person while also breaking stun and flesh to stone.

Agreed to go with the elves to Falenel to save her friends.

*Adaine as she is falling through motes of light in elven teleportation, using sending to reach out to Ayda* Help. My friends are being killed in the Row and the Ruction. Please help them. *as Adaine appears in a place that is filled with darkness, she hears Ayda reply* Your friends are my friends.

Tries to escape with Misty Step (dispelled by Angine), Greater Invisibility (dispelled by Kir after Kir used True Sight), and Misty Step (dispelled)

Laid down on the ground on her stomach (magicly manacled by conjurer elf and led to her tower)

Allowed to keep Boggy

Hides under her blankets when Kear and Anguin comes in

Failed on detect thoughts save

Can tell where she is by looking at the stars

Was moved to an orb room (Kear: And do you intend to cooperate or will you be as problematic as we anticipate you might? / Adaine: What possible advantage to me or my friends can helping you give me?)

Kristen

Warding bond with Fabian

Was stunned entire fight and surrounded by icecream sandwiches (which she asked for help)

Gorgug

Relentless endurance

40 movement

Nearly got his brain eaten by Wicklaw.

After killing blow on Wicklaw, "Hey... I'm actually Fabian now."

Fig

Took a level in hex blade warlock

Hex blade cursed Wicklaw

Took enemy to hell with hellish rebuke before she was knocked out. (Fig: Did you see when I dragged that guy to hell with me? / Sandra Lynn: Horrifying. You're wonderful.)

"Adaine I used my everything to try and save you!"

Got 1300 points (with no actual value) for her sick shredding with her skateboard in the Ruction.

Snatched the crown after Wicklaw was killed and skatboarded away. Wanted to take crown away from Leviathan so there will never be a king, but let Fabian put it back on the head in Gibity Square.

Captured Wicklaw's soul

Is suspicious of Cathilda because she is "too good to be true".

"Look, the nightmare king could be anyone but my six friends."

Got Wicklaw's crystal saber which is like touching a live wire, but also filled with hatred

Riz

*while hiding in the rafters* "Fabian no! Don't be a coward!"

Arquebus has 60 foot range and he has 30 speed

He was the perfect person to dodge fists in the Row (while conscious)

"I have such bad athletes. Truly, I have minus two strength."

Failed two death saves (from the pirates stomping him) when he was knocked unconscious (from a slash from Wicklaw) and fell into the Row. Called to Fabian to save him while unconscious.

Riz: Hey Fabian? I think we all saw this going a little bit more epicly, but Adaine is gone. She sacrificed herself to save us and it kninda shows that it's not the end. We gotta keep going. So, we didn't bring our A game this time, but we can still - it keeps going. You'll be the hero next time. / Fabian: Yeah the ball. Next time. Next time. / Riz: Who... Hoot Growl? Is that what we say when we get pumped?/ Fabian: Yes. We say hoot growl.

Riz to Ayda: I think I have a lot of friends sometimes but then everyone's mean to me.

Wanted to talk to Fabian in private after the battle, but didn't get a chance due to Gorgug, Kristen, and Gilear

Sandra Lynn

Battle command: let's an ally attack an enemy on her turn as a bonus action

Can heal

Shouldered Wicklaw away from Gorgug (saving him from having his brain eaten) causing them both to fall into Row.

Knocked unconscious in the Row after stabbed through chest by Wicklaw but then healed by Fig.

Tracker

Was banashed to a maze world for the whole fight

Helped heal the party then "healed" Kristen privately

Ragh

Finished 1 pirate and then stunned for part of the fight before he was able to get up and fight/help again

Gilear

Passed out in the van due to the airbag.

"Very well. I will go into the back of the van. If anyone needs me, I will be surprised."

Threatened Fabian for 250 gold after he was acosted by a man who said he would kill him unless he gave him 250 gold. ("You need to shut the fuck up because I'm a dead man unless I get 250 gold pieces. You're down here with me now all right? Your rich. I'm not. Help me. Please help me.")

Ayda

Joined party temporarily to save her friend Adaine

Offered to teleport everyone and created a firy orange rune to do it.

***

Location Info

Ka'lethriel Tower

Beautiful courtyard

Smooth rounded marble flagstones are set into the garden

Look like a very zen meditative type of place.

There are high walls around the courtyard as well as towers.

"Orb rooms" (to keep prisoners in a constant state of trance deprivation) as well as regular rooms.

Near the Lands of the Lomenelda

***

<- Previous

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[hunterguyveriv]

Swamp Thing Season 1, episode 7 thoughts:

Today’s episode was just simply beautiful and sad between Alec and Abby in a way you could only expect it to end the way it did. It had so many lying implications between the 2, then one can realize besides the whole “Protagonist not wanting to lose the one he loves.”

Don’t get me wrong I’ve wanted a Swamp Thing & Abby Arcane live action done right since I saw “The Return of Swamp Thing” in 1989/1990. But I just love the whole dynamic being stretched nearly to a near-fatal breaking point.

Accepting Alec - My thoughts on this is just a jumbled mess; it hurts: Accepting Alec played a massive part in this episode. Unlike the Abby Arcanes of the past - The Alan Moore Saga, The Return of Swamp Thing, or the New-52, or even the cartoon mini-series - it has taken her longer to accept Alec as Swamp Thing. Even after she learned from Susie, it was Alec the only time they really touched was briefly when she was suffering from the Darkness-Hallucinogens, and when he showed her what happened to Shawna. It wasn’t until after he tried saving her the Alec Holland-Way failed and had to save her the Swamp Thing-Way that she finally seemed to accept him for what he was now, even though she still wants to find a way to revert him back to human. 

I think the whole hallucination-power was a way to see what they truly wanted. He wanted to remain Alec for her and tried to give up the Swamp Thing persona, but came to the conclusion that if he did things the Alec Holland-Way, he was helpless. Abby also showed that she genuinely wanted Alec back to the way he was, but I am starting to think that was working against them. Think about it, in the previous he said he worried that accepting his new situation would take him further away from her, but they remained at least 10 feet apart from each other. 

Except for the few instances of him touching her, they always seem to have had some distance between them. Even weary on letting the other touch each other. But yet after the pollen made him look like Alec to her, it seemed like they were more willing to be close to one another even touch each other. More so after he fought The Rot off in her body. Up until this time, part of their relationship seemed very superficial on Abby’s part, but one can also argue that it was also superficial on Alec’s side, to want to be seen as “The Charming Man she knew.”

Ugh… I gotta get off this bit, or I am going to keep going turning this into an essay and want to bash my head in trying to wrap my mind around these thoughts.

Abby’s Purpose: In all of Swamp Thing, except for the cartoon mini-series and the 90s Live Action series which I can't remember if she was in it or not, Abby Arcane has always been his heart - his humanity if you will. She was the only one in the Alan Moore saga to keep reminding him of his humanity. That it didn’t matter if he was a sentient plant being with Alec Holland’s consciousness, in her eyes, he WAS Alec Holland. In the New-52 even after he became Swamp Thing and she became sensitive to “The Rot” and showed that she had Rot-Powers, she still reminded him of his humanity.

When he has been at the lowest or darkest point in his life, she would always be there to help him.

So far even though it is a mere fraction of what she has done compared to her comic book counterparts, she does seem genuinely vested to be that support he so desperately needs. She like her comic counterparts, even though she had trouble seeing him as Alec up until last weeks episode - she has always reminded him that he is Alec Holland. (which for the most part to us the viewers we don’t know if he IS STILL Alec Holland like the New-52 Alec who was dying from his wounds in which the Green turned him into the Warrior-King Swamp Thing or a Sentient Entity of the Green with his consciousness). But even if we do learn what continuity they decide to use, she NEEDS to be there for him, regardless of him not wanting her in the swamps of Marais. I just hope with the series being unfortunately canceled (and not being picked up elsewhere by the looks of it so far) it is done in a proper manner that doesn’t make it campy or they kill Abby off. I do want to see her in grievous danger, in which Swampy and possibly Daniel come to her aid.

A little off topic I do hope to see that they go the Alan Moore route, one that scene is just so powerful in the comics. This because after Woodrue mind-fucks him at Sunderland’s corporation building and deals with Woodrue, he searches for the body and buries it cutting ties to “the person who was once Alec” and was so resistant against Abby calling him Alec for the longest time - till he said she could. But that being said there is another reason why I hope they go this route and explore whether Swamp Thing is Alec Holland or not. I am a Guyver fan, in which death is no big deal to Guyvers because they regenerate newer bodies after their control medals have been ripped out of their heads. They very haphazardly explored the whole “If a the Guyver regenerates a newer body, is the person that same person or a shell of that person with their memories?”

Living as Alec & Alec’s Helplessness?: I kind of liked the idea that even though he was still Swamp Thing, and appeared to Abby as Alec, I liked how they did it. After a recent second viewing of yesterday’s episode, I think they (producers and writers) meant it to be like a test to not just Abby (in seeing if she could genuinely accept Alec the way he is) but a test for Alec. Earlier I mentioned the Alec Holland-Way, I think even as Swamp Thing he really wanted to live life as Alec would have. He also tries to desperately save Abby as Alec would have against the Rot, until realizing it wasn’t going to work out.

Now some of you may be saying, “whoa there, that doesn’t mean he is helpless!” But in doing things, the Alec-Way also contributed to Abby getting attacked by that tendril. As Swamp Thing, he would have possibly been able to stop that thing from punching her in the first place. Which even though I say that, I kind of like the idea of Alec struggling with the tendril, because in the New-52 continuity. For those wondering it was established that he begins to lose his power in areas profoundly affected by the Rot. Trying to live as Alec would have possibly weakened his power even more, because as Avatar of the Green, even in Rot Infested areas he should have been able to get it off of her and rip it to shreds.

A return to The Return of Swamp Thing?: I have to admit I loved Alec and Abby in the swamp together walking through it like a couple in love (Someone PLEASE do a video of Swamp Thing/Alec and Abby to this song when the series is over- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFmisnHehtg. It would make us Swamp Thing/Abby Old-Timers with no music video making knowledge happy). It was very reminiscent of Dick Durock’s and Heather Locklear’s wandering the swamp to me, even heard their original theme in my head during their scenes. 

Abby’s Darkness?: When Alec was desperately trying to save her, what if he merely prolonged something else in her? What if the Tendril was attempting to turn her into an Avatar of the Rot like she was in the New-52 saga? She mentioned “the darkness” in the euphoria of pain, and her skin tone and body started to appear like her new-52 counterpart. Now that being said, what if Alec using the green merely suppressed it? Because it is a possibility, he got a glimpse of the darkness of her own past when he took hallucinogenic-darkness away from her in episode 4. A crack theory I know, but I feel like that scene was supposed to mean something besides Abby getting attack and Swamp Thing dropping the Alec persona to save her. 

These are all the thoughts that have been running through my head and have plagued me for the last 15 hours @.@ I’m tired, and I don’t want to hurt my brain anymore tonight.

That being said other great highlights of were Maria stealing the Sunderland Company from Avery. Wasn’t overly excited over Lucilia and Matt’s scenes, if anything they have earned what’s coming to them. I still like the dynamic of James Woodrue and Caroline, you can genuinely see that James is so flat out determined to save his wife which kind of mirrors Abby being so committed to saving Alec. 

I do like the scene with Liz and Matt, however, mainly because, that in the Alan Moore Saga (which is like the holy grail of Swamp Thing lore) only 4 people knew of Alec being Swamp Thing before he was captured. Matt Cable, Abby Arcane-Cable, Liz Treymayne, and her husband. Thus far, it seems like the series is genuinely doing all of Swamp Thing (movies, comics, cartoons,   series) true justice while forging itself as a new identity for the Avatar of the Green.

With Abby going back to Atlanta, I can't wait to see scenes of her with Adrienne Barbeux’s Doctor Palomar and Abby together in a scene. Will they make her first name Alice (as in Alice Cable from the 1982 movie) Will Adrienne get a scene with both Swampy and Abby as if to pass the torch on to this new generation of Swamp Thing stars? Will she give Abby some guidance on what to do with particular Swamp creatures (lol)?

But I still have questions!

Where is that Good Boy Garou?

What happened to Susie?

What happened to Margaux?

Anyway, I am finally done with this post. I am off to go listen to some Godzilla movies as I drift off to sleepy land.

[zekethegm]

Fun With Lovecraftian Things- A Thate Valentine’s Day Special

What happens when an otherworldly creature with almost limitless powers discovers Valentine’s Day? I guess Kate is about to find out.

If you want to see everything else with these characters and my other works with strange creatures and characters then my masterlist is here

About 1000 words below so if you got that time, click on through for cuteness.

           Kate tosses her keys in their usual basket as she enters the familiar apartment. She locks the door and wrenches her shoes off still half laced. She turns to walk into the kitchen.

           “Gah!” She hollers, falling backward onto the tattered door mat. “Don’t do that!” She commands, slowly rising to her feet with a hand over her chest.

           Thain slides over and helps her to her feet. “Sorry, I wanted to announce myself but didn’t want to startle you.”

           “So instead you hovered silently just in my peripheral, the most normal of alternatives.”

           “Well, I—”

           “Don’t worry.” Kate says waving her hand dismissively before leaning in to hug Thain. “Just clear your thro-er, make a coughing noise. A quiet coughing noise.”

           Thain nodded and embraced her with one pair of arms and gently brushed the hair away from her face with the other. “How was your day?”

           “Better now.” Kate says smiling up at Thain, she kisses his chest. “Have I ever told you I’m glad you don’t wear shirts.”

           Thain gestures with one pair of arms to the other. “Human shirts tend to lack the required sleeves, so...”

           “What a happy accident that is.” Kate says kissing Thain’s chest again before turning back to go to the kitchen again. “And what has my star forger been up to?” She asks over her shoulder.

           Thain follows slowly. “Well, actually I learned that today is a customary day of celebration in most cultures. Valentine’s day! So I—”

           “Ugh.” Kate groans.

           “Something the matter?”

           “No.” Kate says insincerely. “Not unless you think something is the matter with big companies playing on the expectations of women for profit. Not unless you think something is wrong with celebrating some guys execution by pressuring guys to buy a bunch of flowers that won’t last the week just because it’s become a social obligation. Not unless you think something is the matter with further ostracizing and alienating those who are alone or don’t desire romance and thusly damage their self worth as people for not being able to participate in the ‘normal’ thing to do. So unless you think there is something the matter with that then no there is nothing the matter.” Kate breathes heavy from her rapid fire tirade.

           “Oh.” Thain says quietly. “I did not know those parts of it.”

           Kate hangs her head. “Oh god. Did you already get me something?” She asks, looking over her shoulder at her inhuman love.

           “No.” Thain replies sheepishly. His tentacles curl up beneath him, coiling away from Kate and the faint glowing lines beneath his skin fade. Arcane symbols trail down two arms, which he tucks behind his back.

           “Hey! Stop that, I know that one, that’s the disappearing stuff one, you stop that!” She says pointing behind his Thain’s back. Thain quickly puts his arms front and center and ceases the magic.

Kate buries her face in her hands and slowly slides down the wall into a ball. “Ughhhhh, I’m such a bonehead. I didn’t mean all that, well I did but not like how it sounded.”

Thain glides over to her, sinking low to the floor, his tentacles splaying out to allow him to sink low to the floor. He touches her knee while nervously tenting the fingers on his other pair of arms. “It’s fine. I should have asked. I know humans are all different, if you were all the same then you wouldn’t be so special to me, just another human. I should have asked if you celebrated it before I did anything. I just got too excited with the idea. Was so much fun for me I never guessed it wouldn’t be for you. Sorry.”

Kate puts a hand on his, feeling the familiar warmth of her otherworldly lover and the tingling spark of his existence reconciling with reality. “No need to apologize, I’ve just been bitter about this whole thing for awhile. Guess it’s a hard habit to break. I actually really like chocolate.”

“I know.” Thain says warmly, the room seems a touch brighter somehow.

Kate looks to Thain, tracing the glowing green veins that snake across his smooth face with her eyes. “Did you get me any?”

The glow pulses then fades. “No.”

“Oh.”

“I actually made you something.”

“Oh!” Kate says excitedly. “What is it? It’s not something worldbreaking is it? You didn’t rearrange a constellation or something, because that could really mess with astronomers and set back a lot of our study of space to—”

“It’s a mug.” Thain says. Energies swirl between his hands as a large mug of polished black appears as though it were smoke blown in by an errant wind. The entire spectacle causes a dull throbbing pain where Kate’s brain comprehends the impossible.

Thain slowly turns it around to reveal a series of disjointed glyphs and unnatural icons. “It, uh, it says ‘My boyfriend is out of this world’ in the language of the nomadic star stalkers. It’s funny because I am.” Thain scratches the back of his head and makes a sighing sound. “You already knew that, though.”

Kate takes the mug and runs her hands over it, the surface seems almost unsettlingly smooth and vibrates at an almost imperceptible frequency making it feel electric to the touch. “What did you make this from?” She asks, turning it over and examining the inside and bottom.

“Mostly compressed asteroid dust from a belt that orbits a binary star that is actually a pair of outworld beings entrapped in burning radiation for the safety of every other living thing. Oh, uhm, it’s not microwave safe.” Thain watches Kate’s expression carefully. “Do you like it?”

Kate throws her arms around the silvery shoulders of her love and kisses its neck. “I love it. This is the sweetest gift I’ve ever received. Thank you so much.”

“We should try it out.” Thain says one pair of hands helping Kate to hold it upright as the other pair sit folded behind his back.

Kate nods happily. “Yeah, I could go for some—what are you doing?” She asks suspiciously as Thain begins pouring a liquid from a small swirling vortex he conjured up.

“It’s evening. You always have coffee in the morning, never after 10 am, so I am pouring tea.” Thain says plainly.

“Oh that part is obvious.” Kate rolls her eyes. “I mean where is it literally coming from?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I just received a mug made from dust irradiated by two creatures I don’t even want to ask about, engraved in words of a language that we will talk about another time from, essentially, a god who just hangs out in my apartment sometimes. I think I can handle it.” Kate says.

Thain nods. “That’s fair. Some of my offerings were of fragrant leaves and spices. And while bringing them in their entirety would cause them to age, I can fuse their essence into water and it will carry the properties of the substances in their state from my realm to here without aging.”

“So this is millennia old ceremonial sacrificial tea?”

“Yes.” Thain says, sitting back, finishing the pour.

“Nice.” Kate takes a drink. “Oh damn, that’s good.” She cradles the warm mug and hovering lights trace the lettering on the outside.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” Thain says caressing Kate’s cheek.

She nuzzles into it. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

Tag List

Tag time @sincerestaffect @typeaadventures @hypnocutiegypsy@raiswanson @creativityflows @cogwrites @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @siarven @asttralhell @my-words-are-light @beautifulimposter25 @ravenpuffwriter @delusioninabox @tundra-tiger @thespooniewrites

If you want on or off the tag list just let me know and as always if you want to see me do anything with eldritch creatures just shoot me a message or ask or whatever with a genre or setting you want me to play around with and I’ll see what I can do.

[frangipanidownunder]

I have a sickly sweet prompt for you. Set slightly in the future. Mulder and Scully's second child is now 12. Will visits every now and then but never stays long. During one of his visits, his 12 year old sibling randomly asks Mulder how he and Scully fell in love. I just wanna overdose on fluff right now. Don't let me down frangipani!

Windmills: a fic

Tagging @today-in-fic

It’s a strange feelingto know that Will is on the way home. And yes, it is home. That’s what he calls it. The blades of the windmill turnanti-clockwise despite the tendencies of the prevailing winds. Mulder alwayswaggles his eyebrows and says, in his exaggerated southern accent, “Build it,and he will come. Y’all best get the pot roast on.”

           And she does. It’s a recipe that shesaw once in a vision and Mulder declared it the best thing she’d ever cooked,without a hint of irony. The windmill blades turned and Will showed up on thedoorstep with a crooked smile and a grateful hug. He spent two days with them,fixing the flywires, turning soil in the long-dry vegetable patch, sowing seedswith his father. And yes, he is his father. She’s always known, but for thesake of science, she ran the tests anyway. Love conquers all. Even black-lungedpsychopathic rapists.

           Today, Esther is in the yard, pitchingher baseball. There’s no wind. It’s high summer, muggy with the threat of an eveningstorm. Her skin is sheen with perspiration and Scully sees the rash of pimplesbreaking out across her forehead. Her body is changing, growing. She looks moreand more like Mulder these days – all rangy limbs and the large nose she hates.But she’s beautiful beyond convention and every day Scully tells her daughterthat.

           The blades turn and Esther throwsthe ball one last time before rushing up the steps, past Scully. “Dad! Will’scoming.”

           Scully puts down her book and watchesthe windmill. In her head, there’s the familiar pressure of the connection andshe breathes. In and out, as the blades rotate. He’s coming and he doesn’t knowhow long for but can she cook those fritters this time, the curried corn onesbecause it’s too hot for roast and besides Mulder really needs to get thebarbecue out and give it a clean. And how are the tomatoes? There should be areal good crop this year. He’s got fresh basil with him and a wedge ofmozzarella so he can make Esther the salad she loves.

           Before she’s really come around,Scully has already reached for the olive oil and the salt and pepper and she’ssearching for the platter and bowls with the blue windmills pattern becauseit’s like a family joke now. Everything gets served on them when Will’s back.

His hair is short thistime. Neatly cropped and pushed up at the fringe. He looks like a movie starand she remembers Mulder with his spiky bangs and baggy suits what feels like ahundred years ago. Fuck, he was handsome then and she couldn’t do a damnedthing about it but look. And she glances over at him now, washing tomatoes atthe sink, wearing an old grey tee that’s untucked so she can see the flare ofthe muscles at his waist and the patch of silver hair in the middle of hisback. He turns and smiles at her and fuck, if he isn’t just as handsome now andthere’s a whole lot she can do about it, even if it takes them a little longerto get there these days.

           “Can I layer the salad, Mom?”Esther’s curled her hair so that it frames her face and she’s wearing a fittedvest and cut off denims that just make her look even longer-legged.

           “Sure, honey. Wash your hands.”

All the while, Scully’s watching Will and he knows it. He opens a beerand sits next to her. “I don’t know,” is all he says and she knows he’ll begone in a day or two. She covers his hand with hers and squeezes, grateful forany time with him.

The salad is perfect with the fritters. There’s sourdoughbread and salty butter and fresh greens with spring onion relish and a crispwhite that Mulder pours with a little too much extravagance. Scully is flushedand the fan is ticking overhead. Her hair is sticking to her head and Estherhasn’t stopped asking Will questions. He fields them with experience, neverreally saying much, but giving his sister enough material for him to remain heridol. Mulder runs his beer bottle against his lips and she smiles at him,running through their years together. If there was ever a case more strangethan their son, she can’t remember it.

              “Will,do you have a girlfriend?”

              “Nope,”he says, leaning back on his chair. “Don’t have time these days.”

              Shefrowns and says in a low voice, “But you must have been in love at least once?”

              Willlaughs and the fan clicks in time. “I’m not sure if I know what that even means.”

              Estheris growing more curious.   “Everybodyknows what love is,” she declares with the authority of a pre-teen. “Even Momand Dad know.”

              There’sa slow smile spreading over Will’s face and it’s the perfect out for him.Esther needs to choose her words more carefully. Scully picks up her plate andstarts to take the others to the bench next to the sink.

              “Yeah,why don’t you tell us how you fell in love, Dad?”But it’s Will who asks, teases.

              Mulderchuckles and he’s had a bottle of beer too many and Scully knows it’s bad. Sheturns on the tap, running her wrist under the water and praying it’s not goingto be too bad.

              “Well,”he starts, “it’s pretty hard to fall in love with a spy. Especially one in asuit three times as big as she was.”

              “A spy?”Esther squeals. “Mom wasn’t a spy. She was a scientist. A doctor. And all shewas trying to do was keep you in check. She’s told me this part. She wasassigned to keep Spooky Mulder from chasing aliens. And you shouldn’t judge awoman by her clothes.”

              Willgrins and takes another swig of beer. “There’s no such thing as aliens.”

              Esthersits upright, leaning on her elbows. Her eyes widen. “Then how do you explainyour blood? And Mom’s?”

              The roomstills, save for the whoosh of the fan blades, and Scully turns to look at herfamily, seated round the table. A typical scene. But her twelve year olddaughter is goading her adult son about his bloodwork and her husband iswatching them like he’s at a tennis match – head turning from child to child asthey trade arcane statements about their provenance.

              “Iworked out pretty early on she wasn’t really a spy. Not in the Cold War sense,anyway. Although, she was pretty good at freezing me out of anything importantin her life.” His expression is pure Mulder. A wide, cocky smile, chin up,eyebrows raised.

              “I thinkyou forget just how many times you ditched me, Mulder.”

              “I didthat to save you, Scully.”

              “Good tosee your martyr complex is still as strong as ever.”

              Estherclaps. “Round one to Mom. Tell us about your first kiss.”

              Will linkshis hands behind his head and waits. Mulder stands up and takes another beerfrom the fridge. Scully sighs, wiping her hands on the tea towel.

              “Shekissed me when I wasn’t me,” he says. “A man who could take any form trickedher with some red wine and a smooth line or two and she fell for it. Can youbelieve it?”

              “Ididn’t kiss Eddie Van Blundht with a silent H, Mulder. And you know it.Besides, his smooth line or two was generally what one might consider typicaladult conversation. He asked me about my life. I told him stories. He listened.That’s how dates usually go.”

              “So youadmit it was a date?” Mulder says, looking at Esther. Their daughter giggles.Will shakes his head.

              Scullythrows up her hands. “It wasn’t a date insofar as we were partners and therewas no way we would have or should have been dating. But it was an occasionwhere grown-ups conversed like grown-ups while enjoying adult beverages.”

              “Wherewere you, Dad? While Mom was not kissing you?”

              “I wasbravely fighting my way out of a locked cupboard and rushing to your mother’srescue.”

              Scullydraws in a breath. “I’ve never needed rescuing, Mulder. You know that.” Thesuds float around the sink, swirling and dancing with the same mirth that set Estheroff.

              “TheAntarctic ring a bell, Scully? Snowcats and anti-virus medication. Alien podsand hyperthermia.”

              “Is thatthe bee thing?” Esther asks, eager for more, even though she’s heard thesestories, or versions of them, for years. “You didn’t kiss then, either. What’sthe go with you two? How long did it take you two to actually kiss and declareyour love?”

              “Itried,” Mulder says. “I kissed the 1939 version of your mother and I declaredmy love for her when I got back to 1998. But she didn’t believe me. How manytimes can a guy be rejected?”

              Scullysmirks and jabs him in the ribs. “You rejected me when I turned up in yourhotel room with wine and cheese. You decided searching for the mothman was themore attractive prospect.”

              “Ah,Florida. Your hair was a frizzy mess and that blue coat, not quite as bad asthe earlier version but still, and your singing.”

              “Scullyhas a nice voice,” Will says. And she sees him in his cot kicking his legs likethe baby he was but wondering what was going on in that brain of his. “Iremember the lullabies she sung me.”

              The soundof Mulder’s bottle hitting the table top startles her. He flexes his jaw andchews over what Will has just said. His abilities are a blessing and a curse.To consciously remember a mother’s lullaby from those early months may seemlike a wonderful thing but it wasn’t that much later that Scully gave him away.

              “You stillhaven’t told us about the kiss,” Esther says. “And the zombies. I wanna hearabout the zombies.”

              “Again?”Scully asks and she takes the cheesecake out of the fridge. She pours maplesyrup over it and sprinkles crushed pecans. “It was very chaste but it meant alot. The kiss was the beginning.”

              “Andwhen did Mulder really tell you he loved you, Scully?” Will is amused now,egging on his sister, but as he leans forward, there’s a wistful look in hiseyes. She’s listened to him for years, out there, doing whatever it is he’s doing.He tells her his dreams. He tells her his nightmares. She’s come to know theirson in her head and she shares it with Mulder the best way she can but there’sstill a disconnect that both Mulder and he find frustrating. Here now, at thetable, surrounded by his family, Will looks a little broken.

              “Muldertook a little while to actually say the words.” She pushes him a plate ofcheesecake and watches his lips pop open a little. He’s remembering that momenttoo and it’s not one they’ve shared. So many of the roads in their lives havebeen twisted, pot-holed and filled with dead-ends that this one moment wherethey were both in the same lane is one they hold dear.

              “And sodid you,” Mulder counters. “Besides, we both showed our love in different waysand in less conventional terms. I once told your mother that she was my one infive billion.”

              “You hadbeen committed at the time, Mulder. Was I really supposed to take the ravingsof a madman seriously?”

              “Your motherforced her way into a game and shot all the bad guys.”

              “Andgirls,” Scully adds, nodding to Esther.

              Mulder chuckles.“And she made sure I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself on national tv.”

“I saw that episode,” Will says, “andyou did make an ass out of yourself, Mulder.”

Smiling, Mulder shakes his head. “Whatwas it you said, Scully? ‘Mulder, you wanna talk about werewolves to me, knockyourself out but this could ruin your career’. That meant a lot.” His mouth straightens.“You were and still are my constant, my touchstone.”

“So, we know you don’t say itvery often but when did you feel it?” Esther asks. “You’ve told me all thesestories but I still don’t know when you both fell in love.”

Will smiles quietly and Scullyshivers. Mulder puts his spoon down.

“When your mother was returned tothe hospital, after she’d been abducted, I felt so grateful that she was back,so compelled to find out what had happened, it drove me for years, that fire. Ididn’t recognise it at first,” he stops and looks at Scully. “but that was lovein its purest essence.”

“Mom?” Esther hands Scully atissue. “your turn.”

Scully dabs her eyes. “I wasdying. And the only person I was truly scared for was your father. That waslove in its purest essence too.”

“But why didn’t you tell him?” Estherasks.

“Because what would have been thepoint?” Will says. “And by the time she went into remission, it would havelooked like a sympathy thing.”

The fan whirs above their headsand Esther rests her chin on her hands. “But Dad was already in love with you.”

Chuckling, Mulder ruffles herhair. “And that, pumpkin, is the insanity of adulthood. We spend so longavoiding people or feelings or choices that we miss out on life. Take it fromus, your paths are not always destined to run where you think they will. Somake the most of the journey.”

Will pushes back his chair andcollects the plates. Esther gets up and helps. Mulder leans forward and takesScully hands in his. He mouths ‘I love you’ and Scully nods and says ‘me too’.

Outside, the wind whips up andthe windmill creaks into action. Will stands at the back door with his sisternext to him watching the blades turn and turn.

[ncfan-1]

ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives: S1 EP 004, ‘Page Turner’

Come to Jurgen-Leitner’s, where we have Necronomicons for every occasion and situation you could imagine! Necronomicons for summoning the dead! Necronomicons for revealing past transgressions! Necronomicons to drive the sanest man mad! Bring a friend, bring the whole family! Buy as much as you like, because you won’t be coming back! You’ll be dead or in a mental hospital with a melted brain before coming back passes your mind!

No spoilers, please!

- The evil book is a common theme in media. Books of arcane knowledge that corrupt the user in some form or another are commonplace, really, and in about half of those you will find some sort of sapient entity that may or may not interact directly with the reader. The Necronomicon of Lovecraft lore is probably the most notorious, along with Tom Riddle’s diary from the Harry Potter series; heck, the Restricted section of the Hogwarts library is full of books like this. You’ve also got ‘The King in Yellow,’ the play in book form of the similarly titled The King in Yellow. I think Evil Dead has one. The 2003 Teen Titans series has Raven come across a spell book that hosts an evil dragon pretending to be a good wizard. Eclipsa’s chapter of the Royal Book of Spells in Star vs. The Forces of Evil is this in miniature, though like many things in Svtfoe, it’s not what it seems at first glance. House of Leaves is a weird example of this, but it is an example. A Sith Holocron in Star Wars is a sci-fi equivalent. Even the Care Bears Movie had one of these.

What is it with our enduring fascination with Evil Books, anyways? The obsession seems to go beyond even Evil Books, anyways, because I can’t help but remember the way the Catholic Church reacted when people first started printing Bibles in their own vernacular. In that case, they likely came down so hard on translators like Wycliffe and Tyndale (well, Wycliffe was involved with the Lollard movement; I doubt that helped) because they knew their own power would wane if they couldn’t dictate religion to the masses, but we seem to have a Thing about books in general. Everybody’s obsessed with the Voynich Manuscript, too.

- And we’ve got Dominic insisting he’s not some crazy hobo, furthering our “mentally ill people are more vulnerable” theme; Dominic seems to understand it would work against him.

- “Probably calf, given how soft it was.” I do wonder how leather made from human skin feels to the touch. Is it, by any chance, soft?

- ‘Ex Altiorā’ is an interesting phrase, because it can mean a couple of very different things. ‘Ex’ is a preposition whose potential meanings include ‘out of’, ‘from within’, and ‘from.’ ‘Altiorā’ is the ablative case of the superlative form of the adjective ‘altus, -a, -um,’ which can mean either ‘high’ or ‘deep.’ So while it can mean ‘From/Out of the highest’, it can also mean ‘From/Out of the deepest.’

- So the book is a magic time sink?

- And after flipping through the book (one image of which was a mysteriously frighteningly night sky), Dominic is now picking up the smell of ozone.

- The pictures triggered Catherine’s vertigo? Given how affecting the night sky image is supposed to be, I’ll take that as a warning.

- Given that another Jurgen-Leitner book later shows up in Sanskrit, I wonder if the woodcut of a crooked tower with birds circling the summit represents the Tower of Babel.

- In real life, ‘Key of Solomon’ is a grimoire that was authored sometime in the 14th or 15th century in Italy. Though it is attributed to King Solomon, it was almost certainly not written by him as, again, it surfaced sometime in the 1300s-1400s. The book included incantations to summon and control the spirits of the dead and demons, how to find lost items, how to become invisible, etc. It also described the purifications the practitioner should undergo, how they should dress, how they should make the instruments used in their experiments, and what sort of animal sacrifices they’d have to make to the spirits. I got that info from Wikipedia, so take it with a grain of salt, but the last detail may potentially be important.

- “Something else there. Something I knew but… could not remember.” Wonderful.

- Mary Key sounds… creepy as hell.

- I wonder if dead Mary (I listen to these entries at least twice: the first time without making any notes, and at least once to make my notes) plays death metal music for a reason. Could it be, say, to block out the screams of dying animals?

- As to the picture of the eye, the eye is rich in symbolic meaning, but right now what I’m thinking of the most is the idea of God—or, if the story so intends, some other in-universe higher power—staring down on mankind and judging them.

- “Grant us the sight that we may not know. Grant us the scent that we may not catch. Grand us the sound that we may not call.” Well, we’ve got ozone so far—and something that will be revealed to us soon.

- So Mary Key’s Jurgen-Leitner book is a Jurgen-Leitner with no title, and the leather is in “better condition.” That’s great, that’s real great. Is it the copy of ‘Key of Solomon’ that was mentioned earlier on, because that might make some sense of what happens next.

- Mary’s book is in Sanskrit. If this is a copy of ‘Key of Solomon’, that might actually make sense as an attempt to pass ‘Key of Solomon’ off as actually having been written by Solomon. Sanskrit was in use in Southwest Asia (otherwise known as the Middle East), as there was trade between India and Southwest Asia; it’s actually believed that Sanskrit may have originated in what today is Iran.

- So you pass Mary’s book through shadows, and bent little animal bones fall out, “warped into shapes that bones should not form.” Interesting.

- Yeah, Mary’s been summoning demons. Or at least she was when she was alive.

- And when Dominic looks through his book—even without having to pass it through shadows—the woodcuts have changed. There are new lines in the picture, thick and dark and coming down from the sky like lightning.

- He sees the Lichtenberg Figure—grant us the sight that we may not know.

- The smell of ozone and cooking flesh—grant us the scent that we may not catch.

- The deafening lightning—grant us the sound that we may not call.

- So Mary messes with what is probably a copy of ‘Key of Solomon’, and possibly winds up being sacrificed the way she seems to have sacrificed animals. If Dominic had kept Ex Altiorā, would he have been struck by lightning?

- Jared sounds like he just wants to be done with all of this.

- So, as for Mary being in the bookstore when she was dead… Did Jared summon his mother’s spirit using her old book?

- Was… Was Jared going to use Mary’s skin as new pages for the book?

- Yeah, it was probably the grimoire that was deemed inadmissible.

- I wonder what Jared saw in Ex Altiorā, what it was that made him laugh.

- “My mother doesn’t always know what’s best for our family.” Well, alrighty then.

- So… It seems that Jurgen-Leitner makes books that are basically Necronomicon-grade tomes of forbidden knowledge fit to drive men mad. And the Magnus Institute has (or had, though it sounds like we’re going to be dealing in present tense again, now) an ongoing project devoted to dealing with his library after some incident in 1994. Well, I’m sure this will never come back in any way. Jonathan sounds so done.

- And Jonathan’s running assignment has just crossed over from “assignment that makes you rip all your hair out” to “assignment that makes you entertain fantasies about killing your boss for handing you this mess without even warning you about what you were walking into.” You can hear it in his voice. Though in this case, it sounds more like he’s entertaining fantasies of learning how to perform necromancy so he can resurrect Gertrude Robinson just to have the privilege of killing her again.

- That said, I’d say there’s more method to Gertrude’s madness than he’s willing to acknowledge right now.

- It’s possible that Dominic’s translation was off, and Martin was only looking for English translations. Because there is more than one possible translation.

[chameleonspell]

182: apology

A mushroom, its broad cap fending off the noon-day sun, on the outskirts of somewhere completely different. "I don't know what you're so upset about. You were worried about money, and it'll be far cheaper to sail from here than from Sadrith Mora. With less chance of recognition!" Julan remained silent. He leaned back against the mushroom, arms braced on either side of his neck, fingers locked together at the nape. His eyes were closed. "Listen, how was I supposed to know that was Gothren's bedroom window?"

Julan opened his eyes, but didn't focus them beyond his elbows. He drew a long, serrated breath, and held it. "You didn't want to be stuck up there forever, did you?" Julan released the breath, in something between a growl and a groan. "Honestly, I'm amazed this sort of thing doesn't happen more often in a Telvanni town, levitation being what it is. I can't believe they got so unreasonably... unreasonable about a simple..." Beyond Julan's elbows, Iriel's eyes veered back and forth, creased in worried scrutiny. Grimacing, he changed tack: "I'm sorry. I got carried away." Julan closed his eyes again. "All right, perhaps you did, technically speaking." Iriel was hunching slightly, to remain on eye level. Monitoring the results of his words, and currently far from satisfied. "Again, sorry. I'll warn you next time." He sucked his lower lip for a moment. "That is to say, I'll ask your permission. In writing, two weeks in advance. And... sorry. How's your shoulder, can I massage it, or...? No? No, I see, all right, never mind." He retracted his hand, and, after a moment's consideration, shuffled back a few paces. "It's just... I'd read about scrolls of windform, but never actually tried one. Levitating invisibly at high speed always sounded like the perfect way to travel. And it was, for, well. Most of it." He was smiling, now, gaze drifting into space. "I must confess, I've even had... certain... fantasies about..." The abrupt renewal of Julan's glare dragged him back down to earth. "Well. Obviously I wasn't going to suggest... of course not. Sorry. Never mind." He straightened up, and took a drag on the kreshweed roll-up he was twitching between his fingers. "By the way, I know you dropped that helm on purpose, so don't even try denying it." Julan finally lowered his arms. "Since when do you smoke that stuff, anyway?" "Since I needed it to reduce my stress levels from dealing with you, sweetheart. Besides, it gives my hands something to do that isn't illusion spells." Julan eyed the kreshweed, suspiciously. After a while, he sighed, and let Iriel pass it to him, though upon inhalation, he immediately choked, and thrust it back, eyes streaming. A little later, Julan said, out of what had now become a mostly companionable silence: "So. Two Dremora." Iriel's mouth quirked, before he replied: "Perks of being a Telvanni Mage-Lord, I suppose. Or just not giving a fuck about arcane ethics." "Same thing." Julan cricked his neck sideways with a wrenching pop. Ire didn't even wince, his eyes glazed and distant. "Two Dremora, though." Julan snorted. "You wouldn't know what to do with two Dremora!" "I would, you know." "Send them back to Oblivion with proper shirts on, because you're so arcanely ethical?" "...Quite." Iriel wandered out of the mushroom's shadow to survey the Tel Aruhn docks again. The ship they wanted was preparing to depart, but they thought it safest to embark at the last minute, to avoid the captain making too many awkward enquiries. The sails were still half-set, so Ire returned to Julan's side. "Last chance to change your mind," he told him. "But I really think asking the Urshilaku for advice is best. They play by the rules; Daedra don't." "Yeah." A sigh. "I just... you were right, last time we made this trip. When you said I was avoiding them. I know what they'll say, and none of it's new, but..." "I know. Don't worry. I have a plan, of sorts." Ire found Julan's hand and squeezed it. "My brain may be a jumbled mess of the fractured shards of my intellect, but it's at your service. And I have a few ideas that might work." "See, you're not fractured all the time. How's the magic?" "About the level it was when I was ten, but it's something. I suppose perh--" They froze, as a distant explosion shook the towers around them. Passers by, used to Telvanni districts, merely paused, glanced around for signs of immediate local catastrophe, shrugged and walked on. "D'you think they--" Julan began, but Iriel shook his head. "Don't think. Let's just go. The boat should be ready in a few minutes." "What's in that sack of yours, anyway?" "Hopefully nothing breakable, after what it went through on our descent." "Yeah, well. I guess anything not in it is gone for good, now." Seizing the distraction, Iriel opened the sack from Tusamircil. "Clothes, mostly," he reported. "Some of them are even yours." "Is my ash-scarf there? I've been looking for that." "No. Because you left that in my room before, and I burned it." "Wh--?! ...Oh. OK." A snort of laughter from Iriel, as he pulled out a cream silk sleeve. "Look what she's put in here! As if I'll need this, where we're going! Still, no sense saving it for a special occasion, now. I might as well wear it in the Ashlands as anywhere, I suppose." "Is my stupid noble shirt in there, too, then? Or... hey, what about my other pair of guarskins?" Iriel didn't reply. He had found the scroll. Uneven lettering on rough parchment, fastened with green twine. Julan saw his face. "Hey, are you...? Look, I know Helende said you should read it, but maybe now isn't... I mean, what if it's... are you sure you're ready to...?" But Iriel, his fingers helpless as clockwork, was already tugging on the end of the twine. To Iriel. I have began this letter four times. Each time I have wrote the wrong words so much I have ended by dropping the paper over the side. This is the last bit of parchement. My mistaiks must all have to stand this time and you must bare them. Purhaps this is rigte and best. I am sorry for my writing being so falty. I hope you may take my menings. I am at sea, 35.7 teills WTW of the Dancing Strait with our nose to the sun and the wind to our back. I have come further than I have bin in all my dawns. But even were the Argerial not with us, I would not let it prevent me now. I dont set myself wiser than the breath of our ancestors, but I am resolvd. Lightbringer knows our course. I can feel the joy of it in the wood. Befour sun rise I had seen more tears than I thouht still left these many years, but now the joy is in me too and I know the stars speak truly and the winds blow wise. It is time to leve. There was a time to stay and keep to old words, but that is ended. She said you are in Morrowind. She said she wrote you. I thouht you was in a Ciirodil jail. I asked why you was out and if they found you was innosent like I thouht. I asked when you was coming home. She said never. She said it made no matter. She said some people carry their prisons inside themselves and so never walk free. It struck me as how she was rigte. I put her a letter in her Astrology folder. She opens it not more than once a week by my eyes. Purhaps it will even pass some moons until she finds it. I dont pretend as I know who you are these dawns be it theif or murderer or both or none. I dont know if your blood runs fair or foul as she says. I only know it runs in me the same, and I would look on what you have made of it. Purhaps as you see no call to find me, but if you will it, and if Auri-El preserve us on this long haul, I mean to reach Ebonheart by your birth month. From [a blotched mess of illegibly crossed out words] Murecano [more crossing out, this somewhat legible]. When Iriel finally found his tongue, it had turned corpse-dry, coating every word in dust. "He... he wrote 'Murecano of Lillandril', and then he... crossed out the 'of Lillandril' part." "Is it an apology?" "Not exactly. I think... he's trying to tell whether I want one." "Do you?" "I don't know. I don't know anything. This is more words together than I've had from him my entire life." As Ire spoke, he rolled the parchment tighter and tighter, and reknotted the twine several times. "Fuck." He exhaled sharply, and pushed it into the bottom of his bag. "I don't have time to mess myself up over this, right now. Can you just... hug me really, really, hard for a moment, and then we'll run for the boat." The Ahemmusa-bound members of the Thieves' Guild will no doubt turn up again in due course, but as Iriel and Julan leave the Telvanni lands, perhaps some final mention of the others is in order, insofar as details are known, before all trails were lost. Rissinia recovered from his wounds, and went to seek his fortune (and a better range of cake ingredients) in Cyrodiil. Fandus changed his name, and settled in Caldera, where he married the governor's daughter, and entered local politics. There were rumours in Sadrith Mora that the Altmer woman known as Big Helende was swallowed by a giant beetle, which then flew out to sea, leaving nothing but a trail of maniacal laughter and badly-embroidered cushions. But, people would usually add, this is clearly ridiculous. Muriel Sette and Erer Darothril simply vanished. But the latter has appeared and disappeared many times in Tamrielic history, and no doubt he will do so again. Back, then, briefly, to a ship, heading north across the Sea of Ghosts, and two tired elves, slumped on the deck. "How're you feeling?" "My head's cold. You're all right, you have hair." "Yeah, mostly in my mouth, with this wind. D'you want to go below?" "No." A pause. "I wish I had that stupid fucking hat he knitted me, though." "Maybe he--" "Don't. I still don't know." A longer pause, as the clouds scudded by overhead. "He offered to teach me to knit, once, forever and ever ago. I couldn't see the point, since he already made me things, and I had important books to read." "No knitting lessons in Sweating Slutbags of--" "Shut your awful face, I'm remi-fucking-niscing. I... gods, I just... I wish I'd realised he was only trying to find an activity to share with me that wasn't some outdoorsy thing, which he knew I hated. I thought knitting looked boring, but now I wonder if it'd be soothing, give my fingers something mechanical to do, when my brain stops working." "Better than that poisonous stuff you keep smoking." "Yes, well. Even if I could knit, everything close to wool I've seen in Morrowind is rough and horrible. No doubt it's made out of scathecraw, or something that used to be inside a beetle." A snort. "And knowing me, all I'd succeed in making would be one big tangled knot." North, still north, as the sky began to shade. "D'you want me to shave my head, then, for company?" "No!" "Sure? I don't mind. It's getting too long, anyway." "It is not too long! And don't you dare shave it. Long hair has its uses." Catching Ire's smirk, but not the reason, Julan slid him a suspicious look. "Oh, really?" With a sudden grab, Iriel caught a handful, and yanked Julan's head into his lap. "Really," he told Julan's broadening grin. "Now sit the fuck up, I'm going to braid it." next: 183: proof previous: 181: communication beginning: 1: numb