#and yes the title is a reference to that song

[kurishiri]

9 lil things abt the way some ikevil chars speak in japanese you probably didnt know

in the jp version, even after getting into a relationship, kate actually still consistently calls elbert with his title, “lord elbert” [エルバート様] (erubāto-sama). in jp, the only ones who do not use the honorific would be victor, william, and on occasion, alfons, who seems to switch between [エル] (eru), [エルバート] (erubāto), [エル様] (eru-sama), and [エルバート様] (erubāto-sama) on a whim.

in case en doesnt localize this well or fully when it does come…there is a time when victor switches his personal pronoun from [僕] (boku) to [俺] (ore). these words mean the exact same thing (i, me, my, etc), but the latter is meant to have a more “masculine” feel. [僕] (boku) is used quite a bit by boys as well (in fact, ellis’ personal pronoun is [僕]), but it can also treated as a sorta “gender-neutral” character in songs, for example, and girls can use [僕] as well. on the other hand, you wouldnt ever see a girl using [俺].

nica has an interesting…speaking quirk, where certain words that should be written in hiragana r written in katakana. for example, he might say [イイ] (ī) as opposed to [いい] (ī), or [ホント] (honto) rather than [ほんとう] (hontō), [ワケ] (wake) over [わ��], [てアゲル] (—te ageru) over [てあげる], etc. this is likely a “personal style” thing to make him seem more flippant, cuteish, or youthful. this kind of thing is also more common in fictional characters who were raised abroad.

darius uses [ほっぺ] (hoppe) to say “cheeks”. the traditional way to say cheeks is [頬] (hoho). they mean the exact same thing, but saying [ほっぺ] (hoppe) to refer to cheeks has a childish or “innocent” air to it, partially due to the way its written entirely in hiragana. he does tend to have a childish air abt him, and this is probably one of the most direct examples of his childishness when it comes to the way he speaks.

alfons changed his way of speaking at some point after entering the greetia manor. before then, he often used more casual speech, known as [くだけた表現] (kudaketa hyōgen), but eventually he changed his way of speaking to whats known as [です・ます] (desu•masu) form, even using [敬語] (keigo), which is like very polite or humble japanese with their own set of vocabulary and conjugations. this is likely due to becoming elbert’s “attendant.” so he likely had to speak that way and it may have just become a habit or a sort of integral part of his identity, as he uses this language even after getting into a relationship with kate.

another tidbit of victor: he often — for example — ends questions with [かい] (kai). the other way to end questions in japanese would be to just use [か] (ka). but by adding [い] (i) to it, it can add emphasis or “soften” the tone. its mostly used by men, and using such a form is often associated with older men and women (40+), but younger men can use this too.

it might be more noticeable with jude bc he originally speaks in a whole different dialect [関西弁] (kansai-ben), and will switch to queens english, i.e. standard tokyo japanese, for business related reasons or if he feels its necessary to for a reason. but roger also can switch his way of speaking as well. he would mainly do this with ppl hes not well acquainted to or with well respected personages. he normally speaks pretty casually in japanese, shortening words or phrases, though not speaking in a different dialect. for example, he might say [そりゃ] (sorya) instead of [それは] (sore ha). but in certain situations, he might opt to use [それは].

william and elbert speak in the same form [だ・である] (da•dearu) due to the fact they r nobles — such a form comes off as more direct, imposing, or just strong in general — but they also do have their own “speaking quirks” as well. for example, when saying the word “but” or “however”, will often uses the word [が] (ga), while elbie opts for [けれど] (keredo). will also tends to end his sentences or remarks with [だな] (da na), something that elbie does not really do. that said, the way they both say “yes” is the same: [ああ] (ā).

kate uses honorifics with ring, specifically [くん] (—kun), when requested by ring to not be so formal with him (btw kate also uses [くん] with ellis), but when ring refers to kate by her name rather than “robin”, he doesnt use any honorific on her. on the other hand, nica continues to call her “robin” / spatzi / rotkehlchen what have you, but asks her to not use [さん] (—san) with him at all. so kate just calls him [ニカ] (nika). not using any honorifics is what’s known as [呼び捨て] (yobi-sute), and its smth that should really be done with ppl you feel v close to or with family (or otherwise its incredibly rude), but kate probably only did so with nica at that pt so she could respect his request, rather than an actual feeling of closeness.

[alvie-pines]

*parts of this are bolded because im neurodivergent and it helps me organize my thoughts

I can definitely see how that title reads as confrontational, but I also think there is a nonconfrontational reading where the "rising" in question is not a call to arms or dominance in a conflict but a call to activism and action. I can't say which the artist intended, but both can be considered.

And at the end of the day, I think the actual contents of the song matter more when it comes to classifying the genre. Since the actual song talks about things like not funding genocide, the screams of children, and bombs falling, and doesn't glorify weapons or fighting except the line "kuffiyeh in my hand and my other hold a stone" which can be interpreted as throwing stones at soldiers, I think it's mostly peaceful and definitely anti-war.

The lyrics don't have to be somber, peaceful, or nonconfrontational to be an anti-war song. What classifies something as an anti-war song is that the main message of the song is that war in general, or a specific war, is bad and should end.

Intifada uses rhetoric I don't like, I agree with you on that. But I do still think it's pretty anti-war. Only one line stands out to me as encouraging violence, which is the "a new intifada in the west bank, gaza or jerusalem" line you pointed out. But aside from that one line, I think the overall message of the song is still anti-war, as most of it is calling attention to the unjust destruction brought on Palestinian civilians during war and occupation. Even if it uses rhetoric deserving of critique to make that point, its still part of the genre.

I personally have only ever seen "from the river to the sea" used in a peaceful anti-war way by pro-ceasefire protestors. Granted I've only attended small protests in the NYC area. People say it has a violent history but I don't know what that refers to, so if you could show me what people mean by that I would be grateful.

And finally: yes, there should be more Israeli anti-war songs on the list. I'd love to add some myself, but I don't know any. I'm not Israeli or fluent in Hebrew so its not really my area of expertise. If people could recommend songs though I'd be happy to do the editing, I love working on wikis. And adding them is a great way to see if they've just not been added yet, or if people are removing them (antisemitic).

Really interesting how the English wikipedia page about anti war songs lists songs like "intifada" and "Palestine will rise" and "from the river to the sea". I might be wrong but I don't think those are actually anti war. Also it has no Israeli anti war songsvbut shir lashalom? Idk feels fucking off.

[s-lycopersicum]

I saw that pixiv was doing a seasonal effect tag, and felt inspired to try a small little thing, you can see it in full size here.

[vickyvicarious]

Being in the Ace Attorney fandom in the last few days leading up to Christmas Eve is almost as fun as the day of. Sitting in anticipation of the torrential flood of everyone making the same joke once again, call that

[asmodeauxx]

Seeing Polka Dots and Moonbeams

based off of this ^^^

[bloggerspam]

Bet On It

"Come on, Fentina." Dash's tone is snide, even as he hooks a large hand around Danny's shoulder, pulls him in close. "A bet's a bet, and I heard you can sing."

Danny rolls his eyes, slapping Dash's hand off him. He's been like this lately, a little touchy. They're 18 now, and about to head off to college.

The Phantom Trio has finally figured their shit out: A college that has all three of their major interests available, in a city far away from Amity Park. Ghosts. it turns out, can decree a place their Haunt, and wouldn't you know it? You're not actually forced to stay in your haunt, and it's rude to invade another ghost's haunt. So, no more Phantom.

At least, not in Amity Park.

"Oh, oh!" Paulina excitedly chitters, "Kwan has a guitar, you took lessons back in middle school didn't you?"

"Hell yeah!" Dash laughs uproariously, getting all up in Danny's face. "Tick Tock, Fenton!"

Dash hasn't been forceful about his approaches, not in a creepy way, but it's certainly misguided. These past two years the bullying has transformed to something more akin to pigtail pulling, and again—he's been touchy.

An arm around a shoulder, a hand to his lower back to guide him somewhere, ruffling Danny's hair. When Danny says stop, or moves the hands away, he stops, certainly, but Dash is delusional and persistent: He thinks that since he's not actively bullying Danny anymore, all is well.

Fat fuckin' chance.

Kwan, like the good boy he is, brings out the guitar as he is bid. He sang a sweet little number earlier in the night for Star, a cute serenade just for her.

To his credit, Kwan does look hesitant and apologetic. Danny doesn't blame him, Dash and Paulina are pushy, and it's Senior Night.

They're at one of the local bars, the smallest one that only the grumpy old men come to after work, reserved by the school exclusively so that no alcohol will be served. It funny that they think the kids wouldn't BYOB anyway, but Danny's not drinking so what does he care?

Music has been playing in the background, but you can hardly hear it over the din of Seniors milling about, laughing and generally being cheerful about their last night in Amity. (Nevermind that most of them won't actually move until the end of the Summer).

"Well?" Dash challenges, still well within Danny's personal bubble, "Get on up there Fenton."

Danny heaves a huge sigh. This is what happened when Sam and Tucker abandon him for five minutes.

He takes the guitar from Kwan's hands, slips the strap. over his shoulder and tunes it as best he can. He doesn't expect it to be out of tune, what with Kwan having used it not 20 minutes ago, but it's something for him to do as he drags his feet.

But then—then inspiration strikes, just as a string plays a discordant note.

"If this is what we're looking forward to," Dash laughs at Danny's 'mistake', "Then it's gonna be a night to remember."

Paulina giggles along with him, but Danny doesn't care. He's just thought of the best song to play.

Danny smirks, striding up to the stage as Paulina has Kwan and Star hush the crowd and turn off the music.

The microphone feedback is jarring, but not unsurprising. A chortle echoes out, Dash calling out a mean little real profesh, Fenton!

Danny chuckles as he settles himself into the provided stool. He's tempted to say so anyway, here's Wonderwall, but he's committed now.

Even more so when he starts to a jaunty strum, the kind happy little serenades begin with, and spots Sam looking at him in confusion nearby the bathroom. The line must have been long for her to only just now come out. Across the room, he can see Tuck turning from his little circle pals from coding club.

So here's the thing: Danny's a good singer.

He's got this raspy tone that Val once called dreamy, and yeah, he's definitely serenaded her with it when they were going out. His Mom and Jazz can't sing worth a damn, and Dad's Dad, of the firm opinion that anything sounds better when you make it louder.

The point is, if there's an occasion to sing, Danny's made to do it.

So sue him, he doesn't like feeling like an on demand tweety bird, even if singing is enjoyable.

In the most soulful, blue eye'd boy voice he can manage, he starts to sing.

"Three six ni~ne…" Danny drawls out, watching Dash and Paulina's faces as their jaws drop. "Damn you're fine…"

Danny grins with his entire teeth, "Suck it suck it suck it to me baby, one more time."

He scans the room as he continues to serenade the crowd to the lyrical genius of Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz.

Sam is fucking losing it at this point, Tucker having joined her at some point near to the stage.

Star is trying not to giggle and utterly failing, Val is even grinning at him from her side, hunched over like she's trying to catch her breath from laughing. Kwan looks a little confused, but gives him two enthusiastic thumbs up.

"Now can I play with your panty line?" Danny croons, winking at a nearby student who takes it as the jest it is and cackles. "Club owner said I need to calm down.."

The other students are starting to get into now, big smiles all around as they sway back and forth. Some are even singing along—you can never go wrong with crude lyrics and 2000s top hits.

"Drunker than a motherfucker." He stares down a beet red Dash in the eyes as he lowers his voice and sings, "Threaten me now." Alarmingly, Dash turns an even brighter red than before. Danny is kind of concerned for his health, but also doesn't want to touch that with a 39 and a quarter foot pole.

He leaves that mess for Paulina to deal with and searches for his friends instead, mission essentially accomplished.

"She getting crunk in the club, I mean she work it." His friends are having a blast, dancing their blackened little hearts out in support. "And then I like to see the females twerking!" Tucker is bouncing his ass, Sam faux slapping in a hilarious tableau of support.

Danny sings with his entire chest, truly til the sweat drops down his balls.

That is, if he had any.

Mostly, his packer gets a little steamy.

The whole bar is laughing and dancing, getting into a real party even as the song ends.

Danny does a cheeky little bow, thanking the crowd by blowing a kiss as he jumps off the stage. He gently hands over the guitar back to Kwan as he makes his way to his friends amongst the delighted and jovial crowd.

Hands pat him on the back and shoulder as he wades through. The DJ, who took a quick break during Danny's number, seamlessly starts to play a new playlist of 2000s top 100, volume a little higher as the crowd cheers.

"You killed it out there!" Tuck grins, high fiving Danny when he finally arrives.

"Thought you hated singing in public?" Sam yells over the din. Danny shrugs.

"Yeah, because people would no doubt ask me to sing for them whenever they wanted." Danny makes a face, "It figures that Dash would still ask me to sing for him, even if he didn't know."

Sam and Tucker roll their eyes synchronously at that, both extremely tired of shielding Danny from Dash's probably-closeted-advances.

"We leave you alone for five minutes—" Sam starts crossing her arms, only to be waylaid by Tucker grabbing their arms to drag them out.

"Dash and Paulina were bee-lining towards us!" Tucker hisses in explanation, pulling them through easier as Sam and Danny's confusion clears for them to pick up the pace.

They're just reaching the entrance when Danny breathes out a cold breath that makes him shiver.

"Get low!" The trio duck, just as Johnny and Kitty crash through the bar doors, narrowly missing the tops of their heads.

A moment passes, before both Tuck and Sam groan at Danny's inadvertent pun.

"Heard ya'll were having karaoke night!" Kitty giggles, "Rude of you not to send an invite!"

Danny huffs, ducking outside to quickly go ghost and fly back in, slamming into the motorcycle and flipping them both on their butts.

"I'm gonna kick your butts," Phantom cracks his knuckles as he grins with all his teeth, "From the windows, to the walls."

[robfozdarling]

Welcome to..The Rainbow Neighborhood

[w1nterlov3s]

i'm a chemical kid (you're a mechanical bride)

by winterzspace (drarry WIP)

Draco Malfoy hasn't been seen in public in a long while which is how he likes it. Of course that doesn't last long.

or; Draco Malfoy is head researcher and inventor for the Department of Combining Muggle and Magic (thanks to Hermione). Harry Potter works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where one of Malfoy's inventions is on the fritz. Hermione Granger is very busy and does not have time for these idiots.

[lanternlightss]

nameless bard with it/its pronouns …

[a-random-warrior]

BANNED FOREVER

[frisk-and-kenny-doodles-daily]

[28] IF IT’S MOMENTARY BLISSNESS!!!!!

[dolphingirl1234]

10 points to the person who can identify every single musical I reference in the chapter titles in the new fic I'm writing

[tokuteasings]

Hymn-filled Stele

Happy bday to @twokairevolution!!! Dear, I hope you are having a wonderful day and that you are eating well! I'm so proud of you, watching you grow, soaring higher than anything else in the world, dragon's wings upon your back crafted out of the most vibrant of colors. This is for you and the other Kuroto simps out there~!

The idea of eternity will never exist, even though the man standing before you is eternal.

It is the same as the flames smoldering in your chest, golden twin things that swirl around in your brain; a dangering crisis, infections digging their ten talons into your chest and ten different motorcycles roaring in your ears...

Gods above, you wonder if they could even hear you, free your soul.

If it was possible, to live an ordinary life, beside that man you adore... An ordinary life with the top genius, king of the world, godly in everything and even your heart.

Your name is called from sacred lips, and the god blesses you with his presence once more.

"Yes?" "What are you thinking about?" You open your mouth then close it, unable to let those calculations burst forth with animistic thunder. Kuroto only smiles as he takes a seat beside you, your hand in his. His lips, that sing his own praise in the church - angels on high, are pressed to the pulse of your wrist. Feeling it thud-thud-thud under delicate skin, lifeblood pulsing and all meant for him.

Blue, gold, and black dances between your eyes when he suddenly pulls you in for a demanding kiss; a pirate to steal their rightful treasure, a king demanding your attention, a desire to simply be with you.

It's things he says with fanfare almost everyday, his adoration for you spoken to the court in little hymns that not many can truly decipher the cipher.

But you can. You always have.

But kisses like these, where he sings your praise in wordless fashions and your lips praise him in return...

That throne is waiting for you both, side by side.

Ruling the world together, godly talents and godly love.

He'll etch his love for you into your own body if he must...lips against your quickened pulse, your heart, your soul. And he will.

Forevermore.

[wutheringmights]

"We’ll Meet Again (Some Sunny Day)” - Unfinished Bonus Links Draft

Over half a year ago, I swore that I was going to write a story based on @ezdotjpg​‘s @bonus-links​, which I never finished. This is in part due to a) me being absolutely devoured by CTB, b) me realizing that this story was gonna take 20k to tell at a minimum, and c) me being struck with a wave of insecurity; in short, I got really worried that I was not writing War and Spirit correctly and was projecting too much CTB onto them.

I had resolved to wait until I see them in the comic so that I could get a glimpse of their dynamic in action, but that might take a while. So in the meantime, here’s what I have.

Some Notes:

Obviously, this is just a draft so the writing/editing may not be up to snuff

I tried my best to gleam mannerisms and personalities from some posts Em made way back when, which I am unsure is still canon or not

Spirit signs in order to work around a severe stutter for these sounds: B, S, Th, Ch, St, G, W; I based a lot of how he talks around that stutter on how I deal with my own speech impediment (which is not a stutter) (so take it with a grain of salt)

War has a cockney accent that, in the worst decision of my life, I attempted to write out phonetically; he then switches to something more posh and British sounding

Official Summary For The (Completed) Story:

Spirit and War have always haunted each other.           

(Or: Spirit can see ghosts. War treats him like one.)

----

Spirit crouched before the engine, oil drenched up to the elbow when the bell over the workshop door chimed. Alfonzo typically took care of the stray window shopper who didn’t realize an train garage wasn’t a store, but Alfonzo was out on a run that took him to the farthest reaches of the Snow Realm. By all accounts, it was Spirit’s job to greet the shopper.

But Spirit was precariously balancing about six different wrenches, trying to keep the loose cogs in place as he fixed one of the engine’s inner mechanisms. He almost had it too. He couldn’t abandon it now, not even to return his workshop to its tranquility.

“S-sorry!” he called out, swearing when his gloves slipped on the largest wrench, causing the cog it held to slip out of place. “Just g-give—hold on for a moment!”

The customer didn’t say anything, but they didn’t leave either. Spirit could hear them meander around the messy space, observing the walls covered in framed pictographs and the shelves brimming with engine parts. Spirit did his best to ignore then, but his attention helplessly narrowed on the faint clinking of chain mail and the soft intake of breath from someone who was surprised.

Spirit didn’t necessarily hate noise. Trains were loud. But it was easier to concentrate when he was the only one making a ruckus.

Admitting defeat, he began tightening the cogs and screws until he could safely remove his hands. He sighed as he stood, wiping the sweat off his brow. Belatedly, he remembered the oil on his hands, and grumbled as he shed his gloves and pulled a handkerchief from his overalls pocket.

He blinked. Sometime between starting this project and now, the morning sun had disappeared in favor of velvety night. Yet, someone had turned on the oil lamps, dousing the garage in suffused orange light. The shopper must have lit the lamps.

Slowly, he turned hands already rising to sign his question. But before his fingers could start the first sign, he was met with a man too pretty to be real.

Pretty really was the best way to put it. He was a decent height, but not necessarily tall—not that Spirit, having not grown an inch since he hit double digits in age, didn’t need to crane his neck to make eye contact. His lashes were long, curtaining half-closed eyes as he bent down to the base of the last oil lamp. A match glowed between his fingers, the flame bursting when it caught the gas. The lamp lit up.

The stranger stood upright. Eyes bluer than the ocean flickered to Spirit. His face held a sophisticated gauntness that made even the act of blowing out the flame elegant.

Spirit fidgeted, suddenly self-conscious of how dirty he was in comparison.

The stranger was dressed to the nines in a well-kept green tunic, with a blue cape draped around his shoulders like tinsel on a tree, pinned in place by an opulent broch. Even his boots, the ones that had echoed around the workshop, were shiny with fresh polish.

A man like this wouldn’t normally look twice at him, even when he washed the oil away and put on his castle guard uniform. But this one smiled so brilliantly that the ornaments on his body couldn’t compare. “It heaven and hell is ya,” the stranger said, flicking the match away. His accent was thicker than molasses. It made every word sound long and chewed out. “It looks like ya kept yer promise, conduc'aw.”

Spirit stared. “I’m sorry?” he signed. “Who are you?”

The stranger’s face fell. His boot scuffed the ground in an aborted step back.

Spirit frowned. With the handkerchief, he scrubbed the oil from his face. Seems like this stranger really thought he was too good for the likes of him.

The stranger cleared his throat. “Pardon me,” he said and, like that, his accent was totally different. Each vowel and consonant was crisper than fresh laundry, each syllable perfectly creased into place. It threw Spirit through another loop. “I seemed to have been confused for a moment there. Are you perhaps the Royal Engineer they call Link?”

Spirit nodded.

The stranger seemed to study him for a moment longer.

Spirit scrubbed his brow again, trying to get the oil off his skin. Just who was this guy?

Finally, stranger smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He held out his hand. It was pristine. Even his nails were finely filed. “I am also named Link, but I am called the Hero of War. Tell me—are you prepared to perform your duty as a Hero of Hylia?”

Spirit stared. “What?”

Line Break

The Hero of War said to call him the captain, or perhaps sir if Spirit wanted something more succinct. But that last part was said with a rakish smile, so Spirit rolled his eyes and settled on captain.

From there, War’s good humor disappeared. Face drawn, he explained everything he knew, which wasn’t a lot—portals had appeared in his time, and someone named Lana had handed him a map detailing where in Hyrule’s convoluted history they led to (actual Hyrule, not a reinvention like New Hyrule). War didn’t know why the portals had appeared, but he had been in a conflict many years ago that had a similar mechanism.

“Get your personal affairs in order and make your goodbyes,” War said when his explanation was done. It was a weekend night, and chatter of couples and friends finding entertainment for the night drifted through the workshop’s windows. “Take your time, but we should leave before the new day.”

“Who said I’m coming with you?” Spirit signed.

War arched a brow. His lips quirked into something that was almost amused. “Because you wouldn’t let anyone walk into danger. Not even a stranger.”

Spirit scowled and signed, “What makes you say that?”

“This is far from my first encounter with another sacred hero.” War meandered around the shop, making tiny faces at the hodgepodge of half-made machineries. Whatever congeniality he had built up soured the moment he realized there was black residue on his fingers. He pulled a worn, red handkerchief from his pocket.

Spirit’s attention narrowed on it. It was frayed to the point where little flecks of broken thread fell from it like rain. If there was ever a print on the fabric, it had long been drowned out by noxious black stains. The captain didn’t seem to notice them, primly wiping his fingers clean as he said, “We are all beholden to the same virtues.”

“I’m not a hero,” Spirit signed. “I’m a conductor.”

“I know a hero when I see one.”

“You’re looking for someone else.” Spirit marched over to the door, turning around so that War could see his hands. “You need to leave.” He ended on a curt jerk of the hand before yanking the door to the garage open, gesturing for War to reenter the bustling streets of Castle Town.

War frowned, but something else in his face shifted as well. His charm had disappeared, and Spirit heard a warning in the back of his brain as War folded up the handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. “You are Link of Aboda Village. You have always been able to see spirits and ghosts, though you ignored your sixth sense in favor of apprenticing as a conductor and train engineer. Through hard work and study, you became New Hyrule’s youngest ever Royal Engineer.”

War walked up to him, ever footfall a punch to the gut. “However, your first months as the Royal Engineer were put on hold when the Spirit Tracks disappeared as well as the Princess Zelda. Luckily, your senses allowed you to see that she too had become a ghost when a dark demon ejected her from her body.”

Spirit’s hands shook too much to sign. They became fists at his side as he stuttered out, “St-st-st—”

“You fought the Demon Malladus and rescued the Princess Zelda. You restored the Spirit Tracks across Hyrule. You were given charge of a sacred train as well as a sacred sword. You are the successor of the Hero of Winds and an incarnation of the Hero’s Spirit.” He stopped right in Spirit’s face, close enough to make Spirit feel insignificant. “And you dare to tell me that I have the wrong person? Rest assured, Link of Aboda. I know more about you than you realize.”

Spirit stuttered over a few more syllables. Forget that. Without bothering to vocalize or sign, he pointed out the door. Get out.

War stared down at him for a moment longer. The corner of his mouth twitched the way Zelda’s did whenever she didn’t want anyone to know how mad she was. But his eyes were a different story. They softened, losing their intensity so quickly that it threw Spirit off kilter. “I’ll leave then,” he said gently. “If that’s what you desire.”

He stepped back, giving Spirit a little space. War managed a little smile before miming the tipping of his hat. “Good day, conductor. May the Spirits of Good guide you.”

His blue scarf trailed behind him as he left, entering the dark streets of Castle Town.

Spirit slammed the door back shut and pulled his gloves back on. He was retired from the  hero business, thank you very much. If Zelda couldn’t convince him to join the Castle Guard, then War couldn’t convince him to drop his entire life and go on some cross dimensional adventure.

But staring at his abandoned engine, Spirit couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm to pick up his wrench and get back at it. All he could see was the gleam of the pommel at War’s side, how genuinely hurt he seemed when Spirit had turned him down.

How did War know his story? The only people in New Hyrule who knew everything about Malludus was himself and Zelda.

Did that even matter when War seemed like the type to throw himself into battle headfirst, heedless of whether he lived or died?

Spirit groaned and tossed the wrench aside. Barely grabbing his keys, he ran out of the workshop. Under the streetlamps, drunkards emptying the taverns glowed gold. Spirit stood on the cobblestone street, searching for the long blue scarf in the crowd.

“Hey.” Behind him, War leaned against the side of the garage. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he chewed a piece of candy on the side of his mouth. He grinned. “Changed your mind?”

Spirit frowned. “Give me three days,” he signed. “I need to make preparations.”

War almost choked on his candy. He banged a fist on his chest and spat it out. “Three days? We can’t wait that long!”

Alfonzo was due to return from his run by then. It would also be enough time for Spirit to finish his project and arrange replacements for the runs he was already scheduled for, as well as contact Niko and Zelda. He didn’t think War would understand that, but he hardly signed, “I need to get some things done” when War sighed.

“Well…” He mulled over it for a moment. “I have no choice but to agree. Three days it is.”

Line Break

Spirit was no stranger to ghosts. There was one now that frequented his apartment a few blocks from the workshop. It was the lingering spirit of the old woman who lived there previously, and she hated how dirty he kept his space. She seemed determined not to move on until Spirit learned some housekeeping. It was easier to just sleep at the garage.

But War couldn’t sleep at the garage. There was only one bed and it was harder than a sheet of steel: unbefitting of a man well-acquainted with the finer things in life. So Spirit had to take him home. He had half a moment to be embarrassed by the number of dishes he’d left to mold in the sink as well as the pile of oil-covered clothes and half-finished projects he’d left strewn about before War sighed and unpinned his scarf.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Of course, of course, of course.” He folded it nearly on the table, then added his sword and shield next to it. Then he rolled up his sleeves and started picking up the mess.

Spirit stuttered his own swear before rushing to help.

“Sorry I’m such a bad host,” Spirit signed when War did the dishes.

“Nonsense. It’s not as though I had given you any warning.” War scrubbed at a plate like he wanted to do much worse to it. “I remember when I first began living alone. It took me quite some time to master my own space. Speaking of which, how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

War paused. “Oh.” He set the plate aside. “You are much too young—to live alone, I mean.”

Spirit clicked his tongue and signed, “And not fight some evil?”

War barked a laugh. “If anything, you’re much too old for that.”

Spirit didn’t know what he meant. So while they did laundry under the midnight moon, War told fantastical stories of a hero who had fallen from the sky and the children who followed in his footsteps—their progenitor, their legacy.

The next three days were spent

[nostalgiachan]

The Ring in Return

Ninth Prompt: "I almost lost you."

Act Three Spoilers

Summary: After ten years, Vier and Gale's research may be about to pay off: they may have found a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. (2,031 words)

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After ten years, the end was finally in sight. Ten years of delving into every crypt this side of Barovia, sniffing out even the faintest hint of vampiric activity to find those who’d also journeyed down the same path, and to dig through whatever was left of them for the scraps of knowledge they may have left behind. Ten years of managing personal responsibilities, finances, resource procurement, travel time, work time. Ten years of constant drafting, testing, failing, and drafting again. But at last, Vier held within her hands the culmination of all their hopes, their dreams, their work.

To outside observers, it was merely a fancy ring - a platinum band with a black sapphire as its center gem, haloed by red-tinted sunstones and flanked by two small moonstone cabochons. But the platinum had been treated with crushed black opal, heliodor, and beljuril, and each piece of the ring was absolutely brimming with spellwork, all interwoven in a delicate circuit and focused toward a singular goal:

To make the wearer immune to the sun.

For some time, Vier had almost thought her goal was impossible, even with the help of the greatest wizard she knew. Gale Dekarios was absolutely essential to the creation of this item, of that there was no doubt. But for years, it seemed no matter what permutation of materials, spells, and methods of crafting they tried to piece together, the results ended with them no closer to success. One moment, the interwoven darkness spells would blind the wearer and leave them no better protected from daylight than they’d been before; the next, the heliodor would ambiently draw in too much sunlight and burn the flesh of even those who could freely walk in the day. Vier was absolutely willing to work for years, decades, centuries even; after all, assuming she didn’t meet an adventurer’s end or contract a terrible disease, she still had a healthy six hundred years remaining. But did Gale? While powerful wizards like Elminster certainly had a penchant for prolonging their lives, she didn’t want to hang the success of crafting this ring on assuming Gale would be in his full faculties a lifetime down the line.

But then, one day, the Wizard of Waterdeep sent Vier a summons: “May have found a lead. Meet me in Athkatla.”

Athkatla, city of a thousand vices, crown jewel of the nation of Amn. For once, Vier considered taking the journey alone. If the city was anything like she’d heard, even she’d be hard-pressed to keep on track with all of the temptations it provided. And Astarion? While she generally trusted him to behave himself, there was no telling what sort of shenaniganry he’d get up to if he had half the mind. So, of course, it was Gale who suggested the first thing they should do when they arrived in the city was to visit the local Temple of Sune which he’d heard had an absolutely lovely spa service.

“This all serves a very valuable purpose, I assure you,” the wizard responded to Vier’s clear displeasure. “Aside from making sure we’re relaxed and refreshed for the work ahead, I hear they have excellent private meeting rooms, where we’ll be neither seen nor heard.”

“Are you afraid someone’s going to eavesdrop on us?” Vier asked in return.

“Well, when one is dealing with difficult-to-obtain, possibly forbidden knowledge, it never hurts to practice precaution,” Gale answered in his typical chipper, yet slightly smug, manner. Vier’s lips couldn’t help but purse; she was certain Gale was far more interested in the spa aspect, but so long as this lead of his actually paid off, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt anything.

Surprisingly enough, though, Gale was actually being completely genuine about the private rooms. After she, Gale, and Astarion had been thoroughly bathed, splashed with tinctures, and massaged until their muscles were veritable piles of goop, they retreated to a lavishly-decorated rented room which had one way in, one way out, and seemed quite thoroughly soundproofed. The fact it was clearly some sort of boudoir had not gone unnoticed, and if only Gale hadn’t been there, it very well might have seen its intended use with just how relaxed Vier and Astarion had grown. Unfortunately for them - or, perhaps, fortunately for Gale - it wasn’t long before they were joined by a rather skittish looking individual with a satchel of scrolls. This person, Gale explained, was their information source, and he’d found an absolute whopper for them.

The visitor laid out one of the scrolls across the table between the four of them; its surface was covered with almost indecipherable writing and what appeared to be designs for a cloak of some sort. The man explained that over a century ago in Athkatla, there’d existed a vampire lord called Dragomir the Red. In his possession was a cloak which purportedly protected the wearer from all ill effects of the sun, but at the cost of severely weakening them in all other regards. Dragomir was long dead, and his cloak was nowhere to be found, but this individual had found something almost as, if not more, valuable: the original plans for the creation of the cloak by the necromancer Zulann Flass.

While Vier couldn’t translate the text half as well as Gale could, there was still much she could parse - symbols tied to specific spells, illustrations of ingredients to be woven into the fabric of the cloak, the exact order in which to imbue the material. The more she looked through the scrolls, the more her face began to light up. If they took those schematics and applied their own research to work around the cloak’s shortcomings…they could very well make their ring functional at last!

Vier and Gale thanked the informant profusely, though, as expected, he was not content with gratitude alone. He expected payment. Astarion floated the idea of a five finger discount, but the idea was quickly vetoed. This information, after all, had more than proven its weight in gold.

Of course, even with the schematics in hand, it would be another six years of work to once more amass funding, gather resources, and plan the new ring for testing. But at that first test, when the ring properly absorbed the beams of sunlight which hit it and the energy dissipated within the band, Vier nearly burst into tears. More testing followed, this time placing the ring on various summoned undead. While few had quite the same sort of issue with daylight as vampires, they still had a tendency to be somewhat weakened by the light of day. But with each new test, the new ring performed beautifully.

Soon enough, there was only one final test remaining, the test that Vier had been dreading most of all.

On that day, before the break of dawn, Gale joined Vier and Astarion in the Dawnshire Temple of Lathander. The church was perfectly situated on the tallest hill in the village, facing directly east so that the rising sun would always pour in through the massive windows behind its central altar. Every morning, Vier would greet Lathander’s light. This morning, she would not be greeting it alone.

As Vier turned to Astarion and slid the ring on his left hand, she could see he was trying to swallow his fear. “It’s a little gaudy, isn’t it?” he attempted to joke, though Vier knew his heart wasn’t in it. The look in his eye reminded her of that night, so many years ago, when he’d first poured his heart out to her. That night, she could see that he was willing to hope again, even if he was deathly afraid of the pain it would bring. Once more, he was hopeful. Once more, he was terrified.

As the sky beyond the windows turned a pale blue, Vier raised Astarion’s hands to her lips. “You know, I still have that moment just after we’d killed the Netherbrain seared into my mind,” she spoke quietly. “We stood there on the docks, Lathander shining brilliantly down on us as if he was celebrating what we’d accomplished. Deep down, I’d hoped that something of the tadpole’s effects would remain within us even when it’d been burned out of our heads, or that Lathander himself would make an exception for you in light of everything you’d done, and promise never to harm you again.”

“But then…I saw those silvery lines appear on your skin. I watched you crumble to dust. To have come that far and done that much, only to nearly lose you there and then…I couldn’t bear it. So I swore that no matter what it took, no matter how long I had to struggle, I would return the light to you. It’s the least you deserve.”

The tears in Astarion’s eyes shined nearly as brightly as the gems within the ring. “Gods, you…you truly are incredible, you know. In all this time, have I ever thanked you for all of this?”

“Oh, I’m sure you have,” Vier laughed through tears of her own. “And if you haven’t, all I’ll ask for is a smile. But, I suppose we shouldn’t get too ahead of ourselves.”

She released his right hand and turned to face the dawn with him, his left hand still gripped in her own, both trembling. The first rays peeked over the horizon, and soon spilled into the church, slowly and painfully rising. Higher and higher, they rose, flooding the room with golden light. Yet, Vier didn’t hear a single whimper from Astarion. He didn’t flinch or cry out in pain as the sunlight washed over him. He barely even squinted as the sun reached his red eyes, as if he was daring Lathander to do his absolute worst. Even with the full form of the sun in view, he didn’t budge an inch. They stood there together in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the ring to prove it had its limits. But that moment never came.

Astarion was completely fine.

From the pews behind the pair, an enthusiastic cheer rang out; Gale could no longer contain himself.

“Elminster’s beard, we actually did it!” he laughed, a surprisingly raucous celebration for the man. He quickly stood and crossed the floor, scooping up Vier and Astarion into the tightest of hugs. “Gods be good, you can’t believe how relieved I am!”

“You think you’re relieved? I thought I was about to fall apart for a minute there,” Vier joked as she returned the hug. Astarion, however, was surprisingly quiet in all of this. Was he just overwhelmed? Trying to process that he was truly free to enjoy the daytime once again? Or was it something else? As soon as Gale broke the hug, Astarion pulled him away for a moment, whispering something into his ear. In response, Gale simply nodded, and handed Astarion something that Vier couldn’t quite see from one of his robe pockets. After a moment, Astarion returned to her, once more taking her hands in his.

“You know, you’ve given me a rather lovely piece of jewelry today, gaudy as it is,” he said, trying to maintain his usual flippant air and only partially succeeding. “But for a while now, I’ve felt like something was a bit lopsided here. See, you’ve been breaking your back trying to make a nice ring for me - with help, of course, but still - but I’ve had nothing to really give to you in return. And you know me, tit for tat and that. Soooooo…”

Suddenly, Astarion dropped to a knee before Vier, and produced the item that Gale had given him.

“I got you a ring of your own! And on my honor, I didn’t steal it.”

The ring looked almost identical to the one that Vier and Gale had crafted together - platinum band, black sapphire setting flanked by moonstones, yet in place of a halo of sunstone was one of pale blue opal. He slid the ring onto her left hand.

“Honestly, I never thought I’d be asking this, but…Vier Alurlssrin, will you marry me?”

Vier didn’t bother to answer, instead letting the force of her kiss do the talking.

[classicwhatthefuckplotline]

finally gave in and made a good omens playlist - pls give me more song recs for them i am begging