#back when books were harder to obtain

[yunessa]

Ten thousand words in. It's not a bad start for the next chapter, but I'm really enjoying where I'm going with this. I see my story as kind of episodic? Not everything is plot-heavy or moving that plot forward. It's a whole basket of differently colored yarn all tangled up.

[elijahs-dumps]

Nikolai Lantsov and his constant identity crisis known as Sturmhond

I'm currently in the process of re-reading all the Grishaverse books, and I'm about to start King of Scars. But before even starting to re-read that book I can see the seeds being planted when it comes to Nikolai's struggles with his identity. I feel like this is a really underrated aspect of Nikolai's character, which is strange to me since it's basically what his entire main arc is about in the King of Scars duology. This is why it was hinted at in Siege and Storm as well as Ruin and Rising.

Nikolai loves to be loved. Because of this, he is constantly changing his personality or demeanor to please whoever he is talking too. Alina mentions this many times through out Siege and Storm, and even believes it to be "creepy" how easily Nikolai can change himself for others. It's part of the reason why it takes her so long to truly trust Nikolai.

However, Sturmhond is a persona created by Nikolai for Nikolai. The differences between Sturmhond and Nikolai are minute, but they're undeniably there. For example, Sturmhond relies on his greed to make his decisions. He's also quicker to resort to violence than Nikolai usually is. He's still clever, forthcoming, charming, flirty, rich, well-respected. All the basic things that make Nikolai himself to the untrained eye, but it's the smaller differences that truly matter. In any role that Nikolai has to play through out his life, he always tries to keep the "main" or "most obvious" parts of himself present. These small changes are what make the bigger difference, especially since it's harder for others to pick up on when he interacts with them.

Sturmhond was originally created as a way for Nikolai to command respect or instill fear with his crew and his enemies, when it was necessary. Being a sea captain required Nikolai to abandon a lot of the things he'd learned while growing up in the Grand Palace and serving in the First Army. Thus, Sturmhond was born!

But after Sturmhond's reputation was secured, Nikolai most definitely could've started to slip back into his true self. The persona was not as necessary anymore. But Nikolai, at least while he was at sea, still didn't truly know who he was when he was not performing for others. I think Nikolai clung to Sturmhond because he was scared of having to figure out who he is when he's not pretending all the time.

We see Nikolai contemplating becoming Sturmhond again near the end of Rule of Wolves, very briefly. And t's safe to say a big part of Nikolai misses his life as a privateer. Sturmhond has always been and always will be the freest Nikolai will ever feel. Because, there are differences between the two identities, but it's all still Nikolai in the end. Yes, Sturmhond was inevitable in many ways, especially since Nikolai needed to avoid the risk of capture. But when Nikolai became a privateer, I think he knew a new identity was bound to be needed. Nikolai chose at life at sea, therefore he chose to become Sturmhond. While most of his other identities were most likely born out of necessity. This is partially why he's so attached to the persona of Sturmhond, because it's one of the only things in Nikolai's life that he has been able to decide for himself.

That's why I think the concept of Sturmhond is the main contributor to Nikolai's issues with identity. Because even though Nikolai always knew he needed to obtain the throne eventually, he still enjoyed his freedom. In fact, freedom might be the only thing Nikolai craves more than validation from others. This scares Nikolai, because validation from others is something he can almost always get when he needs to. But his freedom, away from Ravka and its royal court, is not something he's ever been able to control in that way.

[hocuspocusbabyy]

A ring of bright light: Chapter 2. ‘Perfect stranger.’

Warnings: none?

Paring: Eloise Bridgeton x Female OC

Description: Eloise meets her suitor.

Word count: 1.5k

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

“A Diamond knows how to dance.”

“A Diamond knows when to nod.”

“A Diamond knows if to smile.”

When her elder brother Anthony married, Eloise knew the burden of marriage would fall next to her. The entire situation with Kate had bought her a year and a winter at Aubrey house was something even Whistledown could not penetrate.

She knew the weight of her name, of the responsibilities that wrapped around her like smoke. The towering legacy of her father, sisters, brothers…of their family now trailing as she prepared to marry also. Anthony had set it up, a young, wealthy and respectable Count from the northern coastal region.

Count Arthur Brennan.

The family had hands in agriculture, supplying cattle to 80% of the tons across England. Though they had yet to meet, Daphne had assured her of his worth and good looks as though that would sway her any further from the inevitable truth.

She expected difficulties. Gossip, growing pains, resistance from the ton who would have preferred a representative from their family to be wed in her place. Though she found it increasingly harder to dispute them. She had focused on the future, her mother, the family and simply moving forward. She had pushed against the curve for long enough, the impending arrival of Penelope and Collins first child was a testament to that. Eloise simply had to take the bullet now.

Unfortunately.

"Are you always so silent when you’re concentrating?" Arthur chuckled, leading her delicately across the room.

“Doesn’t do well for them to know I am a bad dancer,” she sighed as she glared down at her feet.

“I’ve never heard of a ton who could not dance.” The gentleman, her husband to be quoted, bemusement settling deep into his features as he watched the frustration vibrate and ricocheted from his bride.

“I simply preferred books over tap shoes.”

“Ah, well that at the very least may help us.”

“How so?” Eloise asked, finally looking up towards her dance partner, blowing an unregulated strand of hair away from her eyes. The tingles of ashen locks create a mesh filter against her view.

Arthur grinned, as the woman’s face finally appeared to him unobscured. “Dancing and reading are quite similar,” slowing their movements the Count took a step back to take in the princess properly. The way gluttonous creatures stared at prey or children dreamed of chocolates - Eloise struggled to distinguish between the two. “You simply have lose yourself in it.”

“Follow my lead.” Arthur breathed leaning in against her ear, “just because we are forced to be here, does not mean we cannot obtain any joy from it.”

Eloise almost let out a smile at the observation, at the very least her brother had found her someone with a working pair of eyes and brain. Which was more than could be said for many of the people gathered in the ballroom around them. She was half sure Lady Downling would go blind with anguish should they dance a moment longer. Her daughter had been the prime pick for the upcoming season before Eloise had agreed to meet the count.

“Here,” Arthur pulled Eloise close, situating hands where they needed to be. Guiding her through the process, as any gentle person would.

“You will step on my feet,” Eloise protested and tried to step out of the grasp.

“Put your feet on mine.”

“What?” Eloise blurted out, surprised by the demand.

“If you’re worried I’ll step on your toes then just put them atop mine. It will also help you with footwork and knowing where to place your feet.”

For a moment, she thought about it and then, hesitantly, recently there were moments Eloise found herself on the verge of what could only be referred to as complete and utter madness. Though she had to admit, she was intrigued.

Eloise placed her feet on top of the Count. Placing one of her hands on his shoulder and clasping onto the other for dear life. “Now a dance involves two people. Very similar to a conversation. No matter how good of dancers they are, they have to be able to synchronise with their partner, watch them in a way a strategist would.”

They took one step and then another and then another, following the rhythm of the music that played softly through the walls. Eloise struggled with the urge to look down at her feet with each step, but understood the taste and marked her prey. Eyes baring down into the Count, a sight she would apparently have to get used to, though she couldn’t say the particular blue held was unappreciated.

They danced, softly swaying with the room. The air around them painted a light golden hue as the chandelier burned down. An arrow and a deer, circling one another till their inevitable connection and demise.

“How did you learn to dance so well? I did not take you for the type that would enjoy this,” Eloise whispered, not wanting to be louder than the music, not that it were possible, however with so many eyes on her she grew weary of ears too.

“And how is it you know so much of me without having met me before?”

“I did my research.” Eloise deadpanned, her elbows sticking out at the most uncomfortable angle as they moved.

“Well I hope that I may still surprise you.” He explained a quaint expression encapsulating the man’s face. Eloise took a moment to take in his other features as the dance continued. Such as her groom's hand the skin around his left was scared, rough and discoloured. His skin glowed a soft pink rather than a pale freckled white as were the rest of him. It made her stomach knot how sometimes cruel fates are less to the living acknowledgments of what had been done.

Rumour has it the count had sustained the injury during a fire at his estate, a fire which undoubtedly took his father's life and thus his youth along with it. Ascending to the head of his family at the mere age of 19. Maybe that was why Anthony and he had gotten along so well, they were of similar origins. Count Pieré Brennan had died five years ago, leaving behind his only son and second wife to stake claim.

A claim which would now belong to Eloise also… should everything go according to plan.

Her gaze trickled off to the hundreds of paintings hung in all depictions on the vast walls, the familiar faces of the family, knoblemen and people who had stayed, many of Eloise herself at multiple ages. The chandelier hung high and cast a circle of light across the wooden floor, illuminating single moments of what this place was – a home for all that had needed it.

There had always been something unreal and eerie about the palace. It wasn't prettiness no - it was an ethereal grace that was breathtaking, The halls tied themselves like tethered string weeping upon the draft of silence, the cracks peaked beneath the pale and flawed wallpaper that flaked like skin; mimicking that of eyelids. Though seemingly glowed in the dim light of the drowning day, flourished under the bewilderment of her childhood, Eloise remembered these walls and the floors she’d always dreamed would taste like honey.

Not to mention the many faces and bodies which resided within the palace at any given moment, for multiple variations of time. The vast chess floor of marble and oak glazed beneath her feet, as an advanced player Eloise knew every creaking floorboard and loose tile throughout the whole palace.

"A little rust is nothing when the heart is of pure gold." Her father would say.

Then her eyes locked with another. Eloise faulted, her feet surly would have let her stumble if Arthur hadn’t been there. A pair in which she had never acquainted before.

“Hold tight and trust me,” Arthur whispered suddenly. They dipped, Eloise’s cheeks dusted a light pink from the rush of blood to her head, her previous target of attention now lost to the crowd.

“What was that for?” Eloise forced a laugh, trying to send light hearted, to push past her loss of concentration.

Arthur sighed leaning forward again, “If this were a battle you would surely be dead.”

“Lucky for me we’re just dancing.” Eloise pointed back, a sickening feeling of awareness, transparency, being seen flooding her senses.

"Our engagement has yet to be announced," Arthur said, trying his best to look cavalier. “Make the most of the time between now and then.” The general helped the princess step down and crouched into a bow. “Until the next time we meet.”

Eloise watched the Lord’s fleeing figure, her body alight with questions for her future spouse and his sudden departure. Her questions soon answered as the object of her distraction stepped back into view.

“Eloise darling” Violet called, noticing her granddaughter left unattended, “do join us Collin here was just telling us of his newest book.”

“It’s a memoir of my time in Prussia.” The man explained as Eloise made way across the room, desperately trying to ignore the burning sensation that had settled upon the centre of her back. If a gaze could kill, Eloise was surely a prism with light penetrating directly through.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 18

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 18: a new purpose

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He's thousands of years old..." I said aloud as I stared at the ceiling. It was no wonder he was so powerful and knew absolutely everything. He had been around for centuries. He had witnessed the Great Collapse and watched humanity struggle to rebuild itself. How long had he spent on the surface and how many in Hell? It felt like there was so much I was completely unaware of when it came to him. Yet he knew everything about me because I had lived a fraction of a second compared to his life.

Despite this, it started to explain some of his behavior. His impatience with me must be from my lack of magic knowledge and how long it's taking me to unravel a curse. It would also explain his frustration with my existence in general. If he hadn't been tied down by a soulmate for hundreds of years, suddenly having one that knew nothing about the dangerous Demon world would cause concern. He's well known as a dangerous person on the surface and clearly isn't afraid to fight with other Overlords or even the King of Hell himself. He is a powerful Demon with a very less so powerful soulmate.

I grunted as I threw the covers off. I had healed plenty and felt back to my normal self, but the burn marks still lingered on my palm and face. I dressed in my usual plain pants and short sleeve for the day. Training with Alastor would start again but this time I was ready.

My conversation with Charlie sparked a genius idea. She had tried to make a hotel for Demons to attempt redemption. She had created a place separate from the rest of Hell, a place away from temptation and evil. Someplace secluded and safe. That was exactly what I was going to do.

Ring fights operated because of the fighters. Without fighters they were useless and uninteresting. If I could save the fighters, specifically the younger ones, and hide them away in a secret Sanctuary, the rings would have to find other means of obtaining fighters. Children were the easiest because they were the most defenseless. They were easy to manipulate physically and mentally, making escape impossible even if they grew older. Adults were much harder and not worth the effort.

Creating a Sanctuary would allow me something to defend at a central point. Once enough children were saved from the rings, it would be a few years before they could start up properly again. Once they did, I could go out again to save those children, too. It would be a constant process but it would get easier with time. I would likely have more help as the children grew older. How long could I live for?

I had to keep this idea a secret, though. Alastor wanted me to be knowledgable enough in magic to the point he won't have to worry about protecting me from other powerful Demons. Once that was accomplished, I had free reign of the world. I had known him long enough to know that he likes the power and control of his puppets, and cares very much for his reputation. The Radio Demon was soulbound to the Snake Demon, the one who attacks rings and saves the fighters. Good and evil. Safety and danger. We were opposites. I had a feeling he didn't like that.

The Radio Demon didn't grace us with his presence until later in the afternoon. I was invested in my book at the window when he slithered out of the walls. I kept my Demon side hidden and nonchalantly closed my book to give him my full attention.

"Before we do anything," I started, "what is the difference between Overlords magic and normal Demons?"

"Intriguing question." He sat on one of the chairs closest to me and laid his cane on his lap. "It's more simpler than you think. Overlords start as your average Demon with control over Element and Advance magic. Once they start making soul deals, their power grows and they obtain Existence magic."

"What are soul deals?"

"A soul-binding contract. Want me to demonstrate?" He held out his clawed hand, a faint green glow outline reaching over his whole body. Even his eyes seemed to have a tint of green to them.

"No thanks," I said. The glow disappeared as he straightened in the chair and fixed his suite. "What's the difference between a soul deal and a soulmate?"

"From what I understand, a soulmate connection is a mental tie to an individual. A soul deal is simply a contract but magic ensures both sides hold their end of the deal."

"You and Husker have one."

"In a way. Unfortunately for him, he lost his soul in a gamble. I have no side to uphold."

"Right."

"Any other questions?"

"How do you know all of this?"

"My dear, when you've been around for as long as I have, life can get boring. You look for anything to keep you entertained."

"Where did you get all the books though?"

His smile actually seemed to soften. "My mother collected them. She was the one who introduced me to magic." He spoke fondly of her, suggesting he had a close relationship with her. "Anything else?"

"Not right now."

"Good. We're attempting illusion magic today." He stood up and held his cane behind his back. "It requires imagination. Can you handle that?" My gaze hardened and I stood up without a remark. "We'll start simple, then. Picture something small on the desk."

Per usual, it never worked on the first try. I tried to imagine a rose lying on the corner of the large desk. My fingers fluttered as the frustration started to build in my head. I knew I was using magic because of the faint glow of dark purple in the corners of my vision. It didn't help that I could feel Alastor's presence just on the other side of my shields. He wasn't invading but he was there, watching.

I took a deep breath and tried closing my eyes, but something sharp nicked my forehead. My eyes snapped open to Alastor withdrawing his clawed hand. "Keep your eyes open. It doesn't work properly with them closed."

I rubbed the spot on my forehead. I let my Demon side come through so all my effort was being directed at this one, simple task. When I attempted it again, the faint outline of the rose came through. My excitement knocked it back into nothingness, taking my pride with it.

Alastor sat back down with his hands clasped in his lap. "Keep going.”

I held out my hand to the desk and brought the outline back. I tried to look past my black claws, focusing on the task rather than my nature. I kept my back to the fireplace so Alastor was on one side, still in view, and the table on the other. His presence didn't move from its original spot at my shields.

I tensed the muscles in my arm and tried to move all my energy through it. A smile crept on my face when the rose started to color and eventually sit fully on the desk. Alastor crossed to the desk and put his hand on it, abruptly snuffing it out.

"Hey--"

"An illusion is an illusion, unless you put more energy and matter into it. You will repeat the process until you can physically hold it in your hand." He conjured the rose into his own claw and held it up to his nose. "I expect such before I return."

"Where are you going?"

"I have a meeting with Rosie. We have important matters to discuss."

He disappeared without a warning. I let out an exasperated sigh and collapsed in one of the chairs. I looked around at the quiet, still library. I held my hand out and closed my eyes, recreating a perfect rose on the desk in a heartbeat.

****

"So how's the reading going?" Rosie asked enthusiastically.

"I hadn't realized soulmate magic was so expansive," Alastor admitted. The two of them were enjoying tea in her store together, just like old times.

"And how is the sweet thing doing?"

"Quite well, actually. She now wants to learn our magic, though I'm unsure of the reason behind it."

"Well did ya ask her?"

"In a way. Though I suspect I'll know soon enough when we attempt mind magic again. For now, I will take what I can with her. She seems to change on the spot without warning."

Rosie laughed. "You're an awful lot like that, too."

"Say, Rosie darling," he summoned a brown book in his claws, "how much of the information in this book can I trust?"

"I would say it's pretty accurate. It was written during the Great Collapse. Why do you ask?"

"I read that soulmates can combine energy. This is obviously written by a Human so I wonder if that energy could also mean magic."

"Hmm, that sounds plausible."

"If she's as powerful as we think, I can only imagine what can be done if our magic were to combine."

"You'll have to have a strong mental connection with her for that to happen."

"We both know I'm more than capable of handling any kind of power. I need her to be mentally capable of such. I need a strong connection on her part."

Rosie let out a sigh. "How do you plan to do that, exactly?"

"I'm going to do what I do best."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note:

Dun dun duuuuuunnnn. What exactly does Alastor do best? Well we all know he’s good at a lot of things. Hmmm, I wonder 😏

Let me know your thoughts!

[omkookie]

Where has he done wrong? 

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Yandere!Chevalier, Implied Noncon/Rape, Mentioned dead body + Imprisonment, The reader is crumbling apart.

“No! Stay away from me!” You screamed at him, not knowing that you were bringing back memories of when he was a child, and his mother did the same exact thing. Chevalier remembers it all. Every time his mother had a meltdown, every time she was in hysterics… He remembers it all far too well, and seeing you like her left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Where has he done wrong?..

Imprisoning you was an awful thing that no human could take, but Chevalier did it all for your safety… The women of Rhodolite’s royal court were all doomed to die, and suffer a cruel fate. His mother was proof of that, and so were all of the other women the late king had fancied. He didn’t want you to suffer like them. As a result, he did his best to prevent it. 

He protected you from all of the malice in court, He eliminated all threats… He even got rid of spies sent here by that eye patch bastard who wanted to keep track of you.

Locking you in his room for so long, isolating you from all the others was the right thing. 

The others were dangerous to you. He knew far too well from the countless number of assassins that he cut down. You would not be safe near people. A simple commoner amongst nobles would be shunned, Treated with disrespect and disregarded even if she was the future Queen. He did everything to protect you. 

He almost cut Leon down for you. Nearly starting a war with the domestic faction, because his foolish brother tried to meddle with your business. 

How were you mentally unstable? 

Why did you end up so afraid of him?

Despite the countless books that he’s read and knowledge that he has, he can’t comprehend your situation… Or he refuses to. Maybe his mind didn’t want to admit that everything he did to you was wrong and inhumane, even monster-like. 

He looks down at his feet in frustration, before he moves towards your curled up body. You were sobbing on the floor, your cries refusing to die down even when you felt him wrap his arms around you. In fact, you were probably crying harder now because he touched you.

He holds you close to him, petting your head like you were some child he had to comfort, and he lets out a sigh. “Get yourself together, Simpleton.” 

It’s an order. 

Everything that leaves his mouth is an order. 

You bit your lip, trying to muffle your cries, but tears continued streaming down your face. “You’re a monster!” You somehow rasp those horrible words out between tears. His arms around you tighten as he is once again reminded of his mother. 

She said the same things. 

“Enough.” He picks you up, carrying you over to the bed on which he throws you down mercilessly. “Don’t do it! Don’t touch me!” You scream at him whilst trying to scratch and hit him. All of your resistance was merely because you didn’t know what love was.

He’s sure of it. 

You don’t know what it’s like to love someone as much as he loves you. You don’t know what it’s like to harbor such affection and feelings. You were clueless. So clueless, that he’d have to teach you. He’d have to keep you here, in the confines of his room until your mental state improved enough for him to take you out and present you as his Queen. You’d have to stay in his room and study. Inform yourself enough to make yourself a smart woman who is suitable to stay by his side. Knowledge is power, and while you are in his room you have more than enough time to obtain that power. 

You’ll come to terms with your feelings sooner or later, and realize that you do love him. 

You’ll love him. 

And for now, he’ll indulge in your body to show his love for you physically.

When you do come to that realization that you love him he’ll forgive you for all of your childishness. For behaving like his mother. 

He strips, taking his sweet time to peel his clothes off as you quit thrashing and simply lay on the bed motionless. What was to come has happened enough times for you to know that it’s hopeless. You can’t do anything against him. Compared to Chevalier, you were weak. Weak, fragile… frail…. A gentle little bunny who could not fight back against a beast. 

Looking up at the ceiling, you tried to ignore the stench of blood in the air, as well as the slayed body of your maid on the floor. This was the consequence of getting caught by Chevalier. Anyone who tried to help you was brutally murdered in his flashy cold-blooded style.

He gets on top of you, and you simply avert your eyes towards the bookshelves, Not wanting to see his face. You stare at the colorful book covers as his hands unbutton your plain white dress, and his fingers deftly take off your underwear. “It wasn’t so difficult to stop crying now, was it?” He asks, making you feel the urge to kick him. He sighs while throwing your dress to the side, finally stripping you bare before him. 

His lips are on your neck in an instant, and he sucks another harsh bruise amongst the countless number of hickies littering your collarbone, neck and chest. You don’t grace him with a response, and he doesn’t look too bothered by it. 

Even if he once considered love a worthless and unnecessary emotion, he could not deny that it had turned into a motivator for him. A motivator to work hard, expand the kingdom, and strengthen Rhodolite’s relationship with its neighbors. He wanted to work hard just for you, Maybe to impress you… Maybe to make you proud. Maybe, all he wanted all these years was love? which he never received, so he decided it was a useless thing. 

But you can give him that love now, right? Sooner or later, you’ll give him your affection and attention. Only for now… he’ll resort to receiving your affection physically, as you don’t even dare to look at him.

What an odd twist of fate. Is it because of Chevalier’s mother that he turned out to be so screwed?

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 20

Word Count: 3.1K Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same. Chapter: 20/? A/N: your eyes do not deceive you, that's right, two posts in one day. Where is my prize? 😅😅 but I am very surprised at myself that I was able to post both Twilight stories. Also, don't hate me for that ending... My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing Follow 😊 -> TikTok • Instagram • Business If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Please check if you’re tagged in the story, I’ve reached the limit of tags on Twilight again it seems. 😅

<- Previous | Next ->

Chapter 20

Time moved weirdly when you were stuck in the same routine. Days muddled together, only certain events sticking out. There were no beginnings or ends. There were only moments awake and moments asleep. That was how (Y/N) could tell that time had passed. When she was conscious, she could see that things had changed.

Her life consisted of work, school, Paul, her friends, and her family. There was nothing more. There was nothing less. Simply the same cycle, over and over again. It was good enough in the beginning. The semblance that things were getting better made her want to believe it.

But time was not kind to lies. As the seconds passed, the harder it was to keep her cracked façade whole. She could smile, she could laugh, she could enjoy life as it happened to her. Still, there was something that was always missing. A gaping hole in the middle of her chest that she covered every day.

(Y/N) had to believe that things got better. Even if at that moment it felt like things would turn worse, she needed to believe that they would change. She was getting everything she had dreamed of, everything she had worked so hard to obtain. And yet, there was a sadness inside her that didn’t allow her to enjoy it.

Two months had passed since the last time she had cried for them. Eight weeks since her eyes had dried and the pit had opened inside her. Since she had rid herself of the idea that they were ever coming back… that he was ever coming back.

She thought over the words she had told Bella. She needed to take a first step; any step that would make the life she was living real. She owed it to herself, she owed it to her mother, she owed it to her brother, she owed it to every person that had been beside her through it all.

“What’re you doing in my room, Paul?” (Y/N) was startled as she saw her friend’s reflection in the mirror before her. She had been focused on studying; her head engrossed in her books all afternoon. “Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly,” Paul responded “Jacob Black is going through his first shift and he’s freaking out. Won’t listen to anyone, not even Embry.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in the woods with Sam and Embry.”

She followed the boy out of the house and into the darkness of the forest. Why they needed her help, she did not understand. (Y/N) was the least versed in the supernatural world. But if there was something she understood it was feeling scared and overwhelmed by it. It was an all-consuming implosion of the mind. Everything they had known as reality became a rose-colored canvas over what was truly happening.

Far into the trees and away from the town, Sam and Embry stood before a giant russet-furred wolf. The animal moved from side to side, his eyes far away and scared. The boys tried to calm him, lifting their arms in a show of peace. But it did nothing to calm the poor boy that was stuck in his wolf form.

“Guys, step away from him,” (Y/N) called as she closed the distance between her and the wolf. “He’s scared.”

“Paul, I told you not to bring her here,” Sam seethed. “She could get hurt. Again.”

“He did nothing wrong,” she reprimanded. “Just get away from him, please.”

They quickly did as told, leaving the girl and the wolf. But she could still feel her brother’s cautious stare following her every move. (Y/N) was tentative in her steps, showing Jacob no sign of danger. She stared into the brown of his eyes, trying to connect with the scared boy beyond the animal.

It had only been a week since he had confronted (Y/N) regarding Embry. He had taken her by surprise, wondering why his best friend had suddenly started to avoid him and Quil, and had started hanging out with Sam’s group. She had done what she could, but the boy was too angry to stand reason.

He had rapped harshly against her front door, his knuckles beating against the wood loudly. She had been studying, far too focused on her books to know who it could have been at that hour. It was late at night and her mother had left only two hours before to work. And there was no chance that it had been Paul or Embry since they were out on patrol that night.

She sauntered down the stairs, fear clutching at her limbs as she walked. There was no reason for anyone to be knocking on her door that loudly. It made her tremble, but she was smarter than to allow fear to overtake her.

“Jacob?” (Y/N) had called out in surprise as she swung open the door. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Look, (Y/N), I have nothing against you ‘cause you have always been a good friend to me,” he sighed. His eyes were red, telling her that he had been crying. “But I need to know what your brother is doing. It was weird when he took Jared, even weirder when Paul joined. Now, he’s changed Embry as well.”

“W-what do you mean he changed Embry, Jake? He was there at your birthday party last month.”

“But he wasn’t really there, was he?” Jacob continued. “He’s been avoiding Quil and me in school. He comes up with excuses or doesn’t even respond when we call to hang out. And he barely said a word to me other than ‘happy birthday’ at the party. And now, we see him hanging out with your brother and his weird gang.”

“It is not my place to talk about what happens with Embry, Jake; what happens with any of them for that matter,” she tried to explain calmly. “All I can tell you is that he definitely is not in a dangerous gang like it’s rumored. My brother is not a dangerous person.”

“Then, why can’t Embry talk to us, huh? Why is he clearly under instructions to not talk to his friends or even to his mom?” Jacob exclaimed. “She’s been asking us nonstop what’s happening with her son, and we have nothing we can say.”

“Jacob, I understand how frustrating this must be. But I can’t say anything. It’s really not my place.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna let your brother keep taking guys from the rez and making them turn their backs on everyone they know?” he said, his voice rising slightly. “It’s not right, (Y/N), and you know it.”

“I wish I could tell you what is going on, Jake, but…”

“But it’s not your place to tell. Yeah. I got that,” he scoffed. “If there are any more guys that are taken from their families because of your brother, it’ll be on you, (Y/N).”

“No one has been taken from their families, Jacob,” she replied defensively, biting down on her tongue to not anger the boy further. “They’re always free to come and go.”

“Yet they’re not free to talk,” he seethed. “I can’t believe you don’t see what they’re doing, (Y/N). You’re smart enough to know that something’s not right.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Jake,” she sighed. “But I can promise you that your friend is safe.”

“It doesn’t matter much to me that he’s that safe when he can’t even say hi to me in the halls.”

“Jacob…”

“No, it’s fine, (Y/N). It’s not your place.”

He had left her house completely infuriated. So angry that he wouldn’t even return her waves when they ran into each other in town. And she understood his anger. Someone had come between him and his best friend. They had ripped away a relationship without a single reason.

But now, he would understand the why. Now, he would be in on the secret.

(Y/N) reached her hand out, showing Jacob that she meant no harm. Her movements were slow and calculated, always in sight of the brown wolf. She was letting him know he was okay, that he was safe.

“I know you��re scared, Jacob,” she spoke softly and calmly. “I bet you’re stressed too. Nothing that is happening is making sense.”

Jacob let out a huff in response, his eyes searching her over.

“I promise we will let you know everything that’s happening,” she continued. “But the first thing we have to do is get you back in human form. And I’m gonna help you with that, okay?”

The wolf’s head nodded, his pacing stopping dead in his track. He walked toward her outstretched hand, his snout bumping against it. He nuzzled into her, his pained eyes begging her to keep talking.

“You need to calm down,” she told him. “Center your mind and think how it feels to be in your human form. You have to focus and keep calm.”

It seemed her voice was what he needed to do the trick. The wolf stepped back and closed his eyes. She was almost sure she could feel the air changing around them as Jacob focused. And then, it all happened swiftly. One second, the russet-colored wolf towered over them. And the second, Jacob was covering up his naked body with his hands.

“Uh, is there a chance any of you brought a change of clothes?”

“Here,” Sam said as he threw the boy a bag of clothes. “There are many things you’re gonna have to learn now.”

Jacob disappeared behind a tree to get changed, running to shield himself from the others. (Y/N) had no idea what it was like for the body to go through that shift. But she could begin to imagine how disconcerting it would be to have your body turn into a massive wolf after an angry outburst.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Paul said as they waited outside of Sam’s house as Jake was informed of everything. “We should have you over every time a new kid shifts. You’re good at calming them down.”

“I guess I can understand how it feels to not feel in control of your own body,” she sighed with a smile. “But I’m glad I could help with Jake. Just last week he was grilling me over what you guys were doing.”

“we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Not in the eyes of the town, Paul. People think that you’re a dangerous gang that is corrupting the boys in the reservation.”

“Eh, I’m used to it,” he shrugged. “Not many people thought I was a good guy before. I doubt I could change their minds now. And, honestly, I don’t care what people think of me. Just you.”

“Well, then, you’re lucky I like you, kid,” she laughed. “You would be very sad if I didn’t.”

“I really would,” he said, making her laughter die in her throat. He was too serious. Too serious for the playful tone she had spoken with. “I couldn’t live without you.”

“Paul, what’re you…?”

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” he continued as he took her hands in his. “You’re the most important person in my life, (Y/N). I would die without you.”

“You’re important to me too, Paul,” she smiled softly. “But where is all this coming from?”

“I just… gods, I just need to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

As Paul opened his mouth to speak, the door to the back slid open, Jared and Embry tumbling out. They wore playful smiles on their faces and were holding plates of food in their hands.

“Yo, (Y/N),” Jared called. “Jake’s asking for you.”

“We’re sort of in the middle of something here,” Paul muttered through gritted teeth. “He can wait.”

“We’ll talk later, Paul,” she smiled as she put distance between them, her heart beating a million miles a minute. “I’m gonna go see what he needs.”

“But (Y/N)…”

“Later,” she called from the door.

(Y/N) had an inkling of what Paul was going to say. She could feel it deep in her bones. The past three months had been perfect –too perfect, she guessed. The last thing she wanted was to break things off with Paul, to put distance between them. But she knew that it was what would be best for them both.

As she walked into the house, she allowed herself to push down the thought. To forget that sooner rather than later, she had to push him away. To forget that the start of her poorly mended new life crumbling was nearing. Nothing good lasts. That much she knew.

Jacob was waiting for her at the dining table, a look of shame plastered across his face. He was shaking slightly, the weight of the new information heavy on his shoulders. And she could see what he truly was. A boy that had his whole life ripped from under him.

“Hey,” she called out softly. “Jared said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly, his head snapping toward her voice. “I owe you an apology, (Y/N).”

“No, Jake. You were angry. I understand.”

“But you didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of the anger,” he continued. “You were protecting Embry, protecting all of them. And I was pretty mean to you.”

“You don’t even make the top five, Jake,” (Y/N) laughed as she sat beside him. “But, if it makes you feel better, I accept your apology. Even if there’s nothing to apologize.”

Jacob remained quiet for a second, his gaze falling onto his hands. “Your brother said I can’t see Bella,” he peeped. “I know it’s to keep her safe, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to. I can’t just abandon her right now.”

“I understand that, Jake. But this is only for the time being,” (Y/N) tried to help. “You need to learn to control the phase. If something makes you snap when you’re with her…”

“I know. Sam told me… all of it,” he sighed. “What if I imprinted on her? She’d be allowed to know everything then, right?”

“You can’t force yourself to imprint on someone, Jake. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Not that we know of,” he smiled, hopeful. “I’m gonna try and I’ll be the first.”

“Jake,” she called as the boy jogged to the front door. “Jake!”

“Thanks for the talk, (Y/N)!”

And the next second, he was gone.

“Maybe delusion runs with the shifting gene,” she said to herself.

(Y/N) used the moment to leave Sam’s house, though. She needed to escape that conversation that Paul was sure to want. Things were changing once more and she was not ready for it. The last thing she wanted was to lose her grasp on the reality she had forged for herself. She had crafted it to the most minuscule detail and she couldn’t let him ruin it.

She ran to her home, locking herself in her room. She could feel panic building inside her. As the reins she held on her façade slipped, she could only feel the dread that was underneath. The (Y/N) from six months before was trying to claw her way out. To make her feel the same pain and sadness, making the hole in her chest grow.

But she couldn’t let it. She couldn’t let any of it out. She had to keep every last ounce of those emotions buried deep inside, locked away with the memory of him. It was the only way she would survive. The only way all of that heartbreak would have been worth it.

Instead of spending the night studying as she had planned, (Y/N) crashed on her bed, succumbing to a tiredness she didn’t know she had. She had only planned to rest her eyes for a second, not to completely fall asleep.

She was walking down a path she had come to hate, but one she still knew like the back of her hand. The road to perdition, she had branded it in her mind. She could see the bridge as she walked, begging her limbs to not keep moving. She never wanted to be back there, much less when he wasn’t there.

But the closer she got, she could make out that there was a figure standing there. A figure she had done so much to forget about, even if she never wanted to. Not really.

“(Y/N),” he breathed as she stopped in front of him. “God, how I’ve longed to see your face again.”

“Carlisle,” she said, her voice breaking as tears burned in the back of her eyes. She couldn’t walk to him. Too scared that he would disappear if she did. “Where have you been?”

“Being a coward, I guess,” he replied. “I have missed you, my love. So much more than I could ever tell you.”

“Then, show me,” she commanded in a whisper. “Show me how much you truly have.”

Carlisle extended his hand and she gladly took it, sighing happily as the coldness enveloped her. He pulled her over the treaty line, making her body crash into his. He placed one hand on the low of her back as the other cradled her cheek. His amber eyes looked intently into hers, the warmest smile he could muster spread across his lips.

“Kiss me,” she whispered and Carlisle obliged.

He pressed his lips softly to hers, love slipping past his mouth. It was just as she had remembered it. Just as cold, just s perfect. It was what she had been missing for months. A true connection of love and passion. Her hands traveled up his chest, feeling. He felt so real.

“I miss you, Carlisle,” she cried as they parted, his thumb wiping away the tears that fell. “Why won’t you come back?”

“I’m right here, my love.”

“No, you’re not,” she sighed defeatedly. “This is only a dream. I know it is. Because you’re not actually here.”

“But I am, (Y/N),” he smiled. “You can feel me. You can see me. You can hear me. Who’s to say that I’m not.”

“No, Carlisle,” she said sadly, taking a step back. “If you were here, I wouldn’t be able to wake up.”

She stood on the railing of the bridge, making sure she was past the treaty line. She looked down, the river angry and rushing, rocks piled up everywhere.

“What are you doing, (Y/N)? Get down from there.”

“I can’t do this, Carlisle,” she sobbed. “Not even in my dreams. Because when I wake, you won’t be there, and I’ll be right back where I started.”

Without another thought, she let herself fall, and she waited for the crash.

But it never came. She woke up in a sweat a second later, clutching at her racing heart. The beginning of the end, she thought. She could feel herself crumbling, and it scared her. 

Next ->

Taglist:@winter-soldier-101@zheezs14 @a-sifu-hotman @sunflowerleii@dyslexiccatterpillar @blackbluerose666 @slutforsainz @kortniec696 @xcastawayherosx@minhaimaginacao @bluebirbnamedjay @sirenheadenby @andreiaafaria @bluetreecloud20@sunshine2894 @valejewel @mushroomelephant @swidkid @skyesthebomb@esposadomd @nocturnalherb16

@nogitsune-the @user0ur0mom @cometstail @sugajar @lovel-blog @616wilsons @lunaOoO @senjuhotaru @princesshearts18 @byelannie

@avis15@wonieeee@baebeepeach@krazyk99@catgirlpwr@klf1999@sl-ut@adaydreamaway08@cinffy23@toomanythoughts33 @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @a-slut-for-loki-bucky @honeywxter @haroldpotterson@kaita11 @gangstalicious06 @uwunuggetchan@elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @ellabellabus07@blackloveangel13@euphoria1992@saltedcoffeescotch@lowkeysaurus@zealouscookierebeltrash@sleepilysworld@laylasbunbunny @american-sataness @cevans-winchester@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@jstarr86 @coquita @ilikepunsbeth @itsmytimetodream @laury-blackbeak @unstablekay@midnightmisses@magical-spit @ratsys @hopexargent @druigsluver29 @fresita1218

@chaoticthingpizza @cecehensonn @thatgirljayy @f4irylure @thedeadpo3t @monbrss @revnamjinn @bibella8swan @integalacticspacemonkey @marshmallowgem

@catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @daniallh @lis-likes-fics @agent-anna @blightwulf @mauvette268 @marvelatthetwilight @beefwhobarksandisalilmadalot @juniper-a @jules-bea2308 @comic-book-overload

@unicornicopia1 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember

[curekibouka-writing]

They Live in You (Twst fanfic)

**mild SPOILERS for Book 7 chapter 4**

Summary: Perhaps for the first time in his life, Malleus tried to look harder at himself. He never noticed how, even if he was still young, one could see without a doubt, he was Malleus Draconia, and he was their child. 

Word count: 1275

Warning: Referenced character death. Mentions of war.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This is for the event “Anthems of Old” from @briarvalleyarchives​. This piece is inspired by the song "They Live in You" from the Lion King musical. This might or might not be fic number one to a series depending on whether I can finish the other two before the deadline XD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to the music room was swung open with an energetic bam. The young prince glanced up from the cello he was playing, a small smile warming the golden shimmer of his tired eyes. 

“Lilia—“

“Malleus~ It’s been months! Did you miss me, my boy?” Lilia was still in his full armour with his iconic mask, but even so his bright grin was heard, and he asked with a vitality one would think is impossible for a soldier who had so recently returned from battle. 

“I’m no child, Lilia.” 

“Awww but you did, didn’t you?” Lilia opened his arms, awaiting an embrace. 

Malleus put down the cello bow but shook his head slowly. A gesture that Lilia understood. The older fae’s hands dropped to the side of his body, his armour clanging in the process. 

“It’s good to see you return safely, Lilia.” 

Lilia nodded and bowed slightly, before taking off his mask, choosing not to kneel in front of Malleus like talking to a child, but to keep standing straight instead. 

“Malleus, I’m sorry we lost the northern woods.” 

Malleus’s lips twitched. Flames flashed in his eyes. He had watched from the castle balcony, when the borderlands were burnt down by crimson, pungent fire of war. It was far, far out of his reach, but he had heard it. He had heard the earth crack, the trees fall, the sky shrouded, the soldiers scream, summoning wind and water to push back the flames. But what’s gone is gone. The land had cried, and so had he, another piece scorched black on his father’s and mother’s beautiful land. 

“I saw it happen,” the prince closed his eyes, “And all I did was watch.”

And though there were plenty of words Lilia could think of that were true and just and would tell the child he did no wrong, there was none that the child truly needed, none that the child would believe. 

“You know what the northern woods used to be, don’t you, Lilia?” 

Of course he did. He had been there before, accompanying the prince.

The then prince. 

“Father used to go there. He used to negotiate with the inhabitants about conservation measures due to high magic density in the area and the rich magical resources that could be obtained there,” Malleus said, and then added, “I read that in books.” 

He stood up, his height allowing to look at Lilia right in the eyes, “It was one of the last things my father left undone, before he was gone, wasn’t it, Lilia?” He put down the cello by his chair, “I thought I could take over it one day. The woods still had great potential, the woods still had father’s footsteps, I wanted to follow him one day. Like this cello, I wanted to be able to play it without feeling it’s too big for me one day.” 

His shoulders scrunched up even though he tried to hide it, “And it’s gone now. They’re gone, again.” 

And Lilia wished he had Mallenoa’s strong embrace that could enfold every inch of you, he wished he had Levan’s gentle touch that could seep right into your heart, and he knew he was wearing his cold, hard armour but still he offered the best he could to their child. 

“They’re not gone,” he pulled the child close with his left hand and rested his right hand on the child’s head. 

Because he understood why this mattered so much to Malleus. He had been there when the woods burnt down. He had felt a fire inside him hotter than whatever the humans had conjured because he had seen the silhouettes of his prince and his princess in those woods as they were warped by the heat of the flames and twisted into nothingness. Because it wasn’t enough killing them once, the war had killed them twice. 

But Lilia could gaze up and come back because there was hope here. Because they were here. 

“They live in you, Malleus.” 

The child said nothing, and only pushed himself further into Lilia’s embrace.  

“When you walk, I see him beside you. Every day I find his silhouette in your steps.” 

Lilia let go of Malleus, shifting his right hand to the child’s cheek, “And when you smile, I see her in you.” The excitement in the way their eyes shimmered, the innocence in the way their lips curled, to Lilia, it was like she barely left.

Malleus scoffed under his breath, “You’re lying. Father was so much taller, mother was so regal. How could you see them in me?” 

“How could I not, my boy?” Lilia laughed, creating a mirror-like surface with magic, “Look at yourself.” 

“……” Malleus wiped his eyes and looked, “…it’s just me.” 

“Look harder,” Lilia whispered, brushing up Malleus’s bangs that were covering his scales, “They’re right here.” 

And perhaps for the first time in his life, Malleus tried to look harder at himself. He never noticed how the curve of his horns or the shimmer of his scales or the colours of his eyes resembled his mother’s. He never noticed how the shape of his face or his wide shoulders or his long legs resembled his father’s. Even if he was still young, one could see without a doubt, he was Malleus Draconia, and he was their child. 

“See?” Lilia put his hands on Malleus’s tensed shoulders, “They live in your reflection.” 

Malleus pursed his lips, shifting away from Lilia’s hands, “What good does it do? Could I be even half the ruler they were? Could I give all of myself to protect my land and my people like they did?” 

Lilia’s smile faded. There were memories that were never written in any history books that he held within his head. What was pride for the kingdom was nightmares for him, what was a loss for the kingdom was a sword stabbing through his heart for the centuries to come until he finally finally joins them. He could not bear another loss, he could not let their son do that. 

Lilia dispelled the magical mirror and flung open the curtains covering the music room’s glass walls. They gazed outside at the summer sun showering bright glimmers over the land that was healing, the land that was quiet and still and peaceful now. 

“You are still young,” Lilia said to Malleus, but his eyes never left the scenery outside, “And you are already such a fine prince. I know you think that they live in these lands, in every creature and in every star. I know you love this kingdom that they gave every fibre of their magic to protect. I know you want to protect all that they’ve left behind for you.

“But you are not alone, my dear. Every soul that their spirits had touched are one with you in our love for this land,” Lilia took Malleus’s hand in both of his, “Be patient, my prince. There is no mountain too great. There is no limit to your power. May the night bless you.” 

Malleus squeezed Lilia’s hands tightly, thinking, breathing, trying to believe that Lilia was right. And he thought about how Lilia had been there when his parents were alive, how Lilia had been their friends, how Lilia had known them and seen them and touched them. He glanced at Lilia kneeling to talk to him, to meet his downcast eyes, and he briefly wondered if this was what his father’s hands would’ve felt like too. 

“Thank you, Lilia,” the child smiled in the way Lilia remembered of her, “They live in you as much as they live in me.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What was preventing Azul from taking the MC dorm before the MC arrived in this world?(sorry if they did say and I missed it)

I don’t believe it was ever explicitly said why Azul didn’t try to take Ramshackle prior to Yuu and Grim moving in. However, I think we can draw a very reasonable guess as to why he didn’t.

Firstly, Azul’s not the type to use force, especially not as a first resort. He won’t just stroll up to the headmaster to put the squeeze on him to give him all the land and resources he wants. Even if Azul wants something badly, uses less than savory means to obtain his desires, and/or tried to sabotage a deal to go in his favor, he doesn’t give outright unreasonable demands or conditions. He’s not stupid; there’s not way anyone would agree to listen to him or consider his offer if he’s so openly aggressive right off the bat. Keep in mind that at this point, Azul also likely did not have anything to leverage over Crowley, so the headmaster has no reason to do what he demands. It took that first year for Azul to strike up deals and to get students under his thumb, which he would then use to pressure Crowley into granting him permissions for the Mostro Lounge. This takes time and effort to pull off, and Azul’s in it to play the long game.

Speaking of time and effort, I’d wager that’s why Azul never seemed to actively pursue the acquisition of Ramshackle dorm until later. The main story seems to begin with Azul in his second year—and it is during the second year when his ambitions reach their peak in the events of book 3. Before this, Azul was most likely concerned with building his own reputation at NRC (as a freshman), as well as building his business. Most of his efforts were likely going toward making his first and main branch a success. After all, he needs to have a proven track record and, more importantly, the influence (dorm leader seat, Crowley’s backing, etc) and the base capitol (money) to expand to a new location. It’s bad business to expand willy-nilly just because he can.

Also consider that since Azul is the dorm leader of Octavinelle, he just has easier access and control of his own territory rather than making things harder for himself by encroaching on the territory of others (which includes general campus land and buildings, as well as the pocket dimensions of the other sorms). It would look bad on his part, especially seeing as he is a relatively new person in power suddenly picking fights with his seniors and staff; it doesn’t help Azul come off as “likeable”, which is something he tries very hard to be. Reputation is very important to him!! It just so happens to be very inconvenient timing that the land Azul had been after for a second Mostro Lounge is suddenly someone else’s living space 😂 It’s probably safer for Azul to swipe the land of a magicless student that lives in an “unofficial” dorm than to jump through extra administrative and blackmailing efforts to pressure Crowley to make another deal with him (+ potentially fight with other dorm leaders).

On a more meta level, I don’t actually think making a second Mostro Lounge at Ramshackle makes a lot of sense?? If you look at a map of NRC, Ramshackle is located off in a relatively isolated location on campus (which is further exemplified by Malleus explicitly choosing to visit the area on his walks, because he says it is nice and quiet there); I don’t think you’d realistically get a ton of foot traffic at Ramshackle, especially when a cafeteria exists inside of the main school building. To me, Azul wanting Ramshackle for his second location seems more like a plot contrivance to up the stakes for the player if Yuu doesn’t end up fulfilling their end of the bargain.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

A grown up Little Red Riding Hood meets werewolves and witches in a stand alone, adult fantasy romance. To enter the woods as a human means death… But I am no mere human. They call me, “witch." As one of the last surviving witches, Faelyn’s sole duty is to keep the protective barriers on the forests where the lykin roam—creatures who can shed flesh for fur—sparing nearby humans from their violent, beastly natures. When she has an unlikely encounter with the rare, primordial spirit of the moon, Faelyn finds herself not only the object of the Wolf King’s desire, but essential to his ability to keep his crown. Taken to the magical land of Midscape, the Wolf King claims her as his bride to control the moon spirit’s magic that now resides within Faelyn. But Faelyn refuses to resign herself and the spirit Aurora to a life of servitude underneath the king’s cruel rule. Faelyn hatches a dangerous plan for them both to escape and help comes from an unlikely ally. Evander is the king’s blisteringly handsome, loyal knight, right hand, and Faelyn’s sworn protector…on the outside. But appearances are not what they seem. He plots against the king’s brutality at every turn and helping Faelyn escape will serve these ends. But altruism for Faelyn and the trapped moon spirit isn’t his only motivation… Evander is hiding secrets, and they might change Faelyn’s life forever. A desperate plot to escape. A brutal king. Ancient powers. And a sworn protector who can’t keep his hands off her… Will she be taken as the Wolf King’s bride? Or will she manage an escape that will free her heart and change her fate forever? A Dawn with the Wolf Knight is a complete, *stand alone novel*. For readers who love romantasy novels with second-chance/long-lost love, life-changing female friendships, deep lore, forbidden romance, slow-burn, and a happily ever after.About the Married to Magic Novels: Each Married to Magic novel is a stand alone, fantasy romance about a young woman being taken to the world of Midscape and falling in love with a magical man. These novels can be read in any order and have no overarching plot or characters.

Review:

A witch who wants to do what is right finds herself stuck in a complicated mess while trying to save the moon spirit... while dealing with a Wolf King who is determined to control her and take her for his new bride yet her forbidden attraction to the noble knight who is meant to guard her is getting harder to resist. Faelyn is one of the last weaver witches and after the last of her family passes awat she spends her days after collecting herbs and spending time with the spirits that reside in her home. Yet when she saves a strange girl in the woods who turns out to be a moon spirit running away from an evil wolf king hellbent on enslaving her, Faelyn feels duty bound to save her.... only the king has sent his knights to capture her and now Faelyn has been captured as well since the moon spirit has given her half her power. Evander is the noble and “loyal” knight of the wolf king, bound to him and his sole duty is to protect the moon spirit. Evander might seem loyal but his loyalties lie somewhere else and his motives are hard to tell yet one thing is certain, he hates the wolf king. The wolf king is determined to obtain the moon spirits power and if forcing Faelyn to marry him and control her then he'll do it whether she wants it or not.

Trust is earned, power is fought for, and a romance that even the fates can't break. A fantastic story with touches of Little Red Riding Hood and a bit of Howls Moving Castle. I absolutely adored this addition to the series. Faelyn and Evander’s romance was so well done and the way they were fated to be together and kept coming back for one another was just so well written. I also loved the magic and the friendships in this book so much. Faelyn is such a sweet character and Evander was the perfect love interest for her. If you love forbidden knight romances and fated romances, this is for YOU. I've been such a huge fan of this series and I can't wait for more from this world!

Release Date: August 1,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Elise Kova for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[brassknucklespeirs]

5 / 21 with Ron because You Get It.

Pᴏɪsᴏɴ [Rᴏɴᴀʟᴅ Sᴘᴇɪʀs x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Angry/Jealous Kiss with Ronald Speirs

i wrote this while listening to Poison by Alice Cooper and man did it set a scene for me so we're calling this little ficlet..

To say there was tension between Captain Ronald Speirs and Lieutenant Y/N L/N would be a complete and utter understatement. Both parties made sure to express to everyone that what they held for each other was a sense of dislike, one that took over every sense of their being when they were around each other, which was often, as two officers of Easy Company, but it has always been said to never judge a book by its cover. The two officers were interesting beings and outwardly seemed almost complete opposites of one another, one who hid his emotions so deep in himself that he could be considered heartless, while the other had hers on her sleeve for the world to see. The one thing they similarly shared was their pride, and god did it rear its ugly head when they were together.

Y/N was a woman deserving of her rank, having worked hand and foot to obtain the level of respect she received from the enlisted men and officers alike; a respect she felt was severely lacking from only one man. Ronald Speirs was a man of reputation, and boy did he fight hard to create the image he was viewed as. He wasn’t in it for the name per se, though of course it was certainly an added bonus, yet Y/N made it aware that she found that hard to believe. From the judgey eyes she constantly found loitering in her directions, combined with the numerous times he had snapped at her in front of the men about things such as chatting to them in passing or spending too much time with the enlisted, the woman held bitter thoughts of the man. Perhaps this made her bias towards speaking on his character.

In addition to that, she found the man’s way of doing things unnecessary and down right stupid, meaning she looked for any way to criticise his ability to be praised for the smallest of thing. Perhaps it was simply because she too had worked herself to the bone, putting herself on the line on multiple occasions and yet received nothing more than a clap on the back for it. Ronald Speirs was put on a pedestal for all the world to see and received every benefit from it while she stood below, craning her head just to snarl up at him.

The real problem came in to play that night, and as a lot of acts of chaos begin, it started with a drink. Y/N was much like Buck had been, the labelled rank she had been given was hardly able to sway her from joining those men off duty for a drink while they stopped by in a town in Switzerland. Much to the enjoyment of her soldiers and friends, the woman had let loose for the first time since before the war, the alcohol lingering in her brain like a pretty haze of clouds. 

The woman in question was leaning on Floyd’s shoulder for support as they drunkenly giggled through their shared conversation. Luz held her by the opposite shoulder, worried she might tumble off the bar stool if she tilted any further from her seat, yet a fond grin was pulled to his lips as he rolled his eyes at her antics. Y/N felt free, more so than she had in so long, the weight of the world seemingly falling from her shoulders the more she spent with the men. 

Captain Speirs sat in the corner of the bar, Nixon on his left and Welsh on his right, both of whom were watching the twitch of his lip as his gaze lingered on the two men pressed against her. They shared a glance, a knowing look passing over their faces before they turned back to their friend. 

“You know, one of them just might spontaneously combust if you glare any harder Ron.” Nixon quipped, raising an eyebrow at the man as his head whipped to him, the look of denial in his eyes alerting the intelligence officer of the words that were about to tumble from his lips. Yet no words came as he glanced between his two companions, sensing from the looks he was receiving thst there was going to be no way out of this. He simply huffed, shrugging his shoulders before wrapping his fingers around the lukewarm beer that had been sitting in front of him untouched for a good while. His knuckles turned white and his fingers seemed to flex and twitch around the glass as he turned his glare to the table, and one could say it was almost a pit that seemed to rise to his face, like that of a child getting their favourite toy taken off them.

Y/N was finally starting to settle down from her boisterous laughter, her hand still clutching at her stomach to try and apply pressure to the stitch that cramped her belly. After a moment, she too reached for her glass, though of course hers was much more empty than that of a certain captain’s. She took a large gulp, savouring the crisp drink while her ears tuned in to a new conversation the men had been having that she seemed to be only partially involved in. Luz’s voice sounded from beside her causing her eyes to flicker to him, yet the haze of the alcohol seemed to make her mind fuzzy as she caught a glimpse of Speirs over his shoulder. She quickly looked away from him, but had looked at him long enough to notice his eyes set harshly in the table in front of him while the other two officers beside him cackled away to each other.

The woman let her eyes linger on George’s face as she felt the conflict build up in her, clenching at her mind and trying to take control of her while she thought of Speirs; damn intrusive thoughts. It would seem she didn’t win her battle as her gaze slowly fluttered over Luz’s shoulder and back to the man behind him while she took another sip of her drink. The cup hid her wandering eye, covering the fact that she was blatantly staring at the flexing fingers that had been firmly wrapped around his glass. Her lips left her own pint glass as her bottom one was pulled between her teeth, nibbling gently at the soft flesh. The captain’s gaze hadn’t moved, but she watched as his hand left the beer on the table and moved to his face, his thumb rubbing along his lip while he stared off into space. She couldn’t help it, the man looked so calm and she could even say beautiful when his facial expression softened, showing that fact that his mind was drifting off. Y/N didn’t even realise she had been chewing furiously at her own lip until she pinched the skin a little too hard causing her to jolt slightly. As if sensing it, his gaze flickered to her immediately, taking in the way her fingers brushed gently against her slightly bleeding lip before her eyes moved back to him.

The two almost froze as they stared, like dear in the headlights, yet as people known to be fierce and well put together, they both snapped out of it quickly. They’re faces both held what some could say was indifference, but there was a swirling storm wreaking havoc in both of their heads as they refused to be the first one to back down from this staring contest. What people didn’t know is that there had been a game of cat and mouse going on between the two for a while now, one that even they couldn’t decipher, and though they’d both figured out why, neither seemed to be prepared to act on it; until now.

Y/N almost jumped at the feeling of an arm being wrapped around her waist, her eyes instantly moving away from Speirs to look at Luz, who had stepped closer to her, a look of concern pulled over his face.

“You alright there sweetheart?” He questioned, to which she just smiled gently, her mind clearly sobering up from that short experience of shock she had prior. The woman nodded, twisting her body to the side so she could lean on George, which was the only way she could stop herself from back to the captain sat behind them.

“Yeah Georgie, I’m better than alright.” She replied before tuning back into the conversation with a small squeeze of the man’s hand to show that he acknowledged her answer. What she would have seen if she had turned back was that of a fuming Speirs. His lip was struggling to stay pressed together as the upper one twitched with irritation while his fists curled into themselves, his fingers digging into the palm of his hand as he did. He had had enough as he stood suddenly, ready to walk out and neglect the drink he had nowhere near finished, deciding that the alcohol he’d had prior was giving him enough of a buzz; of course that was a buzz of annoyance and spiked anger. He looked back at the other two officers at the table, both of whom were looking at him in confusion as well as amusement.

“You alright there Ron?” Welsh asked before taking a swig of his beer, hiding the smirk that was pulling at his lips. The man didn’t nod at this, just let out a huff before stepping away from his chair to leave.

“Think it’s time I go and sort some things out before tomorrow.” He almost snarled in reply, the anger gripping at his chest and squeezing so very tight as his eyes caught a glimpse of Luz’s hand on your waist. Nix followed his line of sight, the smirk he already had becoming even bigger as he looked back at Ron.

“Want us to send L/N to help?” The intelligence officer said teasingly, the sentence causing a giggle to rise from Welsh’s mouth beside him. Ron went to snap back at the comment but he stopped himself, thinking it over a bit in his mind. He took a second before clearing his throat, his fists still clenched tightly at his side as he raised his chin up slightly higher into the air.

“Yes, that might be helpful, thank you Nix.” He replied cussing both men to pause their giggling, though the cheeky grins never left their faces. Nixon shrugged before taking a sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair further.

“Alright, whatever you want boss.” The man said, to which Ron just nodded before turning on his heels and storming out. Almost every eye in the room followed him as he disappeared in a flurry of heavy footfall, his gaze as cold as ice as he glanced around the room one more time. He caught yet another glimpse of Y/N pressed up against her friends, a little too close for his liking. His head snapped forward to stop himself from doing something he’d regret, and once he’d exited the door he closed it with purpose, his grip on the handle being extremely firm while another huffed breath left his mouth.

Y/N and the rest of the men continued staring at the door even after it was closed, no sound echoing around them as everyone held a similar confusion as to what just happened. No one would question it though, seeing as Speirs was a very mysterious man, one that no one would ever think of pissing off intentionally. The conversation slowly started back up again, though she struggled to pull her gaze from the door until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, coming face to face with one Lewis Nixon who stood behind her with a sloppy smile on his face, one that was clearly created from the several glasses of hard liquor he had consumed that night.

“Hey Nix, can I help you?” The woman asked with a grin, giggling slightly at the drunken man in front of her. He stumbled slightly as he leaned toward her, yet she caught him with her hands on his arms while she too leant forward so he wouldn’t have to.

“Ah yes, you can help me. We’ll actually not me, Captain Speirs. He wants to see you.” He muttered into her ear before giggling. Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion at his words, but a deep pit of worry soon followed as her brain connected the dots of him storming out.

“Uh yeah, I guess I’ll go now.” She replied as she stood, throwing an excuse over her shoulder at the men when they asked where she was going. “I’ll be back soon, promise.”

The air was cold as she stepped out into the fresh night air, the chill nipping at her skin causing a faint blush to cover her cheeks and nose. Her eyes scanned the area outside before falling on the lit up end of a cigarette by the side of the building, and she could make out the shining tank on his jacket as he inhaled again. The woman took a deep breath and squared her shoulders off before walking over to him, her arms crossing over her chest.

"You wanted to see me Sir?" Y/N asked, to which he rose his head to look at her. He took another puff of his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stamping it, rather aggressively one could say, into the stone beneath his feet. He didn’t say anything, only gazed at her while tilting his head, a look of thought crossing over his face again. “Sir?” She called again, confused as to what he’d need her help with, especially when he wasn’t saying a word. She took a few steps closer to him until they were only a metre or so away, his eyes cast on her with every movement she made. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shimmering in the dim light of the street lamps. They held each other’s gaze for several moments before he looked away with a humourless laugh, one of his hands coming up to run through his hair in frustration.

“You infuriate me woman.” He said finally, his tone seemingly cold yet it held a touch of something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Her eyebrows drew together while her head pulled back towards her shoulders, taking offence to what he had said.

“Excuse me? I don’t quite understand what’s happening sir.” Y/N almost stuttered but she held firm and steady in the end, refusing to let his words take her own from her. He laughed again, this time taking a step closer to her, his eyes set upon her so intensely.

“I said you infuriate me.” He spoke again, taking one more step as he finished speaking, causing her to take a step back as well. The woman blinked several times, too lost in what he had said to realise he was still stepping towards her until her foot caught the wall behind her as they neared the side of the building. Her eyes flickered behind her slightly, realising she had nowhere to go as she refused to take one more step to be backed into a wall. Her eye turned back, looking up at him as she cleared her throat.

“You infuriate me too sir.” She replied defiantly, nudging her nose into the air to try and show her confidence in the matter, even though the growing proximity between them was making it harder to breath. He hummed lowly, but didn’t say anything else as he stopped moving towards her, though his eyes were still set on taking in every detail of her face.

“You’re too friendly with the men.” The officer said suddenly, and she had to control herself when the urge to roll her eyes came in full force.

“Sir, if I may, we’ve been over this before. They are my friends, yes, but they respect me as much as they need to, and maybe even more. That’s more than I can say about some people.” Y/N replied, the anger bubbling up under her skin as she thought of all the times this obnoxious man had tried to tell her to stop being so friendly to the enlisted men.

“And by ‘some people’ you mean me, Lieutenant?” Ron said with the smallest of smirks, his eyebrows raised in mock question as he stared down at her. She readjusted the position of her head as she crossed her arms even tighter over her body and cleared her throat again, her temper ready to boil over.

“Actually yes, I do sir. Because I’m here working my ass off for no reward at all while you could be out there making a cup of coffee and someone will congratulate you on how amazing you are.”

“It’s nice to know I’m so highly thought of.” The man replied, his smirk widening.

“Ugh, this isn’t a joke sir. You need to get off your high horse. Seriously, it’s annoying how you get everything you want with the snap of your fingers.” Her voice held such resentment, though it wasn’t focused on him, merely her lack of the treatment he got for doing anything. Speirs let out a huffed snort of air through his nose and she watched as his pupils blew several sizes bigger while he looked down at her. He took a step forward, almost pressing their bodies together if it weren’t for the fact that she’d stepped back into the wall, a quiet yelp of shock coming from her lips. His eyes were like that of a predator stalking it’s prey as they looked at her so intensely while he took that finally step to her, the space between them now being almost nonexistent.

“Not everything I want.” He practically whispered to her and she couldn’t help it as a shiver ran down her spine at the husky tone of it. His eyes set on her so carefully didn’t help, if anything it made her palms sweat and her heart race, something she couldn’t deny at that very moment.

“S-sir?” She stuttered out in slight shock, completely aware that the game they had been playing was quickly coming to its end. She inhaled sharply as she felt two hands grip at either side of her hips, the same fingers she’d been staring at 20 minutes ago were now digging into her flesh and god did she enjoy it.

“You really do infuriate me. And then you push me even further by letting everyone be so close to you but me. It’s like your taunting me, and it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane.” The man continued his previous remark, and the other officer felt as if the oxygen had left her body, her eyes widening while she stared up at him.

“Well, it’s mutual.” The words had slipped out of her mouth without her thinking, yet she wouldn’t have even had time to cover her mouth and apologise for her out-of-order remark before his lips were pressed against hers. She hasn’t been ready at all but the woman didn’t hesitate to kiss back, pushing against his lips just as harshly as he was to hers, as if they were still fighting this never existent battle between them. Her hands moved quickly to his hair, tugging at the soft strands as she wrangled to pull him as close to her as possible. His own hands were still on her hips, pushing with such force that she should be concerned she might end up falling through the brick wall behind her, yet she relished in the feeling of being handled so passionately.

His hands gave a particularly hard squeeze, his fingers digging into her warm flesh as he savoured the feeling of her being so soft under his touch. She let out a moan when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, the kiss becoming more frantic as they grasped at each other like they were in desperate need of affection. Ron groaned into her mouth when she bit at his lip, both their eyes opening as she pulled away, a cheeky smirk on her face. His eyes glistened at he stared down at her, happy that he had finally shown her why he didn’t like the men being around her so closely.

“I get it now. You want me all to yourself huh Ron?” The woman questioned teasingly, her tongue dashing out of her mouth to lick her lips absentmindedly.

“I honestly don’t care how close you are with the men, with reason of course, as long as I get the attention that I deserve as well.” He replied, his eyes flickering between her eyes and her mouth.

“‘Attention you deserve’? Who would have thought that scary, intimidating Ronald Speirs was needy for a little love.”

“Only if it’s yours, then yes, call me needy.” He confessed, his eyes shining with mirth as he looked down at her, opening his mouth to say something else before he stopped short at the sound of the pub door opening and closing. He glanced at her to stay quiet for a moment as he stepped back out into the light when he heard the footsteps getting closer. The man moved around the corner fully, leaning against the wall to cover any sign of the woman still pressed against the wall around the side of the building, one who was still trying to catch her breath from the dizzying experience she had just had. His hands moved to pull out a cigarette when his eyes found Talbert’s, the latter man walking towards him with a look of recognition on his face.

“Captain Speirs, Sir, sorry to bother you. You haven’t happened to have seen Lieutenant L/N walking around have you?” Tab asked, a slight tone of concern on his voice. Ron lit his cigarette before taking a long inhale, the smoke creating a large haze of cloud as he blew it back out before answering.

“I can’t say I have sergeant.” Tab looked slightly deflated at the comment but he just nodded his head.

“Oh well, thank you sir.” That was all he said before he turned on his heels and wandered off into the night towards the house he knew Y/N was staying in. Ron’s eyes followed him until his figure disappeared into the dark before he heard a giggle erupt from behind him. He took another drag of his lucky strike as he rounded the corner again, his eyebrow raised at the woman who stood laughing to herself, still in the spot that he left her. He took several steps to get back to her, stopping just shy of their previous proximity.

“‘I can’t say I have sergeant’, what a little liar you are Ronald Speirs.” He liked it when she said his name, so much so that he reached out to grab her hips once more, pulling her away from the wall and into his arms, the cigarette abandoned on the floor as he did. His lips found hers again, moulding together like they were meant to be there, made to be there, kissing this exact woman. He smiled against her lips when he felt her melt into his arms, and any tension that was there before had blown away with the wind as she relaxed.

“I could get use to this.” She whispered when they pulled away, their lips still brushing together as her mouth moved. Ron gazed down at her for a moment before chuckling, his hands giving a playful squeeze to her hips.

"Careful there Lieutenant, you almost sound like you enjoy my company."

"Well I mean, seeing as I did just have your tongue down my thro-" The woman didn’t get to finish her words as his hand came to cover her mouth.

"Alright, alright, get your ass outta before your little buddies come looking for you again." Y/N let him hold his hand there as he talked, her eyes flickering to it and back to him on multiple occasions as she thought of them on her, in any way that she could. She popped her own dream bubble to surface back to reality when she realised he’d been staring at he with amusement, a single eyebrow raised in acknowledgment of her flickering eyes. He let her go from his grasp, stepping back to allow her room to walk around him only for her to not move.

"Awh, you don't wanna be seen with me, is that it? How dare I tarnish the great Captain Speirs' reputation by making him soft." Y/N teased with a toothy grin to which he leaned down towards her once again, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You make me anything but." He replied with a smirk as he nudged his nose against hers, his hands squeezing at her hips tightly. She rolled her eyes at the meaning behind his words, hiding the fact that she was screaming on the inside, her stomach seemingly doing flips within her body.

"Careful there Captain, you almost sound like you enjoy my company." She mocked the words he had spoken to her earlier causing Ron to roll his eyes at his cheeky little woman.

"Unfortunately." He replied with an annoyed look, though the playfulness was clear in his tone. Y/N smiled at him, her eyes trailing all over his face as it shone in the street light, and she couldn’t help it when she leant forward to give him one last gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. She watched as his eyes fluttered slightly before she stepped back, a warm feeling of endearment cocooning her entire body the longer she looked at him.

"Bye Ronnie." The woman said as she walked back off into the night to find where Tab had run off to, but not before giving one last glance over her shoulder at him. He smiled at her, one that was full of affection and happiness, not at all the same man who had angrily and jealously stomped out of the bar in a huff. She knew then, regardless, she would take him either way. Her left eye dropped in a wink before she looked back towards her destination, a soft schoolgirl smile pulling to her lips as she reached up to brush her fingers agains them, completely and utterly in bliss from what had just occurred.

I should piss him off more often.

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

Yes, you're alive again. Your letters were very dull indeed. But I understood that they were, and that this long absence after such harsh trials extinguishes your energy a little: I was waiting for life to flow back, to be brand new and brilliant, full of flame.  And then it will disappear again. I'm like you in that respect. That's why I can't meditate when I feel you shrinking.

I have decided once and for all that we are united forever. So these are all light shadows. They pass, and there remains the soil of our love. But of course my heart is lighter when I read your joy or your tenderness, and it seems to me that personally I have fewer ups and downs. It just gets harder, that's all. But it has to be to survive and also to finally get over the illness. I am patiently trying to regain control of myself, to regain the self-control that I had lost. For more than a year, everything that happened to me, except you, happened to me without my consent. I was dragged along by events, moods, the work itself, and finally the illness. And in order to accomplish what I still have before me, to be, quite simply, I need a continuous strength, a superiority over myself. Then I get up, slowly, I rebuild my will and my body. I'm not sure I'll succeed, but I have to, failure would be terrible.

That's why I can answer you when you ask me if I feel rich and generous. I don't feel either, I'm too focused on doing well, on getting back in the game, to feel truly overwhelmed. But at least I'm gaining ground. I have always lived madly and it is enough for me to obtain from myself, for a period of time, a discipline so that recovery seems miraculous. Yes, I apply myself, I eat with application, I sleep with application, if I dare say so, and I calculate my efforts. But the truth is that, deep in my heart, I am sad to die from all those days lost for love, from your absence, from my pain in living my present life. Yes, I have to, that's all I know. Yes, we have to.

How to love, how to create, if I am below myself! The person I was during this year disgusts me. And I must have the strength to live for us and for what I have to do. I am sending you those nuptials* that you asked me for. I have reread, here and there, some of the passages. What easy disdain! But at least I was alive then. It is this flame that I must find again, added to what I know now, and it seems to me that then you will be able to love me; you see, if we have enough courage for that, there are still long and great joys awaiting us. I live for them and for you, my tender, my darling, my beautiful face. I kiss you, I fill your eyes with kisses, I close your mouth. Courage, my dear love, courage for us and for the one who cherishes you from afar, but with all his heart.

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, February 2, 1950 [#164]

* Albert Camus, Noces, Alger, Charlot, May 1939. It is the second book of Albert Camus.

[firstdivisiongirl]

Omg I just read your piece about Zoro trying to ask out the reader with help from robin but reader thinks Zoro likes robin and what if there was an alternate version where the reader actually liked robin after realizing things with Zoro would never happen. So when she sees the two spending hella time together she feels like crushed even harder cause now her ex-crush is making moves on her new crush but really Zoro had been talking robin through what it’s like to have feelings for reader and explaining how he thinks reader and Robin would be better suited together than he could’ve ever been.

You don’t have to write it and I know it’s so specific but lol I thought it would be a nice lil alternate version. Like the majority of the piece is reader wasting her time with men cause her last crush is putting the work on her lady crush 😌

Hello there! I’m happy you enjoyed my story. Thank you. So this was a little difficult. I usually don’t think about alternate versions of stories. Now I think I should. This was an amazing idea. I’m happy you requested this. Please enjoy! 🧡

Zoro the Matchmaker

Sometimes things that seem perfect on paper don’t work out in real life.  Were you and Zoro a great team? Yes.  He was your best friend. Were you two opposites? Yes. And that’s why it wouldn’t work.  You were too much of opposites.  You were in different places in your lives.  He had a huge goal and would do anything to obtain it.  You didn’t have this huge goal, you were just focused on finding happiness.  But, as time went on your crush on Zoro diminished.  And you slowly fell in love with another.  You fell in love with Nico Robin.  The two of you would be perfect together.  You worked well together, we’re different enough but also very similar.

One day, you realized something.  Zoro and Robin seemed to be spending a lot of time together.  You were so irritated.  Great, you thought, your former crush and your new crush are going to get together and you’re going to be all alone.  You started to be in so many moods.  One day you would be extremely annoyed, yelling at anyone who looked at you the wrong way.  While the next, you were crying into your pillow.  There was no in between.  

“You have got to stop moping around,” Nami told you.  She was so tired of this.  She could easily handle 3 emotional weirdos (Sanji, Usopp, and Brook), but you were testing her patience.

“Why? I’m going to die alone,” you said, floppy down on deck.  Out of nowhere, Zoro appeared.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” he asked the annoyed navigator.

“She’s having emotional issues.  She likes Robin, but she thinks you and Robin are a thing and she’s getting worse than Luffy when we’re out of food.”

You got up, “really Nami? Telling Zoro all my secrets?”

“Yes!  Zoro, she’s your problem now.”  With that, Nami walked away.

Zoro stooped down so he was closer to where you were on the ground.  “You’re overthinking Y/N,” he said, “I’m helping Robin with her feelings for you.  She likes you, but she thinks you and I should go out.”

“Come again?” you asked perplexed.

Zoro chuckled a little, “I’ve been telling her that you two are perfect for each other, not us.  I’ve also been trying to help her with date ideas.  Although, she doesn’t think drinking all night is a great date.”

“Thanks Zoro,” you said.  You were smiling from ear to ear.  The light that had disappeared from your e/c orbs has come back.  You pat Zoro on the shoulder, as you get up and rush over to see Robin.

When you reach her, she is lying in the sun, reading a book.  “Hey Robin,” you interrupt her nervously, “I really like you.  You know, like a huge crush kind of like.  Do you want to go out with me?”

Robin looked up from her book and smiled, “I’d love that.  I feel the same way about you!”

The two of you went out together on your first date as a couple on the next island.  That date was the first of many.  Who knew that Zoro would be such a good matchmaker?

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

[vidavs-refectorium]

Kara Morant [Chaotic Player]

Nineteen as of the M'arrillian Invasion, Kara is a short young woman with light skin dark and gray eyes on a clear face. Naturally a blonde, she died her straight hair black as teenager and has kept it that way. Usually, it reaches a few inches below her shoulders and untied, though will put it on a bun or ponytail if needed. And just like her hair, Kara's wardrobe has its variety but it's all black and with a lot of boots. Often, she'll adorn her neck with a black collar and a necklace with some spiritual symbol. What exactly depends on her current interest in the supernatural, or just her mood that day. The same goes for the rings that may adorn her fingers, or the bracelets on her wrists. When it comes to makeup, Kara keeps it simple, just red or black lipstick, depending on the outfit or occasion. She hasn't gotten a tattoo, yet. When she does, she wants it to be something we won't regret within her lifetime.

Rarely, children are born perceptive to the paranormal–forces otherwise invisible to the human senses. These young souls are aware of entities others aren’t–a human spirit ambling in purgatory. Darker souls who haven’t passed by their mortal wrongdoings. Inhuman forces who ambled, or are summoned unto the Earth. If these children can’t see them, they can feel them, their aura, and through it their intentions. Kara Morant was born as one such child.

One of Kara’s earliest memories is of her toddling down the hallway in a past home. At the end of the hall stood a boy she'd never seen before. He didn’t move as Kara pointed him out to her parents. The boy hurried into the bathroom. However, when her father looked inside, he wasn’t there. With a laugh, her father assumed Kara was playing a game with one of her many imaginary friends. But none of her friends were human, and Kara knew what she saw. She soon realized she saw a ghost and that her family couldn’t, as while the boy was never seen again, Kara would encounter other spirits.

As it turned out, the house was haunted. However, none of the spirits showed bad intentions to Kara, her parents or visitors. Not the elderly spirits of the couple who lived here before, sometimes flickering her bedroom light switch, or discussing renovations never done. Not the lonesome spirit of a younger woman Kara would sometimes see on the back porch, staring blankly into the wilderness. And certainly not the soul of a black cat who mostly manifested in the laundry room, still behaving like a cat even in death. Those were just the recurring ones. Though it frightened her at first, Kara became comfortable with their sudden appearances, even if they hardly acknowledged her.

Sneaking to the living room computer past midnight, what sources a nine-year-old Kara found online confirmed the existence of kids like her–those who see dead people where others cannot. Unfortunately, the abilities are said to fade with age, starting at the double digits. Gradually, they weaken until they’re gone. Kara dreaded the day that would happen, and her tenth birthday was bittersweet as she was driven to her favorite pizzeria. There was nothing she or anybody could do to stop the loss of her powers, and that the people who made her house feel a little more alive would become invisible.

However, Kara's abilities never faded. If anything, they only seemed to become stronger with age. All she could surmise was that in even rare cases, some children never lost their gift. Kara considered herself lucky, and whispered her thanks to whoever or whatever granted this blessing.

It was this brief period of time that, when faced with the loss of her gift, drove Kara further into studying the realm of the supernatural. With a small disposable outcome and likeminded online friends, she began to acquire a collection of items for her passion. Decks of tarot cards and books about spirits were easy to obtain. Others, like necklaces with certain symbols and artifacts with spiritual imprint were harder to come by, as they should be. While passing a garage sale down the street, Kara spotted an old wooden ouija board and planchette on a table. She purchased those on sight, but mostly to keep them away from people who don’t understand their power.

A resourceful teenage Kara found a way into homes where she felt the paranormal. Most were with permission. She saw more than innocent ambling souls. No, some of these people weren’t so content with death. Spirits of vengeance–poltergeists–she sometimes encountered inside the houses of the different towns she and her family would live in throughout her childhood. Though some would lash out at Kara, she never found herself in true danger, and overcame what fear remained of them. But there are forces darker still that Kara knew to fear… demons. Their presence malevolent and not belonging to this earth, and their intentions grim. Most of them. All throughout these early years, Kara had kept her distance from the more shadowy side of the supernatural–the dark side of the spirit realm. From what she knew, these aspects of the plane beyond brought only trouble, as necessary as they may be. But a later encounter would flip Kara’s thoughts.

On Earth, Kara has encountered only two demons. The first she only sensed in a cabin in the woods with a macabre history, before booking it. The other took her and an online friend by surprise when they met in person. With backpacks of paranormal trinkets, they urbexed in an abandoned clinic, unaware of the occult practices happening in one office. They saw nothing and Kara felt nothing, until the kids performing the ritual made a stupid choice. Down one hall, they heard the screams. Investigating, they watched them flee the office. One of them, a boy, was caught on something. No, by something. Kara stared into its eyes, crimson and hollow–its form vaguely humanoid and all of pure darkness. She stopped in her tracks and her friend told her to run, but Kara too made a stupid choice. She had just purchased a brass artifact, one that demons detested for the divinity it carried. Kara revealed, then frightened the beast with it. The boy managed to escape its grasp and ran for his life.

The demon retreated to the office. Kara followed. Inside, she saw the tiled floor of toppled candles, a summoning circle in chalk and, of course, a ouija board. The gaggle of dumb cultists called for something they didn’t understand, in more ways than one. The demon confirmed this in his raucous voice. The only harm he meant on the other kids was to scare them away for their foolishness. Kara doubted it for the moment, before feeling the power within the artifact. The demon made no attempt to deceive, and the story lined up. It only asked Kara to close the ouija session the cultists didn’t, so that it could return to the shadows in peace, where it wouldn't be bothered. That was really something to relate to. Her friend couldn’t see the encounter, but came to believe Kara as the bad feeling in the clinic dissipated when the demon went home.

It was then that Kara realized that the spirit realm isn’t so black and white. Even more so as she learned to communicate with this same demon later on–she knows its name, but was sworn to never speak it aloud. The supernatural is a broad spectrum, both in the earth and Perim realms. This dark side Kara came to better grasp, and well, it was really her thing. Her darker emotions, her more discomforting thoughts about life and death resonated with it in a way she had never felt before. It was like discovering a missing part of her person. This changed not only Kara's perspective, but her clothing as well. Before this, she dressed fairly regular. From then on, she embraced her signature black look. That afternoon in the clinic, plus her devotion to studying and paying respect to the supernatural, would pay off in an unexpected way, when another online friend mentioned Chaotic.

Kara found the concept out there, even for her–a card game with a secret virtual reality that doubled as a gateway to a fantasy world. One that required being good at the game online and receiving a code. Rummaging forums, enough claims began to emerge from people with believable enough post history. On the off chance they weren’t lying, Kara wanted in. She sacrificed study time for her dark materials to pick up this game. A scanner plus decent cards weren’t hard to come by, and the format wasn’t too complicated. Within a couple months, Kara broke into the single thousands in the competitive leaderboard. No code yet. In the meantime, Kara read about Perim. The lore drew her attention, particularly the UnderWorlders for obvious reasons. The ethereals, described as essences of sorts, reminded her of the unspoken demon from the clinic. If the ‘real’ Chaotic did exist, she wished to be there.

Luckily, the chance came soon after as she won another match. Kara, and her code when it was created, knew what to do. Within five minutes, it returned with visions of a place she read descriptions of online. A platform in some sky with grass, sleek buildings and bridges and railroads connecting them. High technology on display inside them. Gigantic screens streaming matches and floating robots tending to players–the Port Court. Eight of them where the matches took place, where the players choose cards, code into creatures, or decode back to themselves–the dromes. Sometimes, rumors are true.

Pitted against another novice player in Jagged Pillar, Kara spent her first drome match learning about these creature morphs. She hardly felt different, and though she heard about the memory taps, she doubted they’re spiritual. No, Chaotic was all technology in probably a digital dimension between worlds. After throwing the match, Kara prepared for her first scan quest at the supply station. Besides needing to see Perim, the way players fanaticized over creatures, even if she couldn’t confirm they were real, made her cringe.

The moment Kara arrived, she sensed it. Flowing throughout the Forest of Life was the spirit realm, stronger than she’d ever felt on Earth. Though other locations Kara explored weren’t so intense, even the weakest surpassed the strongest spiritual nexus back home. Once more, the stories she read online were correct–Perim not only existed, but as a real place. Of course, this raised other questions, like Chaotic having a presence here, but she doubted the answers would come easy. Indeed, they didn’t, and until something surfaced, Kara could only explore Perim.

She used her physical deck to port across the territories. Danian Territory wasn’t Kara’s taste, but the ants’ dabbling in necromancy was interesting. Standing before a compost pile was like her visiting graveyards on Earth, the winds whispering with souls of the buried. Only, these bodies weren’t entombed in dirt. Mipedian territory reminded her the spirit realm can get trippy. Out in the sands, Kara saw the mirages, mimicries too good to be true and with an aura she just couldn’t explain. Stranger things lurked the sunbaked canyons past Hunter’s Perimeter. One entity almost snatched Kara into the eye of a dark storm. Another almost dragged her beneath a bridge overarching a misty gully. Friendly souls do reside here, like the stonebound spirits of Owayki and his warriors. Suspecting a curse, Kara promised to keep out for a solution. OverWorld territory was strong spiritually, but mostly benevolent forces of nature, peaceful souls, and earthlike sights. They left the smallest impression on Kara. Mugicians have been a mystery she wishes to solve, but even the creatures seem clueless to their origins. Music must be the key, but Kara is more a listener than a composer.

UnderWorld territory didn’t disappoint. The warm winds of the subterranean domain brimmed with dark forces. The UnderWorlders love their battlegear and vehicles, particularly that can destroy, but their connection to the mystic side of Perim is strong and on full display. The sigils that decorate various establishments. The skulls of creatures past used as ornaments, or masks. Stacks of books about souls and arcane practices–pathways to new power, divinity, and fulfillment. And most importantly, the wispy ethereals who dwell in the shadowy corners of the UnderWorld. Kara can feel their presence from afar…

And apparently, so can the ethereals. A couple sought her out, pondering her nature. There was Drakness, perhaps the most mysterious of them all. Nobody knows anything about him, besides his interest in the coveted Cothica. Blaaxa, an ethereal who revels in toying with certain creatures, like Mommark. With that OverWorlder’s mockery of even Perim nature, Kara didn’t complain. Last was Banshor, a moping ethereal who frequents an old shipwreck. He refused to elaborate on its origins and why he mourns but, like Drakness and Blaaxa, inquired why Kara is the way she is. Not even Kara knew, even after all she’s learned about the supernatural. The ethereals didn’t appear to take a liking to her, just remarked on her existence, perhaps to contact again sometime.

Either way, Kara could live here. Over the weeks, she handled tiny tasks to earn UnderWorld coin. Save up to obtain UnderWorld trinkets. Establish rapports with other creatures. The flying pitboss Rarran likes trading with humans, so he and Kara became instant contacts. The scout Dyrtax, stationed at Jade Pillar, confronts people who take too much. Jade was crucial to UnderWorld culture ceremonies, not to mention the Pillar maintained the ceiling. During a quest there, Kara caught a few greedy humans taking jade by the wheelbarrow. Using an UnderWorld woodwind she acquired, Kara deterred them with offkey shrills. For that, she earned Dyrtax’s respect. Visiting Infernal Inn, a popular eatery among the warriors, she shared jokes with the muge Illazar, watching conqueror Tharax pick a bad fight with commando Swassa. They’ve been on fair terms since. The few times they’ve met, Kara gets along with Nivenna, a pupil of Takinom, but she’s too broody to be around long.

Most players annoy the UnderWorlders, and Kara. She understood getting blasted during her first quests into the city. The players aren’t told the creatures are real, but they should know better. Still, Kara found exceptions. When a malfunctioned contraption sewed chaos in the Carnival of Confusion, Kara aided where she could as UnderWorlders fought. Same for FireKing, the friendliest UnderWorld player she knows, whom she ran into. Knowing this could get uglier, Kara and him convinced UnderWorlders to quit battling for ten minutes to restore order in the carnival. The two have kept in touch since, and made a human hangout on a desolate city street for they and other trustworthy players. Brinley, another boy of Kara's age, caught her attention when he helped bring Zalvar home. The conqueror muge was left for dead by Krekk and Kughar after a disastrous trip to the Maelstrom Lands. Watching Zalvar pummel treacherous Krekk was cathartic. Kara thanked Brinley, who said he was new to the UnderWorld but might stick around. Kara provided directions to the hangout if, and when he did. Through Brinley, Kara soon met the Crew.

FireKing told Kara everything when Phelphor unlocked the Doors of the Deep Mines. Kara had been to that location before and found it ominous–not for spiritual reasons, but whatever reason the tribes somehow agreed to deploy keybearers, and forgot. Nobody Kara asked had an answer. A tribe of mental manipulators trapped inside explained why–and this fifth tribe, once thought to be nothing more than stories, was encroaching on UnderWorld City. She watched the M’arrillians and their brainwashed dam bodies of liquid, and contaminate the waterways with deadly toxins. With the threat of brainwashing and the brainwashed being used as meat shields, there was little Kara could do. She and FireKing obtained sonic charges off another player, and blew holes in a magma dam. She warned UnderWorld settlements in the badlands if M’arrillians were near. In the capital, she met a curious man with a prosthetic eye named Chavez, who runs a cellar prosthetics shop under the table. Body parts are always flying in the UnderWorld, even more in war, and so Kara pointed the amputated Chavez’s way.

But nothing could stop the siege on the city. Under the command of M’arrillian chieftain, Milla’iin, a group of brainwashed and kha’rall fighters dammed the Marsh of Murk, an old field. Here, they knew the UnderWorlders would attempt to annihilate them. Drawing the Infernal Trifecta of Chaor, Takinom and Agitos away from the city, Phelphor and Van Bloot, now allied with the Deep Ones, combined their forces to storm UnderWorld City. Once Chaor’s second in command, Bloot knew secret tunnels beneath the capital. No one saw them coming, but Kara felt something was imminent as she walked the city streets and something told her to run, they were here. Kara rushed to Infernal Inn to tell Brinley and Zalvar to spread the news, but it was already too late. As the M’arrillians and their subjugated tore through the streets, all Kara could do was help creatures evacuate, then run far from UnderWorld City.

For the next few days, Kara and FireKing supplied escapees as they trekked the UnderWold badlands, and checked the status of entrances to the OverWorld. Word of the Infernal Trifecta on the run told the situation in the UnderWorld. Kara kept in close touch with Brinley, who helped a party of Zalvar and other warriors. He and the Crew searched for Chaor’s group, hoping their scanners could help the parties reunite. An older boy named Morgan, their M’arrillian player and also an enthusiast of black, was their unofficial leader. Damon, a bearded boy his age never without a cap and a good shot, was their OverWorld player. Their Danian player was a young woman named Alex, better known by her screen name, Arkane. She had a bad reputation among Danians for sneaking around Mount Pillar, and the CodeMasters for sometimes breaking the Chaotic guidelines.

When Milla’iin and other chieftains triangulated on the UnderWorlders’ positions, Kara and the Crew played parts in blasting them down, keeping the Trifecta from being brainwashed, and helping the parties merge. While together again, word that the M’arrillians were sealing exits overground reached the party. Chaor led the UnderWorlders to the nearest escape, Cordac Falls, before they were trapped. Kara joined the Crew as they ported to the OverWorld. There, they informed nearby warriors and caretakers of the impending clash. Gathering what other OverWorlders, gear and mugic they could, the creatures and the Crew were there at the top of the falls, keeping the M’arrillians down in the depths long enough for the UnderWorlders to climb out.

Throughout that chaos down under, Kara came to tolerate, then like the Crew, for the most part. Besides knowing what he was doing, Morgan liked metal and dark wave like her, including the UnderWorld metal concerts she frequents. Damon doesn't talk much but he cares for creatures. Alex knows her way around creatures and doesn't mess around. Each are players who understand what this world is about and while they roll as a team could carry their own weight. She, Brinley and FireKing joined the UnderWorlders as they sought a place to hide out in the OverWorld. Leaving, Kara waved Morgan, Alex and Damon goodbye for now, considering them allies.

A day’s journey later, the UnderWorlders found a spot beside Rokarr Ravine to settle. Far from ideal for a M’arrillian foothold, it would do. As Chaor and his forces dug in, he asked the humans what they knew of the Tribal Alliance. The three knew little, but Kara knew who might tell more. Through Damon and Alex, they learned the Tribal Alliance now consisted of the other three tribes, and the grand library of Kiru City was their meeting place. The Trifecta began selecting UnderWorlders to send to Kiru City as their eyes and ears in the alliance. They thanked the humans for the contribution. Kara and the others swung by often, keeping them supplied and further in the know of outside affairs. More escapes from the UnderWorld rolled in, with one group bringing the original telebracers Chaor and his commandos stole from Kiru City. Days later, through mugical meddling, Chaor the Fierce came to fruition. With all this, Kara knew the UnderWorlders weren’t out of the fight.

As the final battle of the war neared, a worried Zalvar ordered Kara and the other humans to return to Chaotic. Almost dying in the Maelstrom Lands left the once brutal beast a changed man. The confrontation would be gruesome, regardless who won. That didn’t even include the countdown on the transport system. Kara complied, after some final runs for UnderWorlders. Once back in the Port Court, she could only watch the fight through scanner footage from players who stayed, or missed the cutoff. Come nightfall, the UnderWorlders, led by Takinom in Shadowknight armor, revealed themselves to the M’arr. Collecting stray unbrainwashed along the way, they carved a path to a deathly quiet Kiru City. In the evening, a strange wave struck the land. One that, as M’arrillian chieftains and a brainwashed Tribal Alliance emerged, everyone realized was a mind wave. The two sides charged each other at the gates. Soon, the fighting poured into the city streets. No one could tell who was winning…

That was until suddenly, the brainwashed were released from the M'arrillians' control. In the pit around Lake Blakeer, Chaor fought beside Maxxor and Iparu the Shapeshifter against Aa’une, the Oligarch. They brought Aa’une here by telebracers, misled by a brainwashed Tartarek into believing the waters of Blakeer would weaken Aa’une. It had the opposite effect, letting the M’arr ruler craft the mind wave. But those same waters which gave him strength also became his watery grave. The M’arr’s mind powers stemmed from Aa’une. When he was killed, they lost their mind control. Kara and the other players cheered the Alliance on as they chased the M’arrillians out Kiru City and back behind the Doors.

The CodeMasters reopened the transport system a week later. Returning to UnderWorld City, Kara and her UnderWorld player friends watched Chaor and the UnderWorlders booting Van Bloot and his traitorous phalanx, popcorn in hand. The M’arrillians had abandoned Bloot, leaving the traitors outnumbered. Several streets took damage during the occupation, and the UnderWorld needed all the hands they could get. Regularly, Kara pitches in to reparation efforts, porting fresh stone, wood and other materials from the badlands to the city. Assisting Chavez with the influx of new patients. For her act atop Cordac Falls, she will even on rare occasions perform scouting far past the city for Chaor, whose respect for the good humans certainly grew during the Invasion. The road to recovery for the UnderWorld is long and dicey, but Kara knows they’ll get there. The tribe has been through worse, will go through worse, and will still survive.

When the fallen Spiritlander, Batog, appeared in Perim, Kara felt it. Even underground, Batog’s presence created so great a disturbance. Then unaware of its cause, she asked the Crew to accompany her in learning the source. Between the battle at Cordac and then, the Crew found two new girls. They found a Mipedian player, a newcomer named Kelli who got the hang of questing quick. The other was Emily O'Neill, a girl Kara knew for this Perim blog she ran named the Perizine. Questing locations wasn't that girl's forte, but she compensated by possessing an inhuman amount of knowledge about Perim and its people.

There, in the far OverWorld wilds was Batog, laying waste to local villages. At first, nobody, not even Emily could guess what they were looking at exactly. Obviously a spirit, but unlike anything Kara had even seen before as it dealt heavy damage and took absolutely none. She even tried a few trinkets that messed with ethereals and nothing. Evading the intangible soul, Kara and the Crew routed civilians out of harm’s way as their OverWorld player, a bearded guy named Damon, informed Maxxor. Soon the hero, plus the guardian muge Heptadd, engaged Batog. However, a ceasefire occurred, and both sides parted. Kara and the Crew couldn’t tell why.

They wouldn’t be waiting long for an answer. When Batog threatened Runic Grove, the spirit of Tangath Toborn faced him. Secretly, Tangath is Spiritland, too. Their physical presence on Perim relies on a soulbinding weapon, a talisar. Tangath’s was his Sword of Khy’at. Maxxor had broken it in two, so that Tangath could escape the stasis he entombed himself in during the Invasion, and become able to damage, and stop Batog. The two were rivals back home, as Batog wished destruction upon Tangath’s homeland. Their fight ended in Tangath destroying Batog’s talisar, rendering him powerless in the Spiritlands… but invincible here. His rampage across the OverWorld was meant to summon Tangath for a rematch.

Ultimately, Tangath won when the Runic Grove, tempered by Batog, confined his soul inside the Great Runic Tree. Unfortunately, Tangath’s spirit could only remain beyond the Spiritlands for so long before he disappeared. Bidding farewell, the warrior returned to his birthland. Someplace that, as Kara stood beside the Crew at Tangath’s memorial, she wished to find.

Hearing Heptadd is Spiritland, too, she approached him for the way. Heptadd claimed not to know, being brought to the OverWorld as an infant. Whether he was honest, it was a dead end. However, Chavez was in attendance. Overhearing their conversation, he told Kara he was also interested in seeing the Spiritlands. Days before the siege of UnderWorld City, Barrath Beyond sought Chavez for his upgrade with the fiery head. Barrath provided the materials, including a spellbook and alloys Chavez didn’t recognize. The vague text bore incantations of the alloys, armor, battlegear, and the soul. He and Kara suspected Barrath was a Spiritlander who pledged allegiance to the UnderWorlders, and knew the way.

They paid trinket tributes to an icy monument holding both halves of Tangath’s sword. Bidding him and the Crew farewell, Kara followed Chavez to UnderWorld City in search of Barrath. They told regulars of Infernal Inn they wished to speak with him. Within a few hours, the ethereal clanked down the steps to the chambers of gothic statues and Perim tech. When Kara and Chavez assured they were alone, Barrath confirmed their beliefs. He hailed from a region named the Spiritland of War. Ironically, most of the Spiritlands opposed battle–their ancestors fled the continent to escape it. Barrath, craving the thrill of war, became among the few Spiritlanders to cross the barrier between the two realms so that he could join the bloodthirsty UnderWorlders. However, he left the Spiritlands long ago. Worse, where he crossed over was barren and indistinguishable, and the gateway was invisible from even a short distance. Finding it would take time, and while Barrath wished to help, traveling to the OverWorld as an UnderWorld General was challenging, to say the least. At best, he drew circles on an OverWorld map, and informed them of another creature he knew with Spiritland blood.

Wytod, an OverWorld muge, had a grandmother who joined the OverWorlders like Tangath. He came with a false story, but Wytod knew his true origins. Kara wondered why the secrecy, and Wytod explained crossers were sworn to it to keep the Spiritlands safe. Even Maxxor didn’t know the truth about Tangath until Batog. Wytod also took the vow, and told Kara to tell Barrath to keep quiet. He resumed the story, mentioning him helping Tangath adjust to the new tribe. Along the way, they became good friends, and a then some. Kara recalled Wytod’s heavy look at the memorial. After the Invasion, Wytod wished to see Tangath again. But he neither knew the way to the Spiritlands, never told by his ancestors. Seeing what Tangath meant to Wytod, Kara promised they would get there, it was just a matter of time.

He was bestowed the Hornsabre, a battlegear holding the souls of past wielders. They speak to Kara in vague whisper, and what they say, plus Spiritlands texts Wytod lets her read, has given a first taste of this realm. It is a place where the heavens and hells intersect, and mortality can be transcended. Where forces above even the most enlightened ones’ comprehension may walk–beings of the lights and dark of the spirit realm. Even so, the Spiritlands have endured hundreds of solons of peace. It’s everything Kara could ask for in a location. When she and the others find the portal, they will gather there to visit, and revisit this faraway land where the four tribes aren’t of concern, and the spirit realm is its strongest.

"When I went black, a few of the jerkoff guys at school tried to make fun of me. Called me weird, a witch, the usual. I might have used one of my artifacts to spook them. Ever since the M'arrillians got out, it's happened again. You know, because their tribe color is black? This time, I have plenty more ways to scare them."

"Being able to see dead people taught me there is life beyond death. It also taught me none of us, even the people who have died, have no idea how the spirit realm works. Not even people like me have it figured out. I don't think it's our place to know."

"Oh yeah, I've been possessed before. Only once on Earth. I thought us being code in Perim made us immune to possession. I was wrong, very wrong."

"Maybe you can't relax in a haunted house, but I can. Well, except for the poltergeists and the demons. Or if you thought ouija night was a bright idea."

"I miss that black cat in the laundry room. After high school, I got my own. Her name is Charon and no, Buzz Senior, she won't bring you bad luck."

"Bright things have always given me a headache. There's something so real about the dark forces I can see. My friends in Chaotic can share them with me, but back home it's a different story. My parents can't see spirits but they say they believe me. I just hope they do, and they won't truly believe me the hard way. The good thing about being an only child? Your siblings won't mess with your dangerous artifacts."

"Yeah, if my code dies in Perim, it probably won't leave a soul. That's why someday, I wanna be here as myself. At least, when I die. With the Spiritlands, maybe my work won't be cut out."

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

[ Source: Hamas Covenant, 1988 ]

You can read it for yourself. It's notable that it quotes the quran for most of its articles.

https://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/hamas.asp

"Ye are the best nation that hath been raised up unto mankind: ye command that which is just, and ye forbid that which is unjust, and ye believe in Allah. And if they who have received the scriptures had believed, it had surely been the better for them: there are believers among them, but the greater part of them are transgressors. They shall not hurt you, unless with a slight hurt; and if they fight against you, they shall turn their backs to you, and they shall not be helped. They are smitten with vileness wheresoever they are found; unless they obtain security by entering into a treaty with Allah, and a treaty with men; and they draw on themselves indignation from Allah, and they are afflicted with poverty. This they suffer, because they disbelieved the signs of Allah, and slew the prophets unjustly; this, because they were rebellious, and transgressed." (Al-Imran - verses 109-111).

Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it" (The Martyr, Imam Hassan al-Banna, of blessed memory).

[..]

The Universality of the Islamic Resistance Movement:

Article Seven:

As a result of the fact that those Moslems who adhere to the ways of the Islamic Resistance Movement spread all over the world, rally support for it and its stands, strive towards enhancing its struggle, the Movement is a universal one. It is well-equipped for that because of the clarity of its ideology, the nobility of its aim and the loftiness of its objectives.

On this basis, the Movement should be viewed and evaluated, and its role be recognised. He who denies its right, evades supporting it and turns a blind eye to facts, whether intentionally or unintentionally, would awaken to see that events have overtaken him and with no logic to justify his attitude. One should certainly learn from past examples.

The injustice of next-of-kin is harder to bear than the smite of the Indian sword.

"We have also sent down unto thee the book of the Koran with truth, confirming that scripture which was revealed before it; and preserving the same safe from corruption. Judge therefore between them according to that which Allah hath revealed; and follow not their desires, by swerving from the truth which hath come unto thee. Unto every of you have we given a law, and an open path; and if Allah had pleased, he had surely made you one people; but he hath thought it fit to give you different laws, that he might try you in that which he hath given you respectively. Therefore strive to excel each other in good works; unto Allah shall ye all return, and then will he declare unto you that concerning which ye have disagreed." (The Table, verse 48).

The Islamic Resistance Movement is one of the links in the chain of the struggle against the Zionist invaders. It goes back to 1939, to the emergence of the martyr Izz al-Din al Kissam and his brethren the fighters, members of Moslem Brotherhood. It goes on to reach out and become one with another chain that includes the struggle of the Palestinians and Moslem Brotherhood in the 1948 war and the Jihad operations of the Moslem Brotherhood in 1968 and after.

Moreover, if the links have been distant from each other and if obstacles, placed by those who are the lackeys of Zionism in the way of the fighters obstructed the continuation of the struggle, the Islamic Resistance Movement aspires to the realisation of Allah's promise, no matter how long that should take. The Prophet, Allah bless him and grant him salvation, has said:

"The Day of Judgement will not come about until Moslems fight the Jews (killing the Jews), when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Moslems, O Abdulla, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him. Only the Gharkad tree, (evidently a certain kind of tree) would not do that because it is one of the trees of the Jews." (related by al-Bukhari and Moslem).

-

The Slogan of the Islamic Resistance Movement:

Article Eight:

Allah is its target, the Prophet is its model, the Koran its constitution: Jihad is its path and death for the sake of Allah is the loftiest of its wishes.

[..]

Strategies of the Islamic Resistance Movement: Palestine Is Islamic Waqf:

Article Eleven:

The Islamic Resistance Movement believes that the land of Palestine is an Islamic Waqf consecrated for future Moslem generations until Judgement Day. It, or any part of it, should not be squandered: it, or any part of it, should not be given up. Neither a single Arab country nor all Arab countries, neither any king or president, nor all the kings and presidents, neither any organization nor all of them, be they Palestinian or Arab, possess the right to do that. Palestine is an Islamic Waqf land consecrated for Moslem generations until Judgement Day. This being so, who could claim to have the right to represent Moslem generations till Judgement Day?

This is the law governing the land of Palestine in the Islamic Sharia (law) and the same goes for any land the Moslems have conquered by force, because during the times of (Islamic) conquests, the Moslems consecrated these lands to Moslem generations till the Day of Judgement.

[..]

Peaceful Solutions, Initiatives and International Conferences:

Article Thirteen:

Initiatives, and so-called peaceful solutions and international conferences, are in contradiction to the principles of the Islamic Resistance Movement. Abusing any part of Palestine is abuse directed against part of religion. Nationalism of the Islamic Resistance Movement is part of its religion. Its members have been fed on that. For the sake of hoisting the banner of Allah over their homeland they fight. "Allah will be prominent, but most people do not know."

Now and then the call goes out for the convening of an international conference to look for ways of solving the (Palestinian) question. Some accept, others reject the idea, for this or other reason, with one stipulation or more for consent to convening the conference and participating in it. Knowing the parties constituting the conference, their past and present attitudes towards Moslem problems, the Islamic Resistance Movement does not consider these conferences capable of realising the demands, restoring the rights or doing justice to the oppressed. These conferences are only ways of setting the infidels in the land of the Moslems as arbitrators. When did the infidels do justice to the believers?

"But the Jews will not be pleased with thee, neither the Christians, until thou follow their religion; say, The direction of Allah is the true direction. And verily if thou follow their desires, after the knowledge which hath been given thee, thou shalt find no patron or protector against Allah." (The Cow - verse 120).

There is no solution for the Palestinian question except through Jihad. Initiatives, proposals and international conferences are all a waste of time and vain endeavours. The Palestinian people know better than to consent to having their future, rights and fate toyed with. As in said in the honourable Hadith:

"The people of Syria are Allah's lash in His land. He wreaks His vengeance through them against whomsoever He wishes among His slaves It is unthinkable that those who are double-faced among them should prosper over the faithful. They will certainly die out of grief and desperation."

[ Note: I can't locate this last hadith, but whether or not it's sahih (authentic) doesn't matter; what matters is they believe it and quote it as justification. ]

This isn't a political dispute. It's an Islamic religious holy war of genocide against Jews.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

Oh thank you, kind peddler! I am quite intrigued by many items, new and old, in your dwelling. While many things catch my eyes in interest, the one that truly reaches for my soul is the Intriguing Book of Old. I have quite a love for stories and would love to hear more of your peddler tales. For the price, I humbly offer my best tea, peaceful company and 15 pieces of gold from my travels. I can only hope it is precious in your sight.

How kind of you, dear traveler, to wish to bestow upon me a gift of gold in exchange for the book of old that seemed to take hold of your attention as you first walked in. Though I can assure you Marquie, that such gold is not needed in order to obtain it. I am more than willing to part with an old book if I know it is going into the hands of a good person, which I know you are 💛

Though, I must say, I am tempted to take upon your offer of tea and the chance to let you know of all sorts of adventures I have been on; all the people and places I have traveled to.

But, I think it best you read the story in your own hands first. 🔮

Music was a passion of yours, at least as long as you could remember. A gift given to you by the gods above, a blessing you parents would tell you, whenever you went near an instrument and began to play it. Whether it was stroking the ivory keys, or plucking the strings of a lute, you were blessed with a musical touch, with your muses being whatever song was held within your heart.

With the violin being your most favorite of instrument. How you could pull back your horse-haired bow and have it play out the melancholy that you felt to create a tragically beautiful melody, to then have those same bows and string play a more upbeat tune as you made a strain of music that would have those that listen tap their feet and dance to.

It was the dichotomy that you enjoyed. How those simple strings could help you emote so much better than any other instrument you had ever held. Even after all the years passed, and you memory of how to play eloquently faded through fingers that stumbled over the ebony and ivory, or unable to strum up an enjoyable tune, they never faltered whenever you placed you chin over your violin.

But with age came more responsibilities. Work needed to be done in order to provide a roof over your head and food within your belly; and though many enjoyed your tunes they could not bring themselves to spare you some of their hard-earned coins over it. Thus, you were regaled to work alongside your fellow man to earn your keep, only having the chance to play whenever you weren’t. A task much harder to accomplish when the moment you walked through the threshold of your home you were expected to do your share of the housework and cleaning.

It left you little, if at all, the chance to indulge yourself in the one thing that brought you a semblance of serenity. So, with the knowledge and experience you have earned, you figured out a solution for you and your passions.

On the days that you could, you would sneak yourself off to the nearby woods into the small, flowered, meadow that was kept inside it. There you were able to play with out interruption, without someone calling for your name, to hear yelling voices requesting you of you a tune to play, or to those that were scold you and tell you to stop playing and interrupting the peace they had finally found themselves. It was the rare moments you could find where you could be one with your emotions, without the expectations of the world around you.

Whenever you would play, you would have an audience too; one much more respectful than the townsfolk you were used to. Foxes, rabbits, birds, even a lone whole or two, would stumble across you and would take a moment to sit and appreciate your lovely tunes before wandering back off to where they were meant to go. Sometimes they would even sit upon your lap whist you played, if they felt bold enough to do so. And some days, you would spot him. A lone woodsman as he went to collect some timber for the fireplaces of those who could not get it themselves.

He was incredibly handsome, at least you thought he was. Tall, with hair as dark as any raven you saw, and peculiar dots of freckles upon his face. You always wished you could see him more closely, but the moment he would stumble across you playing, or even catch wind of your beautiful music, he would turn the other way. The sound of his axe strikes would echo further and further as ventured away from you.

You had long to know his name, but perhaps he did not think the same. Whenever he would pass you by, choosing to once again ignore you in favour of his solitude, your music would turn more woe some to match the ache in your heart. Perhaps the Gods above, those that had granted you such a fortune, grew tired of hearing your sorrows, tired of hearing the wonderous gift they blessed you be used for things less jubilant than they intended. Forced, they played their hand and gave forth to you another gift.

This time, a wolf.

One that came up to you whilst you played and sat before you, it waited patiently almost as if it was politely waiting for you to stop playing before it began to speak. And much to your surprise it did, after you gently lowered your instrument down from your shoulder to greet it.

“Y-you can speak?” You questioned, shoulders tensed, as you questioned how this could be as the wolf nodded its head.

“Indeed, I can.” The wolf sat more upright in respect to you, before reaching a paw to gingerly touch the bow in your hand “I wished to pay my compliments to you, for your play beautifully.”

You muttered out you appreciation as you tried your hardest not to move; you did not think that the animal before you would take it upon themselves to harm you, but you could never be sure. Animals had an unpredictability to them, and you always favoured being cautious than not.

“Suppose that was not all you wished to tell me?” You asked, giving forth a weak smile as your eyes kept darting towards the heavy paw upon your hand.

“You are far more perceptive than those around you give you credit for’ The wolf nodded, “I wished to learn to play the violin as well, and am hoping a master as yourself would teach me the needed skills.”

“Well, I…” You began, though you could feel the claws hidden beneath the fur of the paw slow sink into your skin; a clear indication that a rejection would not be tolerated “I would love to.”

You saw the wolf’s ear perk at your acceptance as you felt the sharp sting of its nails recede from your skin. He watched you with interest as you began to think how best to proceed, though he thought it was how to start a lesson, for you to was a way to rid yourself of the beast.

“But we cannot practice here for the rest of the woods to hear, we must go someplace quiet” You spoke, trying your best not to stammer out your words “There is an old oak tree, not far from here, one that is hollow and split in the middle. Do you know of it?”

“I do”

“Wonderful, I shall meet you there for your first lesson” You smiled, moving to stand as you gestured for the wolf to take the first few steps away from you “I shall meet you there one I pack up my violin”

The wolf merely nodding before running forth ahead to where the hallowed oak was. One out of sight, you let out a panic sigh as you began to pack your things; wishing to rush out of the woods and never return. Though you did not get far, only halfway through the foliage that stood between you and your village, before you heard the grumbled growl of the creature you had crossed.

Before you could even think to start a sprint to outrun it, you path was blocked by its figure; how breath heaved in anger as it looked up you – clear that your trickery has caused more ire to the creature that you had hoped. You stumble back as you tried to keep your footing, for at least you found some semblance of control if you were upright.

But to wasn’t long before your fright caused your feet to trip upon themselves; with a loud, broken cry, you fell to the forest floor. You closed your eyes as your body began to tremble fiercely. You hoped that at least death would be swift should the wolf’s anger lead him to such an action as his snarling came closer; so close that you could feel the wet and the heat coming forth from the creatures mouth.

You took one final breath, accepting your fate fully, before you heard a pained cry from the wolf. It took you a moment, a breath as you came to the understanding the wolf was not near you any longer, before you filled your aching lungs with air once again. You peaked an eye open to see where the wolf had gone, only to be faced with a pair of legs, rather than an angry beast.

“D-did you kill it?” You asked the man who stood before you, your heart still pounded as you awaited response.

“No, merely sacred it off” He replied, voice deep as his head never moved from where you assumed the wolf has ran off to.

With that knowledge, you felt your eyes spring with tears of relief as you struggled to calm yourself down; your breathing laboured as you tried to allow yourself to find a balance between the strong sense of both fear and solace it had gone through. Though it stopped altogether when the man finally turned to regard you.

It was the woodman.

“Are you alright?” He offered his hand to help you stand, though he sensed your hesitancy and thus offered his name in hopes it would allow you trust his aide “My name is Sakusa Kyioomi”

You gave your name in kind, gingerly placing you hand upon his as he helped to guide you back onto your own feet. Though once you had stood, he kept hold of your hand. When you tilted your head in question, he ducked his own in a timid display.

“I think I should tell you, now before I lose my nerve like many a time before” He began “But you - !”

~

The call of your name snapped you up from your reading; your friend from the other side of the shop had a look of complete exasperation as she waved you over to come to where she stood; you could only suppose it was to leave. You quickly placed a finger upon the sentence you were reading as you closed your book as best you could; taking hold of the bag you brought with you as you slung it over your shoulder. Though in your haste you fumbled and dropped your newfound book.

A pair of hands took hold of it before you could, gently turning it over before holding it out for you. It was the shopkeeper, and she had a patient smile as she waiting for you to properly gather your wits as you gingerly took the book back.

“Was it a good read?” She asked, watching as you placed the book into your bag “Yes it was, thank you” You rushed, still doing your best to adjust from the dangers you had just seemingly faced to the reality of the world around you.

“Ah, I can see you are a little upset over losing your place.” She nodded her head “But you need not worry over something as trivial as that.” The confusion you were sure was written upon your face made her smile grow larger, more mischievous, “The book knows where you have left off, and much like your friend, it is patiently waiting for you to go back to it.”

Suppose it might be best for you to come back another time for that tea? I think your friend would not like it if I took up more of your time to tell you one of my long, and often confusing, stories.

I do hope you, and your woodsman friend, do stop by soon~ 🔮

I do hope you wish to keep what you found, for all 'sales' are final

[good-wizard]

Good wizard sits at the table in his workshop, before him rests a new spell book, this one centered on summoning. He had purchased it due to an interest in learning a new kind of magic and he thought summoning would be fun.

He read through the instructions by candle light as a storm battered outside, his family was asleep by now and this left him in the quiet calm of his tower. Slowly he had been gathering the ingredients to summon his first creature. Rose hips, sulphur, charcoal, moon water, and finally, the most important ingredient: a single scale from a black dragon. It was hard to obtain it, even harder to harvest it ethically and responsibly, but he made sure to put in the effort, this was the most important part after all.

Good wizard found the book strange, the runes and text were in a different language and yet when he tried to use a translation spell he found it only worked about half the time, making the process for discerning ingredients even more challenging. No matter what he did though he couldn't seem to translate the name of what he was summoning, it was almost like the words didn't want to be read, yet still he pushed on.

He began to prepare the mixture of ingredients. Grinding all of the components into a wet smelly mud. He scooped the mixture up and traced the summoning circle on the floor, carefully and methodically tracing out each and every rune until the circle was finally complete. As he looked down at it he could see the broken bits of dragon scale glistening, the magic they contained began to seep into the rest of the circle until it was all vaguely glowing. He knew it was time.

He took his ceremonial blade and held it to his palm. Good wizard took a deep breath and slashed across his hand. Blue blood dripped slowly from the wound into the circle, as it fell he watched the cut and cracked edge of his hand healed itself, the innate magic in his porcelain body set on repairing and making him whole once more.

The blood that had fallen now began to behave oddly, it wove itself into intricate patterns within the circle and as soon as every piece of its trail was finished it also began to glow a light blue. It was time for the incantation. Good wizard closed his eyes to focus as he spoke. He began to feel the levels of magic energy rise in the room, higher and higher as the Incantation went on, whatever he had chosen to summon was powerful. Still nothing seemed to appear, the spell was still climbing to its crescendo. He spoke louder, pushing more of his magic into it, willing it into creation. The magic reached an all time high and then: Nothing.

Good wizard opened his eyes and sighed, there was nothing there. The circle had gone dim and all of the magic that was in the air was suddenly sucked away like it had never even been there. He groaned and stood up. As he dusted himself off he decided to call it for the night, he'd leave the circle to be cleaned in the morning.

Just as he was about to leave his workshop he heard a knock on the back door. It was odd for someone to come by so late, but he was always happy to help in whatever way he could. He approached the door and unlocked it, opening it up with a smile on his face, but no one was there.

"Hello?" He called, "Anyone there?"

Good wizard realized that no one was there and sighed, it must have just been the wind.

As he turned to close the door suddenly something struck him from behind. He made a choked out scream as claws ripped through his back, breaking his pottery skin and leaving chips on the ground. Blue blood began to pool as he writhed there, his breaths were shallow and panicked but he couldn't get up his body had been broken apart so much by just the initial attack it would take probably at least an hour for all of it to heal. That's when he felt the creature step on his back. Its massive weight pressed him into the floor and made him gasp in agony, he could feel the weaker pieces of his porcelain crack beneath it as it walked over him.

It moved languidly into his house, it's round eyes glowed as something vaguely pink and filled with malice. It crouched before him and grinned, massive and sharp tiger-like teeth glistened as it spoke.

"I suppose I should thank you for setting me free, hmm but how?"

Good wizard struggled to raise his fist, a lightning spell flickered to life in his hand and he watched as the beast's eyes lit up, a horrible idea brewing in its mind.

"Oh, I know. I'll do you a favor and take that pesky magic away. That way, when I go on my rampage, I won't have to kill you if you stand in my way. How does that sound?"

Good wizard froze in horror, the charged spell still sat uselessly in his hand. He didn't know what to say, he didn't even know if he still knew how to speak.

The tiger-like beast laughed, "Perfect."

It rose from the ground and moved to his back hovering just above his neck. Good wizard saw the glint of its teeth and as fast as lightning the beast bit down on his throat, he screamed in pain as he felt the beast rip something from him. Not a piece of his flesh or his bones, but rather something that felt more personal. A piece of his soul and all the magic he had learned. His vision was slowly fading and now all he could do was watch as the ball of lightning in his hand slowly faded.

It grew dimmer and dimmer and dimmer until

Darkness.