#his glasses makes his eyes look bigger methinks

[dilfsuzanneyk]

combatting my same face syndrome by drawing 80s al vs post-lasik al

[capaldifiction]

Graham Norton Show - Lewis Capaldi x Reader

I apologize for how long these have been taking me to get to, but I hope you like your request 💙

Paring: Lewis Capaldi x Actress Reader

Word Count: 2,014

Description:  Based on this request: “Where the reader and him are doing the interview on Graham Norton show and being funny as hell and everyone knows they are dating even if they didn't say it. Can you also add then having long cute stares at each other.”

Warnings: Some swearing

“And welcome our next two guests, Y/N and Chris Pratt!” Graham Norton calls out as the two enter the set to applause. Waving to audience quickly, Y/N smiles before turning to shake the hands of Graham, Jared Leto, and Tom Ellis before taking her place next to Tom, with Chris sitting to her left.

“How are the two of you doing? Enjoy your trip back home to the U.K. Y/N?” Graham asks.

“Real good,” she respond with a small smile, relaxing back into the couch. “Long flights suck, but being back home is always great. Haven’t gotten to get back to my actual house yet, but what can ya do?”

“I’m doing great,” Chris nods in response. “Got to film and now promote this film with this fantastic woman right here. She’s hilarious, and gives me a run for my money as set prankster.”

“Oh?” Graham asks noticeably intrigued. “And what kind of pranks is Y/N pulling?”

“Oh nothing that great,” Y/N insists, her cheeks reddening as she tries to talk it down.

“How long do we have?” Chris asks with a grin toward the audience that cheers in response.

“Give us one good one,” Graham insists.

“Hmmm,” he says as his gaze drifts to the ceiling of the set. “Probably the prosthetic zombie finger she stuck to the bottom of my coffee cup, then filled it with my coffee and brought it to me. Took me an hour to finally see that sucker. We’re standing there discussing the next scene, I take a sip and seeing a freakin’ finger coming up out of my coffee and chucked it.”

“He screamed like a little girl,” Y/N grins cheerfully to the audience’s laughter. “It was fantastic.”

“Well we can’t expect anything less… from the one rumored to be dating our hilarious musical guest of the day,” Graham teases.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” she insists, her eyes immediately leaving Graham’s.

“Oh? So you’re denying the rumors of you and Lewis Capaldi?”

“Absolutely.”

“I mean,” Chris butts in with a shrug. “He was on set an awful lot for someone who lives in Scotland when we were filming in Canada.”

“Well yeah, we are friends, I never said we weren’t friends and he never visited me, we live near each other and see each other all the time and he had some concerts in North America so he dropped by a few times to hang out and see the set,” she rambles quickly as she tugs at the bottom of her shirt in embarrassment.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Tom Ellis throws in, raising his eyebrows.

Jared and Graham laugh as Y/N sinks further in the couch and reaches for her drink on the table.

“Bit thirsty there Y/N?” Jared teases.

“Parched,” she quips back with narrowed brows to her former costar.

“So the film you two are starring in is ‘End Of The Living,’ care to give us a taste of what it’ll be about?” Graham asks looking at Y/N and Chris.

“Well my and Chris’ characters are neighbors in an apartment building that don’t really get along. They deal with seeing each other on an occasional basis, but generally avoid each other. Then all hell breaks loose as the zombie apocalypse basically breaks out, and they have to work together to survive.”

“Annnnd then they fall in love,” Chris adds with a chuckle.

“Naturally, nothing says love like zombie guts and certain death,” Y/N nods with a carefree smile.

“And here on the couch we have a vampire, two zombie hunters, and Satan himself,” Graham summarizes as he looks at his guests who laugh in response. “It’s a nice light promotional day isn’t it?”

“Zombie hunters are no match for Morbius though,” Jared jokes looking over to Chris and Y/N.

“Says you,” Chris throws back. “But if we can’t Star Lord will wipe the floor with him since he’s in his world.”

“In all due respect,” Tom jumps in, “None of them can take on Lucifer.”

“And with that, we should go to a break, when we get back we’ll see our musical performance from Lewis Capaldi!” Graham shouts as the cameras shut off.

Giving pointed looks to the men around her, and sticking her tongue out at Jared, Y/N’s attention is finally caught by the instruments being brought in for Lewis’ performance.

She nods at his piano player Aiden as he gets settled, then smiles as Lewis himself comes out onto the set. The typical nervous expression always etched on his face before a performance there. He looks up to see her gaze on him, and smiles wide before sending a wave her way.

Smiling in turn she waves back at him as she watches them finish setting up, ignoring the scoffed laughed from Chris beside her.

As the lights brighten again, the cameras come back to life as Graham steps in front of the camera, “And here to perform his newest hit, two-time Brit winner and Grammy nominated singer Lewis Capaldi!”

The cameras turn toward Lewis as he begins the song, and Y/N leans forward with her chin in her hands as she watches the performance intently, standing up and applauding loudly as Lewis hits the last note.

Finishing up the song, Lewis sets his guitar down and gives a wave to the audience before heading over to the couches. Shaking each person’s hand down the line, he stops to pull Y/N into a side hug, whispering something in her ear causing a smile to spread across her face.

After all shaking hands, all the guests take their seats once again. As Chris sits back down, he places his arm on the couch behind Y/N, while Lewis takes his seat on the other side of him. Lewis’ gaze lingers on Chris’ arm for a moment with a frown before forcing it away and looking to Graham.

“Fantastic performance Lewis!” Graham says looking over at him. “Now where do we start? The new album you have coming out or the triple platinum on your last one and the two Brits you’ve gotten since you were last here?”

“The new album Graham,” Y/N says before Lewis can respond, throwing him a look. “You’ll give him a bigger head if you go on about the other things.”

“And that’d be a bad thing Y/N?” he asks with a teasing tone.

“There’d be no living with you if it got any bigger,” she sighs dramatically.

“Living with him?” Jared asks as he looks between the two, noticing Lewis’ gaze lingering on her a moment too long.

“W-well yeah,” she answers hastily. “We live pretty close, I see him pretty often.”

“Speaking of you two living close, do you also go on some of his tours Y/N?” Graham asks. “You appear on quite a few of his social media posts from Instagram to Tik Tok, and everyone’s loving seeing that side of you when you usually play such serious roles.”

“Well we just always have a good time. I have gone on some of his tours when I’m not working, get to see some cool places with a good friend of mine. And we’re both a little weird, so it makes for some interesting videos I guess,” she shrugs.

“Let’s take a look at one of them now,” Graham says, gesturing to the screen beside him.

The screen changes to a clip of Y/N wearing a Lewis Capaldi merch t-shirt and a pair of black sunglasses as she stands atop a large table singing the lyrics to ‘Grace.’ Throwing her head back, she starts dancing to the music, when the camera pans over to Lewis also doing the dance from his music video and singing the song at the top of his lungs.

“I’m not ready to be just another of your mistakes!” she yells out as the camera follows Lewis moving in front of the table she’s dancing on. As she finishes the line, she launches herself onto his back, a look of panic on his face as they both crash to the ground in front of the camera, followed by a chorus of obscenities.

As the clip fades out, Lewis and Y/N have equally red cheeks as they make eye contact and look down at their drinks while the audience and other guests laugh.

“And what were you two doing there?” Graham asks with a grin.

Lewis runs his hand through his hair breaking his gaze from Y/N back over to Graham, “That, that was a less than sober rendition of my song and Y/N trying to kill the both of us as my piano player filmed us.”

“Ok but we were on his tour and had too much to drink and it seemed like a good idea at the time,” she defends.

“Alcohol would do that,” Tom teases.

She smiles at him sheepishly before taking a drink, “Alright we don’t always make the best choices, but we do make the fun choices.”

“Fuck yeah,” Lewis agrees with a grin, his eyes quickly widening before muttering a quiet apology.

“So about this new album, what should we be expecting from it and when?” Graham asks.

“Well there are the artists that really want to reinvent themselves for their next album, really try something new and push the boundaries of music,” he replies. “And that’s not me. It’s gonna be more sad shit, and hopefully if you liked the first album you’ll like the second. We’re looking at it coming out in May of this year.”

“No inspirations for happy love songs in your life huh?” Chris asks with a knowing smile, glancing at Y/N next to him who quickly looks away from Lewis.

“Nope, I’m sad and alone,” Lewis confirms, his gaze once again drifting to Chris’ arm behind Y/N on the couch, then to her eyes as a content smile spreads across both their faces.

“Right then,” Graham chuckles as he stands up from his seat. “That’s all we have time for tonight. Give a big round of applause for my guests tonight, Lewis Capaldi, Chris Pratt, Y/N, Tom Ellis, and Jared Leto! I’ll see you next week everyone!”

Once the cameras have shut off, the guests all stand up to bid their goodbyes to one another.

“It was great seeing you again,” Jared says, pulling Y/N into a quick hug over the table. “We really need to work together again some time.”

“I get pranked enough in my personal life to go up against you again,” she chuckles setting her empty glass down on the table. “You take it to a whole new level Leto.”

“Oh you know you loved it,” he teases patting her shoulder.

“Of course, snake in my dressing room was the best,” she says while rolling her eyes but smiling. “It was good talking again. Hit me up sometime again sometimes. And it was great meeting you,” she says turning to Tom.

“You as well,” he responds with his own smile. “That goes for all of you, I had a great time.”

“Same here bud,” Chris says throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder and extending it for a fist bump at Tom who bumps it with a smirk, his gaze going to a very obviously uncomfortable Lewis behind Chris.

“It was fucking fantastic meeting you all,” Lewis interrupts after a moment. “All of you are amazing. But if you don’t mind…” he reaches around Chris to snag Y/N’s hand, who he quickly pulls out of his grasp and to his own side.

Placing a quick kiss on her cheek, he mumbles, “Let’s get out of here.”

Y/N nodding in agreement, follows Lewis off the set hand in hand with shy smiles on their faces as the last few remaining people in the audience cheer.

Turning to look at the other two men, Chris smirks and crosses his arms in victory, “Fuckin knew it.”

-----

Extra Notes: As to why I chose Jared Leto, Tom Ellis and Chris Pratt. Chris Pratt I thought would be a good funny guy that would mess with Lewis and Y/N a bit (and I’m a big Marvel fan so I’ve seen some of his interviews lol). Jared Leto just because I’ve been a fan of him and his band for a really long time and just thought he was someone I could write alright. And Tom Ellis because I felt like the Lucifer show fit the vibe of this, and I had the chance to see a live panel of him at a Comic Con I went to where he was just a really cool guy.

Masterlist

Request List

[gunmetalgrey-trashpile]

morons united group chat with @diabolicaltendencies @epiitaphs @theasteriae

ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : whos hosting this weekend? Bagsy not me, only just got the window fixed from when Bash tried to escape through it. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : tried? i think you mean succeeded.

SMS [ do not answer ] : anyway, yeah, no, i can't. sorry. ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : if you mean you went though a closed window and got covered in glass, sure, you succeeded. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : you're just bitter because you lost the bet. word to the wise, alex, never ever bet against basher moran ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : it’s fine, I put the window repairs in your card. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : that's fine too; "my" card is actually august's card. ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : should have known going for your wallet was a liability. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : i mean, probably, yeah. you're fingers are so sticky, i'd have to be stupid to carry my real wallet when i'm meeting up with you. AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: And my card is really the inheritance fund so you might as well do something useful with it, Alex. sms [ clusterfuck ]: I'm out of town until Sunday. But if you need a place to crash I'm sure you'll find your way in.

BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : you could have told me! if i'd known it was dear old dad's money i was spending, i'd have blown the whole lot a long time ago SMS [ do not answer ] : where out of town, exactly?

AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: which is exactly why they wouldn't give it to me all at once. sms [ clusterfuck ]: what? you looking to come along?

BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : killjoys SMS [ do not answer ] : nope, not if you're where i think you are. just seeing if you'll tell me the truth.

ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : dammmmmn well seeing as I’ve had to put up with you shitheads for so many years I’m glad your daddy’s finally paying up SMS [ trash pile ] : better get me a fridge magnet from wherever you are BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : oh yeah, i heart surrey, just what you've always wanted. not. ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : at least August gets me stuff rather than BREAKING MY FLAT SMS [ trash pile ] : I have a lot less anger towards your dad now he’s going to pay for my MOT SMS [trash pile] : is this what rich kid life is like?? BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : oh yeah? why don't you get august to bring you daddy's ashes back as well then, so you can bow and scrape before the urn, really say thank you? AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: I'd happily tell you but you could just as easily ask your boss. Your passive aggressive shit must be rubbing off on him. sms [ clusterfuck ]: but seriously, by all means, spend away. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : alright, well, i  guess saturday night's on me after all then SMS [ do not answer ] : jim asked you to work? why did he ask you and not me? AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: because he actually gives a damn about you and I'm still expendable, apparently.

sms [ clusterfuck ]: Don't have a fridge magnet, Alex, but I got a pretty nice knife off the bitch who tried to stab me with it. ALEX SMS [trash pile] : bash calm down, it’s probably better not to be mr. Narcissistic fucks favours? SMS [ trash pile] : JUST CHECKING but was this bitch very short and in a blonde wig?? AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: No...? ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : okay that makes me feel a whole lot better SMS [ trash pile ] : shall we do another weekend if August can’t make it?? We need someone with more than one brain cell. AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: Yeah, no. It was a man with a death wish. You'd know if you tried to stab one of us... right? ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : I mean you’d really hope so but it’s not unheard of SMS [ trash pile ] : I stab a lot of people AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: Fair enough. ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : if you’re not in Berlin right now you’re probably safe SMS [ trash pile ] : probably AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: Just stick to the plan. I'll be there Sunday to pick you all up off the floor. sms [ clusterfuck ]: Or bail you out. ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : I’ve got brunch with Sam Sunday SMS [ trash pile ] : if we survive AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: You really think you'll make that date? I'd reschedule that if anything. ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : ITS NOT A DATE BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : yeah, but does sammy know that? ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : I need coffee and avocado toast to fix the hangover SMS [ trash pile ] : we. are. not. dating. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : yeah, but, again ... does he know that? AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: I have coffee and a toaster. Just tell Sam to bring your avocado and something for the rest of us. We can interrogate him then. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : shall i ask jim if he still has those thumbscrews lying around? i mean, it's better to do these things thoroughly, wouldn't you say? ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : I wish I had stabbed you AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: I was just thinking about questioning him. But you know, now that you mention it. How well do you think he'd hold up? Hypothetically. ALEX SMS [ Trash pile ] : this is a conversation we are not having AUGUST SMS [ do not answer ] : yeah, it's pointless -- so much easier just to find out for real ALEX SMS [ trash pile ] : if we were dating, which we very much aren’t, why would you need to interrogate him? It’s SAM SMS [ trash pile ] : he’s stitched you ALL up BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : yeah, but are you not dating in the way jim and i aren't dating, or are you not dating in the way that august isn't dating anyone at all? AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: A fair question. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : fair point. you know, though, sammy's pretty steely. i think he could go at least a couple of rounds. AUGUST sms [ clusterfuck ]: With his background I'm honestly just curious if he can take it as well as he dished it out. SEB sms [block]: oh are we talking about torturing sam? im down sms [block]:  im with august think itd be interesting BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : yes, aha, 3 against 1, alex, sorry -- you've been outvoted! ALEX SMS [trash pile] : trust you to show up when we discuss torture SEB sms [block]: i only have time for important things ALEX SMS [trash pile] : anyone lays a hand on my not boyfriend and I will break bones SEB sms [block]: hah you said the word boyfriend BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : methinks the lady doth protest too much SMS [ do not answer ] : just kidding, alex isn't a lady SEB sms [block]: she could barely pretend to be ALEX SMS [trash pile] : IM NOT A LADY FUCKING TAKE THAT BACK SMS [trash pile] : listen just cause I’m the only one who hangs around with people who aren’t psychotic murderers SMS [trash pile] : speaking of, how is jimbo? SEB sms [block]: lady moran. weird ring to it. ALEX SMS [trash pile] : yh bash ur mum is WEIRD SEB sms [block]: really shouldve seen that response coming sms [block]: anyway alex you cant break all our bones at once so really just be ready for ur boy to disappear for a while BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : don't talk shit about my mother SEB sms [block]: dont take it personally, petya has some mommy issues BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : unless you want to get into all your mummy issues, you two? SMS [ do not answer ] : precisely, back the fuck off SEB sms [block]: or what BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : or i will show you why it is my nickname isn't seb, but basher SMS [ do not answer ] : got that? SEB sms [block]: loud and clear sms [block]: still, you'd better pick on alex first, since shes more ur size BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : fuck you SMS [ do not answer ] : i could take you down any day of the week and you know it SEB sms [block]: sounds like a challenge to me BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : bring it then SMS [ do not answer ] : i dare you SEB sms [block]: see u this weekend then sms [block]: keep an eye out BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : i've beaten bigger men than you blindfolded SMS [ do not answer ] : so i think i'm good to sleep, thanks SEB sms [block]: if you say so BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : i could take you and alex on and once and still come out without a scratch on me SEB sms [block]: well now thats just bragging sms [block]: but this is 1 on 1 you can fight alex another time BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : gladly, mate ALEX Alex Moran has left the chat SEB sms [block]: oh perfect we can plan the torture without worrying she'll tattle to sam AUGUST Sms [ clusterfuck ]: Oh hey Seb. How's it going? SEB sms [block]: just another day of making sure my sister doesn't murder me AUGUST Sms [ clusterfuck ]: I see you two ran Alex off again..  yep pretty much what I was about to guess. SEB sms [block]: these things happen when we're left unsupervised AUGUST Sms [ clusterfuck ]: Understandable. Unfortunately we should probably keep Sam in one piece if you're out picking fights. BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : it's a shame, but ... he kind of has a point, you know SEB sms [block]: it really is sms [block]: as much as i also hate to agree sms [block]: and i dont think sticking him in a basement overnight is going to do much BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : we could always try the interrogation tactics they taught us in the army? SEB sms [block]: well. thatd probably be logical BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : that way he'd be physically fine afterwards, hopefully mentally competent enough to patch you back up as well SEB sms [block]: ur so smug about assuming there wont be one single mark on you sms [block]: but as long as he can hold a needle and use it properly then yeah should be alright BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : ah no, i'm not that arrogant, i just know i can cope with a couple of cuts and bruises SMS [ do not answer ] : i know i'll have had worse SEB sms [block]: fair enough sms [block]: we'll see if you can do enough damage to actually make me get stitches or whatever BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : if you end up needing stitches, i'll buy the first round SMS [ do not answer ] : fair's fair, yeah? SEB sms [block]: yeah thats fair BASH SMS [ do not answer ] : excellent, well then, i'll see you saturday SEB sms [block]: sounds good. ill be ready

[inactiive-shit]

Memes Make For Serious Business

This is a little story based on this text post by @incorrectsanders​. Thank you so much for letting me write this, and also I really hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: None, methinks

Pairing: romantic analoceit (this might be my OT3. I love this ship so much and I can’t find it anywhere, god, kill me.)

Words: 1,127

(Also, Virgil is a transman in this...) (Could be relevant...)

((ALSO ALSO: THERE IS A MEMES PART 2 NOW!!!))

Please enjoy!

Virgil had been laying on the couch with his feet in Dee’s lap, drinking a smoothie. Logan was sitting on the floor in front of the couch reading. It had been a couple of movies and none of them had felt the need to move. They had officially begun their Disney Movie Marathon. It was just the three of them watching because Roman and Patton liked to watch at Roman’s house. His bed was comfier and bigger, but his brother always managed to get ahold of a copy of his key and interrupt whatever Roman was doing. And no offense to Roman, but not even Disney was worth such prolonged exposure to Remus. (Last time they had ended up with worms in their shoes, and Virgil wasn’t looking forward to seeing Patton start puking again.)

Still, they were doing the marathon separately now. They would have a trivia competition over it when they got through all the movies they could fit into the week with Logan running the whole deal to ensure fairness. (Dee still cheated, but so did Patton. It all evened out in the end.) The competition was more or less for Virgil and Roman’s competitive streak. They had tied every year, and neither would concede the other as the winner.

They had started with the classics yesterday, but then Dee had hijacked the remote and turned on Winnie the Pooh. Virgil didn’t mind watching it, but it had interrupted his streak of Disney Princesses, which he liked to do all at the same time.

He hadn't complained too much though. It seemed oddly appropriate.

“Virgil, can you get me a glass of water?” Dee asked from his end of the couch. Virgil thought about it for a moment.

“Nah.”

Dee sighed and paused the t.v. “Can you move your feet, then?” Virgil considered this too.

“I can’t,” he decided. Dee shifted to look Virgil directly in the eyes. They locked into eye contact, and Virgil smirked.

“Why not?” Dee asked. Virgil wormed one of his legs behind Dee’s back and locked his ankles together.

“I can’t,” he repeated, “because it’s bad for the baby.” There was a silence as they stared at each other, a challenge. Piglet stared judgmentally from the screen too, though Virgil didn’t remember inviting him to this conversation.

Virgil broke first. “Ask me who the baby is, Dee.”

“No.”

“C’mon Dee, ask me who the baby is.”

Dee stared right into Virgil’s soul. “No. I'm not gonna do it.”

And if you gaze for long into an Abyss, the Abyss gazes also into you, Virgil thought smugly. His stare did not waver. “Dee Bishop. Ask me who the baby is.”

“I'm not going to ask that,” Dee said stubbornly. Virgil sighed theatrically, using every ounce of Extra™ that Roman had taught him over the course of their friendship. (That was a lot of Extra™ for anybody who was curious. So much.)

“Fiiiiiine. Logan!” Virgil smacked Logan in the shoulder a few times. Logan set down his book and turned around.

“Yes, dear?” he asked.

“Ask me who the baby is,” Virgil demanded. Logan glanced between Virgil and Dee, who looked entirely exasperated. Virgil took great pride in helping Logan learn the lingo used today, but he also knew that Logan was only semi-meme literate. Their lessons were long and arduous but Logan was nothing if not a dedicated student.

“Is this one of those me-mes from the internet?”

“Ye-”

“Logaaaaan. Ask me who the baby is.” Virgil started poking Logan, too determined in his quest to even correct Logan’s pronunciation. Dee sighed.

“Let me up or I'll start tickling your feet.”

“I'm not ticklish. I invite you to try. And you're not leaving until Logan asks who the baby is.” Virgil turned away from Dee, valiantly trying to tickle his feet and failing, and looked at Logan with the puppiest eyes he could summon. “Lolo, ask me who the baby is.”

“Who is the baby?” Logan asked, sighing.

“It’s in me,” Virgil said, patting his belly. “Our baby.” Dee abruptly stopped what he was doing to stare directly at Virgil who was now smiling softly.

“That's not how that-that’s not how it goes,” Logan said, looking shocked. Virgil shook his head.

“No, Logan. That's not how the meme goes.”

“Wait, are you-?” Dee stopped halfway through the sentence, unable to get any more out. Virgil fished in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a plastic strip. His pregnancy test.

“Not joking,” Virgil said. “Our baby.” He hesitated for a moment and set the test down. “That is, if you want it?”

“You’re pregnant?” Logan breathed. He glanced up at Virgil’s face then back to his belly. “Oh my god.” Logan buried his face in Virgil’s belly and started laughing and crying. Virgil shoved himself into a sitting position, Logan moving with him. He gently held Logan’s head with one hand and extended the other.

“Dee?” Dee was staring at Virgil with an entirely blank expression and Virgil felt the first of the apprehension rise. “Dee, you okay there? Are you hearing me?”

He kept staring blankly for a moment, and Virgil was more afraid that he’d broken Dee than anything else. Then a smile slid across his face like the sun breaking from behind clouds. “We’re gonna be parents. With a kid.” He threw himself at Virgil and gave him a searing kiss. One hand ghosted over his belly like he thought the slightest touch might hurt him.

“Yeah,” Virgil laughed, relieved. “That’s generally how being parents works.” He wrapped his free arm around Dee and Dee pressed his face into Virgil’s neck.

“Oh goodness,” Logan mumbled and surged up from his spot to give them both kisses. “We-we’re gonna-pregnant! You’re amazing. Amazing, astounding, awe-inspiring, Virgil.” Logan devolved into mindless babbling and Virgil laughed again, holding both his boys close.

Eventually, they were all three curled up in a cuddle pile on the couch, Winnie the Pooh playing on screen. It had a different feel now, knowing they were in for their own Christopher Robin. But it was good; it was great, even, and Virgil couldn't wait.

Logan fell asleep smiling, head in Virgil’s lap, and Dee went with both arms wrapped around Virgil, holding him closer than was strictly necessary. Virgil loved it, and he loved them, and he loved the tiny person that wasn’t even real yet. He loved them all so much. For the first time, Virgil felt entirely content and happy with what was coming. He fell asleep surrounded by the people he loved most in the world and knew everything was going to work out. It was going to be beautiful. And there was no one else he’d rather have it with.

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter seven - part two (the injun doth speak too much)

There really isn't much here in Monticello as Maya takes the first exit off the highway. But she insists on feeding me. She's the only one with money after all.

There's a cute little diner on the edge of town and she treats me there.

My headache's starting to come back, but this time I think it's from not drinking any coffee or hardly any water this time around.

Lucky for me, she guides me inside of the place and we take a seat at the little table closest to the front door.

She just asks for a glass of water with a lemon wedge while she gets me a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. I'm absolutely famished: that hospital food wasn't bad, but I hadn't eaten anything this morning. The stack is bigger than I imagine but I don't really mind. The cakes are fluffy and accompanied with lots of melted butter and a bit of maple syrup. I offer her a bite but she again refuses.

“Come on, Maya, you've got to eat something,” I tell her with my mouth part of the way full. But she shakes her head. I shrug my shoulders and insert the bite. I'm like a little boy eating breakfast with his auntie or his grandma: I eat everything on the plate and drink down the coffee even as our waitress pours me a second cup. I lean over the plate with my arm resting on the top of the table and my other hand holding the white mug up to my mouth. My stomach is warm and feeling soft again.

“Feel better?” she asks me: the overhead lights are illuminating the scar on her forehead to where it's pure white.

“Very much so.” I drink up the rest of the coffee, and she pays and leaves a tip for the waitress. She leads me back out to the car like she's my girlfriend. Some people are kind of looking at us like we're boyfriend and girlfriend, even though we're not. I'm the guy who saved her life. Although in a way she kind of does feel like my girlfriend because she's sharing stuff with me that she doesn't want to share with Lars or anyone else.

Rather, she's just a girl who happens to be my friend, treating me well and paying it forward back to me.

We get about ten miles up the road when she stops again, this time for a refill of fuel and a milkshake for me. I'm not even hungry but I take it because it's chocolate. No sooner had I drank it down about twenty miles outside of Syracuse when she stops again, this time it's for me to take a piss. When I return out of the men's room and back outside, I find she's gotten me a wedge and a bowl of clam chowder.

“My goodness,” I confess as I take the spoon from her and hold the little bowl right before my chest. I'm really not hungry at all, and those pancakes filled me up plenty, but I'm seduced by the warmth of the chowder and she has those little oyster crackers in her hand. She sticks one into her mouth before handing them to me.

Oh, I see now.

I crumble a couple of them over the chowder before taking a bite. The potatoes are perfect and the chowder itself is creamy and warm. It all feels like a warm hug on the inside. It's like she wants me to have my cup full at all times. As we make our way through the donut hole that is the heart of Syracuse, I'm feeling pretty full at this point. I don't think I've ever eaten this much in just a couple of hours before. Not even when I was with Anthrax did I eat this much. Come to think of it, I don't think I ate this much the other night before the accident.

We pass by that one exit I took to visit Brick in the hospital.

Oh my fucking God, Brick.

I hope he's alright. I hope the feathers sprouting out of his head have gone away. I can hope that as I set down the empty cup on the center console and rest a hand on my stomach. I'm feeling so warm and so full that I'm about ready to fall asleep right there in the seat next to her. Maya, meanwhile, seems to be completely unfazed by the fact she's barely eaten all morning, or who knows how long for that matter.

I run my fingers through my hair as I lean the seat back to ease the pressure on my stomach. It doesn't actually hurt, I'm just feeling really full.

We're not too far from home when she picks up the wedge for me and hands it to me.

“No—no—” I resist her, keeping my hands on my stomach. “I can't. Not now.”

But she doesn't let go of it as we near the outskirts of Oswego. I recognize those lush trees near the golf course and the country club when she hands it to me again.

“I still can't. I think I ate too much—”

We reach my apartment complex and she still hasn't set the damn thing down or put it out of my sight. She takes it with her as I lead her to my front door.

Now I know how Lars felt the other night when he ate and drank too much at the bar: I'm trying hard to not lose my balance as I stick the teeth into the keyhole and open the door.

I feel tipsy.

I pretty much collapse onto my couch, flat on my back and with my feet hanging over the arm. I unbutton my jeans and lay there with my shirt riding up my body. I lay there with my eyes closed for about a minute when I feel her fingers running up my bare skin towards my chest. I open my eyes to see her looming over me, still with that long wedge in her hand. She unfurls the plastic wrap and takes out the half in her right hand, and holds it over my mouth like she's going to shove it right in.

“No, Maya—please,” I beg her, pushing back the half. “I can't handle another bite.”

“Come on—you're hungry,” she insists in that breathy voice. “I can feel it. I can feel the hunger within you.”

“I'm not, though. I swear to you. I've been eating all morning long.” I push down the waistband of my jeans and pull up my shirt. “Touch me. Touch my belly.”

She sets the wedge down on the table next to the recliner, right next to the phone and the lamp, and then turns back to me.

“I am touching you—” She rests her hands on me. Her touch is uncomfortable with everything she's fed me, but then she moves her hands up towards my chest. She brings her lips closer to mine, and for a second I think she's going to kiss me. But she never does.

“I feel you—” she whispers into my face. “And I want to know what it means to love.”

I nibble on my bottom lip. She's putting too much pressure on me, but she's on me. Her hands are caressing all over my chest.

“You're so warm and so delicate—just, dare I say, skin and bones.”

Right. She's one to talk. The one thing she ate today was that little bit of oyster crackers when I had that bowl of clam chowder. My stomach is still very flat but I feel like I've just swallowed the entirety of Lake Ontario.

Maya leans in closer to my face.

“Please—” I beg to her. “Please—”

“With pleasure—” She puts her lips onto mine. She tastes like stale old bread and regret.

“Wha—whaaaaat?” I'm so full, I can't even think straight.

“Methinks the Injun doth speak too much,” she whispers into my mouth before kissing me again. I feel it within me.

I let out the biggest, hairiest belch I've done in a long time right over the crown of her head.

“Ohhhhhh, God damn,” I groan out. “I can't believe I ate that much.”

“I've got you now,” she whispers to me. “I've got you around my finger.”

“Wait, what?”

She lifts herself off of my chest and straddles my hips like she's about to ride my dick. But she doesn't. Instead she gives me these light little kisses on my belly. Oh fuck, that feels good. After the pressure she just put on me, that's such a lovely sweet feeling.

She's going down to my belly button and part of the way onto my happy trail, and then she rests her head on my lower belly. I feel like a pillow now. A fluffy soft pillow in a skinny boy's body.

She kisses me right on the belly button and then she lifts herself up so as to look at me in the face.

“Better eat that sandwich, big boy,” she whispers to me with a light tap on the tip of my nose. She then climbs off of me and rounds the end of the couch. I lay there staring up the ceiling, still feeling her lips on my skin and still tasting her. And then I realize she's not in here anymore.

I stifle another little burp in my throat before hoisting myself up on my elbows. My back twitches but that's the least of my problems at the moment.

“Maya?” I call out. Silence.

“Maya? Where'd you go?”

I swing my legs over from the arm of the couch and I sit upright, still with my shirt pulled up my belly and my pants unbuttoned. I strip off my jacket because I'm so warm.

“Maya?” I call out again. Silence.

I stand to my feet, albeit with a bit of difficulty because I'm still very full. Careful not to lose my balance, I head into the kitchen. She's not there.

I look down the hall. Nothing.

I take a peek into the bathroom. Empty.

My bedroom? No one there.

But the arrowhead pendant which I left on my nightstand is missing.

She took the pendant.

I have a hunch now.

“Looks like I'm going to have to make a trip over to Boston,” I say aloud.

[longsightmyth]

Myth Reads The Naming, Chapter 19

This chapter is, at fourteen pages, technically the fourth shortest chapter in The Naming, but only because two chapters have thirteen pages. This means fewer Throne of Glass chapters, for which I am thankful.

PELLINOR

So Hem has had a pretty grim life, starting, as far as he knows, with his delivery to a really terrible orphanage by a hull. One day he was called up and told that his uncle had finally gotten back from wherever and was taking him home. His ‘uncle’ wasn’t great but he wasn’t awful either unless one takes into account the fact that there were five hulls around at all times.

Said hulls eventually tried to get him to commit human sacrifice but Hem wouldn’t do it, so they locked him in a room and starved him, which was when Sharn broke into the house to steal stuff and found a Pilanel boy locked in a room. Obviously, he busted him out. I’ll talk about that in the comparison.

So they ran, and eventually the hulls caught up to them. Hem told Sharn he heard them coming earlier, but Sharn didn’t believe him, so Hem hid. The hulls tortured Sharn, who for a while said they’d sold Hem but eventually broke down and admitted that he’d run away recently, and the hulls killed everybody anyway.

Which is, of course, when Maerad and Cadvan found Hem. Since Hem mentioned that Sharn also stole some stones, Cadvan asks to see them. Hem is curiously possessive of the medallion he wears, but when Cadvan has no interest in that he forks over the stones.

They are basically mini-palantir, I guess? They let people with the corresponding partner stone hear and sometimes see what’s going on. Thankfully Maerad’s magic fire blasts blanked them out, but we know why our heroes were so easy to find earlier. Cadvan tosses the stones away and jokingly forgives Hem for almost getting them killed.

Sometimes Cadvan has a questionable sense of humor, honestly.

Anyway, then he asks to see the medallion, and Hem reluctantly lets him, at which point Cadvan goes very quiet.

“What?” demanded Maerad, after the silence had lengthened unbearably. Hem was watching them both with a mixture of bafflement and despair.

Cadvan didn’t respond at first. “Maerad,” he said at last. “Do you remember your father very well?”

Oh yeah, folks. We’re going there. Cadvan further presses, asking if Maerad remembers what Dorn looked like, whether she actually saw her brother Cai killed or not, etc. The medallion has the symbol of Pellinor on it, and it says on the back in the speech, “The House of Karn. Minelm made me.”

Cadvan starts considering both of them and their physical similarities, and he and he concludes that they could be brother and sister. Hem is the right age, and the hulls kept him around for a reason, after all.

Maerad is less cautious, declaring that Hem is definitely her brother, she can feel it, that’s why she had to go find him, etc.

“...I remember Dorn, Maerad; and Hem is unmistakably Pilanel. It would explain why the hulls were interested in him. But I might be wrong.”

“You’re not often wrong,” said Maerad with a wry smile, echoing something he had said to her long ago in Innail.

“No.” Cadvan smiled very slightly. “I am not often wrong. Mind you, when I have been wrong, I’ve been very wrong indeed.”

Sometimes Cadvan’s humor is spot on, though.

Anyway, Cadvan surmises that the hulls knew about the prophecy but grabbed the wrong kid. He tells ‘you Pellinor folk’ to nap and he’ll keep watch, since he couldn’t sleep with his headache anyway. Maerad tries and can’t, remembering Cadvan on the ground and how she’d felt about killing things after.

Darsor returns about an hour after that, Imi in tow. After Darsor imparts some encouraging words for Maerad and Cadvan, Imi comes up and apologizes for running, and Maerad tells her it was good that she did. Cadvan further assures her that there is no shame in running from what are essentially demons.

They ride some more. I know you’re shocked.

The chapter ends when they crest a hill and can see Norloch.

THRONE OF GLASS

Thirteen pages in two chapters y’all I can do this.

Apparently Cain has been getting better not because he trains every day but because he summons dark powers. He calls out a ridderak. I’m sure the ridderak has actually been mentioned before but honestly I can’t be bothered to check right now.

It was something out of an ancient god’s nightmares. Its hairless gray skin was stretched tightly across its misshapen head, displaying a gaping mouth full of black fangs.

Fangs that had ripped out and eaten Verin and Xavier’s internal organs; fangs that had feasted on their brains. Its vaguely human body sank onto its haunches, and it sl;id its long front arms across the stone floor. The stones whined under the claws. Cain raised his head and stood slowly ad the creature knelt before him and lowered its dark eyes. Submission.

I’m not saying that there was a perfectly good place to use Sarah Janet’s trademark ‘those’ instead of ‘the’ in there, but I’m not not saying it either. Also, I still don’t remember which serial killer was which in regards to Verin and Xavier. I forgot Xavier existed, so.

Anyway, Cain says it wasn’t supposed to be Celaena tonight but she’s who he’s got, so Celaena whimpers at him and draws her absolutely useless knife monstrosity, which Cain promptly relieves her of on his way out the door. Honestly, good riddance.

Celaena screams a lot and eventually runs through the secret passages, eventually making it to Elena and Gavin’s tomb, where she snags Damaris, which is a sword that becomes sort of important later. I mean, kinda. Look, I don’t know, sometimes in Kingdom of Ash Dorian uses it to find out if people are telling really obvious lies because Sarah Janet decided she needed a sword of truth up in here in the last book.

Anyway, she kills the ridderak, marking the first time Celaena has won a fight on-page and unassisted, I think, but it bit her along the way. She walks back to her rooms and then collapses, suddenly overcome by the venom. Nehemia finds her and does something and Celaena falls fully unconcious while being rocked gently by Nehemia in a bathtub.

I’m not saying you should ship it, but like. **makes Will Smith present-y hands**

Anyway, that’s the end of chapter 42. Next chapter.

Celaena wakes up to see Nehemia waiting in a chair by her bedside. It has only been three hours, but Celaena feels entirely healed. After some prodding from Nehemia, Celaena confesses her true identity (of course we (and actually Nehemia, come to think of it) are, per later book retcons, aware that it isn’t actually her true identity. More on that in the discussion). Nehemia is upset that Celaena didn’t tell her, but eventually says that Celaena is impressive because,

“...you did not let the mines harden you; you did not let it shame your soul into cruelty.”

Methinks Nehemia speaks more out of hope than actual evidence, because Celaena is a petty, cruel brat who thinks only of murder and her own self-interest at the moment who upgrades to thinking of conquering other nations ‘to spread culture’ later. Nehemia also names her ‘Elentiya’, which means ‘spirit that could not be broken.’ We all loved Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, Sarah Janet, I get it. Possibly Nehemia is operating on the assumption that naming a thing determines the character of the thing. Sorry, Nehemia, I know you tried.

Celaena decides to tell Nehemia how she ended up as Adarlan’s Assassin when Nehemia asks, and that’s how we end the section but not the chapter.

Celaena admits next section that she didn’t tell Nehemia everything, because we must still Not Know that Celaena is actually a princess. We have to Not Know very hard at this point, because that’s just the kind of book Throne of Glass is. Also Celaena refused to tell Nehemia about what bit her, so basically everything is pointless.

Chaol needles her about dancing with Dorian, Celaena reflects that she killed the ridderak so the darkness is lifted from the castle, I despair.

Later they spar, and Chaol says he saw her reading poetry, which he thought she didn’t like. She says epic poetry is different because it’s not pretentious. As a fellow hater of poetry, I have to say that I agree, re: enjoyment but must note that it is Celaena who comes off as pretentious here. Anyway they round a corner and she sees the unnamed King of Adarlan and it’s presented as a dramatic reveal but like. You live in his castle, Celaena. He’s a public figure. He’s going to be around.

COMPARISON

Celaena remains a bratty twelve-year old confident in her abilities until faced with anything that might make her prove them. What else is new.

Well. I guess the idiot ball got bigger. The dude who summoned the monster is still out and about but sure the darkness in the castle has been defeated. That makes sense. (Celaena does nothing without being shoved into it, by the way: she has to be sent places by Elena, who she doesn’t ask for help, she has to be shown with actual glowing neon signs the monster that eats things, and then she has to be locked in the catacombs with it to fight it? Y’all. If she wants to rule a country later she should really display some initiative.)

Meanwhile Maerad and Hem/Cai get to be brother and sister, and since names are inherently tied into the narrative by way of bardic names already being important to the story, the fact that Hem will continue throughout the series to prefer being called Hem over Cai is an interesting twist on the later Celaena, who thinks that because she tells everybody to call her Aelin she’s an entirely different person.

Also of note is that both chapters contain human sacrifice, though Hem says that he wouldn’t kill the other boy with so little fanfare that it rounds the corner into having us go duh. I mean that in a good way: it is presented as so much the common-sense choice that it lets us the readers understand a core component of Hem. He can’t be evil. He refuses to be evil. As a child who grew up hungry and starved, he still refused to kill somebody despite the threat and implementation of starvation. The narrative doesn’t wax rhapsodic about it, either. It’s just who Hem is.

Similarly, no one waxes rhapsodic about Sharn, though I might here for a moment. Here’s a guy who broke into a lord’s house to steal valuables, found a starved little boy in a room, and said, ‘okay there is no way I’m leaving this kid here’ and stole him from evil magicians. Pellinor has a mindset and purpose of execution similar to Lord of the Rings: small, kind actions eventually cascade into larger, world-saving actions. Sometimes small good deeds are all you can do, but that’s okay. Small good deeds lead to more small good deeds and eventually the scales tip.

That only works, though, when small good deeds are the only good deeds available to you. Celaena giving Kaltain a cloak in Crown of Midnight, for instance, doesn’t tip the scales much, because Celaena is capable of so much more, and has shown it by faking the deaths of all of the (male, for the record) targets given to her by the king and helping them make their escape. That she chooses to only give Kaltain a cloak, when she is completely aware that Kaltain is regularly raped by both the guards and Perrington, when Kaltain has been consistently wronged by the same people as Celaena, is more of an example of performative compassion instead of, like, actual help. I’m just saying. Further, the whole reverent ‘she gave Ansel one extra minute before shooting at her’ is nonsense. She should have just not shot at Ansel. That would have been an act of compassion. Nobody was holding her to it. There wasn’t any sort of magical compulsion. Celaena performs the most tepid of merciful acts, and the book portrays them as Glorious Acts of Defiance and everyone is in awe over her forgiving nature. She says she doesn’t believe in slavery but never bothers to condemn it in any stronger language. I’m tired of it. I’ve been tired of it. Comparing it to The Books of Pellinor just makes me more tired of it.

In short, I despair.

STATS

Throne of Glass:

Pages: 13

Fragments: 14

Em-Dashes: 34

Ellipses: 7

Pellinor:

Pages: 14

Fragments: 6

Em-Dashes: 4

Ellipses: 12

[worrentigre]

Rhuli’a’s Trial pt.1 (RP Scene)

Rhuli’a Kanjun.  The prospect who has approached Worren Tigre months ago, asking for official training as a Fist of Rhalgr.  Though the man shows potential, Worren has noticed a few personality traits that he finds unfavorable for a Fist.  So he has tested him and observed time and again, slowly sewing tidbits of training and advice in between.  However, this has gone on long enough, and Worren has one final test for him before he decides to induct him into the ranks of the Fists and train him for real.  The young man has spirit, pride, and skill.  Worren believes his view is narrow, and does not see the bigger picture.  This final trial will be conducted within the Temple of the Fist, much like Worren’s other student, Kodaro.  Not only will his body be tested, but also his mind and heart.  Will he return as a Fist of Rhalgr?  Or will he fail and not survive the trials ahead.

The location is Rhalgr's Reach, early morning. Worren is sitting at a table near one of the tents outside of the Temple of the Fist, dressed in his temple uniform. A call goes out over the linkshell network. "Kodaro and Rhuli'a. I need to see you both in Rhalgr's Reach today. I will be waiting near the Temple of the Fist." There's a moment's pause before Kodaro responds with the ghost of a yawn still apparent in his voice. "Do I need to bring my cyclas?" 

Worren: "Yes."

Kodaro: "...have I got time to grab breakfast first?"

Worren: "Yeah. No rush. Get yourself situated. I will be waiting."

The pearl catches the end of a relieved sigh. "Alright, then. I'll be there within the bell, sir." 

True to his word, the Seeker appears near the aetheryte no more than forty five minutes later. Clad in his muted green cyclas with the hood down, his mentor's gauntlets, and his own choice of steel greaves, he almost cuts an impressive figure were it not for his typical good natured grin. After a bit of wandering, he finds Worren and greets him with a formal bow before peering about the tents with his tattered ears swivling about.

"No Rhuli'a yet, huh? Nuts. I never seem to catch that guy outside of formal meetings. So, what's on the agenda today, sir?" Worren stands and returns the greeting, then waves him over. "Come sit. This is good. We can discuss the training before he gets here. It's time for his test, and you're gonna help me give it." Kodaro obliges and picks a perch, slinging a small rucksack to the ground beside him. "Like the one you put me through here, or have you got something else in mind?" Worren nods, "Oh, he's goin' in, all right. I need to see where he stands in times of duress. And man, will there be duress. It will be different from yours, though."

Kodaro: "He's ready to go in already? That's great, he must've made some serious progress if you're sending him in to the temple. What's my part in all this?"

Worren: "He's unlocked a gate already. Now it's time to see of he has the brains and resolve to use it properly. The aim of his test is survival. If he passes, he will have a prize waiting for him as well as my consent to formally train him as a Fist. If he fails, he dies."

He leans back casually. "Your part is simple. His path will be impeded with several scenarios that will take more than just his strength to get through. You will shadow and observe him. Feel free to add to whatever tests he comes across if they seem too easy for him. Do not be seen, and do not help him in any way. He needs to accomplish this with his own power and mind. Call it a question of... how bad does he really want it? I will also be watching."

The younger monk frowns a bit, fiddling uncomfortably with his eye patch until Worren finishes. "Sending him in and then letting him die is tantamount to murdering him ourselves; if I feel he's in real, direct, immediate mortal peril I will intervene." Kodaro lets the statement hang for a moment with grave finality before continuing with a slight grin. "Anything up to that point, though? I'm game. Coupla broken bones build character." Worren grunts. "If he dies, he dies." He looks to Kodaro sternly. "I have confidence in him, and I see potential, even if he does not, himself. This is his choice. It always has been. But, if he is wishing to walk this path, he will have to be willing to walk though the depths of hell, survive, grow, and remain humble."

Kodaro: "Worren, you swear off killing Spoken but you expect me to sit back and watch someone die? Absolutely no chance. I'm not budging on this. Any amount of harm short of that, fine, but I am drawing a line. I don't think it'll come to that kind of direct intervention, but I'm not just going to watch Rhuli'a die today if it comes to that." 

Rhuli'a hadn't bothered replying across the pearl. Only a few malms away from the Reach itself, he had taken it upon himself to simply travel there by foot. The dusty air of Gyr Abania whipped around him as he entered the reach after a passing of time. Spying the Highlander who had summoned him, he closed the distance between them, looking at the pair of them as he asked. "And today's labor is?" Kodaro cuts himself off as soon as he catches sight of the keeper; he hops down from his spot as Rhuli'a approaches and greets him with a wave and a toothy grin. "Hey! Long time, no see!" Rhuli'a gave a small, muted wave towards Kodaro, "Afternoon, friend."

Worren stands and approaches, putting a hand on Kodaro's shoulder and hisses in his ear quietly. "Go on ahead inside. We will use my network. And a word of caution; if you cannot continue to trust my judgement, then it may be time for you to be turned loose. We'll talk later." He straightens and nods again, before turning to Ruhli'a. "You made it. Great. Come, follow me. I will explain why I called you here on the way."

Kodaro nods quietly before turning to stroll inside, calling over his shoulder, "Good luck! Keep your cool and stay focused, yeah?" with an encouraging grin before drawing up his hood and calmly pacing through the towering double doors in to the temple.

Rhuli'a gave them both a questioning look before nodding towards Worren. Following him but a few paces behind, he waited for a few moments, and, if the Highlander did not start speaking, he'd venture forth with, "Some trial methinks. I would not think Kodaro would speak to me so if not."

Worren: "It is. Also why I don't ask of him for anything that requires much disgression.  What do you know about the Temple of the Fist? Has your family ever spoke about it?" He begins to lead them into the long entrance way.

Rhuli'a: "Nay, though I've taken a look at it from time to time. Obviously not allowed past the gates, but a looking glass has seen it closer to mine eye than I could hope."

Worren: "I see.  Not entirely accurate, though.  The outer areas of the temple are accessible to everyone.  It is inside the main area where only those who are strong may enter.  The monks of old used to come here to train, worship, and study.  Over time, changes have been made to make the temple a training and proving ground in and of itself.  The Fists would come here to test their abilities against the traps made within.  Today, I will be administering you the trial that will decide your standing within the Fists of Rhalgr.  Once we get to the main doors and you enter, you will be on your own.  You must make it through in one piece."  He speaks evenly now, devoid of emotion, and is looking straight ahead at the fountain they are approaching near the entrance doors.  "You will have to use all of your strength to get through these trials.  Survive, and you have proven to be one of us.  Fail, and you die."

He then stops and looks at Rulhi'a.  "Know that this is optional.  You are not being forced to take this trial.  However, if you do not take the trial, then I will turn you away, as I will believe you would not be able to make it as a Fist.  You could find another to guide your path, should you still wish to walk it.  But, if you take the trial, then may Rhalgr guide your steps.  Survive, and you join our ranks.  That means no more jerking you around; I will finally begin formally instructing you on your power, the culture, and what it means to be a Fist.  What are your questions?"

Rhuli'a gave Worren a look of slight disdain. "With all due respect, I'm hesitant to bring my arts to bear against simple machinery and such. Combat is reading and reacting to your opponent, not figuring out whether or not a blade will come out of a hidden slit in the ground. I'll take your trial, if only to prove that new ones are needed." The Miqo'te folded his arms across his chest, slightly uncomfortable as he furrowed his brow. Never one to shy away from expressing his thoughts, the dark-haired monk gave no indication that he was going to back down.

Worren continues his blank expression, as if observing the man. "Since you are so confident that you will complete this trial, then allow me to give you your first lessons early. Never mistake will power for overconfidence. Making assumptions can be the difference between life or death. And being a Fist of Rhalgr is much more than just one on one combat with another person. To assume so would be seeing only a small part of the big picture. Mastery of self is more than just martial mastery." He then turns to face him fully. He then puts his fist in his palm and gives a slight bow. "Our customary greeting between my brothers and sisters. You may not see this greeting often, but it is very important."

He gestures to the large doors that lead into the temple to begin the trial. "The trial will begin the moment you enter these doors. You will enter alone, and will have no help. There is no time limit, but it will do you well to not slack. If you survive, I will be waiting for you, and will be the first to greet you as a Fist of Rhalgr. And also, a word of caution. The most obvious solution is not always the correct one. May Rhalgr guide your steps through the temple." He nods and gestures to the door again.

Rhuli'a's eyes narrowed as Worren spoke to him. Breaking eye contact, he began to stretch himself out, warming himself up as the highlander continued to lecture him. In his mind was only a light buzzing as he contemplated all that was being told to him. Shoving it aside as nothing more than warnings, he stood, nodding once to the large man.

Turning without words, he strode to the door, shoving them open as he crossed the threshold.

Supremely confident.

@astralagency @berrodarmstrong @cfs-melkire @chiyohoshi @dynamitecowboy @fyrrdetelemagna @grandmastream @interdimensionalpeacekeeping @jancisstuff @nhara-tia @pom-friend @thetaleofoldmanmaruud @thornedblossom @valentinoix @supermeganick @syelirakaisuri

[greenmagic-oilspill]

Fragments, Pt. 2

Rhalgr's Reach…

As much as Edge, Ashe, and the rest of the Riskbreakers decided to trust the Ala Mhigan Resistance, Edge found himself surveying everyone's comings and goings in and out of the Reach. Not only was it easy to get a griffin-eye view from above due to the rocky outcroppings, but the same outcroppings made it easy for him to pass unseen, especially with the hustle and bustle down below.

Everything was always in constant movement. The Riskbreakers included.

High above, he watched supply trains go in and out of the Fringes. He watched trainees practicing their drills, Resistance and Alliance members planning skirmishes. He watched as Meffrid, one of Commander Kemp's direct subordinates, led his wife away for a mission of their own. He watched the Ananta. He watched the infirmary. He watched the messengers going back and forth, not for any wrongdoing, but to make sure no one erred and was followed. He even watched his friends among the Riskbreakers, if only to ensure their safety.

Near Starfall, he spotted Crimson Bull hefting his axe, and Edge contented himself with watching the Hellsguard for a while. His friend swung through the motions, practicing the feel of the heavy weapon in his hand. Despite being primarily suited to hand-to-hand combat, Edge thought Bull took to the weapon remarkably well, especially since he found it scarcely two days before.

Edge had gone with him into the Peaks when Bull departed from the Reach for personal reasons. Ashe's orders were that none were to venture far alone, so Edge was chosen to go with him - and he was glad he did, since he had gotten to know his long-time comrade and friend better than he ever did before. Bull's mother was from the area, he'd learned, so the two set out to find her home and learn what they could about her. There, he'd found his mother's axe, left for him to wield.

He watched as the sun began to set, bathing all of the Reach in deep crimson, and he breathed in deep of Gyr Abania's air. He was so close to home.

---

The Sandsea…

Granny found herself wandering into the Enclave, the Cluster's main hub, more often than not these days. With her entire team except for Azionne gone, either on journeys to distant lands or short trips for training, she found herself quite bored and lonely. She had also felt dizzy for the past few hours, and she was not sure why, especially since she'd done little except knit in front of her fireplace for most of the day. She supposed a short walk would do her good, and perhaps she could do some cleaning in the Enclave while the others were away…

The only other member of the Cluster who had not gone away was Azionne, who she was surprised to see sitting on their couch.

"Oh, Azionne," she said, quite startled. "I did not expect to see you here." Indeed, the Elezen often spent time secluded in her own private chambers.

Azionne lounged on the couch, her legs draped over numerous pillows and a glass of wine in her hand. "Oh, Moss, whatever could you be doing? Would you be a dear - oh, dear, I sound like you saying that, don't I? - and fetch me something to eat?"

Granny put her hands on her hips, a smile forming. Judging from the pink tinge to her cheeks, she judged the Duskwight to be quite drunk. And she had never seen Azionne drunk before.

Well, that explained the dizziness.

"I am not Yue, but I will fetch you something just this once," she replied, going to the counter. The Cluster's paltry food stores had just enough for her to whip Azionne up a couple of sandwiches. "You are the one who sent Yue off to Doma, are you not? Are you regretting this decision?"

Azionne let out a most unladylike hiccup. "Absolutely not… It needed to happen. Yue had to learn the truth of who she is. Ugh… she's not going to like it, not going to… This won't go well for the Cluster. We'll all feel it, methinks." She lets her head fall back with a heavy sigh.

Granny brings the food over and sits down on the couch next to her. "What do you mean? What will Yue learn?"

Granny listened as Azionne proceeded to tell her everything.

---

Azys Lla…

The skirmish with the Vith Legion remnants broke out when one of the adventurer units ventured too close to the Gamma Quadrant, yelling obscenities at the Garlean researchers and their own protectors.

And Lini found herself drawn into the middle of it all.

"Fighters, with me!" she shouted, finding herself taking command of the ragtag group. "Cover the retreat! We can't take them all!" There were barely two dozen adventurers there, not enough for them to fight off the imperial remnant. She beat back a hoplomachus, cutting through the Garlean's armor, but before he collapsed to the ground her Ayvuir Blue already glowed with magic.

"Mog Lance!" Lini shouted, as Pikna Popp finished the spell. A surge of silver light erupted from her sword, striking another soldier square in the chest and launching him backwards.

Even as they tried to escape back to their airships, back to the Alpha Quadrant where they would be left alone, more Garlean reinforcements came to cut off their route.

"Kupo! This doesn't look good, Lini!" said Pikna Popp, using her magic to defend as many people as she could. The moogle tired out quickly, her breaths short and fast. "Wait a minute, kupo! Is that Gogo coming?"

Lini looked up, spotting an airship soaring toward them and manned by a multitude of Ironworks engineers from the Alpha Quadrant. Gogo was indeed there, leaning over the side and aiming his gun down at the soldiers below, firing off shots into the Garlean crowd.

Lini grinned, but was forced to pull up her shield to block a sudden attack from a long, thin, but heavy greatsword wielded by an Elezen man much bigger than her. For a moment, she thought he was one of the adventurers turning on her, but then she saw his armor and a Garlean insignia.

She couldn't dwell on it long, however, being forced to step to the side to avoid the crash of an axe into the earth, wielded by a Xaelan man. Even after that attack, she just barely managed to lift up her shield to block a fireball that had been launched at her, and she finally was able to look up and see Invidia mal Deimos.

"What a pleasant surprise," said Invidia, hefting her spearcannon for another strike. "Out of all outcomes, you coming right to me was the one I least expected."