#and I shall disappear into the shadows of work once again

[bokutos-babyowl]

Sleepy Bliss Sebastian Vettel X Reader!Verstappen 

Sometimes it is the arms of a “rival” to make everything fade into bliss. 

Sebastian Vettel X Reader! Verstappen

Content includes 18+ MDNI, age gap, somnophilia if you squint, and maybe some other things. 

Word count: 1012

You asked, and you shall receive. Here is the Seb fic, and there is more in the works for next week's picks.

Masterlist

Summery: Being Max's sister has not only had its ups but when you are tired in the day and the man that Max would kill slips into your bed. Your loyalty wavers in the sweet sweet bliss that is Sebs' arms. 

After a long day at the track hiding in the shadows hoping that the press would not know who you are, you snuggled in your warm blanket. Earlier in the day, when you were hiding away with your brother y, you did not feel your second keycard leave your pocket. Yet, the slow opening of the door said otherwise. Slowing walking in as you are on the brink of blissful sleep, you groggily look to see what the movement was in your bed. To no surprise, it was Seb, the one your brother said to stay away from, the one whose eyes are always glued to you in the paddock, the one who winks at you when he has a podium finish. 

He lays down on your bed and instinctively you snuggle up to his chest. “Meine kleine maus,” he whispers as you rub up against him.” Shhh Max, is in a room over”. Max’s biggest issue with all of this is his sister in bed with a rival and an older one at that. Looking down at you he can tell that the day has worn you out. With your brother's win, he was sure he was out partying and that he could give you all the destressing that you needed. 

“Mouse… trust me he is not here, and you need to let out the stress” he whispers in your ear as his hand runs down your body and to your core. On the edge of sleep, you slowly wake back up grinding into his hand. “Seb” you say with a whine in your voice. “I got you, Mouse don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you… just lay there,” he says as he disappears under the covers kissing down your body and nipping at your thighs, Causing you to open them just enough to fit his head between them. 

Grabbing onto his hair, pulling him closer as he blows air on your clit, mesmerized by how wet he already got you with just his fingers. Bringing his mouth down to your soaked pussy, you arc, pushing against him as he tastes you, eating you out like it was the last chance he would ever get to see you. Pulling on his hair he moans into you, you start shaking and he knows you are close. Adding his fingers and circling your clit, he pulls you over the edge.” Neuken Seb Please,” you moan so loud, that covering it does nothing to dampen the noise.  Cumming on his face as he continues to lap it up like the last meal on earth. 

Coming up from the covers he kisses you as you taste your release mixed in with him. “Feel better, Mouse?” he mumbles as he kisses down your neck. Moaning as he takes your nipple into his mouth. Slowly your hands try to undo his pants, to give him the release you can feel built up. Just as you get there he pulls your hands up and pins them above your head. “Nein maus, I told you this is for you not me,” he says looking into your eyes. Holding your arms in place with one hand, the other goes back to your core to rip one more orgasm out of you, Whimpering you start to feel the overstimulation as his thumb plays with your clit. Trying to wiggle out of his grasp you can feel yourself becoming undone. “That’s it, Mouse just one more. You can give me one more, right?” he says in your ear while your walls tighten in on his fingers as he keeps going through your orgasm. Winning, you fall over the edge once again, your limbs too heavy to move. Slowly he removes himself from you, walking to the bathroom to clean you up. When he gets, back you are sound asleep. “You did so well my little mouse” he whispers after cleaning you up, tossing the towel, and climbing back into bed with you. He kisses your forehead, holding you and falling asleep himself.  *** Waking up you feel a heaviness on you, opening your eyes to be buried in Sebs' chest. Moving, you can still feel him and you gently rub against him. Knowing it was a hard day from him coming in p4 yesterday, looking at the clock you have time to return the favor. As you slowly start to move down you can feel the soreness of your legs. Opting to slowly get him free with just slight movements you take him into your mouth, swirling around the tip before fulling taking him all in. You feel him twitch knowing he is starting to wake up, thinking you have time you add in a hand knowing that if you keep up deep thoating you will cough and wake him up. Finally, you get into a good rhythm and when you least expect it, you feel his hands on your hair before he pushes you all the way down causing you to choke. “Scheiße maus”. Coming back up to breath he pulls you to his mouth. Tasting himself on you he moves you to hover over his cock. Moving to suck your neck as he thrusts into you. Screaming his name, you hold onto him tightly, moving with him up and down. He takes your nipple into his mouth and bites down causing your cunt to grip tighter around his cock. ”you like that mouse don't you, don't be shy come for me mouse” he says as his mouth and hand wonder giving you more hickeys and bruises. He fucks you though your orgasm as well as slowly approaching his own.  When you feel him slow down you know he is close. Wiggling out if he grasps to slowly remove yourself from him much to his dismay. Only to slam down again this time taking control fucking him through his orgasm and giving you another. Falling from his high he grabs you close, whispering “My little mouse fuck I love you.” looking up into his eyes you kiss him one more time, your lips lingering on his “ich liebe dich Seb”

[wes-laye]

I return briefly from my work hiatus with Fontaine magician twins content

[bluerose5]

The Price of Freedom (Part 2 of 4)

READ HERE ON AO3.

Word Count: 4,953

Author's note: One of my fics turning out longer than I expected? More likely than you think. Either way, hope you enjoy Chapter 2! 💙

Fic Summary:

After Wyll breaks his pact with Mizora, she ensures that both he and Astarion suffer the consequences of that choice.

Never did Astarion expect that to mean that Wyll would end up in Cazador's clutches.

...

Unfortunately, their mad rush around the city didn't turn up anything. Not a single clue.

Together, Astarion and Karlach searched every nook and cranny they came across within the time they were given. No rock was left unturned. No corner went unsearched.

They cast light into the shadows.

They called out for Wyll until their voices grew hoarse.

After a while, Astarion decided to call it quits.

Enough was enough.

They were doing nothing but wasting time at this rate.

When he suggested they return to Elfsong, Karlach reluctantly agreed. 

He pitied her in that moment, her optimistic nature. 

While Karlach wasn't naive by any means, Astarion knew that she truly wanted to believe that they could still find Wyll, banged up and bloodied perhaps, but relatively unscathed. She was fooling herself, and they both knew it.

Because she couldn't bear to consider the alternative.

Astarion, on the other hand, couldn't afford to entertain such thoughts at all. All he could focus on was finding Wyll, and since their current plan wasn't working, they needed to start coming up with other ideas while they still could.

They were the first ones to return to Elfsong Tavern, entering their shared quarters in silence.

Only for that silence to shatter the instant they noticed a figure perched atop Wyll's and Astarion's bed.

Astarion whipped out his blade in a flash.

Dropping low into a crouch, he bared his teeth at her with a hiss.

“Oh, brother,” Karlach grumbled. Then, louder, with her arms spread out in challenge, she asked, “What the fuck are you doing here, Mizora?” She pointed a finger at her. “And where in the Hells is Wyll?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Mizora simply hummed in delight when Karlach readied her greataxe for a fight, crossing her legs while she flipped through the pages of a book.

“Hold on. One moment,” she instructed, a lone finger raised in their direction, not once looking up from the story. “I do love this part.” She chuckled. “Young Wylliam always did have such exquisite tastes, didn't he? Well…” She spared Astarion a brief once-over before returning her attention to the book. “Mostly.”

She had to be kidding him.

The audacity of that devil.

She came into their room, she made herself at home on their bed, and she took it upon herself to touch Wyll's possessions. Did she really think that she could get away with insulting Astarion on top of all that?

Oh, no.

Actually, not just no, but fuck no.

Astarion was having none of it.

He saw red, and that was it.

Nothing was holding him back anymore, especially not that godsforsaken contract.

Mizora was fair game now.

Astarion spewed venom into his every word.

“You scheming, rancid, cold-hearted bitch!” he yelled.

Without warning, he pounced, his blade raised.

Before he could even so much as blink, Mizora disappeared into a misty puff of smoke, the smell of sulfur lingering in the air.

Astarion crashed against the headboard of his bed with a grunt, but he was quick to recover, rolling over so that he could drop down onto the floor, crouched and ready to lunge yet again. His pupils were blown, his expression dark, his fangs openly set on display while a growl built in his chest.

Mizora —or at least, the illusion of her— sat across from him on Karlach's bed with a smug smirk.

“Now, now, kitten,” she scolded. “Put your claws away, and let's talk like civilized adults, shall we?”

As if to add insult to injury, she raked her own claws over Clive's head and down his back, petting the stuffed bear while she spoke.

Karlach burned hot in her rage.

“Fuck that!” she snarled.

With a swing of her axe, it cut straight through Mizora's duplicate, its sharp edge embedded into the wall behind her.

Once more, the illusion disappeared when it was attacked. This time, when Mizora's image solidified again, it materialized upon a nearby trunk.

She crossed her legs and gave her wings an indignant flutter.

“Seriously?” She stared down her nose at them with a curl of her lip, unimpressed. “If that didn't work the first time when the spawn did it, then what made you think that it would work any better the second time around?”

“Wishful thinking. Plus, I was making my intentions crystal fucking clear to you.” Grunting, Karlach ripped her axe out of the wall, then pointed it at Mizora. “No one touches Clive without my say-so, and no one hurts Wyll without answering to me!” She jabbed her thumb into her chest. “Make me ask ‘Where is he?’ one more time, and I swear, I will hunt you down to the deepest, darkest pits of the Hells and rip your damn spine out, Mizora!”

“Promises, promises.” She folded her hands upon her lap, leveling both of them with a searching look. “Besides, who said anything about me harming our beloved Wyll?” Mizora set a hand atop her chest. “I came here out of the kindness of my own heart to inform you of his whereabouts, and this is the thanks that I get? Figures.”

She sniffed in disdain.

“Damn, you got us there,” Karlach deadpanned, “I mean, you're such a shining beacon of selflessness. Why in all the realms would we expect any ill intent from you?”

“Enough. We're wasting time,” Astarion intervened, making his way to Karlach's side. Together, they stared Mizora down. “Tell us now. What is it that you want, devil?”

“Me? Want something? Ha! Don't be ridiculous. I offer this information free of charge. Surely, it would be no great hassle to share what I already know. After all, I do keep a…” She tapped a perfectly-manicured claw against her right temple. “Close eye on the pup, now don't I? Worry not, though.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I already got everything I wanted out of this situation, and so much more.”

“So you did have a hand in this whole mess?” Astarion snapped.

“Of course I did,” Mizora confessed, as if they were the ones acting irrational. “You see, I do love it when families get a chance to reconcile, so what was a lady to do when I spotted a couple of vampire spawn wandering around last night in search of their brother? What were their names again?” She tapped a finger upon her chin with a thoughtful hum. “Their names. Their names… Ah, yes, that's right. Leon and Aurelia, wasn't it?”

For a moment, no one made a sound.

It was so silent, one could hear a pin drop.

Astarion stared at her with growing horror, no longer breathing.

As realization dawned on him, he stood there, petrified and unable to move, little more than a statue frozen in place.

All while his world came crashing down around him.

Then, quietly, Karlach asked, “Mizora, what did you do?”

In response, Mizora laughed.

Karlach took a menacing step forward and roared out, “What did you do?!”

“So eager to confirm your worst nightmares. All I did was tell them the truth,” Mizora answered. “I told them that, if they found Wyll, then they would most certainly find you.” She pointed at Astarion, grinning when he winced. “His darling, pale elf.” Her words did more damage than any wooden stake ever could, plunged deep within his chest, but that wasn't enough for Mizora's tastes. She simply had to give it a nice twist for good measure. “How was I to know that, the one time he needed you most, you wouldn't be there?”

Mizora shrugged, completely unfazed.

“Ah, well, at least he put up a good fight while he still could, but I have to say, your master does work fast, doesn't he?”

The sinking feeling in Astarion's chest tore open into a large, gaping hole.

Karlach glanced over at him, but he couldn't look away from Mizora.

His insides were being ripped to shreds, large chunks of him carved out until there was nothing left.

Hollow.

He felt hollow.

Because if Wyll was in Cazador’s clutches, then they were already too late.

Who knew what damage had already been inflicted upon him?

In a deathly calm voice, Astarion asked, “What has Cazador done to him?”

“Now, why would I go and ruin the surprise?” Mizora smirked. “It's all part of the fun, isn't it? And I do appreciate a good twist.”

“Stop toying with us, damn it!” Karlach yelled, but somehow Astarion's soft, quiet response spoke volumes above hers.

His statement rang out with a note of finality.

“I will kill you,” he promised Mizora.

One way or another, it would be done.

It might not happen at that exact moment or the next day or even the day after that, but her death was an inevitability.

She would die, if not by Wyll's hand, then by Astarion's.

Her mistake would be in underestimating him.

Mizora scoffed.

“I would love to see you try,” she purred, perking up from her perch. “Tick-tock now!” She wagged a finger at them both. “Wyll is already at your home, spawn. He met the family. Now, they are all eagerly awaiting your return, and you don't want to keep your master waiting, do you? Who knows what else he will do to our poor pup in the meantime?” She cast Astarion a knowing look. “He gets bored so easily, doesn't he? Then again, he always finds a way to keep himself entertained.”

Astarion clenched his jaw, his white-knuckled grip tightening around his dagger's hilt.

He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of reacting.

Not that she still didn't get a kick out of it anyways.

“Well, as much as I would love to continue going back and forth with you two all day, I really must be going,” Mizora announced. “While this has been endlessly entertaining on my end, I have more important matters to attend to. Ta-ta.”

With a wave of her fingers, her illusion vanished into thin air, and that was that.

Once she was gone, there was a haze that dissipated, a layer of fog that peeled back from their minds to reveal clarity underneath.

Reality rushed back to them, and it hit as a sudden onslaught against their senses.

They had been drowning without even realizing it, but now they had resurfaced.

All at once, everything came back into focus.

A muffled shout sounded nearby before someone came bursting through the doors to their rooms.

The doors flew off their hinges and crashed to the floor in a broken, splintered mess.

Lae'zel stormed over the wreckage without hesitation, making a beeline to where Astarion and Karlach were standing, the others left behind at the entrance.

Astarion yelped when Lae'zel immediately grabbed him and hauled him up into the air, pulling him in just close enough that their noses nearly touched, her teeth bared in warning.

The heat of her glare could put that of the Fourth Hell, Phlegethos, to shame.

“What do you two think you're doing?” she snarled, shaking him a bit. “We try to help, yet you two return and bar us from entering? That was not the plan.”

Karlach grabbed her by the arm, only to be forcibly shrugged off.

“Lae—”

“Don't.” She spared Karlach a sideways glance. “We heard you two talking in here while we called out for you, yet our voices must have fallen on deaf ears. Whatever you were discussing must have been important enough to ignore the rest of us. So, care to fill us in?”

“It was Mizora,” Karlach said. “She—”

“We don't have time for details,” Astarion interrupted. Peering down at Lae'zel, his feet dangled above the ground, hands wrapped tightly around her wrists. “Cazador has Wyll!”

Everyone was struck speechless, several of them gaping at the revelation.

As Mizora put it, this was only confirmation of their worst nightmares.

Lae'zel searched Astarion's expression for any sign of deceit.

When she found none, she released him with a rough shove away from her. He stumbled backwards and righted himself, brushing off his clothes.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Lae'zel asked. “We have our target, so now it's time to hunt.”

She turned on her heel, rushing over to rummage through their collection of armor, weapons, and supplies.

The others followed suit, barking out orders back and forth until they were ready to set out, preparing for any possible outcome.

Or so they thought.

Of course, it was at the moment when they were trying to leave that Halsin realized, “Wait, where's Yenna?”

Astarion, his patience worn as thin as a thread, could honestly care less where the little brat was. They had done enough by letting her stay with them in the first place. Now, they had bigger, more important matters to attend to.

“She has probably run off to play with the other strays in the streets,” Astarion said, ignoring Halsin's scowl.

“I instructed her not to leave the Elfsong Tavern while we were gone. She wouldn't have—”

“How many times does it have to be repeated? We don't have time for this!” Astarion exploded, snapping his teeth at him with a challenging growl. “Let me make myself perfectly clear. Nothing matters to me right now besides getting Wyll back and making sure Cazador suffers for taking him in the first place. If that's a problem for you, then go. Just stay out of my way, damn it!”

“What Astarion means to say,” Karlach interjected with a slight edge to her voice, “is that you should go search for Yenna.” She patted Halsin on the shoulder. “Don't worry. The rest of us can handle that big, bad vampire lord, but be careful. Plenty of other threats are still out there.”

Halsin nodded to her.

“Will do.”

“I'll accompany him to find the little one,” Jaheira announced, stepping forward to volunteer. “I still don't like the idea of any of us going off on our own. There is too much at stake.”

“On that, we can agree, and I would be more than happy to have the company,” Halsin said, gesturing towards the broken doors. “Shall we?”

Without sparing Astarion so much as a backwards glance, Halsin departed, and Jaheira followed.

Everyone else wasn't far behind, setting out into the Lower City, and what a sight they must have made.

It wasn't often that the full might of their group was seen together, armed to the teeth. They attracted many stares, all of which knew not to linger for too long.

No questions were asked.

No one tried to stop them.

They were on a mission, and it was clear that getting in their way would be a risk to one's health.

Astarion led the charge and soon enough, they arrived at the Lower City’s central watchtower. From there, they climbed the stairs to the ramparts, where Astarion guided them along to the Szarr palace's southernmost tower.

“Follow my lead,” he instructed everyone. “I should be able to get us through.”

“What kind of security should we expect?” Lae'zel questioned.

“Nothing too tight,” Astarion answered. “A few charmed innocents, perhaps.”

“Try not to sound too broken up about it,” Shadowheart taunted.

Instead of responding, Astarion simply entered, the others following close behind when he encountered the charmed guards in question.

The woman who addressed him seemed familiar enough, one of the latest who Cazador rotated through for that position, but Astarion couldn't place a name to the face.

Not that it mattered. 

He might not have remembered her, but she recognized him for sure.

“Master Astarion?” she asked, hopeful about his return. “Is it truly you?”

“Yes,” Astarion sighed. “Here I am.” He gestured towards himself. “In the flesh.”

“Greetings. It is so good to see you, sir!” She nodded at him amicably. “We were told to expect your arrival. The master will be pleased to know that you have made it. Now, the ritual can resume as planned.”

“Yes, yes. ‘As planned,’ of course,” Astarion agreed. “In that case, let's not keep him waiting.”

The guard nodded, and they all stepped aside.

Huh.

Come to think of it, this was all going a little too easy.

Not that Astarion was one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but there was nothing wrong with having a healthy dose of suspicion either.

He stared at the guard, eyes narrowed.

“Not going to ask me about my friends?” he wondered, jabbing his thumb in their direction.

The guard blinked slowly at him until she was able to register his words.

“The master ordered us to let you through, no matter what,” she said, “and it is not my place to question the master. He is aware that you are not alone, and he is not concerned.”

“He should be,” Karlach mumbled.

Thankfully, the thralls didn't hear her.

At the sight of Astarion's warning glare, she pretended to lock her lips and throw away the key.

After that, Astarion followed the familiar path to the palace entrance, the party trailing at his heels.

He didn't even get a chance to raise his hand up to the door —or pull out his lockpicks for that matter— when the lock clicked open.

They all exchanged wary looks.

“Well, that isn't foreboding at all,” Gale joked, waving Astarion onwards. “Go on. After you.”

Grumbling, Astarion pushed open the door and entered.

He didn't get far inside before he stopped short in his tracks, overwhelmed by so many conflicting emotions bombarding him at once. He didn't even know how to put what he was feeling into words.

Catching on to his internal conflict, Karlach nudged him with her elbow.

“How's it feel to be back?” she asked, but he only continued to look around.

Eventually, he managed to say, “Strange,” but wasn't that the understatement of the century?

He shook his head, shrugging off the cloak of haziness to clear his mind for the fight yet to come.

“It's not exactly the homecoming that I expected. If anything, it's a warmer welcome than I believed possible from Cazador. Yet for some reason, it—” He looked around, really soaking it all in. “It's all the same. Same fading carpet. Same tasteless art.” He grimaced, motioning with his hand towards those ahead. “Same drooling fanatics tripping over themselves to earn Cazador’s favor. Nothing's changed, but gods, everything feels different.”

Astarion had tasted freedom, yet here he was, marching right back into the lion's den of his own free will.

Marching right back into his prison.

“That's because, for you, everything is different,” Karlach reminded him, “and trust me when I say that we're not leaving this place without you and Wyll. No one gets left behind.”

Before he could respond, a voice called out, loud and boisterous.

“Ah, little one!” he greeted, that stinking pile of bones strolling up to their party with all the confidence in the world. “I was informed that you had finally returned home. I had to see it for myself to believe it.”

“Cut the shit, Godey,” Astarion snapped. “You know why I'm here, and it's taking everything I have not to grind your rotten carcass to dust.”

“Aw, you're here for the boy? So Leon and Aurelia were telling the truth then. Why am I not surprised that, as soon as you've scampered off, you've gone soft?” The skeleton cocked his head to the side, empty eye sockets directed towards the others. “And what's this? You've brought Godey new pets to play with? You shouldn't have.”

“If you dare lay even a single one of those brittle bones on either me or my companions,” Lae'zel threatened, “then I'll crush your skull beneath my heel, skeleton.”

Godey chuckled darkly.

“Not very nice of you!” he exclaimed. “Not very friendly.” His raspy voice rattled in a hiss. “No worries, though. Godey likes a challenge. Take that boy of yours for example.” Everyone tensed. “Where did you find that one, huh? He showed great fortitude, I'll give him that. Refused to break. Granted, his screams were nowhere near as sweet as yours, little one, but oh did he scream for Godey…”

When his voice trailed off in pleasure, Karlach stepped forward in a burst of molten heat, a snarl building up in her chest, fire raging in her eyes.

As much as he despised to do so, Astarion threw out his hand, and Karlach stopped in her tracks before she could burn it off in its entirety.

She glowered, but Astarion locked eyes with her, refusing to stand down.

When his mind brushed against hers, Karlach started to resist at first before she thought twice about it, allowing him in as their tadpoles communed.

“Karlach—”

“You heard what he said,” she instantly thought. “He hurt Wyll. He tortured him.”

“I know.”

“I'll kill him. He has to pay for what he's done. To Wyll and to you.”

“And he will,” Astarion promised. “But now is not the time. Godey is here for a reason. If Cazador trusted anyone to know where the entrance to this ‘defiled chapel’ is and how to enter it, then it's him. If we kill him without getting that information first, then we could spend hours figuring out how to access the ritual site on our own.”

“Which are hours we don't have.” Karlach severed the connection in resignation. “Damn it.”

“What are you doing?” Godey asked, pointing his finger at them in a sweeping motion, back and forth between the two. “Why are you staring at each other like that?”

“What?” Gale answered for them. “Have you never stared at someone so beautiful that you can't help but to get lost in their eyes? Well, I guess not because, you know.”

He waved a hand towards Godey's empty skull.

“Nevermind that,” Astarion said. “Why are you out of the kennels, Godey? It's not like you to play the part of the welcoming committee, after all.”

“I play whatever part that is required of me. You would do well to learn from such an example, child.”

“So Cazador sent you then?”

“The master,” Godey corrected, “instructed me to escort you to the ritual site, so in answer to your question, yes. He wanted to come collect you himself. As a matter of fact, he wanted to drag you back with him, kicking and screaming like the ungrateful brat that you are; but unfortunately, he is much too busy. He is making his final preparations as we speak.”

“Might I suggest you start doing your job then?” Astarion retorted. With a bitter smirk, he spread his arms out at his sides, proudly putting himself on display. “In spite of everything, I'm here, aren't I? And I will go with you willingly if my companions here can continue to tag along as well.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched Godey closely. “To ensure Wyll's safety, if nothing else.”

Godey gave nothing away. He didn't even so much as twitch in response to Wyll's name.

Rotten bastard.

“But of course,” he crooned. He gave Astarion a mocking bow. “If you so desperately wish to send your friends to their deaths, then by all means, don't let me stop you. The master can handle the likes of you and them.”

Without warning, Godey turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the others no choice but to chase after him.

“Come along now,” he barked, each step quick and purposeful. “Keep up! You are the last piece of the puzzle that's missing, boy.”

Behind him, Astarion could hear Lae'zel mutter, “That skeleton is trying my patience.”

“I think that he is trying everyone's patience at this rate,” Shadowheart said. Her tadpole reached out, and everyone tuned into her mind. “On your signal, Astarion.”

There was a tremor of agreement that reverberated along their connection before it ended. Like the subtle vibrations of a string plucked upon a lute.

As they approached the ballroom's entrance, Cazador’s fanatics gathered around to watch them enter, unable to contain their excitement.

“Master Astarion!”

“He's back!”

“Oh, the master will be so glad.”

“His Ascension will be glorious!”

Their incessant ramblings were maddening.

They made Astarion's skin crawl.

Godey seemed to catch on to this, taking his sweet time with opening the doors.

When he pulled out a Szarr family ring, Astarion's eyes immediately fixated on it.

He watched Godey press it into the slot embedded into the doors. From there, Godey read the appropriate inscriptions aloud in a foreign tongue, causing a burst of magic to break the doors’ seal.

By means of intense scrutiny, Astarion managed to catch a glimpse of Godey sliding the ring back into place. 

Right hand. Third finger.

The doors swung open, and Godey let them file in ahead of him while he had to all but beat back Cazador's devotees to keep them from following.

Once they were inside, Astarion winced when he was hit by an unexpected stench.

Beasts gathered, filling up the ballroom from one end to the other. Rats scurried about underfoot, and bats circled overhead towards the ceiling, screeching and squeaking their delight. A whole pack of wolves and werewolves alike crowded into the space, several of which snapped their heads in their direction when the doors opened.

“Well, that's new,” Astarion mumbled.

It wasn't like Cazador to leave a bunch of mangy mutts skulking about, filling the role of guard dogs for the palace.

At the sound of his voice, one of the werewolves snapped their teeth at him, spittle flying everywhere as they spoke.

“The runaway spawn,” they snarled. WhiIe Godey sealed the doors again, the dog sniffed at the air around them. “You smell of the master, but you reek of the horned one's scent.”

Astarion gritted his teeth, but another werewolf chimed in, stepping over a corpse to creep in their direction.

“We bring you to him,” they grunted. “We bring you to the master, then we gain his favor.”

The air thickened in response, and Astarion bristled, unable to ignore that all-too-familiar sensation.

Cazador’s will washed over them in a torrent of power as Godey stepped forward, his master's influence extended through him. A red aura emanated around both of Godey's hands, two glowing points visible in the seemingly endless darkness of his eye sockets.

And when he spoke, there was a slight hint of Cazador's voice underlying his command.

“Stand down,” he ordered, and the beasts shrank away in a chorus of whines. “I need the boy intact. If I have need of you, then I shall call on you.”

Even though the words weren't directed at him, Astarion still struggled on the periphery. The urge to surrender to Cazador’s commands was strong, a gravitational force that threatened to drag him in regardless of the tadpole's power.

Astarion steeled his resolve against the compulsions.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the warning for what it was.

Continue to cooperate, or Cazador will make him.

The closer they got to his location, the harder it was to resist, but Astarion would fight tooth and nail to remain free of his influence.

Thankfully, he didn't need the tadpoles to convey his rising sense of urgency to the others.

As much as he hated to admit it, they couldn't afford to fight at that point, not with so much already on the line.

They needed to save all of their strength for Cazador.

When Godey turned to stare at him, Astarion stared right back into that deep, red glow, his head held high in defiance.

After a moment, the light dimmed, and Godey hummed in amusement.

“Time to make haste,” he said, directing their group into the hall nearby that led to Cazador’s office. “The master grows impatient. He is most eager to welcome you back, little one, and to meet your… special guests.”

“I'm sure he is,” Astarion said, sarcasm dripping like blood from his fangs.

Godey veered off to the right into an empty room before they could even step foot into the office itself. He made his way onto a large, metal platform, its surface covered in scratches and scuff marks, appearing functional overall yet worn from the passage of time.

Astarion hesitated, caught off guard by the sight.

“What in the Hells? Has this been here this entire time?” Although he already knew the answer, he still couldn't help but to ask. “It's been here, right under our noses?”

“What? Did you think that you were privy to all of the master's secrets?” Godey mocked. “Don't be ridiculous! Now, come on. You must go to him. You will help him achieve his destiny.”

“Wait, hold on.” Karlach spoke up. “Before we go anywhere with you, you miserable sack of shit, tell us, is Wyll safe?”

Cocking his head to the side, Godey eventually nodded.

“He is.” He paused. “For now. Then again, that's if you can take dear, old Godey at his word. Ahaha!”

Sneering, Karlach slowly stepped out onto the dais, and one by one, everyone else followed, hesitant as they were to do so.

Astarion watched them go until he was the last one standing apart from the group.

This was it.

There was no more running, no more hiding.

It was time he turned and faced the tiger.

I'm coming to get you, Wyll, Astarion vowed. Whatever he did to you, just hold on a little longer. Please.

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and joined his companions —his friends— out on the platform.

Once they were all in place, Godey pulled a lever, and the elevator came to life with a jolt.

Together, they descended into the darkness below.

[chiliadicorum]

Feanor's "exaggeration", the first half

"For the less even as for the greater there is some deed that he may accomplish but once only; and in that deed his heart shall rest. It may be that I can unlock my jewels, but never again shall I make their like"

Maybe one day I'll dive into the psychology behind this, but right now I only want to touch on a small epiphany I had during a reread. I've gone back and forth on this declaration of Feanor's for many years. For the longest time I agreed with the common opinion that Feanor was exaggerating/being dramatic, that of course he could remake the Silmarils and it certainly wouldn't frickin kill him. Or maybe it would? What this dialogue reveals of Feanor's character is ultimately up to personal interpretation and I have no doubt it will continue to be debated for many years, as it should be because there's a lot to unpack in these few sentences.

But was he dramatizing the whole issue? I don't think so. I'm still of the opinion that he was exaggerating, but not knowingly, and not in a sly attempt to refuse to do what the Valar were asking. This wasn't a cleverly-worded manipulation to get people off his back. He was genuine *in that moment* (can't stress that enough)

This isn't an apology post or whatever they're called today, an attempt to absolve Feanor of fill-in-the-blank. The ultimate question of if he could or couldn't have remade the Silmarils is irrelevant in this moment, in this scene, in these words, looking through Feanor's eyes. Because I understand why he said this.

And frankly, anyone who's a creator of anything can understand it too. And dare I say, to all creators, Feanor in this scene is at his most sympathetic, or should be (or one of the most - he does find out his father's been murdered right after).

I think anyone who has a passion for creating can understand Feanor here on a deeply personal level. I know I did. I'm a writer. I have a Melkor fic Weep and Be Burned (ao3) and if that story got deleted, disappeared from my files completely, was just gone, I would NEVER be able to rewrite that fic. Yeah, I know the thoughts that went behind it, the plot, and yes, I could technically rewrite it. But the most dedicated, try-my-hardest rewrite would be a poor, hollow shadow of what it is right now. That fic was a work of passion, written while in passion, fueled by passion alone. And any attempt to rewrite it won't ever even closely replicate what it is now. Anyone who's read that fic will understand why I'm saying this.

I believe that Feanor had the potential to remake the Silmarils. If anyone could, it's him, doer of the impossible. He knew how to do it, could give a step-by-step tutorial on youtube. But I understand why at the mere thought of remaking them from scratch he genuinely believed he wouldn't be able to. I get it.

[retroactivebakeries]

THE DEEDS OF MUNG

(Lord of all Deaths between Pegana and the Rim)

"Once, as Mung went his way athwart the Earth and up and down its cities and across its plains, Mung came upon a man who was afraid when Mung said: 'I am Mung!'

And Mung said: 'Were the forty million years before thy coming intolerable to thee?'

And Mung said: 'Not less tolerable to thee shall be the forty million years to come!'

Then Mung made against him the sign of Mung and the Life of the Man was fettered no longer with hands and feet.

At the end of the flight of the arrow there is Mung, and in the houses and the cities of Men. Mung walketh in all places at all times. But mostly he loves to walk in the dark and still, along the river mists when the wind hath sank, a little before night meeteth with the morning upon the highway between Pegana and the Worlds.

Sometimes Mung entereth the poor man's cottage; Mung also boweth very low before The King. Then do the Lives of the poor man and of The King go forth among the Worlds.

And Mung said: 'Many turnings hath the road that Kib hath given every man to tread upon the earth. Behind one of these turnings sitteth Mung.'

One day as a man trod upon the road that Kib had given him to tread he came suddenly upon Mung. And when Mung said: 'I am Mung!' the man cried out: 'Alas, that I took this road, for had I gone by any other way then had I not met with Mung.'

And Mung said: 'Had it been possible for thee to go by any other way then had the Scheme of Things been otherwise and the gods had been other gods. When MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI forgets to rest and makes again new gods it may be that They will send thee again into the Worlds; and then thou mayest choose some other way, and not meet with Mung.'

Then Mung made the sign of Mung. And the Life of that man went forth with yesterday's regrets and all old sorrows and forgotten things—whither Mung knoweth.

And Mung went onward with his work to sunder Life from flesh, and Mung came upon a man who became stricken with sorrow when he saw the shadow of Mung. But Mung said: 'When at the sign of Mung thy Life shall float away there will also disappear thy sorrow at forsaking it.' But the man cried out: 'O Mung! tarry for a little, and make not the sign of Mung against me now, for I have a family upon the earth with whom sorrow will remain, though mine should disappear because of the sign of Mung.'

And Mung said: 'With the gods it is always Now. And before Sish hath banished many of the years the sorrows of thy family for thee shall go the way of thine.' And the man beheld Mung making the sign of Mung before his eyes, which beheld things no more."

—Lord Dunsany, The Gods of Pegana

[deadvnstudios]

Hello! This is for the character question week! I like being outdoorsy, so I would like to ask how would everybody react on a camping adventure?

"...I now understand survival of the fittest…"

Noel is once again reminded he might be the only capable person in this group, and he is forced to constantly take over tasks the others are failing at.

The next morning, Noel takes an "everyone for themselves" attitude in regard to cooking breakfast. He departs from the campsite before dawn and heads to the trails most renowned for bird watching, hoping to find some peace and quiet.

It's right as a rare bird settles in the sites of his binoculars that Mona and Vein appear from behind, their laughs piercing the air and startling the bird away. Noel turns, considering homicide, only to decide there are too many witnesses, when they both slyly suggest he might want to return to camp.

At a breakneck pace, he heads back to camp, arriving at the harrowing sight of flaming mallows being waved around and improperly secured sausages sliding off their roasting sticks and plopping into the fire.

To no one's surprise: he winds up cooking dinner.

"Nature, the finest work to be crafted by the gods! Shall we see what mysteries they've left for us to find…?"

Still dressed entirely in her dark outfits, Mona roasts beneath the sun–but she faces the heat with a dogged determination.

She volunteers to collect firewood, only to disappear for an hour because a unique cluster of mushrooms caught her attention. When she finally returns, she has no firewood, but she does have several pages worth of mushroom sketches.

This surprises no one. In fact, a contingency plan was put in place the minute she volunteered, and she delightfully curls up in front of the fire someone else constructed. There, she shows off her sketches to anyone who glances her way–particularly Sorin.

After this, much of her camping adventure is spent exploring the nearby woods (where, according to Mary, a sacrificial site can be found) and sketching every creature she comes across. In the evening, she eagerly shoves the sketches into Sorin's face in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Did mankind not begin their construction of abodes so we could avoid wallowing in filth…?"

Dripping in sweat and unable to find a clean surface to sit upon, Sorin finds maintaining his princely demeanor difficult while camping.

Having no experience and even less interest in camping, Sorin is… very little help around the campsite, unless you consider staying out of the way helping.

The only joy he seems able to find is standing near the stream's edge, watching small minnows and tadpoles drift along with the current. This joy is doubled when the sun finally sets and the moon's pale light glimmers across the water's surface.

"Really, we came all the way out here to listen to Tempest's whiny-ass songs around a campfire? We get enough of this at home."

Mary prefers to stay with her creature comforts and only agreed to go on this trip because it was a break from the commune's monotony.

She quickly discovers while she hates how needlessly complicated camping is, she greatly enjoys all the opportunities camping presents to spook the other members.

This often takes the form of disappearing at night, only to crack twigs and create odd noises near the tree line. Once everyone has gone to bed for the night, she'll grab a flashlight and create scary shadow creatures on everyone's tents.

"Aw, fuck! Another mosquito just fucking bit me! But, hah, even mosquitoes think I'm tasty. All part of the charm, I guess."

Tempest wants to believe himself a hardened naturalist, and he tells the others as such, but he is really just a stream of annoyed complaints: there's too many bugs, he's getting sunburnt, the stream water tastes funny (Noel: "…you need to boil it first."), the tent instructions don't make any sense… etc, etc, etc.

When he has to dismantle the tent for the third time, he abandons this task completely in a fit of frustration and goes to pout by the stream with Sorin. He is not safe here, either, because immediately, the bugs start gobbling him.

Eventually, he decides he will be the de facto entertainer. He takes up what seems like permanent residence by the firepit where he sings and plays his guitar, confident this will help lighten the mood.

"Nothing cozier than a nice fire and friends! Huh - we can't make a fire? Aha, oh well - nothing cozier than friends and a good game night."

Vein doesn't find much enjoyment in sweating and physical activities, but she does enjoy playing games and having everyone trapped and at her mercy in a single area. She loves hanging out–and this is the perfect excuse to hang out with no distractions.

When no one was looking, Vein loaded up every outdoor game they could find into their vehicle. It's only once things are being unloaded at the campsite that it's discovered Vein removed the group's firestarter in place of… you guessed it: another yard game.

She starts camp set-up by delegating tasks, only to eventually do most of the work alongside Noel.

[nagichi-boop]

A Star That’s Out of Reach (Chapter 10)

[Previous] - [Next] [Masterlist] Uhh I accidentally posted this on the wrong account, oops! I was wondering why it wasn’t showing up on my feed. I had a whole paragraph but I can’t be bothered to rewrite it. My AO3 post of this chapter kinda sums it up tho. Anyways, please enjoy! — x —

“Shadow sweetie,” Rouge sighed as she discovered Shadow on the couch once again. “I know I said I didn’t want you to disappear again, but it’s just as worrying that you haven’t left the house in days.” Shadow barely responded, simply letting out a quiet huff as he continued to stare at the to. Rouge walked in front of it, then switched it off and turned to look at Shadow, her hands on her hips. “That’s it, I’m making an intervention. We’re going for a walk, even if Omega has to carry you.”

“ERROR: PLEASE REPEAT,” Omega interjected, mildly annoyed.

“We can’t just let Shadow rot on the couch all day! Besides, don’t you miss sparring with him?” Omega paused contemplatively for a moment.

“WE MUST GET SHADOW OUTSIDE,” Omega now complied with a newfound motive. Without any more convincing, he picked up Shadow from the couch and somewhat carelessly threw him over his shoulder. Much to his and Rouge’s surprise, Shadow made little effort to resist. He adjusted his position on Omega’s shoulder, facing forward with his arms folded while leaning against Omega’s head.

“Well then,” Rouge spoke, slightly taken aback. “Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?” The three of them exited the house via the garage exit to accommodate Omega’s size and started slowly walking around the fields outside their house. Rouge quickly realised that neither Shadow nor Omega would be making any effort to speak, so she did her best to initiate conversations, but Shadow only responded with quick, sharp noises.

“Clearly this isn’t working,” Rouge eventually conceded. “Let’s just go home.” She turned and began walking slowly back, her ears drooped sadly. She knew Shadow was not the sort to open up, but she had never witnessed Shadow being so morose. Shadow glanced down at her, beginning to feel guilt over his behaviour. He sighed, then hopped off of and began walking besides Rouge with his arms still folded. Despite only being a small action, Rouge immediately lit up.

“Does this mean you’re ready to talk?” Rouge asked excitedly. Shadow opened his mouth, but only air escaped it, so he shook his head. “Okay, so I guess you can’t physically speak right now. But perhaps I could ask questions to figure out what’s wrong?” Shadow stared down contemplatively, then nodded. Rouge smiled slightly.

“Does it perhaps have something to do with Amy Rose?” Rouge asked, to which Shadow nodded. She then stopped to think for a second. “Did you have an argument?” Shadow shook his head, then paused for a moment before trying to speak again. Yet again, he couldn’t get a word out, but this time it seemed more out of reluctance than an inability to speak. “Hmm…it’s okay if don’t feel comfortable saying.” They continued to talk in silence for a moment before Rouge piped up again. “Are worried that you’ve lost her as a friend because of something you said?” He nodded slowly. Rouge got back to thinking before her eyes widened at a realisation. “I see…I think I understand what you mean.” “I DO NOT,” Omega added bluntly. “PLEASE CLARIFY.” “What Shadow means is that he and Amy didn’t see eye to eye on something, so he’s worried that they aren’t friends anymore, right?” Rouge explained, to which Shadow nodded in agreement. Though normally Rouge’s astute observations conflict with Shadow’s reluctance to be open, in moments like these, they are very convenient for him.

“I messed up,” Shadow suddenly spoke with a defeated tone, having eased enough to talk. He stopped and stared at the ground. “I let my guard down and I lost her.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Rouge assured as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t share all of the same opinions, but we are still friends, right?” “This is different,” Shadow replied, glancing to the side to look at Rouge without turning his head. “I should have just kept my mouth shut. But I let my feelings get the better of me again.”

“It happens to the best of us, hun. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Rouge noticed that Shadow looked away again, this time frowning a little. She more or less understood the situation in its entirety, but was keeping it vague so as not to make Shadow cagey. “I know this is probably the last thing that you want to hear, but the only way to move on from this is to talk honestly to Amy. Sitting in this grey area will only make you anxious.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “Regardless of what happens between you two, I’ll be by your side.”

“LIKEWISE,” Omega chimed in. Shadow stood in place quietly for a second, then huffed contently. With a smile, he turned to face them both.

“Thank you,” he softly replied. “I guess I just began to feel lost for a while there.” “We understand,” Rouge added. “I know how difficult it is for you to open up, so it’s understandable that it hits more when things don’t go as expected. Just know that we will always be here for you when you need us.” The three of them fell silent for a moment, walking along aimlessly.

“I think that’s enough sappiness for one lifetime,” Shadow noted with a sigh, becoming a bit uncomfortable. “Let’s go home.” They made their way home, chattering happily along the way. When they approached the door, Shadow hesitated, causing Rouge to raise a curious eyebrow.

“You two go on ahead,” he insisted. “There’s something I need to do.”

“Of course, Shads,” Rouge acknowledged. “Let us know how it goes.”

“I will,” Shadow agreed, then turned and walked away. Rouge watched him leave anxiously, then took a deep breath and entered the house behind Omega.

Shadow approached his secret spot and was surprised to see that Amy was already standing there, her arms folded. He stood still, too nervous to approach. His heart was mixed with a sense of desire and pain. He took a shaky breath in, then exhaled. With as much composure as he could muster, he approached Amy.

“Good evening, Amy,” he greeted softly, startling Amy who turned around in a panic. “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Oh, i-it’s okay!” Amy stuttered nervously. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

Shadow placed a hand on his hip and smirked playfully. “You didn’t expect me to be here at the spot that we always meet at around this time?”

Amy blushed from embarrassment. “That’s not what I-” She suddenly stopped as she was caught off guard by Shadow laughing. It had been a while since she had seen Shadow so open and relaxed. She stared in bewilderment for a while, then smiled warmly. “Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that.” Shadow composed himself then looked at her affectionately, which she reciprocated. Shadow made his way closer to her and stood beside her, looking out over the city with her quietly for a moment.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” Amy spoke suddenly, causing Shadow to tense up a little.

“It’s okay,” Shadow assured, trying to keep his composure. “Your feelings are just as important as my own.” Shadow then paused.

“That’s true I suppose,” Amy agreed. “I do worry that you prioritise other people’s emotions over your own though.” Shadow didn’t respond, which made Amy nervous again.

“I know you still blame yourself for what happened to Maria and you’re afraid to hurt others, but you deserve to view yourself as more than how you can serve others,” she continued. She then looked at Shadow with sincerity. “You deserve to be loved.”

Shadow folded his arms and looked away, gripping himself tightly. “Perhaps, but I’m not sure I’ll ever find it again.” “You will,” Amy insisted. “Actually, there are plenty of people who love you already.”

Shadow glanced down at Amy. “I think you’re overestimating how popular I am. People are attracted to more optimistic personalities like you and Sonic.”

“That may be true,” Amy acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean you’re incapable of receiving love. Rouge and Omega care about you a lot, right?” Shadow glanced back at the city. “I suppose you’re right. But sometimes I worry it’s more out of a sense of pity.”

Amy pondered for a moment. “I can’t speak for them, but I doubt that’s the case. They care about you because they like you. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have even bothered to look for you when you went missing.” She then paused again before continuing. “I’m sure you already know they care about you though – sometimes it can just be hard to accept it.” Shadow smiled bittersweetly. “You’re right. I know that logically they care. It’s just hard for me to accept people getting close to me, so I tend to come up with ways to push them away from me before they can do so to me.” He looked back at Amy. “I guess that probably doesn’t make much sense.” Amy shook her head. “It makes plenty of sense to me.” She looked up with a somber expression. “I often just avoid things that scare me entirely. I guess I apply the whole ‘what you don’t know can’t hurt you’ philosophy a bit too strongly in my life.”

“I don’t think that attitude is always wrong personally,” Shadow commented. “Personally, there are times where I wonder if some things are best left unspoken.”

Amy fell silent as she felt a twinge in her chest. “Forgive me if I’m reading too much into this, but are you referring to when you confessed to me?” Shadow hesitated. “It was a mistake to think telling you my feelings was wise,” Shadow croaked uncomfortably. “I knew your feelings for Sonic were still raw – I should have at the very least given that some time.” “Shadow, please don’t say that,” Amy spoke sadly. “I always want you to feel that you can speak your mind to me with no regret.” She then turned away from Shadow a little, looking down to the ground. “And I’m sorry that I reacted so inappropriately to your confession.” “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Amy corrected. Shadow’s throat began to feel sore, his body becoming more tense. “You have always listened to me without judgement regardless of the topic. And yet despite everything you’ve done for me, I blatantly disregarded your feelings in favour of my own comfort. And I…”

Shadow looked over at Amy and was surprised when he saw she was frantically wiping away tears. Despite his better judgement, he pulled Amy into a hug, holding her close to his chest. Amy was taken aback at first, then wrapped her arms around Shadow in return. She quietly tried to compose herself, then gently pushed herself away from Shadow.

“Even despite everything, you’re still as kind as ever,” she chuckled as she wiped away a few stray tears.

“Regardless of how you feel about me, I still wish for us to be friends,” Shadow confessed. “If you will allow it, that is.”

Amy giggled. “Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you?”

“Well…isn’t it uncomfortable?”

Amy tilted her head. “Uncomfortable how?”

“Isn’t it weird to hang around with someone you know has feelings for you?”

Amy hummed thoughtfully. “Do you feel uncomfortable being with me?”

Shadow shook his head. “I mean, I guess it is a little awkward, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I am sure these feelings for you will pass over time and we can go back to what we were.” Amy’s ears drooped, to which Shadow tilted his head in confusion.

“Would it be such a bad thing if those feelings stayed?” Amy asked, blushing a little.

Shadow became confused, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t get it. Why would you want that?”

“Because I love you, too,” she confessed. Shadow stepped back a little, then covered his face with his arm to hide his reddening cheeks.

“D-don’t make jokes like that,” he stuttered, looking away from Amy with an angered expression. “You’ll give me the wrong idea.” “And what idea would that be?” Amy teased a little.

Shadow snarled a little, his face becoming even brighter red than before. “W-what kind of question is that?” Amy simply tilted her head curiously at Shadow with a sickeningly sweet smile, waiting for him to answer. Shadow sighed defeatedly. “You’ll make me think you have romantic feelings for me.”

“And what if that idea was correct?” Amy continued.

“Amy, please stop-”

Before Shadow could finish his thought, Amy approached Shadow and gently kissed his cheek, lingering for a moment. She then stepped back a little to stare at Shadow, who was on complete shock. He slowly placed a hand on his cheek, trying to process what just happened. He then became bright red and quickly turned away from Amy, his eyes wide as his heart pounded in his chest.

“W-what did you just…” Shadow stammered, trying and failing to compose himself. He then slowly turned around to look at Amy. “Did you just…”

Amy smiled, now mildly concerned. “D-did I upset you?”

“N-no, it’s just…” Shadow’s hand continued to hover over his cheek. He glanced at the ground for a moment, then looked Amy in the eyes, his expression like that of a deer in headlights. “W-what does this mean?”

Amy pouted, now blushing from embarrassment. “Are you really going to make me say it?” After realising how genuinely confused Shadow was, Amy took a shaky breath and then met eyes with Shadow, staring at him seriously.

“Shadow, I love you,” she clarified confidently. “And I don’t mean as friends – I mean romantically.” Shadow stared at her silently, lowering his hand. His face became more his usual colour, but Amy was surprised to see Shadow have a somewhat saddened expression.

“Are…are you sure?” Shadow asked in disbelief.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Amy asserted. “I think I have been for a while. I was so caught up in my pursuit of Sonic that I didn’t realise it until after you confessed.” She began to twirl her fingers around each other. “I ran away that day because I was so caught off guard by your confession, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that day.”

Shadow folded his arms and began to nervously scratch at himself. “So…what does this mean?”

Amy’s blush returned. “What do you mean?” “I mean…what do we do now?” Shadow tried to clarify.

“Well…what do you want to do?”

Shadow went quiet. “I don’t know,” he confessed, surprising Amy. “I guess most people would start dating at this point, right?” Amy cleared her throat nervously. “I suppose you’re right.” She then looked at Shadow, taking note of his look of unease. “But…that doesn’t seem to be what you want to do.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Shadow continued to scratch at his arm anxiously, trying to compose his thoughts. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea. It all seems too fast.”

Amy smiled warmly, then approached Shadow, gently taking hold of his hands. “Then we wont rush it,” she suggested. Shadow met eyes with her once more, listening attentively to what she was saying. “We can have a trial period of sorts. We won’t be officially dating – we will spend time together and regularly check in to see how we feel. If it doesn’t feel like it’s working out, then we will stay as friends. Otherwise, if we decide we want to be in a relationship, we can. But whatever we do, we do as a team, okay? No hiding our feelings from here on out.”

Shadow gripped Amy’s hands a little. “Okay, I think I can do that.” He then looked away nervously. “Just one question.”

“What is it?”

“What are the rules for this ‘trial period’? I want to make sure I’m not overstepping any bounds.”

Amy hummed in thought. “That’s a good question. I guess I hadn’t really thought about that.” She then grinned at Shadow. “Maybe we should go away and think about that. Then when we meet again, we can decide what we are comfortable with during this trial period.” She then had a serious expression and poked the tip on Shadow’s nose with her finger. “But make sure to be honest, okay? You don’t have to agree to do anything you’re not comfortable with for my sake.”

Shadow smiled warmly. “Okay, I’ll do my best.” Amy returned a kind smile. “And that’s all you ever need to do.”

[twilightknight17]

"Guys, holy fuck" - Part 2

Hit the image limit on the other post so I broke it up so I could scream more. XD

So where were we?

Right, right, Shadow Toshiro.

Once the shadow goes down the first time, he goes one-winged angel and turns into a god damn horror monster version of Eri that is GIANT. And that, my dudes, was a fight. That thing had so much health. It was great. :D

Now for some info:

Okay, that makes sense.

Yep, all that, we’ve seen and understood already. Still good.

But why, though? What makes her different? Why can she switch forms? Why is she still basically a separate entity from him? Did you just not want to lose your new character? I almost feel like I’d rather have had a P4 boss fight that ended with Toshiro getting his persona, and have Erina just be his cognitive Eri, based on his memories. Because this is… confusing. Nothing has worked like this in the past, unless I seriously overlooked something.

Yeah, I know, Aki and Mai and Ideal Maki were a thing, but Maki was a Wild Card and also had the DEVA system bolstering her cognition. No one else’s persona has been able to turn into a person and just chill with everyone after their awakening. Erina is basically her own fully-formed person. Like… I don’t know. It’s weird. I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.

All right, yeah, let’s go with that for now.

There’s like, a slight implication here that Toshiro’s shadow wasn’t actually his shadow, but just something pretending to be his shadow? Especially since he never like, reconciled with it. After the giant Eri, it just disappeared. But I only pinged that after the fact, because while we’re just standing here trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Erina, god shows up to yell at us.

“Be not afraid” and all.

I kid you not, I was internally screaming, “YALDABAOTH? IS HE POSSESSED BY THE REMNANTS OF YALDABAOTH TRYING TO SEIZE POWER AGAIN?” But no, doesn't have Yald's stupid feet. This is:

Who the fuck is you, and why does it look like your head exploded off your neck? Are you sure you’re not Yald?

Anyway, this bitch keeps calling us “children” and “lambs” and “pathetic” while it explains who the fuck it is.

I don’t like it, and it doesn’t like our persona abilities. It calls them a “mask of madness, one which will assuredly drive man to ruin.” So it offers a deal: It can remove our powers, and along with them, our memories of this whole horrible adventure, and in exchange, it will put us safely back in the real world. It’s nice like that, even though we’re “infidels who had the audacity to defy a god.”

Hey. You. Got some bad news about all the other gods I’ve met. Wanna know what happened to them? :3

But we shouldn’t answer now! We’re high off a lucky win and our emotions are compromised. We should think it over and tell it our answer when we’re ready. And then Salmael fucks off into the sky. Are we sure that’s not a weird misspelling of Samael? Are you connected to Shido somehow?

Toshiro gets like a thousand points for being completely chill about a god falling out of the sky to tell us we suck. Zenkichi was a lot less calm about the whole thing. XDDD The Thieves, Toshiro, and Erina agree that they’re not giving up their powers, so we’re gonna have to kill god again. But how? How do we follow god into the sky? Whatever shall we do?

Oh, guys. Do you hear that noise?

CHOO CHOO, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Lavenza is here in the Velvet Room Train to pick us up and take us to the sky. No, she doesn’t know why it’s like that all of a sudden. We DO NOT CARE. THIS IS GREAT. Toshiro almost manages to offend her, but we’ve got things to do, so we just put another pin in that.

And that is where I had to stop. It asked me if I wanted to save and I was like “yes, I cannot handle any more Epic right now.” My GOD. I’m so excited Lavenza gets to be more involved, because that’s how I tend to characterize her. She wants to be more hands-on than her siblings or Igor. And she’s not afraid to snark at the others. It’s nice to have the whole team in the Velvet Room again. ^_^

Never change, Yusuke. :P

Actually, isn't this a good thing? If Akira's Velvet Room is now manifesting as a train, maybe that symbolizes him moving forward into the future? Scramble put him back in prison, but this game hasn't. Maybe this is the Velvet Room's final form for him?

Next time: Into the goddamn abyss to once again dethrone god, I guess????

Final note: I’m constantly amused by the one-off poses the sprites have. One single use of the sprite where Makoto’s hugging Morgana. One of Toshiro holding Erina/Yuki. And now apparently one of Makoto throttling Ryuji so he can’t interrupt Futaba and Toshiro. X’D Wow. Pls stop picking on Ryuji, Atlus.

[peonycats]

Got any vietchu( china x vietnam) fics or art?

This one I've actually posted in my oneshot collection (which you can read on ao3 here) but i quite like it so here you go! tumblr version!

“If you,” China says as he looms over her, the light behind him obscuring his face in shadow. “Pretend to love me, I shall too. Together, we can live in this false paradise.”

At the time, when Vietnam heard those words leave China’s lips, all she could do was stare at him, unblinking. But internally, her insides twisted, disgusted at this display of fragility and self-consciousness, as if he was trying to mock the position she was now in.

After being given some time to mull it over, however, she came to some new conclusions.

One. She was talking to this enormously successful subjugator and devourer of nations. He didn’t need her to pretend she liked him- that was his attitude towards a lot of things, actually, based on his curtness with his government and leaders. China could’ve turned Vietnam into livestock feed for all he wanted. He was the conqueror, and she was the conquered- that was how the world worked.

Two. It could benefit her and her people to get on his good side. Despite her now diminished standing, nations still held sway in administration. Like him, she was a survivor- nothing came before one’s survival. This, however, brought her to her next conclusion, and possible obstacle.

Three. Would he let such attachments and passions cloud his judgment? Would he be swayed by such fleeting and foolish sentiments?

Nations existed beyond what was possible for humans, beyond the limits of their impossibly brief lives and narrow perspectives- China, having massacred anyone who dared to stand in his way, stood as the exemplar of their kind. The chances of him retaining any traces of softness were close to nothing.

But when she’s taken away from her warm, lush home, and brought to live at his damned capital for several months, she makes some new observations, which leads to her readjusting her initial assessment. 

The corners of his lips tugged downwards when he met with his ruler, despite his otherwise cordial tone. He would obediently nod and mutter monosyllabic responses, but even she suppressed a laugh at how quickly his head whipped away from the Emperor himself to hungrily stare at today’s banquet. He loved eating, probably too much for his own good.

He was ridiculously vain about his hair at times. He nagged at her for how poorly she kept her own. She told him where he could stick his jade comb.

He insisted on arranging his house and furniture in preposterous ways. “For good energy,” he claims, as he scoffed at a nearby house for their ‘haphazard’ placement of decorative rocks. To her, every rock was haphazardly placed.

He loved children, and frequently stopped to chat or play a game with them. He’d even give up his favorite snacks to them, even when she could see the comically sad longing in his eyes. 

He also liked flowers, was often found in the palace gardens. Once, when Vietnam’s form was hidden by foliage and flora, she saw him cradle the bud of a lotus; there was a melancholy glimmer to his gaze, and an almost gentle, thoughtful sorrow in his movements.

It was the weight, the weariness, the ache of walking centuries, millennia on this earth. She knew it all too well.

But it disappeared just as quickly as it came, and he returned the bud to the waters, before he saw her and began to again complain.

There were sides to every nation, she knew that, sides to every human, in fact. But the contrast was still a little dizzying. 

One dawn, she woke up early, before the sun had even risen. Slipping out of her room and avoiding the guards, she wandered the ornate palace, tracing memories of past arguments and walks and discussions, and somehow, found herself in his room.

She paused at the doorway, before striding towards his bed where he is still sleeping.

When she reaches his bedside, she stops. Hundreds of thoughts swirl in her mind. He’s defenseless, she thinks, he’s unguarded and unarmed and unconscious and completely vulnerable.

She stares at that white throat of his. Memories of the morning he jabbed her in the rib and told her that they would be traveling to his capital so she could be “civilized” course through her. She had been coughing up blood and phlegm then; the gravest injury he had was some drool finding its way down his face.

She sits down on the bed, motionless. Then, she reaches a hand towards him. She’s staring so hard that her vision is bleeding and her chest is tight from holding her breath and she can almost pretend that she doesn’t feel the way her hand tremble-

It’s only when her fingers make contact with China’s smooth skin that it drops to the blanket, useless.

It’s pointless, Vietnam wretchedly thinks as he pulls her hand back. She knew better than anyone else that this would accomplish nothing, beyond worsening the conditions of her stay.

She looks at China again, this time at his eyes. They were closed shut, and as a result, he looked far more peaceful than any conscious version of him had ever been.

Her hand reaches out again, and it takes everything in her to brush her fingers against his dry cheek and not do something rash.

She refuses to give him false love. She was incapable of it. They had only acquainted themselves over a series of months, fleeting seconds in her eyes. And their knowledge of each other’s existence only went back to a few decades of military engagements, crossed blades, and spat out insults.

No, she could not give him love or any imitation of it. She was too old for such falsehoods.

But, she could pretend she tolerated his presence. That would be enough, for now.

> This is supposed to take place during the Qin Dynasty campaign against what is now Northern Vietnam, around the 200s BCE? > Did you know that Feng Shui (practice of arranging ur house in certain ways for good luck) has been around for 4000+ years?

[carlos-in-glasses]

after about the longest day i'll have all year (photoshoot this morning, filming in the afternoon—seriously, arts high school is not for the weak) i was very thankful to steal a few more moments on rhythms. long sigh... another fantastic chapter. i need to scream at carlos to listen to that voice in his head! tell the truth! come out as shadow poet! shout your love from the rooftops! unfortunately, i know this won't be the case. but at least he gets it, in some form, in the future <3

also, this talent show business is scaring me. if you're going where i think you're going, i sincerely hope you're not—but i won't put it past you to ruin my life.

i do feel like i'm wasting my deeply sincere asks so early on in the fic. once the sixteenth chapter rolls around, am i still going to be telling you how represented i feel? you must know by now. and yet... i say it again. he's me, i'm him, yadda yadda. but i'm definitely way more public about my poetry. i'm holding myself accountable anonymously in your askbox: after i send this, i am going to disappear to write another poem! there. now i have to do it.

hoping you're having a fantastic week! enjoy the episode tomorrow :) (i'm praying for more tarlos)

xo angels anonymous

Angels Anonymous, I'm so sorry for the lag with my reply. It's been a monster work day. While I wouldn't be a teenager again (sorry) ARTS HIGH SCHOOL sounds pretty great in theory! I hope you get everything you need from it. Thank you for your love for this chapter too! I'm excited that you're scared haha! 😇 I'm really happy with all the chapters yet to come and hope you enjoy them just as much. And I'm so very happy that you're finding good representation within it all - once again it really does mean more to me than I can say, and I feel so very lucky that you have found this fic, or this fic found you.

Have the very best week too! I'm not holding my breath for much Tarlos other than something that suggests some drama to come (ie. setting up for episode 5) but we shall see...! 👀

In the meantime, let us swoon:

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE DRESS THAT WENT INTO A WALNUT

@themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @tamisdava2 @natache @princesssarisa @softlytowardthesun @the-gentile-folklorist @shelleythesapphic @faintingheroine @lord-antihero @lioness--hart

(Greek folktale)

There was once a King who had ten sons, and how proud it made him feel!

“I have ten sons!”

He would boast at every opportunity, as if he were saying he was the mightiest ruler in the world.

But it was not only his ten sons he took such pride in. He also liked to boast about an apple tree which stood in his garden, a lovely tree with spreading branches which produced great red apples so delicious that there were no others like them in the whole wide world.

If ever a guest arrived on a visit from some other kingdom, there were two : things he never failed to do: present his ten sons to the visitor and offer him a gift of his marvelous apples.

But there came a year when every time he sent his servants to pick apples, they would find not a single ripe fruit on the branches. The king was beside himself with worry, and in the end he decided to consult his royal counselors.

“My lord the King”, pronounced the eldest of them.

“The answer seems quite clear. Someone has been coming in the night and picking all the ripest and the reddest of apples. You must set guards to keep a watch on them and catch the thief.”

Set guards? Why guards, when the king had ten brave sons? How brave, we shall soon see.

And so he ordered two of them to go that night and watch in secret, to find out how the red apples were so mysteriously disappearing.

The two young princes buckled on their golden swords, took up their tall spears and proudly went to keep a night watch on the garden.

They were standing in the shadows when suddenly they heard an evil hissing, and a moment later they spied a hideous monster lumbering towards them.

The moment they set eyes on it, the princes were overcome with fear. It never crossed their minds to draw their swords; they just took to their heels like rabbits.

“Father!”

They gasped, the moment they got back:

“There’s a terrible creature, a huge monster that comes at night and eats your apples up!”

“Then tomorrow four of you will go and kill it!”

Ordered the King. Yet even though there were four of them next night, the moment the princes saw the monster they were frightened out of their wits and ran back to their father with terror.

The King was far from pleased, but the monster had to be dealt with and so he decided to send all ten next time.

The following evening the princes all set off, but on the way they set down to talk the matter over, and decided not to go in search of the hideous creature after all. Instead, they went into a tavern where they ate, drank and danced the night away. In the morning they returned to their father and told him that the monster stealing apples from the garden was so huge and horrible that a whole army would not be able to defeat it.

The king was sitting on his throne, fuming with rage, when who should appear but Carrot-top. This was the scornful name the king’s sons called a young lad with red hair who worked in the palace kitchens.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” roared the king when he heard that Carrot-top had come to announce that he intended to slay the monster, a creature not even his ten bold sons together could destroy.

He gave him a bow and arrows and told him he could try, yet far from admiring the brave fellow’s daring and wishing he could kill the monster, he hoped that he would not come back alive. What really madened him was the thought that if the kitchen boy could slay the beast, it would be a mortal insult to his ten fine sons. All the same, he ordered the princes to follow secretly and see what happened.

Now when night fell, the boy went to the garden, lay in wait and the instant he saw the monster coming shot off an arrow at it. He hit the monster in the back. It let out a howl of pain, but before he could take aim again it dragged itself away and disappeared into the dark.

When daylight came, the brave lad spotted the monster’s footprints and decided he would go in search of it. But he had not gone before he ran into the King’s ten sons instead.

“I wounded the beast.”

He told them.

“And now I’m off to track it down and finish it.”

And with these words he began to follow the pawprints in the earth and the drops of blood which had trickled from the monster’s wounded body. The ten princes followed close behind, but not too close!

The trail ended by a well, and the bold young knew the beast must have its lair there.

“Lower me down.”

He told the King’s sons, without a moment’s hesitation. The ten princes cast sidelong glances at each other as if to say, ‘Let the monster devour him and have done with it’, and they quickly tied a rope round Carrot-top’s waist and 

lowered him into the well.

At the bottom there was no water at all, but a cave instead and in its depths lay the monster, huddled in a ball. Quick as a flash, Carrot-top loose another arrow which hit the creature squarely in the head and left it lifeless.

“You’ve saved me!”

Came a voice behind him, and turning in surprise he saw a maiden as fresh and lovely as a mountain spring.

“How did you get down here?”

He asked her in a wondering voice.

“Do not remind me of it.”

The maid replied.

“I am an orphan and have no one in the world. I fell into the hands of evil men, who beat me cruelly and dragged me off to be sold as a slave in the bazaars of Anatolia. On the way I managed to escape and clambered down this well to stop them finding me. But I could not climb out again, and the next day at dawn that monster came. It had a human voice and promised it would not devour me, but neither would it let me go, for it had always longed for the company of a fair maiden. I have been here for seven whole days and nights, but now at last I have been saved.”

“Up you go, then!”

Said the young man, and tugging on the rope he shouted:

“I’ve killed the monster, and I’ve found a maiden down here in the well. Pull her out first and then let down the rope for me.”

“But are you sure they’ll pull you out as well?”

The maiden whispered.

“And why should they leave me here?”

“I cannot say - but something tells me that is what will happen.”

“I shouldn’t think so. After all, they are the King’s sons. What would they have to fear from me?”

“If they are good men, nothing. But you have killed a fearsome monster, and if they are wicked they may well be afraid of you. Since I owe you my life, I must tell you how to save yourself if they do indeed abandon you down here. Very soon, two rams will come, one as white as snow and the other black like coal. Jump straight onto the white ram’s back and it will bring you out. But if you mount the black one, you will be dragged into the deeper ends of the earth. Take this walnut: inside there is a wonderful dress that resembles the heavens with the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. Guard it well, for it may serve you in time of need. Don’t forget.”

“I shall remember.”

The ten princes threw the rope and Carrot-top tied it to the maiden’s waist, and he asked the King’s ten sons to pull her up.

They pulled, and then cut away the rope, so that Carrot-top couldn’t come up.

Then, they threatened the young maiden.

“Do not tell anyone what happened or that will be the end of you. Like it or not, you’ll do exactly what we tell you, but it will all turn out for your own good, since you’ll be married to one of us and become a royal princess.”

“But the young man! You must pull him out!”

The maiden cried. But all in vain. The princes wouldn’t hear of it and dragged her cruelly away.

When they got back to their father’s palace, they told him boastfully how they had killed the monster and released this lovely girl it had been holding prisoner in the well.

“And as for Carrot-top…”

They added:

“The monster gobbled him alive. But now, father, we beg you to decide which of us will marry this beautiful maiden.”

“My sons…”

The King replied.

“Words cannot describe the joy you bring me. You are indeed ten fearless princes, and worthy of great honors. And do not waste your tears on Carrot-top - the lad was looking for trouble and he found it. As for this maiden here, whose loveliness outshines the sun, she is worthy to be made a queen, so I shall take her as my bride.”

The King’s sons exchanged sullen glances at these words, while the girl’s heart sank into her shoes. But she was not about to admit defeat.

“Your majesty…”

She said,

“I shall wait for the young man whom I love, and if he is fated to never return, then I shall never marry.”

The King was stunned by her reply.

“Seven times I have been wed.”

He told himself.

“And no woman ever turned me down before. Does a mere slip of a girl now think she can refuse me? But let her speak her piece, for I shall make her mine, regardless of her wishes.”

At that very moment, down in the well, Carrot-top saw two rams emerge from a cleft in the rock. One was white and the other black. He took a leap at the white ram’s back, but it swerved aside. While he was still in mid air, the black ram slid between his open legs, and in an instant he found himself sitting on its back and being carried deeper and deeper and ever deeper into the bowels of the earth. After a long, wild run it brought him into the kingdom of the underworlds. There, outside a city, the ram set down the lad and disappeared.

The underworld was strange, but beautiful. The sky was the color of rose petals, the clouds sea blue, the sun was a sparkling diamond and the trees resembled giant flowers of every hue. The city that spread out before was like something out of a fairy tale. He made his way towards the nearest house, a neat, well cared-for little cottage and the door was opened by a kindly old woman. The young man asked for a drink of water.

“Alas, we have no water in the city.”

She replied.

“A monster nobody can kill has dried the springs up with its magic tail, and our chief soothsayer tells us the water will only run again if the monster devours the daughter of our King.”

“So what have you done about it?”

Asked the lad.

“What else would we do, my son? We didn’t want to die of thirst, so in the end we tied the poor girl to a tree which stands by the great spring on that mountain over there. Now our only hope is that the monster will somehow take pity on our innocent princess.”

The moment the brave Carrot-top heard these words, he ran off up the mountain to the spot where the princess had been left, and hid himself behind a bush. Night fell and the monster came. The lad had kept his bow strung all this time, and he shot an arrow. It struck the monster in the belly, but could not pierce its scaly hide. He aimed again and hit it in the head, but once again the arrow bounced off, as if it had struck a rock.

“Let's try to hit him in that magic tail of his.”

The lad then said, and drawing his bow a third time, he planted an arrow in the tip of the creature's thrashing tail.

That did the trick! The hideous beast sank lifeless to the ground,  and as it did the strings began to flow again. Carrot-top ran over to the princess and untied the ropes that bound her. He helped her down the mountain, as far as the first houses in the city, then said:

“Now I must leave.”

“No, come with me to the palace.”

The princess begged.

“My father will want to meet you, and give you the reward which you deserve.”

“But I don’t belong here.”

Said the lad.

“I must make my way back to the upper world.”

“Why go to the upper world? Your King up there is evil. We have no evil men down here and everything is more beautiful. Now you have killed the monster, there is nothing in our world to give us pain or sadness.”

“It may be as you say, but my country is up there, and that is where I wish to go.”

And with these words he left the princess to make her own way back to the palace.

Next day, the King’s heralds came crying through the streets:

“Whoever killed the monster must present himself immediately at the palace, for our royal master desires to give him his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

But the brave young man was in love with the fair maiden of the well, and when he heard the king was asking for him he went back to the old woman’s cottage and begged her to hide him.

When three days passed and no one had appeared, the King sent his heralds out a second time, but again without result.

So then he set them out for a third time, to shout these words:

“Our mighty lord the King wishes to celebrate the rescue of our city and his daughter and so he invites you, one and all, young and old, to feast at his expense in the great square by the palace.”

But when the people came and the food was served, soldiers were out in force among the crowd and made sure that no one tried to take home anything to eat. This is how they caught the old woman, just as she was slipping a slice of pie into her bag. They ran to report the matter to the King.

“Go to her house immediately.”

He ordered.

“Arrest the man you find there and bring him straight to me.”

The soldiers rushed to the old woman’s cottage.

There they found the red-haired boy and marched him off to the palace.

When the King set eyes upon the fine young man they brought into his presence, he knew at once that this must be the hero who had killed the monster.

Just to make sure, he called his daughter in and she recognized her rescuer at once.

Then the King said:

“I promised I would give my daughter to whoever killed the monster - but to you I give my throne as well.”

“Most reverend Majesty…”

Replied the young man with regret.

“I am carrying the wedding dress of the maiden who awaits me. She is the girl I wish to take for my wife, and I desire neither a throne nor kingly powers. But if you wish to offer me some other reward, then all I ask is that you tell me how to reach the upper world.”

Now the King was a kind man, like all the people of the underworld, and he admired the bold young fellow for giving such an answer. Yet at the same time he was sorry he could not persuade him to take his daughter’s hand in marriage, for the lad was not only bold and fearless but seemed to have a noble soul. But as for how the King could help him, he did not know.

“It is a hard task you have set for me.”

He replied.

“But perhaps my seven wise men can be of some assistance. Let me take you to them.”

And so the King led Carrot-top through the palace until they reached the chamber of the seven wise men. Seeing that all of them were present, the King announced:

“I wish to ask a favor of you, gentlemen. Can any of you tell this young man how to reach the upper world? It is who saved us from the monster’s curse, and now we must pay him back by helping him return to the place where he belongs, for he feels himself a stranger here.”

“If only I could be of help…”

The first wise man replied.

“But, alas, I must confess I do not know.”

“Neither do I, to tell the truth.”

Added the second.

“Nor I.”

“Nor I.”

Responded each in turn.

“We must consult the seven great books.”

The first one finally decided.

“Go through them word by word.”

The King commanded.

“Leave not a page unturned, for some way must be found.”

And he left them to find an answer in the seven great books, while the young man stood waiting anxiously.

“I’ve found it!”

One of the wise men suddenly exclaimed.

“Look, it says here: ‘The upper world can only be reached with the help of the fresh killed snake.’”

“In other words?”

Enquired the lad.

“There are no other words. That’s it.”

“And that is all you’re going to tell me?”

“But that is all the great book says.”

Replied the wise man; and Carrot-top left the chamber looking very disappointed.

He walked and walked, not knowing where his steps were leading him, till in the end he was overcome with weariness and lay down beneath a tree. High up in its branches he could see a nest of baby eagles.

“Kaa! Kaa!”

He suddenly heard the young ones cry in fear - and not without reason, for a snake was slithering up the tree and making rapidly towards their nest. It did not have time to do the eaglets any harm, though, for the brave lad brought it tumbling down with an arrow through its lifeless head.

Moments later, he heard a rush of wings and two great birds hovering over him. They were the parents of the eaglets in the nest above.

“Aah!”

They croaked angrily.

“So you’re the one who keeps on coming here and eating up our chicks so we can’t have any children!”

And they swooped down, talons bared to claw his eyes out.

“No! No!”

Cried the chicks.

“This brave man just saved us from the snake!”

The two eagles looked down and saw the fresh-killed snake. Then they opened wide their spreading wings to make a shade for the young man to sleep beneath, for they could see he was very tired.

When he awoke, they asked if they could be of any service.

“Yes.”

Replied Carrot-top.

“If it is in your power, I would like you to carry me to the upper world.”

“That is no easy thing to ask.”

Replied the eagles.

“But when we see that serpent lying dead, we feel we owe the favor to you. Climb on the back of one of us and we shall carry you. But when you hear a “Kra!” you must jump across to the other eagle’s back. Like that, we’ll get some rest during the flight and will find the strength to take you where you want.”

The young man mounted one of the eagles and they soared into the heavens. They had been flying for some time when he heard a “Kra!” from the eagle he was seated on, and he jumped across to the other eagle’s back. A similar length of time had passed when he heard another “Kra!”, and he hopped across again. Twelve times he changed his seat before they reached the upper world, and when at least they landed, the eagles left the red-haired lad within walking distance of a city.

When the two great birds had disappeared from view, he took the road that led into the town. Having arrived, he did not know where to go, but at last he walked into a tailor’s shop and said:

“Will you take me on as an apprentice, master? All I ask is a little food to eat.”

The tailor let him in and made him his assistant. The lad worked hard and well, but the beautiful maiden of the well was never far from his thoughts.

She, meanwhile, was still a prisoner in the palace, and every day the King kept pestering her to marry him.

“You will become a Queen and live cradled in wealth and honors. What else could you possibly want?”

He reminded her time and time again. But the lovely maiden always thought of the young man she adored, and searched to find a way of escaping from the King, whose attention became daily more unwelcome.

“Listen, my lovely one.”

He said to her one day:

“Ask whatever you wish from me, and even if you set the most impossible task in the whole wide world, I'll do it for your sake, just as long as you promise to become my wife.”

When the girl heard these words, her face lit up with hope and she replied:

“Yes, there is one thing I long for, but I don’t know if my wish can ever be fulfilled. I want to be married in a wedding dress with a thousand pleats, embroidered with the sun, the moon and all the stars in the wide heavens, and yet so delicately woven that it can fit inside a walnut shell. And one more thing: I wish the man who brings this gift will become my loving husband.”

“At last!”

The old King cried.

“Now I shall make you mine, for I, and I alone, can carry out your wish.”

“But if by any chance you can’t? And if another comes who can, will you give me your solemn word that you will let me marry whoever presents me with the wedding dress?”

“I give you my word!”

Replied the King, certain that no one else could make her such a gift.

Having said this, the King sent out a proclamation announcing he would cut the head off every tailor in the kingdom unless, within three days, one could be found to sew for him a wedding dress which had a thousand pleats, embroidered with the sun, the moon and all the stars that shine down from the heavens - and all this fit inside a walnut shell.

Next morning, a great cry of despair went up from every tailor’s shop throughout the land. The tailor who had taken on young Carrot-top as his apprentice sat weeping hopeless tears. His wife wept, too, and their children wept along with them.

The first of the three dreaded days ticked by, and the second was drawing all too soon towards its close, when the young man told them:

“Weep no more. Just bring me walnuts and a little brandy and in the morning we will pay a visit to the King and deliver him the wedding dress. Then neither you nor any tailor in the kingdom will come to any harm.”

They ran to fetch the walnuts and a flask of brandy, adding in some almonds and a pot of honey for good measure.

Yet the tailor could not set his mind at rest, and when evening came he watched in secret to see if his apprentice was working on the dress. To his dismay, he saw instead the young man breaking open almond shells and walnuts, munching away and swinging from the brandy flask. Shaking his head in despair, the tailor crept back up to bed. The next morning, his last one on earth he feared, he went down to the shop to find his assistant fast asleep.

“All is lost!"

Groaned the tailor, and the whole family burst into tears once more. Their wailing woke up the young man. He washed, straightened his clothes and calmly told the tailor:

“Come on, it’s time to take the wedding dress to the King.”

“What dress? Have you gone mad? Where is it, then?”

“Why, where else would it be? Inside this walnut shell, of course.”

He took the maiden’s walnut from his pocket, opened it and drew out the dress. It shimmered in his hands, lovely beyond all belief. The tailor was beside himself with joy, and the whole family flew into each other’s arms, sobbing with relief.

Carrot-top folded the dress back in the walnut shell and put it in his pocket once again.

“But I am the one who should present it to the King!”

The tailor protested.

Now the tailor was not an evil man, of course, but the young fellow was learning from experience, and he thought:

“I didn’t take the King’s ten sons for bad men, either, but look how they left me down the well.”

And so he took another walnut from his pocket and gave it to the tailor, saying:

“Here you are, then. But we shall go to the King together.”

He added.

When the appointed hour arrived, the King was waiting anxiously in the palace. Beside him stood the lovely maiden, who could not wait to see whether the brave young man would come with the walnut shell that held her wedding dress.

Sure enough, a moment later the heralds sounded their trumpets, the great doors opened wide and into the palace stepped a tailor and her rescuer with his shock of fiery red hair.

The maiden’s face lit up with joy, while the King turned deathly pale.

“How did you get here, young Carrot-top?”

He gasped.

“I thought you had been eaten by the monster.”

“Your Majesty, it was I who killed the monster, not the princes.”

“How dare you say such things to me! Do you realize what you could be made to pay for insulting my brave sons?”

“No, King, you are the one who should be made to pay, and richly too.”

The maiden interrupted.

“For the truth is, it was this young hero who slew the beast and saved me when I was imprisoned in its lair.”

Then she told the King all that had happened, and how the ten princes had forced her to keep silent.

When the King heard the truth, he turned upon his sons in fury.

“Get out of here!”

He screamed.

“Let me never set eyes on you again!”

And he ordered his soldiers to drive them from the palace there and then.

“And what brings you here? You haven’t brought the dress, by any chance?”

“Oh yes, indeed most reverend sire.”

Replied the tailor, handing him the walnut with a deep bow.

“Thanks be to God!”

The King sighed in relief, happily fondling the walnut which the tailor had presented him.

The young man then asked boldly:

“My Lord, I hope you will allow me to offer this fair maid a walnut, too?”

And without waiting for an answer he quickly gave the lovely girl the walnut which was in his pocket.

The King broke open the nut he had been given by the tailor but there was nothing but a kernel in it, and a rotten one at that.

The girl then opened hers, drew out the wedding dress and threw herself at the young man’s arms.

“What’s going on here?”

Spluttered the King, ready to burst, he was furious.

The maiden answered calmly:

“You promised me that I could wed the man who brought the wedding dress I asked for. Here is the dress. And here is the man who gave it to me, so give us your blessing now.”

And with these words she took her hero’s hand and led him before the King.

Now whether he was too proud to go back on his promise or, more likely, because he had no other choice, the King agreed.

“You have my blessing.”

But he muttered it so low they hardly heard the words. Then his voice rose from a murmur to a scream:

“And as for you, you so called tailor, I’ll tear you limb from limb!”

“Not when we have chosen him as our best man.”

Replied the young man firmly.

What could the King say now? He stood there a long moment, completely lost for words. He thought and thought, then finally made up his mind.

“I have grown so used to always getting my way, and here I am, defeated in my turn. Well done, the pair of you! And I say this from the bottom of my heart, for it was your virtue and your love which got the better of me, two words I never knew the power of till today. I wish you both a long life and happiness, and I say it now in all sincerity.”

He stood there for a moment and then added:

“Rule with wisdom and with kindness, for I give you my throne as well. I have grown old. I have been slow to realize it, but at least I have done so when the time is right. And now, all speed! For tomorrow there shall be a royal wedding!”

A wedding there was, and they feasted and danced for nine joyful days and nights.

“I was at the wedding, too,

Dancing and feasting nine nights through.”

[ask-lord-morgarath]

With The Appropriate Fanfare

Greetings, underlings! You have once again to thank @happygoosebird of the Tumblr realm for another of my addresses, this time in the form of guidance in the delicate art of banquet etiquette. Fear not, for I, Lord Morgarath of the Mountains of Rain and Night, shall deign to share my unparalleled wisdom on this matter.

First and foremost, do not dare to enter the banquet hall without adorning yourself appropriately. Leave your common garments at the door, for we are not cavorting in a pigsty. Attire suitable for such a regal occasion is imperative. Display your wealth and taste with garments crafted from the finest silks and adorned with the rarest jewels. Anything less is an affront to refined sensibilities.

Upon entering the banquet hall, ensure that your presence is announced with the appropriate fanfare. Stride in with confidence, as if you were born to be the center of the universe – which, in my case, is not far from the truth. Let your mere presence command the attention of all in attendance.

Do not linger at the doorway like a lost lamb; instead, make your way directly to the place reserved for you. Do not presume to choose your own seat; that is the task of a servant. Your designated seat is a reflection of your status, and the help must be well aware of it. If, by some tragic error, you find yourself in an undesirable position, make your displeasure known immediately.

If you cannot discern the purpose of each utensil, you are unworthy of partaking in such gatherings. Follow the lead of those with superior breeding, and do not disgrace yourself by confusing a salad fork with a dinner fork. The key is to start from the outermost utensils and work your way in.

When the feast commences, restrain your gluttonous impulses. Do not shovel food into your mouth like a common serf. Savor each morsel as though it were a gift from the gods themselves, and refrain from slurping or other vulgar noises that would disturb the refined ambiance. Napkin placement is an art in itself, so be meticulous in ensuring it rests on your lap, not draping like a tattered banner.

Engage in conversation with your fellow banquet-goers, but do so with an air of superiority. Speak in measured tones, with an eloquence that reflects your intellectual prowess. Save your inane prattle for the tavern. Should someone bore you, feign interest with a skillful facade, for the court is a stage, and you are its star. 

When libations are served, partake in moderation. Always wait for the designated toast before sipping your wine, for it is a travesty to indulge in such pleasantries without proper acknowledgment. Do not engage in debauchery or lose control of your faculties. Remember, it is the duty of the lesser beings in attendance to entertain and serve, not to witness the degradation of their betters. 

Finally, when the time comes to depart, rise from your seat with the poise of a phoenix ascending from the ashes. Do not linger or, worse yet, attempt to engage in familiarity with those of inferior rank. Your exit should leave an impression as indelible and impressive as your entrance. Let the lesser beings gossip about your grandeur as you disappear into the shadows, leaving them yearning for more. 

And with that, you may now endeavor to elevate yourselves from the depths of plebeian impropriety and bask in the glory of refined sophistication. The world of nobility awaits your feeble attempts. Begone, and may your journey be less pitiable than anticipated.

[lightlycareless]

chapter spoiler? 🫣🫣

:> ask and I shall provide.

Spoilers for chapter 42 underneath the cut 😏

Your ladies didn’t think it appropriate to push for an answer regarding the day you spent with Naoya, less when you didn’t bring the subject again and either have yet to see him again…

So, they allowed time to flow as it always did, following the same routine of everyday: wake up early, get ready, eat breakfast, and tend to your duties.

It seemed that everything was bound to return to how it was, with that… distance between you and your husband—but your feelings of animosity were not to return, because after spending a whole day with this new side of Naoya, and even before that… you can’t help but feel naturally intrigued by him.

Wondering if this would’ve been different if he showed you this side from the very beginning—would you have gotten along? Maybe even… fallen in love?

There’s no way to know that for certain now. Your fate had been completely different, and it seems it would continue to be so, given the way you rudely dismissed him last time you saw him.

The look on his face made you instantly regret the way you neglected his farewell, but no words would come out after leaving you speechless with his admission, the reassurance he’s slowly changing for the best—with your benefit in mind.

But that’s to end soon, you suppose, given you hadn’t seen him anymore, and neither Mariya nor his staff had given you any hints of his whereabouts, nor rumors pertaining to your status. Seems like the official verdict from the doctor wasn’t that necessary at the end of the day.

“What do you want to eat today?” Haruko asks the question that signals you you’re back to your routine life.

“I’m craving egg” you silently admit, she nods.

“It seems it’s also going to be cold today” Hitomi says. “I brought an extra layer just to be safe.”

“Thank you” you nod, before looking over to Mariya. “What is my schedule for today?”

“Just checking some documents Junko-san set aside for you, they’re not urgent but you know how she is” Mariya huffs, you sigh, giving her a tight smile.

“So, it’s urgent, isn’t it?”

She nods, responding in the same manner as you.

“Looks like I have the rest of the day set. I hope the work she gave me isn’t too tedious, I do plan to visit—"

You had noticed the footsteps gathering outside your bedroom for quite a while now, nothing uncommon considering you were on the main hallway of the living quarters, however, when the noise seemed to isolate solely in your bedroom, sometimes stopping before leaving, and then coming back, it’s when you decide to actively confront it, your eyes and those of your staff quickly darting to the door when the shadow of your unwarranted visitor becomes apparent on the shoji wall.

The words you were saying of the clan not needing the doctor’s verdict soon fall off your consideration, believing this was their follow-up attempt because did you really believe you were off the hook just yet?

If anything, this meant that you’d get to see Naoya again, and the thought of it… filled you with intrigue.

But it seems that fate hadn’t decided to put you on his way just yet, because the shadow ends up disappearing once more… before coming back, briefly sliding the door open, just enough to slip a small white envelope, which has Mariya quickly standing on her feet, frantically reaching out to the door to catch who had deposited such thing in her lady’s room—only to find out that the person was already gone.

Mariya looks in the hallways one last time, before going back to your room and bending down to take the envelope. She quickly assesses that while it isn’t signed, it’s undoubtedly for you, simply because no one would go to those extremes of secrecy with one of the staff members.

Or she supposes, it’ll be revealed soon enough anyways.

“What’s this?” You ask once she gives the envelope to you, the rest of your staff quickly gather around you.

“It seems to be a letter” Mariya assumes, taking a seat next to you—and the thought of you, getting a letter… well, it makes you lose some of your inhibitions.

“From Hinata?!” You gasp, quickly scanning the envelope for any indications that your hopes were real, only to find none, and your ladies’ confusion, expectant of an answer.

“I mean” you swallow, composing yourself. “It would be nice if it were. Anyways—who put this here?”

“I didn’t get to see” Mariya confesses, moving past your reaction, although she’d keep some of her suspicions for later. “When I opened the door, they were already gone.”

“It must come inside the letter” Hitomi urges, curiosity slowly eating her inside, probably at the same level as you.

“Open it, Y/N. Don’t leave us here in the dark!” But not as much as Haruko, who gently rattles you by the shoulders.

“Alright, alright” you chuckle, the cook releases you from her grip. “I… guess I’ll open it now.”

Carefully, you rip one of the edges of the envelope, doing so until that side was completely open, allowing you to take the folded paper inside.

You put aside the envelope, Mariya quickly retrieving it to throw it away, as you now completely focus on the letter. You didn’t even notice when your hands began to tremble, or when your heart began to thunder, only caring for its contents, and the uneasiness for its mysterious contents and sender it brought you.

Thankfully, these were answers that would soon be revealed once you finally unfolded the paper and began to read its contents.

[albertfinch]

THE POWER OF UNADULTERATED LOVE

Song of Solomon 2:4  -  "He brought me into the wine-cellars and set love in order within me." -- You come from your delightful fellowship with the King (Jesus) intoxicated with love -- for you have tasted of the finest wine.  The King has brought you into His wine cellars where you will drink deeply of Him.

The more we are swallowed up by His love, the more His light will come to the surface and shine -- the more we recognize our oneness with Him.

God calls Himself Light and Love -- let all things disappear in the shadow of Him.

Song of Solomon 1:2  -  "Let Him kiss me with the kisses of His mouth:  for thy love is better than wine." --  The "kiss" is the union of God's Spirit to our spirit.  When a person is first converted, he is united to God but he has not yet come to experience Him deeply.  There is a deep and abiding union with Christ that we can come to know.

Song of Solomon 2:5,6  -  "Sustain me with flowers, refresh me with apples; for I am lovesick.  His left hand is under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me." -- As soon as the bridegroom (Jesus) sets His love within you, He then blesses you with fellowship deep within your spirit.  You are able to bear more and move of God's presence without growing faint -- confirmed in love, you live in God.

The reflection of His love is personified in the earth through ones who have experienced Him.  Even let it be love that casts out all fear and heals all diseases moving in and through us.

EMERGING IN THE POWER OF LOVE

John 3:3 - "Jesus answered him (Nicodemus), "I assure you, most solemnly I tell you, that unless a person is born again (anew, from above), he cannot ever see (know, be acquainted with, and experience) the Kingdom of God."

As the sons of God emerge in the power of the Christ love moving across the earth to truly bring the Kingdom of God and Heaven to the earth, we will begin to hear and even see creation altering its sound  --  this earth and Heaven will be replaced by a new Heaven and earth as the way is made for perfect love to take up residence once again as  referenced in Revelation 21:1 - "Now I saw a new Heaven and a new earth, for the first Heaven and the first earth had passed away......"

Romans 13:11-14 - "And do this, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed. The night is far spent, the day is at hand.  Therefore let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light.  Let us walk properly, as in the day….. putting on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill its lusts."

CHOOSING TO BEHOLD THE GOODNESS OF GOD

One of the ways God is turning evil into good in our lives is the stripping away of all that keeps us from understanding and carrying out His purpose for our life.  We are being forced to see what is important and, focus on our seeing and meditating on the love of love of Christ flowing into our hearts and nourishing the spiritual lives of new Believers through our Christ calling as we disciple them into an understanding of their Christ identity.  We behold with "eyes that see the goodness of our God in the land of the living," even in the hardship that may very well be coming our way.

Song of Solomon 1:4  -  "Draw me (The Believer)!  We (The Church) will run after you (Jesus)!  The king (Jesus) brings me into his apartments!  We will be glad and rejoice in you!  We will recall your love, more fragrant than wine.  The upright love you." -- Now His bride is filled with unspeakable joy for she knows that she is found in Him (Jesus).  She prefers the Bridegroom (Jesus) over everything else.  Here is the height of her joy and pleasure.   

Oh! That we would see Jesus manifesting Himself through our Christ calling bearing fruit that remains for His Kingdom in the days to come -- the power of love made manifest in the healing of hearts and diseases -- the resonance of love in and through us that results in demons recognizing our Christ authority emanating the sound of love in our voice, causing them to flee. 

Could it be that they will know we are Christians by our love?

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

[blue-howlite]

Nathan McMillan x reader

Type: fluff I guess.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of blood and people being turned into human puppets. Nathan.

Yn= Your name

Author note: hey! I'm sorry for being so late with this request, I had a lot of stuff going on. Anyway, I hope you like it! Ethan's oneshot will be coming soon, I promise.

You entered the puppet theatre. The show was starting in two hours, but you hoped to get some alone time with Nathan.

«Hi. Is Nathan here?» you asked to the puppet at the ticket office.

It didn't answer. Instead, he responded with the usual greeting.

«Welcome, madam. Could you show me your ticket please?»

You sighed, then showed him the ticket.

«Thank you, madam. There's a little wait before the show begins.» the puppet said in its mechanical yet human voice.

«That's why I'm here now.» you murmured.

«Enjoy the show!» it said, and opened the door that led you to the other rooms of the theatre.

Immediately a shadow greeted you, floating around you excitedly.

«Hey Berry, how are you?» you asked the shadow, smiling softly. Berry seemed to squirm, then got closer and lightly nudged your shoulder, going through it as he had no physical body. You felt cold where the spirit had touched you, but laughed. It was his way to say he was happy to see you.

«Do you know where Nathan is?» you asked, extending a hand to the shadow. Berry just turned around and started floating away, then stopped and waited for you. You started following him, walking through the corridors.

Berry guided you to the stage, leading you to the red curtain and disappearing. You grabbed the red fabric to move it but a hand grabbed yours and pulled you behind the curtain.

It was dark in there, and you felt two arms sneaking around your waist, someone embracing you from behind.

«You are quite early for the show, are you not?» a voice murmured close to your ear.

You smiled, and pressed yourself against him.

«I wanted to see you.» you said, turning to face him. You couldn't really see him in the dark, only his silhouette.

«Did you now? And why, if I may ask?»

Now his voice was a whisper, and his face was closer to yours.

«Because I missed you, Nathan. Your new puppets kept you busy and I couldn't see you much these last three days.» you said with a dramatic sigh, while your hands found their way up his shoulders.

He chuckled, then lightly pressed his lips against yours. He wasn't wearing his mask, he didn't need it around you.

«I promise to make it up to you, my dearest. Shall we move to-» a muffled sound interrupted him. It was barely audible, but you both heard it. Nathan sighed, releasing you from the embrace and you took your arms off of him, but he got hold of one of your hands.

«Since the show will not start any time soon, would you like to meet the actors who will play tonight?» he asked.

Now that your eyes were getting used to the dark you could see his face. He was smiling, his eyes staring into yours. His hair was a mess, probably because of the many hours of work.

«Sure, I'd love to.»

He took you backstage, in a room with some pictures on the wall and some puppets hanging in a closet.

Again, the muffled sound, like someone who was trying to scream against a pillow.

«Ah, our protagonist must be nervous because of the show. Worry not my friend, I know you will do great.» Nathan said, patting the shoulder of one of the puppets. The muffled sound stopped.

You could only stare in awe. Nathan's puppets were always a stunning view. Even though you knew they were once humans, now turned into puppets with sticks and strings inside them, you couldn't help but admire his work. Sometimes they bled but that stopped bothering you a long time ago. You just found them beautiful, with their original traits and the ones Nathan gave them.

Nathan caught your lost gaze and smiled to himself. He walked up to you, stopping a step away.

«You know,» he looked you up and down «you would make for a beautiful puppet. Probably the most beautiful I ever laid my hands on...»

He gently held your hand in his, caressing the wrist with his thumb. «Just a few strings, here and here and there... And then you would dance for eternity, as I lead you...» his eyes now lost, his free hand started tracing the spots where he would place the strings. You didn't feel scared or threatened though. No matter how much he wanted to have you on his stage, Nathan couldn't hurt you. You just chuckled, leaning into him.

«I would love to dance with you. Maybe not as a puppet though.» you said, looking into his eyes. Nathan got out of his little trance and smiled.

«Then I think I know how to make it up to you, my dearest.»

He took your hand in his and led you out of there, to another room. There you saw an old gramophone, and Nathan quickly pulled out a vinyl record. A music started playing, one that you recognized as Nathan's favourite, "Danse Macabre".

He swiftly placed one of your hands on his shoulder, placing one of his hands on your waist. Then he took your free hand in his own, and slowly started dancing with you.

You followed his lead, relaxing into his arms and moving in sync with him. He taught you how to dance a long time ago.

«Look at you, following my lead so easily...» he whispered in your ear «I just know you would be the perfect puppet.» he added, kissing your cheek. He then pulled back, just enough to see your face.

«But would you really make me into one?» you asked, a little smirk on your lips.

His gaze softened, and soon after he kissed you. Now his hands were holding your face.

«I don't need to. You're already mine.»

[sharoo]

The Last Sermon

Morning light passed through the stained glass windows, shrouding the inside of the temple in warm scarlet light. The crowd of followers entered after the Lamb like a flock following their shepherd.

Unease lingered in the air. The sermon was called suddenly, at a time usually reserved for work or individual worship. Had there been an emergency? The beasts of the compound wondered, whispering among themselves.

The Lamb, though, walks with an air of serenity, neither hurrying nor stalling, as if there was no need to be alarmed. They stepped onto the elevated platform where the altar stood, resting their hands on its smooth wooden surface for a tentative moment.

"My dear brethren," they spoke up, and spread their arms to all the ones gathered in the long hall of the temple. "Blessings to all of you for gathering here today. Rest easy, there is no matter that should worry you now."

They could hear their followers' anxieties, their uncertainty, snippets of nervous thoughts the crown allowed them to see.

"I called this sermon to commemorate this day. My fellows, today marks the end of our crusade against the heretics of the Old Faith. The many months we've spent combating the Bishops, this great battle is finally over."

The crowd rejoiced, their joy echoing off of the wooden walls. The Lamb raised a hand to quieten them so that they may speak. "Today, it all comes to an end. For today, I shall fulfill the last requirement to free our patron from His chains. I will embark on a journey to His realm, to return Him the crown He had lent me all these moons ago, so that I may carry out His mission and rescue you in His name.

"With His power returned to Him, our god will take his place as our leader, and a new era shall begin - an era where no beast shall fear chaos, famine, pestilence, or war, one in which not you won't even have to fear death, for it will no longer be the eternal punishment the Bishops wanted it to be."

They smiled looking at everyone. They hadn't the heart to admit what would happen once they separated from the crown... they always hated saying goodbye.

"Rejoice, everyone, today, our goal, the thing we have sought from the very beginning, will finally be achieved. Peace waits ahead. Today, He Who Waits Below shall reign!"

"Praise the Lamb, Conduit to Great Power, Promised Liberator!" the crowd cheers. They chant the prophecy's first half, the only part they know of it, again and again, as the Lamb steps down and heads towards the door, veiled in the same peaceful aura as before.

Outside, a lone shadow stood in the awakening morning light, his steely gaze directed at the preacher. Indeed... there had been one person missing from the sermon - the priest's right hand man and advisor, the blackbird Camio.

Lamb approached him, smiling sadly. They regretted yesterday's quarrel (it always hurts to part ways on bad terms, especially with someone so close to one's heart), but they had made their decision. Their patron called and they had a life debt to repay.

"Take care, my friend..." Lamb told their advisor. "Until we see each other again."

Camio didn't falter, nor did he say anything. His words wouldn't persuade them to fight the fate they saw as inevitable, and their sermon had just confirmed their resolve.

Take heed, sacrificial beast, the crown cannot rest upon two brows.

Lamb lingered a little longer. They'd hug him, or tell him not to worry... but they knew he would not accept such gestures.

As they walked away, towards the Crossroads, where the portals to all four regions lie, they heard the swish of feathers and quick flapping of wings. They turned around just in time to notice a small black dot disappear in the distance, flying off to the south, in the direction of Anura.

Lamb watched him until they could no longer spot him among the trees. Their smile dropped, for a moment, and the ache they've tried to quell tugged at their chest yet again. They wished they didn't have to go, they wished this wasn't the end. But they had made their choice, one they believed right, one that would ensure everyone's safety, even if it was at the cost of their life.

"Leader? Is something the matter?" asked one of the followers, a fox named Grimim.

"I'm quite alright," they responded, smiling again. "Let's be off."

[next]