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nerdanel01 · 6 months ago

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Exquisite

Emmrich Volkarin/F!Rook 2.5k+ wc | SFW Agnes tries to find a way to express to Emmrich how much he means to her. EXCERPT: Behind her, Emmrich was speaking lowly to Alfred, paying her no mind. She heard the clink of beakers and flasks, and the low hiss of reaction as two elements came together. Before Agnes could reconsider, she drew the small box she had been carrying from her skirt pockets, and set it delicately on the table next to Emmrich’s cup.

Almost as soon as she had set it down, everything within her was screaming to take it back, to snatch it up and shove it back in her pockets before Emmrich caught sight of it. Somehow, incredibly—despite how deeply she had grown to care for Emmrich (could barely admit to herself: had fallen in love with him ) and despite the fact that they worked alongside each other almost every day, Emmrich seemed just as unaware of her true feelings towards him as he had always been. What did she have to gain, by putting that safety at risk now? What if it backfired on her?

9:40 Dragon

Agnes could not remember the last time she had felt this nervous.

It was after dinner, but the night was yet young; not so late that it would have been inappropriate to call upon Emmrich. That she would visit him at such a ripe hour in the day was not, in itself, unusual or out of the ordinary. Though he had been her mentor first, and her charge second, in the time since he had also grown to be her dearest friend, her confidant. Agnes liked to think that Emmrich thought of her as a close friend in return. They had spent many a pleasant evening together in his study, sharing kettle after kettle of hot tea, their discussion of death and the arcane continuing far into the small hours of the morning.

Tonight, however, as Agnes walked down the long narrow corridor to Emmrich’s study, she felt the small wooden box in the pocket of her skirts striking against her thigh with each step. Her stomach was twisted in knots; Agnes might have feared being sick, if it were not so clearly the symptom of her anxiety. She wrung her hands, then lifted them to smooth them over her black hair, which was braided and twisted neatly back behind her head.

As she arrived at the study door, Agnes straightened her shoulders, tried to calm her racing heart to no avail. Then—before she could reconsider, before she could flee—she rapped her fist on the door, three quick knocks of her knuckles on the wood.

Agnes stood there. Holding her breath, practically forgetting to breathe. When no answer came from beyond, she frowned, and raised her hand to knock again—and then, at last, she heard Alfred’s characteristic moaning within, followed by Emmrich’s muffled encouragement:

“Excellent Alfred, very good, just like that—now turn it in your grip, the other way…”

The brass knob of the door gave a pathetic little jostle, but the door did not budge. Another plaintive moan. “Oh, don’t be such a defeatist, Alfred, you’ve nearly got it!”

But the knob only gave the faintest twitch, less vigorous than the first.

“It’s alright, nevermind, let me get it…”

Emmrich answered the door wearing his dragon leather apron and gloves, his green-lensed safety goggles lifted to rest on the crown of his head. a fine waft of arcane-smelling steam billowing out from the room behind him. On the laboratory tables, flasks and alembics were madly boiling away.

“Agnes!” he greeted her, delightedly. “Good evening.”

“Hello,” Agnes replied, then glanced pointedly at the experiment in progress in the room beyond. It was a cowardly move, to be sure, but now that she was facing Emmrich, she found herself second guessing all the decisions that had brought her to his door. She would not refuse so readily an excuse to retreat, not when it was sitting there practically staring her in the face. “I hope I am not interrupting anything. If this is not a good time, I can come back.”

“Not at all, not at all! Alfred and I are nearly finished.” Emmrich held the door for her, beckoning her inside. “Come in, have a seat. I will join you in just a few moments. I apologize for keeping you waiting—I thought Alfred might be able to greet you while I continued our work, but, well…”

“Still struggling with his grip, is he?”

“He’s getting better,” Emmrich said, although he sounded less than confident. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please. Is the kettle still hot?”

“Cold, I’m afraid, and half empty.”

“Finish up with Alfred, then,” Agnes said, with a small smile. “I’ll manage the tea.”

“Thank you, dear,” Emmrich answered, gratefully. “I’ll be with you before it’s fully steeped.”

Agnes was thankful, then, that he had turned back to the laboratory tables and whatever bubbling concoction he was preparing, as a familiar warmth began to creep up the sides of her neck. ‘Dear.’ A recent development—Agnes wasn’t sure she would ever get used to it. It made her flattered and wistful all at once. Though she supposed she ought to be grateful she was dear to Emmrich at all, rather than disappointed she was not as dear as she may have liked to be.

Emmrich’s kettle had been left to grow cold on the serving tray beside his equally cold cup of tea. It looked like had managed no more than a sip or two before abandoning it, probably distracted by whatever experiment was at hand. Agnes carried the kettle to the spigot on the wall, emptying first the cold, bitter tea down the drain and removing the sieve before throwing the lever and filling it with fresh water. Then she carried it back to the heart, and set it hanging from a hook above the roaring flame. As the water warmed, she fetched two fresh, clean tea cups and saucers. These she set on a small table, sandwiched between two plush armchairs arranged comfortably around the hearth’s warmths, before settling into one of those chairs herself.

Behind her, Emmrich was speaking lowly to Alfred, paying her no mind. She heard the clink of beakers and flasks, and the low hiss of reaction as two elements came together. Before Agnes could reconsider, she drew the small box she had been carrying from her skirt pockets, and set it delicately on the table next to Emmrich’s cup.

But worse than the fear of being found out was the fear of losing him. Of something happening to Emmrich, or Agnes herself, without her ever having expressed at least some fraction of what he meant to her. Though she had only been a child when her mother had died, that did not mean she had no regrets—that Agnes did not wish every day that she had told her mother more often that she loved her. And Emmich was too good. He deserved better than that.

It wasn’t the first time she had tried to tell him. Once, several years past, she asked him for his birthday, that she might express her appreciation for him on that occasion. The strong Orlesian influence on Western Nevarra, where Agnes had been raised, was evident in the fact that she had even thought to ask. And Emmrich—fully Nevarran to the very core—had refused to tell her. He hewed strictly to the orthodox traditions in that respect.

“Remember and honor my Death Day, instead, once I am gone and interred in the Memorial Ossuary below,” he had told her, plainly, as if that were the most normal thing in the world—not some bizarre, morbid tradition practiced only to their homeland. “I will be much more in need of the company then, I suspect; and much more grateful for it.”

An awful, repulsed shiver had shook through Agnes at the thought. The Memorial Ossuary was a marvel, a true wonder of the Necropolis in its own right: the place where those who served in the Mourn Watch were laid to rest after living their lives in service of it.

But not immediately. They were interred, first, in a smaller chamber, one meant to accelerate the decay of flesh. When all that remained was bone, those bones were gathered, and stacked in extravagant, mind-dizzying formations within the Ossuary. The skull alone retained the distinction of individuality, the only indication of to whom the remains belonged: each one was inked along the brow with the deceased Watcher’s name and a blessing to Andraste, the crown of the skull decorated with a motif meant to honor the deceased for their deeds in life. Arbor Blessing for valor, perhaps. Prophet’s Laurel for unwavering faith.

Agnes found the whole idea horrifying. In fact, the thought of one day descending into the Necropolis to set out offerings and a remembrance meal for Emmrich—staring into the hollow sockets where his warm eyes used to be, at teeth that would never again offer her his charming grin—filled her with a primal dread that was unmatched by any other fear.

Still, at the time, she had managed to reply to Emmrich, dryly:

“Do not worry, Volkarin. I will not let your dusty, painted bones grow too lonely down there.”

To her great shock, at her answer, Emmrich had taken her hand between his—a thing he had never done previous to this occasion, nor since—and squeezed it, gratefully.

“Thank you.”

Agnes was nearly crushed beneath the weight of sheer relief in his voice. Did Emmrich really imagine that no one would think of him, after he was gone? That he would be so quickly forgotten? The vulnerability in his gratitude could have broken her heart. And she knew at that moment that her answer (given half in derision, half in jest) was now as god as a promise. An oath.

‘I will not leave you, even in death.’

The whistling of the kettle pulled Agnes out of her reverie. She stood from the armchair and pulled on a set of mitts to keep from burning her hands, then removed the boiling kettle from the hearth, setting upon a rounded trivet of green, silver-veined marble. She took the perforated sieve she had removed from the kettle earlier and refilled it with the smoky blend of black tea that Emmrich favored, then lifted the kettle’s lid and submerged it in the boiling water to steep.

“What’s this?”

Agnes stiffened. Emmrich (apron-less, waistcoat-less, shirtsleeves rolled past his elbows to reveal his fine forearms) was settling into the second armchair, examining with great interest the small wooden box Agnes had set out on the table.

Her stomach flipped. Well, this was it.

Agnes turned back to the tea. “It’s for you,” she answered, not as loudly or as confidently as she would have liked.

“For me?” he repeated quizzically. Then he read aloud from the handwritten label: “‘To Emmrich, from Agnes.’ Emmrich! How unusually intimate for you.” Which was a fair accusation. After all this time, Agnes could probably count on one hand the amount of times she’d called Emmrich by his given name. A few years ago he had given up insisting. “What is the occasion?”

Out of deference and habit, Agnes poured Emmrich’s cup of tea first. She could feel another embarrassed flush beginning to creep up her neck as the steam rose from his cup, and was thankful for the high, black lace collar of her blouse that concealed it. Thank Andraste she had not signed the inscription ‘Yours, Agnes,’ as she had toyed with at the time.

“Nine years ago to the day,” Agnes told him, pouring out her own cup of tea and keeping her gaze fixedly on the steaming amber brew, “you gave me a gift, to celebrate my first completed year in the Mourn Watch.”

A low huff from Emmrich, perhaps disbelief. “Maker, has it been ten years already?”

Agnes nodded, returning the kettle to the marble trivet and perching herself on the edge of the available chair. She barely settled into it, keeping her posture perfectly straight, tension running through her body. “Ten years that I have been a Watcher, ten years that we have been working together.” ‘ Ten years that I have held my love for you, secret and sacred and safe, pressed deeply into my heart.’ “I do not think, in those past ten years, that I have adequately expressed my gratitude for all that you have done for me. My hope is that this gift may rectify that, somewhat.”

“Agnes, that was wholly unnecessary,” Emmrich said, kindly. His fingers worked at the catch, popped the small box open. “You owe me no gift at all; not even the gift of your continued partnership, though I welcome it. You—”

Emmrich froze, his eyes fixed on the opened box in his hands. Agnes could hardly bear to look at him, but it was worse not to. She tried to read the play of emotions on his face.

Shock, certainly. Soon gathered under a put-upon stoicism. He pulled his lips back, baring his teeth, shifting uncertainly; his free hand came up to his face, and forefinger and thumb began to worryingly smooth along the line of his pencil mustache.

“Agnes, this is…” Rush of exhalation while he gathered his words. “It is exquisite. And entirely too much, I am not sure I can accept it.”

All the same, he pinched the ring out of the little velvet cushion it had been set up, lifting it out of the box to better examine it. Yellow gold embraced a labradorite scarab, the shoulders of the setting carved to look like lotus petals. The blue scarab flashed as Emmrich turned the ring over, capturing brilliant blue gems of light within its facets.

“Lovely vintage details in the late Van Markham style,” Emmrich spoke aloud, turning it over in the firelight. “It dates from the Steel Age, doesn’t it?” Another little huff of breath, something not quite merry enough to be a laugh. “How transparent I must have become to you in ten years, that you were able to devise a gift so entirely inappropriate and yet so absolutely irresistible to me.”

Agnes thought she might faint, she could hardly breathe. “You like it, then?”

“That is an understatement,” Emmrich said, gravely. “It is a breathtaking piece.”

“Would you put it on?” Agnes asked him, hoping she did not sound too eager. “Please.”

But Emmrich knew just as well as she did that once he yielded to the temptation to put it on, it would be very, very difficult to take it off. He had few weaknesses, but fine jewelry was certainly one of them. “Agnes—”

“I have no family,” Agnes told him, seeing the imminent refusal on his face and cutting him off. “Or at least, I no longer have any family that cares for me. You know that. Just as well as you know that I never had any intention nor desire to join the Mourn Watch when I came here.” She dropped her eyes to her teacup, still steaming, counting the grinning black skulls that had been painted into the porcelain around the rim. “But I have cherished every hour I have worked with you since I arrived. Everything we have experienced together, everything you have taught me. You are my dearest friend.” The truth of the matter was, “Who else in my life would I give such a gift to, if not you?”

Emmrich was gazing at her; Agnes could not meet his eyes. She did not think she could bear it if he was looking at her with pity. But out of the corner of her eyes, she saw his fingers shift their grip on the gold band. And then she did turn—her insides giving a sick, drunken, giddy lurch as she watched the ring slide over fingertip, first knuckle, second, until it came to a rest, snug at the base of his left middle finger.

It looked so fine on him. Looked as if it had been made for none other than him. That was partly why she had been unable to stop herself from buying it.

Emmrich held his hand away from his face, thumb curving to stroke the inside band of the ring while he admired it. “You are incorrigible,” he said at last, barely above a whisper. “I take it this is your way of getting back at me for all of those absurd, missed ‘birthdays.’”

“Indeed,” Agnes said, in a dry tone that often made it difficult for others to tell that she was joking, “if you had simply let me buy you a cake once a year, we likely would not be in this situation.”

Emmrich shook his head again, a smile twisting his lips. For a moment, Agnes thought he was going to remove the ring, and refuse it after all. Instead, he chuckled, softly, under his breath.

“It is too exquisite.”

But then he was rising from his seat, drawing near, bending at the waist—explosive panic, Agnes was not quite sure what was happening—before drawing his face close to her to press a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek.

It was over in the blink of an eye. Emmrich was back in his seat so quickly Agnes might have thought she had imagined it, were it not for the riot of reaction in her body: heat in her chest, in her face, in the bowl of her hips. She had felt the rasp of his mustache hairs against her cheek, as he kissed her. She had not thought to imagine that, not considered how incredible it would feel.

“Thank you, Agnes. Let’s make the next ten years just as spectacular as the first decade, shall we?”

--- This piece is Part V in a series of 11. [ Start from beginning ] [ Read Part VI ] [ Nerdanel's Fic Masterpost ]

#Emmrich Volkarin #dragon age emmrich #emmrich the necromancer #fanfic #dragon age fanfic

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lexosaurus · 2 years ago

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Danny Phantom AUs

Hello I found this list of AUs from @the-stove-is-on-fire and I am copy and pasting it under the readmore.

Edit: Thanks to all the feeback, I've added a bunch more! If I'm missing any other popular ones, let me know!

Actor AU: Danny is an actor on the Danny Phantom show

Ancient Danny AU: Danny is one of the Ancients who sealed Pariah away.

Astronaut Danny AU

Badger Cereal / Daniel Masters: Father&Son Vlad and Danny bonding, can be evil

Banshee Danny AU: Danny slowly loses his color every time someone dies in Amity Park.

Blue Danny: Danny is blue as a halfa/ghost

Cheese Melt: Vlad tries to be a good parent to Dani

Circus Danny AU: Danny never escapes the circus from Freakshow following "Control Freaks"

Clockwork's Apprentice AU

Clockwork is Danny: Danny has Clockwork's role in the show

Clone AU: Danny's just another of Vlad's clones

Coffee Ghost AU: Phantom haunts a college as a tired, caffeine addicted ghost

Corpse AU: Danny Going Ghost leaves behind an actual corpse/Danny is still a halfa but his portal accident left behind a corpse

Cryptid Danny AU: Danny/Phantom is the local cryptid

Cyborg/Halfa/Nanobot Valerie AU: Valerie's ghost turns her into either a cyborg, a part-ghost, or a human with some ghostly attributes

Dani Masters: Vlad decides to raise Dani as his actual daughter

Danny and Val Swap AU: Danny is the Red Hunter and Valerie is the halfa

Disabled Danny

Dual Obsession AU: Danny has 2 obsessions: usually space and protection

Dragon Danny AU: Danny always has been, or is turned into, a dragon

Electric Core AU: instead of ice powers, Danny gains electricity powers

Evil Trio AU: Pharaoh Tucker, Plant Sam, and either Dan or Void Danny.

Everyone Knows AU: Everyone knows that Danny is Phantom

Family Breakfast: Vlad/Maddie/Jack

Fantasy AU

Feral Ghost AU: Ghosts are more animalistic than the show depicted.

Fire Core AU: Danny's lab accident gave him a fire core and took place 100 years before Sam and Tucker ever found him. (source)

Full Ghost Danny: Danny fully died in the portal

Full Hazmat AU: Danny half-died while wearing an actual hazmat suit

Full Human AU: Danny is just Some Guy

Ghost Hunger AU: halfas/ghosts must consume ectoplasm

Ghost King AU: Danny (or someone else) is crowned the new ghost king

Ghost Speak: Ghosts speak a language called Ghost Speak

Ghostly Adoption AU: Phantom gets adopted by the ghosts

GIW [character] AU: [character] (usually Danny or Valerie) gets a job with the GIW.

Glowing Freckles AU: Phantom has freckles (can look like constellations) that glow

Good Vlad/Mentor Vlad

Halfa Jack AU: Vlad marries Maddie and Jack is the halfa

Halfa Jazz AU: Jazz was the one who went into the ghost portal

Halfa Trio AU: All three of them got hit by the portal

(Half) Human AU: Danny starts out a ghost and the portal turns him into a halfa/human

Immortal Danny AU: Danny turns immortal/never ages

Inverse Trio: Tucker is the halfa, Danny is the goth, Sam is the nerd

Lab Rat / Dissection: Fentons experiment on Phantom and/or Danny

Liminal Amity Park AU: Citizens of Amity Park gain ghostly characteristics due to ambient ectoplasm

MerAU: The ghosts are actually mermaids

Monster Appearance AU: Danny’s ghost form looks grotesque or like a monster

No One Knows AU: No one knows Danny is half-ghost

Phantom Phamily: Danny (possibly split into Phantom), Dani, and Dan are all living together.

Pitch AU: The show's original pitch. Danny is a human with an owl named Spooky, rides a motorcycle, and has a psychic connection with Sam.

Pitch Pearl/Danny and Phantom are separate beings: Danny and Phantom are separate beings (ship is Pitch Pearl)

Portal Danny AU: Danny is the Fenton Portal

Possessed by Phantom: Halfas are just dead people possessed by ghosts. Ghosts may or may not have their memories.

Reverse Trio: Sam is the halfa, Tucker is the goth, Danny is the nerd

Secret Experiment AU: Maddie and Jack intentionally turned Danny into a halfa

SCP AU: In which Danny is either captured by the SCP Foundation, Fenton Works is a branch of the SCP Foundation and Danny/the other ghosts are SCPs

Space AU: Alien or mass effect style

Undergrowth Sam: Sam keeps her plant powers following the events of "Urban Jungle"

Void Danny: Nocturne gets ahold of Danny (source)

Werewolf Tucker/Witch Sam AU: Tucker is a werewolf and Sam is a witch

Wings AU: Danny grows wings/Everyone has wings

#danny phantom #AUs #HCs #need a full list before I release the dannymay poll

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eryanlainfa · 6 months ago

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Airigo older designs!!!! Feat my headcanons for them :3

So many thoughts inside my head. They're in their late 20s here. I'll be rambling a lot under the cut :

Let's start with Hugo. I am still debating whether he bleaches his hair or not (he'd be dark blond-), so either his hair got darker over time or he bleaches it less often. He loses his arm after the 7k (it kickstarts that one sequel that only exists in my mind).

He is an engineer sponsored by the crown, and specialises in complexe and small mechanisms. His favorite prosthesis was built with that in mind which is why the fingers are thinner. He has other hands he can switch as it pleases.

Talking about prosthesis, he built it himself but the magic stones were Aiden's idea, the whole thing was an experiment to get the prosthetic to move more precisely and in sync with Hugo's mind. And it worked! The stone on the arm responds to the one on his collar.

He definetly "collected" various belongings from the others during 7k and Nuru's necklace was one of those objects and he still wears it often. Same for.. what remains- of the bandana tying his hair.

Also it's not too visible but he got some more meat now (he was practically a walking skeleton before)

Time for Varian!! His hair got curlier over the years and I headcanon he has vitiligo which is how he got his haistripe, he simply used to dye it blue with the help of his mom and kept on doing it after her death, until recently.

Appearance wise he just stopped caring- he is often too engrossed in his work and forget to be presentable all together. He puts more attention into wearing practical things.

He still is an engineer sponsored by the crown. But contrary to Hugo he is more into heavy machinery and does alchemy often enough. (The two engineers still do work together though)

I don't have much to add about him tbh, he's just overly cautious now until he forgets about it-

Aiden tiiiiiime! My dearest royal physician. As the head physician they get to go out less often and almost does more paperwork than actual practice.

They cut their hair because taking care of them was too much of a bother. Their new uniform doesn't bind their chest anymore. And they're finally comfortable using their mobility aids and showing off their prosthetic without restraints.

Refusing to end up as overworked as their old mentor, they are planning classes to educate more people in first aids and basic medicinal stuff, with the help of Laurel. They now get plenty of assistance and get to simply supervise rather than doing everything themself. (They still do care for the royal family as they take priority.)

FINALLY.

They are very cringe and overly in love people so of course they wear it with pride- Each of them got a pair of earings custom made from stones they chose themselves. Each representing one of their partner's eyes.

The braids are remains of their wedding look and they aren't planning on taking them out. Ever.

And the wedding bands were a last minute idea of Varian who was convinced he could make them himself, so he did. They just look horrendous. But the concept is so cute Hugo and Aiden loves them anyway.

#the magic stones for Hugo's arm may or may not be Aiden's dad's eyes- I am still debating on that as well-#oh and! Aiden was the only one with a 'proper' last name but they also kept it because it pisses off the 'true Veneficas'#airigo #eryart #home chemystery #oc x canon #Vat7k hugo #Vat7k varian #Vat7k aiden #older design #tts oc #Vat7k oc #varian Vat7k #hugo Vat7k #Vat7k #tts #ot3 #varigo x oc

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amazingmsme · 4 months ago

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(Elpenor anon)

If you got this already, I’m sorry but when I put this in an ask, Tumblr was breaking because of the sheer quantity of the fic, although that may have been like that because it was my phone.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown

Empty, is what all Elpenor knows at that moment. How empty his mind is, how empty his heart is, how empty his stomach is, how empty his eyes were, but the wet spot of the deck was especially empty, where Eurylochus of Same, his mentor, his friend, the second-in-command turned captain, used to be.

What happened or the event that caused it should’ve been seen or at least thought about earlier, but everyone was too busy trying to survive, to get home, to eat; that any circumstances for what they did slipped from their mind.

What pushed the boulder down the steep hill, was the death of 14 men at the club of a cyclops (Polyphemus, a part of his mind reminded him), one of those men being Polites of Ithaca- a soldier, a kind man, and the closest friend of King Odysseus of Ithaca, the captain of their vast fleet. The cyclops, a shepherd of the sheep that the men killed, would’ve taken more men’s lives in blood-curling rage, would’ve taken their lives as revenge for taking his sheep’s lives- if his consciousness didn’t fade from the lotus Odysseus put in the wine he gifted to him (the irony is that Odysseus gave him the wine as an gift so his sheep was a gift to him, meaning that Odysseus used a gift as a way to deceive him, like how the cyclops deceived them into thinking he’s letting them go.)

They were so close to leaving unscathed, without any circumstances; the cyclops was blinded by the same club that killed their friend by Odysseus’ command, the cyclops was unable to tell the cyclopes who blinded due to Odysseus’ cunning mind, they got to their ships without notice or loss. They were practically ready to sail away, but something happened to Odysseus. Something snapped inside him, there must’ve have been; what else would explain why he didn’t board the ship and instead ran towards the cyclops, with sharp sword in hand and sharper grief-filled anger in heart.

Elpenor watched as Odysseus slashed the cyclops; stabbed, cut, sliced, anything that could’ve possibly killed the Cyclops and avenge the men lost. But he didn’t succeed in his attempt , instead, he angered the cyclops, beyond words. Elpenor remembered his last words, as he was held helpless in the blinded cyclops’ fist, lift above his gaping maw, ready to bite and chew and swallow to add the King of Ithaca to his stomach. His last words before that creature dropped him into his mouth, before the crew heard that sickening crunch and the agonized screams that lasted only for a few moments as he was eaten. His last words before Eurylochus commanded the ships to row and sail away from the island.

His last words were “Eurylochus of Same, as your captain and friend, I am entrusting you with bringing the fleets home and taking care of my family until my son is of age to become king!”. The words were panicked and rushed, but that never stopped Odysseus, who was famous for his cunning and strategies, from being eloquent and clever with his words. That was the last time Elpenor saw the king of Ithaca alive and breathing, and the first time he saw Odysseus dead and still. But as the 12 ships rowed away as fast as they can, Elpenor swore the cyclops tilted his head towards the ships, just a little bit, as if he was almost contemplating. And whatever he was contemplating, he acted upon it, and in doing that, unleashes a tragedy upon the men that will take months or years to overcome and pass by.

The ships had to go through a terrible storm- a storm that could’ve ended more lives if Eurylochus didn’t command them properly. They rowed and sailed where the new captain demanded, and they were getting closer and closer to Ithaca, despite the storm. They were so close to home (or everyone else’s), so close, before all their effort was all for nothing, because of the actions and ruthlessness of a deity. Poseidon, the God of the sea, storms, earthquakes and horses, one of 12 Olympians, and the most horrifically important, the father of the cyclops Polyphemus. The father of the cyclops they took from, the cyclops they drugged, and the cyclops they permanently crippled. It should’ve been obvious at the start, a cyclops would’ve never been created unless they have a divine deity as a parent. And whatever kindness the deity had for them, left as soon as his son told him who had a part of his mortal injury, a man that goes by Eurylochus of Same.

Poseidon threw the storms at them, made it hard to get to Ithaca, and when that didn’t work, decided to see them face-to-face. The actions and mannerisms made it abundantly clear that he’s pissed, pissed by the fact they caused permanently injury to his son and didn’t have the decency to put him out of his misery, and instead left him forever blind. His words held a sense of irony, because if they did kill the cyclops, not only would his son be put out of his misery, in which he wouldn’t go after them, but if they killed him, the cyclops would’ve never told his father who killed and blinded him. It was tragic and ironic that an act that some people would’ve thought as merciful, is actually seen as cruel. And the deity, in his anger, wanted them to teach that ruthlessness is mercy to yourself. A lesson taught in the cruelest way possible.

Eurylochus tried to explain to him that they did try to kill his son, that their captain lost his life trying to end his life, but the deity made his decision, his cruel and cold decision. Not only would the god of the seas not allowed them to return home to Ithaca anytime soon, but he, as if it was taking a toy away from a child, drowned 6 ships filled with men; to show that by drowning the 294 men, he took mercy upon them from suffering the heartbreak of never returning home, leaving 291 men to suffer the consequences. It must’ve been poetic justice to him, how killing half of their men and left the rest to suffer parallels how they blinded his son and left him to suffer. It must’ve been satisfying to him. It must’ve been so satisfying that he changed his mind and planned to drown the other 6 ships; he would’ve, if Eurylochus didn’t speak up and made a big sacrifice for the remaining crew to live, and left Elpenor with big shoes to fill and a bigger hole in his heart.

He made a deal with Poseidon, that for the safety and survival of his men and a possibility of getting home, he would give his life to him and he can do whatever he wants with him. Eurylochus was always loyal to the crew and was willing to sacrifice his life just for a chance that the rest of the crew survived and gets home. And Poseidon, possibly touched by his loyalty, accepted the deal. But told him that doesn’t mean that he’ll grant the crew easy access home, that they have to work for it. But Eurylochus still agreed, because a deal where all of them were alive and had a chance to go home was worth the sacrifice.

What happened 5 minutes ago, but Elpenor feels like he could never accept what happened, could never wrap his head around it, could never even move from that position where Eurylochus was right in front of him, smiling at him with tearfilled eyes, with his big hands placed on Elpenor’s smaller shoulders, with his claymore on the floor besides him, a claymore bigger than Elpenor himself. He had to bend down to look Elpenor in the eyes, an action he did many times to help him sword fight. But this is different, this is his last goodbye to his mentee and his friends, his possible last words, and his last decision as captain. What he told Elpenor was heard by most of the crew, but he was looking him in the eyes, as if to tell him this was a final decision and it’s permanent, no matter what Elpenor says.

“As my last decision as captain, I, Eurylochus of Same, am passing the title to you, Elpenor.” was what he said. The decision was made to further the chances of them getting home; after all, Elpenor was the heart of the crew after Polites- he kept the crew’s spirits and motivation up- he was a formidable opponent-taught by Eurylochus who made him an excellent swordsman- and knew what to do and what to say and where to go -due to Odysseus teaching him on those long stretches where Odysseus misses his son and Elpenor misses a father. The decision was made with the best intentions in mind, but hearing that, was like a funeral bell to the Elpenor’s ears. And then a few moments laters, Eurylochus was gone, swept away by the sea.

And there, Elpenor stood, dead still and silent as if he was the one who died at that very moment. His eyes didn’t stray from the spot where his mentor stood, where the last person that felt like family stood. He didn’t move, hoping this was a nightmare, where he’ll wake up and find everyone okay, where all his friends were alive, where the 3 fucking people who practically raised him and took care of him were alive and breathing and they’ll be there to comfort him. But it’s not, this is reality, where he’s awake and alone and in charge of 290 men’s lives.

How can he accepted what happened? How can he even accepted it? He was there. Eurylochus was right there. And now, he’s gone. He’s gone forever. His mentor was gone forever. The last person that treated him like family was gone forever. He couldn’t just, move on, can he? The last of the three people that gave them hope in going home was gone. He faintly heard someone call ‘captain’ as he stood there, motionless. His dark eyes were frozen on that wet spot where Eurylochus last stood. Was he even breathing, or was his lungs frozen with the same shock and pain as the rest of him? Someone was still calling the captain, but who’s the captain now? The captain is gone, eaten by a cyclops and drowned by the sea.

There was no captain, yet someone was still calling for one. Who’s going to respond? There’s no captain anymore. But someone is still calling for one. Through the daze, he vaguely felt a hand touch his shoulder, and the word ‘captain’ was repeated. He didn’t respond, he wasn’t the captain, he was Elpenor; the most unimportant and unimpressive of the crew of Odysseus. There’s no captain. They died, both trying to protect and avenge the rest of their crew. But still, someone was calling for the captain. How is there not a captain anymore?

(Elpenor Anon)

Also I accidentally (accidentally) gave Elpenor abandonment issues.

I don’t know how,

So sorry I didn’t get to this til now, but life has been crazy let me tell you! It did go the This is absolutely heart wrenchingly beautiful & so well written! I believe in Captain Elpenor even if he doesn’t believe in himself!

#asks #anon ask #elpenor anon #elpenor #eurylochus #odysseus #epic #epic the musical #epic musical #epic fic

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miss-tc-nova · 2 years ago

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Empty - TWST Reader/Yuu

Hmm, I think this one could be fixed up, but I think I’m done with it now. It was originally merged with another one that I might work on later, but I pulled out a chunk and built off that for this one. Anyway, have some angst!

Premise: Reader/Yuu finally has power and is using it in kind

Warning: Major character death

Words: 2,453

~~~~~

Fire rages across the yard. The screams and shouts of the school boys does nothing as the cold, azure flames consume their magic. Against my ear rumbles a pleased purr and I indulge him with a scritch of the chin. His blue eyes glint with glee while his mouth wears that mischievous grin.

My name reaches through the chaos and I pause.

Before me stands three familiar faces from long ago. One belongs to an old mentor, the light half of his hair now black with the rest. Still, even so many years later, he cuts an imposing figure like he’s about to punish me as he used to. Two others are those of classmates—people I once stood by. But I have no mercy for those who stand in my way.

I greet them kindly. “It’s good to see you again, Professor Crewel, Riddle, Trey.”

“You have no right to stand on the grounds of Night Raven College.” The fiery red-head draws his scepter. “Leave at once.”

“Yet here I am.” The feline’s face rubs against my own. In the face of my smile, the man frowns. “Oh come now, just because I didn’t graduate doesn’t mean I’m not an alumnus. This school should be proud of my accomplishments.”

“There’s no pride in senseless destruction,” Riddle argues.

“Who told you it was senseless?” Their frowns deepen. “No, every drop of blood spilt had its purpose.”

“Are you telling me you’re hunting our old classmates?” asks Trey.

“Oh, very good. But not quite right. You see, I had a list.”

My own staff sparks to life in my grasp. The sleek black pole is topped with a white, metal skull wearing a golden crown. From beneath it hangs a necklace with charms like golden fangs; a curled, violet shell; and a crimson feather paired with a red gem. At the sight of my weapon, the once-imposing Riddle steps back. It widens my smile to see him understand.

And cower.

Trey glances between us and I see the understanding click. “You’re after the overblotters.”

“There you go! Not top of the class but never disappointing, were you Trey.”

“But why?”

My grip on the staff tightens and an old ache dances across my chest. “Why? You witnessed the incident first-hand and you’re asking me WHY?!” At the rise of my voice, Trey retreats. “Do you not remember the destruction he wrought?! The pain he caused you?!” My arm outstretches. “The bones he broke?! I suffered at the hands of each and every overblotter. There were no apologies. No thanks for saving them. No, they all went about their happy little lives as if they didn’t try to MURDER ME!” The cat has begun kneading in anticipation. “And I think a little pay back is long overdue.”

“Enough yapping.” The draw of Crewel’s wand is sharp and he steps in front of the younger man. “Leave this instant.”

Waving a finger, I tut at my former teacher. “My apologies, Professor, but I won’t be leaving without what I came for.”

“Yours is a vain task. Malleus Draconia also succumbed to his overblot and there’s no hope that a magicless mortal like you could defeat him.”

A chuckle starts low, rising into a fit of laughter I can’t contain. It disturbs them.

“It’s no surprise you haven’t heard yet; the entirety of Briar Valley is still struggling to come to terms with it.”

“What are you barking about now?”

“I admit, Silver, Sebek, and Lilia put up a valiant fight to defend him—”

I reach into my robes. The object I toss towards them clatters across the concrete, coming to a stop before the three men. Color drains from their faces as they come to recognize the twisted black horn.

“—But even the great King of Briar Valley couldn’t escape his fate.”

Struck speechless are the younger men. Crewel’s grey eyes are glued to the item at their feet. They now understand what they face.

“Run,” he says.

My companion on my shoulder crouches.

“Abandon Riddle and you may live,” I warn. “Hide him from me and you too will meet the same end.”

Crewel repeats his order. “RUN!”

The trio bolts. I expected as much.

“Grim, devour.”

The cat leaps, consumed by blue fire. Four massive paws meet the ground, lined with deadly talons. Ebony wrings stretch into the sky while a mane of dark tentacles and cold flame line his neck. Glowing eyes follow the target. A deafening roar is all the warning he gives before taking chase.

My partner enjoys his game of cat and mouse as I recollect the latest artifact in my collection. It doesn’t take long for me to find the last of his fun. Sprawled along the steps to the Main Building are Trey and Crewel. It seems they didn’t heed my warning.

That’s on them.

At the top of the steps is my feline, my prey cornered against the door to the castle.

“Did the Headmage lock you out?” I call, making my way closer. “That’s not entirely surprising. He always did think of himself first.”

“J-Just let me go.”

It’s always fun to see a prodigal mage begin to break. “Now now, Riddle.” I wave my staff towards him. “It’s not fair for you to miss out on the fun.”

“It was fifteen years ago.”

“That’s a long time to let a grudge fester.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry. You’re right that I took what you did for granted. I’ll do anything to repay you. Just name it.”

“It’s a little to late for those now.” Between him and the dire beast, I stand.

“Please! I was just a kid!”

My staff forces his gaze to mine. “So was I.”

~~~~~

The locks to the front door are no match for the beast at my side. I leave him to enjoy himself while I wander inside. In my robes, I tuck away the small crown—my latest prize.

Very few people are left in the castle to scatter. I let them pass, not interested in the insects in my path. Instead, my feet take me towards the castle’s heart, where all this trauma began.

The massive mirror floats, serene and mysterious as it always has been. Ire draws me to it. At my approach, the mask inside reveals itself, staring down at me with those empty eyes.

“It started with you, all those years ago.” My hand glides along the ornate frame. “You told me that the nature of my soul was unclear. No magical power, soundless, colorless, shapeless. Utterly vacant. Well what about now?” Its pensive nature continues while I grin smugly. “Would I be in Ignihyde for my diligence? Or Savanaclaw for my persistence? Or maybe Pomfiore for my tenacity? What is it you see in me now, you wretched mirror?”

Scrutiny roams my figure, taking in the past fifteen years of work I endured, before it finally speaks.

“Unfathomable emptiness.”

I hardly stop to think before drawing my staff back to shatter the thing. Glass shards rain to the floor almost musically. A seething hatred boils beneath my skin.

“Still lying to yourself, I see.”

Energy flows into my weapon, reaching out to snatch up the onlooker before flinging him across the room. Rolling across the floor is the very last name on my list.

Dire Crowley.

“So you actually decided to come out.” With renewed composure, I stroll towards him. “Not cowering behind some hapless student as I expected you to be.”

The fact that he can stand and dust himself with such composure irritates me. “With the fall of King Draconia, I see little use in trying to escape. How kind of me to save you the trouble of finding me.”

“Do not speak to me of kindness!” I snap. “It’s your fault we’re here—you and that damn mirror!”

“I already told you, you were destined to be here, along with every other villain.”

“I’m only the villain because that’s what you made me!”

“You’re a villain because that’s what you chose to be.”

~~~~~ 15 Years Ago ~~~~~

I rock back and forth on the spot. An hour has gone by since I started waiting, but judging by the voices through the doors, the housewarden meeting is nearly done. I’ve been trying to track down the headmage for weeks now and I’ve begun to think he’s dodging me. Now, though—unless he’s willing to leap out the window—he can’t escape me.

A jolt of pain shocks my chest. Fingers lightly touch my chest, aware of the tight bandages beneath the clothing. Memories of the massive dragon talon piercing my lungs rattle my heart. Pressing against the wall, I try to stuff down the terror—letting the fear take over will only aggravate my injuries.

My attention spikes when the door opens. The housewardens, their vice housewardens, and the teachers filter past, ignoring my presence. Just as the headmage begins his escape, I hurry forward to prevent him from leaving.

“Headmage Crowley, I’m glad I finally caught you.”

He appears nervous. “Ah, yes, how can I generously lend you my ear this time, prefect?”

For privacy’s sake, I close the doors behind me. “I wanted to speak to you about going home.”

His sigh doesn’t bode well. “I see, this subject again.”

I press on. “It’s been an entire year. Surely you’ve made some progress by now.”

Usually eccentric and avoidant, Crowley’s seriousness weighs on me. “Unfortunately, still no progress has been made towards finding your home, let alone a way back. I’m sorry.”

“Oh…”

“Yet, in spite of your magical impairment, I see the depths of your potential.”

Something ominous washes over me, shaking the air as it leaves my chest. “What do you mean?”

“You’re smart. You know this school isn’t filled with the purest of heart, no matter what secrets you’ve uncovered. This school fosters the black sheep—those with incredible magical ability wielded by hearts filled with strife.” Darkness rolls off him in droves as those glowing, yellow eyes stare me down. “The Dark Mirror chooses every student for a reason.”

“Are you saying I’m…”

He shares not even a shred of sympathy. “Every villain has their backstory. Perhaps it’s time to embrace yours.”

Reality flooding through my veins, I feel I may just collapse. He was right about the sins rampant in this place; every student here had hidden truths ready to cut one another with. They would just as soon stab each other in the back than go to class.

Still, that I might be more like them than I was first led to believe is rattling.

“No. No, that’s not true.”

“Lie to yourself all you like; it will only prove me right.”

“No, there must be a way home! This has all been one giant mistake! Your stupid mirror can’t even figure out where it got me from so I’m not even supposed to be here! You promised to find me a way back! You—”

Crowley’s staff strikes the floor, silencing me like a spell. “It can’t be done.” His gloved hand extends to me as if to offer alms, but golden adornments portray the claws he intends to snare me with. “But that’s alright. You have a place here, with friends, peers, and mentors who can help you harness that potential. With my generous guidance, you could become one of the most powerful people in Twisted Wonderland.”

Having the last shreds of my old life torn from me, my head shakes in disbelief. Suddenly, I’m the one avoiding him as I bolt from the headmage’s office. No one spares a glance in my direction; from the castle all the way to the entrance gate, I’m alone.

In Twisted Wonderland, I’ve been alone from the beginning.

~~~~~

“I never chose to be here,” I snarl. “None of this was my choice! You think I wanted to get lost in a world I didn’t know? That I wanted to be attacked by people who could use magic? That I wanted to learn the same magic that almost killed me?!”

A hand grazes his face. “I am quite fascinated at how a magicless person such as yourself became so powerful. How did you manage that?”

For once, while face the man I despise most, a grin slips my lips. “Faeries.”

“Pardon?”

“Faeries. Just a handful of pesky little faeries and, suddenly, I could tap into the magic that everyone else had access to.”

“I don’t understand. How were faeries involved?”

“I killed them.”

His mouth falls open.

“It was an interesting little venture that certainly took some time—the flames of a house faerie, an island faerie’s heart, the crystal’s of an ocean faerie, golden hair from a healing faerie, and some good-old fashion pixie dust. Honestly, the ocean fae was probably the most difficult to kill. They were thought to be extinct long ago, but she was very much alive and kicking…Well not so much anymore.”

“This is beyond the pale. Even villains know not to murder the fae in vain. What have you done?”

“What I had to do to survive.” My staff points at him. “And to get my revenge.”

His arms rise in surrender.

“And after what I did to Malleus, you think a few measly fae are gonna make me back down? Perhaps if you had shown a little more kindness, you wouldn’t be choosing your own coffin. And maybe those precious students of yours would still be alive. You’re the reason I was brought here and suffered. You’re the reason your students are dead. This is your fault.”

Crowley lowers his hands, staring at me. “You’re right. It’s my fault for bringing a monster into Twisted Wonderland.”

~~~~~

Strolling down the steps, I see there’s no one left alive to try and extinguish the flames, leaving it barren and cold.

The dire beast bounds up the stairs to meet me. At my feet, he becomes the cat I’ve known from the beginning. He was the only one at my side and the only one who cared. It’s fitting that he would be the one standing at my side even in the end.

“Did you have fun, my little Grim?”

“Yeah! Fresh magic tastes the best!” Claws grab onto my robe as he climbs his way up. “Did you get him?”

“Yeah. He’s gone.”

His face rubs against mine again. “Do you feel better now? Are you happy?”

I pause my walk, staring out at the burning grounds. People had hurt me here; they chased me, hit me, belittled me, and now they’re all gone. And yet there’s still something missing. I’m not happy. I don’t feel better. Nothing’s changed at all.

“No. I feel...”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst mc #dire crowley #gender neutral reader

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ghostly-penumbra · 2 years ago

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DannyMay 2023. Day Twelve

“Traditional Media”

Ao3

Summary: Danny and Jason meet. DPxDC. Same universe as this.

Warning: Captivity, kidnapping. Vlad is a bastard.

For @lemon-snake :]

Danny lay face down in the middle of his room in the Ghost King’s castle. Said Ghost King was currently away being an evil fruit-loop to someone else, so the young halfa had the chance to have a depressive spiral in the fragile privacy of his designated room.

It had been eight-hundred and forty-eight days exactly since his parents had sold him to Vlad and he had last seen them. At first, Vlad had tried to make it seem like they hated him and wanted to get rid of him, but once he saw Danny didn’t fall for his crap he dropped the act and gloated the truth: he had tricked Danny’s parents into believing him his mentor, that their fights had just been a clash of ideas and an outlet for frustration on the boy’s part, and had convinced them it would e better for him to go with Vlad for a while at least, to be properly trained.

Danny smiled bitterly. His parents had fucked up, he could not deny that, but they had done it out of love. They accepted him when he told them he was Phantom, they had hugged him, cried, apologized, and promised to do better, to help him in what they could They had erred out of love, because they wanted the best for him.

Danny started crying.

I forgive you. I love you too. I miss you all so much. Please, miss me too.

Danny exhaled white fog into the floor and his head snapped up, with his tears freezing, quite literally, in his eyes. He pushed himself up and jumped back towards his couch, settling on his neutral façade and blinking away frost.

The portal opened but Vlad didn’t saunter out cape flowing without wind, crown in place; rather, a guy wearing a red helmet stumbled out, falling to the ground but getting back to his feet in a fluid motion.

He was panting, looking around himself with frantic movements until his eyes landed on Danny, who could only gape at him.

“Where am I?!” The stranger demanded, drawing out his gun and pointing it at Danny whilst taking a menacing step closer.

“Dude, what?” Was all he intelligently managed to say before the fruitloop finally appeared, closing the portal behind himself.

“Now, boys, please do calm down. Let’s not start this with the wrong foot, hmm?” He smiled broadly and simply wavered like smoke when the bullets were meant to hit him in the face. “Son, I know this is a rather abrupt change in your half-life, but this is not a behaviour I will accept.” His smug expression vanished, and the Crown cast dancing shadows across his face. “I expect this tantrum to be over with by the time I’m done with these heroes’ little problem.” The stranger said nothing, only watched carefully at what the fruitloop would do next. Vlad turned to Danny, one expectant eyebrow rising. “Well, little badger?”

“What did you do?” Danny finally managed to grit out, terrified.

Vlad opened his arms magnanimously. “Why, you are always moping around, feeling sorry for yourself and being all lonely. So I brought you a brother.” He looked at the new guy, smug. “Problem solved.”

Danny could only stare horrified at him, gaping openly in a display of emotion he barely allowed himself these days.

“I will leave you to it, I’m sure you two will have a lot to talk about, you have so much in common, after all!” He looked at his new victim one last time, and approached him enough to quickly swipe away his red helmet –under which he wore a domino mask. Smart–, phasing it through his head with little care even as the guy tried to dodge, “You will no longer need this.” And without another word, a new portal appeared, and Vlad left.

- - -

This challenge was funny to me because I always write my first draft in my notebook, since I just can't write digitally first. So I thought it would be fun to just put the pics of the draft up there and then the barely edited version.

Yup, that's how I write, all smashed together, not lines between paragraphs and my handwritting is small. Don't @ me.

Though usually I have way more notes and doodles in the margins.

#DannyMay 2023 #DannyMay2023 #dannymay #Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #DPxDC #Jason Todd #Red Hood #ghostly-scrypts #Vlad Masters #Vlad Plasmius #Ghost King AU #pathetic meow meow #kidnapping #captivity #no id #day twelve #traditional media

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pisboy · 1 year ago

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as a fellow alopecia haver would you mind if i asked a few questions about how you cope with it? like, do you wear hats or wigs or do clever hairstyles to hide it or do you just let it show? ive tried pills and scalp shots and nothing is reversing mine. im only 26 and i feel like this is the worst thing to ever happen to me and i dont know what to do about it. nobody even thinks balding women exist. nobody considers how it is to actually be one. im so scared no one will ever like me or find me cute again. i used to think i was so cute. this sucks so bad.

For me the back of my head around the nape and up to nearly the top of my scalp has never grown hair, not even when I was born. My father also has alopecia areata and he has a few golfball-to-coin sized patches he loses and regrows at a random basis. So I've had my entire life to contend with hair loss and family that was familiar with it, so I sympathize so incredibly hard to women who develop it later in life. It is probably mortifying.

So yeah, shots and pills and balms and oils and etc have never worked for me. I also lose hair at random basis around the rest of my scalp, mainly around the margins of my crown (losing my bangs) and the sides of the back where I already do not grow hair. I also lose half my left eyebrow on a regular basis. If you go far back enough in my #me tag I've posted what it looks like. I also preface some of my advice might not be helpful if you have afro-textured hair, but I will recommend someone who will be extremely helpful in that respect.

Also I hope you don't mind me doing a shotgun blast of advice but maybe my experience will help someone

Things that worked for me:

I've always been flipping my part as my hair cycles in a growth/loss state for my bangs. Low pony tails tend to hold better than high ones in what is essentially a clever combover. Uhhh and always keep a hair tie around in case there is wind lol I always get self conscious when there's a breeze.

This is kind of vague and probably shitty advice but I've noticed over the years I lose hair when I am stressed, so I've had to make the call (in addition to other factors) to quit jobs that really strain me and I've noticed improvement in hair growth. So depending on your circumstances I say make some effort to reduce your other stress factors while you go through figuring it out. This shit is literally traumatizing.

This thing here is basically a pepper shaker for keratin bits that can color-fill in patches of missing (or really tiny short baby) hair. I can only speak as a brunette but it works pretty damn good as some camouflage for your skin poking out where you can't cover it. Do note it kind of has an ashy texture so it's something to wash out at night like makeup. Scalp makeup lol.

Hats are good. I wore trucker hats for most of my teen years, but I don't wear them much anymore, especially being out of the stress of school. However - a piece of advice from a mentor of mine, Jamie Elmore, is to call hats, bands, scarves, wigs, anything under an umbrella term "accessory." It's kind of corny but sometimes conceptualizing these things that way helps coping with the impulse of a world that demands you hide your hair loss and another where you can freely express yourself without fear of judgement. Anyway, I recommend looking her up, she has a magazine and works hard for the alopecia community, particularly for black alopecians.

Oh yeah if you can find those hippy chick silk hair bands that have the elastic around the back, I love those. Regular bandanas are also good.

Uhhh shorter hair also tends to weigh and pull less, which I think everyone has varying sensitivity to, but to anyone considering a bob, why not might help lol. I also lose my hair in the largest amounts in the shower, so like, if you develop a weird complex about showering I know allllllll about it.

I have tried partial wigs, which are custom cut out and adhered to your head, and it's nice if you want to do hairstyles you otherwise could not, but it's high maintenance, very itchy, and gets gummy after about a week.

But yeah it's been a very slow and steady process to get used to going out in public without putting effort in camouflaging my alopecia, and that mostly has to do with tuning people out. The existential stuff gets personal so I save those conversations for a 1-to-1. *Holds you by the shoulder* we are all coping out here.

I look at that sword of Damocles hanging over my head and if my scalp gets wiped out beyond all sidepart repair, I'll go full wig-wearing. I once had a hair stylist who was giddy at the idea of shaving my head when I explained it to her, which was comforting in a silly way.

Anyway, it's been years since I've dipped my toes into the greater Alopecia Community, the ones with all the acronyms, but there are NAAF chapter groups that you can meet and hopefully find people to connect with. I think you need to join an email group though. Anyway. For the longest time the only people I knew with it was just my dad and a cousin who had it for 1 year and never again and seeing a group of people with patchy/full baldness in person for the first time made me cry.

To end on a good note, there have been trials for JAK inhibitors (a treatment for many autoimmune disorders) having really breakthrough success rates at hair regrowth, but I haven't looked into it lately. Seems very promising. A lot better than cortisone shots in the scalp I figure, maybe worth the pain lmao

EDIT: i misremembered it being lupus medication, but it was actually Janus kinase inhibitor trials with success.

#fucking godspeed my friend #alopecia

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caliginouscalico · 2 months ago

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[The time: Halloween, Two years after the end of the great war]

[The place: Sixth Impact Botanical Gardens Plaza, Reconstruction fund gala, Boise, Idaho, Earth]

[Several DECEPTICONS are mingling with the upper crust of Boise society. LASERBEAK and STARSCREAM lurking at the edges of the party. LASERBEAK has two hockey sticks taped to his wings and a hockey mask hanging around his neck. STARSCREAM is wearing a crown and a lush red cape.]

Laserbeak: "Why am I wasting time with meatbags when the Friday the 13th marathon is on? I could be deep frying my neurocircuits with Jason-kills right now."

Starscream: "Megatron said if we don't get the Decepticon favorability ratings above 30% by the end of the month he's sentencing us to crocodile dredging duty. Also, calling them meatbags doesn't help with that."

Laserbeak: "Shouldn't you be out there convincing the meatbags we don't want to render them into cheap lubricant then?"

Starscream: "Making sure no one hears you using slurs is the best way to make people view us favorably. Also, the nouveau riche make my paint blister."

[FRENZY, dressed in a tailored 3 piece black suit with black tie and black sunglasses, approaches, leading a woman and a TERMINALLY ADORABLE young girl. The woman is dressed in a masquarde ball mask and cocktail dress. The girl is wearing a Starscream costume, with the red picked out in GLITTER.]

Frenzy: "Hey Starscream. This is uh, Jenny and Matilda."

Jenny:" Hi, I'm Jenny, I know you're probably busy, but my daughter just HAD to meet you."

[JENNY extends her hand in a professional manner. STARSCREAM extends his index finger and performs the standard Human/Cybertronian awkward handshake in a manner so practiced it almost isn't awkward. The presumed MATILDA runs forward and grasps STARSCREAMS leg with her whole body, like an excited puppy. LASERBEAK stares into the distance, thinking of VEHICULAR HOMICIDE]

Matilda:"HiStarscreamYoureSoCoolIOrginallyWantedToBeAstrotrainButMomSaidICouldn'tBeABoyTransformerOrDadWouldGetMadSoIPickedYouBecauseYou'reTheCoolestBestFlyerEver!"

[JENNY now seems embarrassed. STARSCREAM does not notice, scanning the crowd for roaming photographers so he can stage an impromptu photo op with this conveniently adorable SMALL CHILD. LASERBEAK is now thinking about LIQUID NITROGEN]

Frenzy: "Heh, even the proto-humans have you clocked."

[STARSCREAM, having located a photographer, is just now listening to the conversation again.]

Starscream: "Clocked as what? Most regal of the Cybertronians? Rightful leader of the Decipticons? Best-Looking in a cape for 28 Light-years?"

[MATILDA giggles, thinking that her idol is playing up his arrogance for her benefit. It would be much less pathetic if that was true.]

[LASERBEAK is now out of his slasher-fugue, looking distressed]

Laserbeak: "Hey Starscream, did you know that human mentors usually heft their brats around on their shoulders? They call them swinebackrides, twenty to sixty female demographic LOVES seeing them."

Starscream: "That sounds like an excellent idea. Jenny, would you and Matilda like a Cybertronian-eye view of the gala?"

[MATILDA's eyes turn into dazzling supernovae of happiness. There is clearly nothing she would like more, ever, in her entire life.]

Jenny: "Well I suppose it would be okay, as long as we go slow."

Starscream: "I promise to treat her as delicately as a thunderbird egg! Prepare for a swinebackride that will shape the rest of your life!"

[LASERBEAK flinches upon hearing the word "egg". STARSCREAM gently scoops up the sparkling child and sets her on his shoulder. STARSCREAM gives A LOOK at his two fellow DECEPTICONS before walking away with a slow and stiff gait, clearly trying to keep the pr booster safe from sudden jostling. JENNY trails anxiously behind, not entirely convinced this is a good idea but clearly too late to stop it.]

Laserbeak: "Horns of Unicron, what is wrong with you!"

Frenzy: "Wrong with me? What'd I do? Starscream's lookin' all cute for the cameras now cause of me!"

Laserbeak: "Not that! Did you actually forget?"

Frenzy: "Forget what?"

[LASERBEAK lets out a sigh, a thing I've decided Cybertronians are biologically capable of doing as a form of heat exchange instead of oxygenation, before opening the LONG-RANGE COMMUNICATION terminal screen-thing in his chest. A RECORDING starts. ARCEE is in the center of the shot. SOUNDWAVE is behind her, off-center and with his arms crossed lending an air of support to her message.]

Arcee: "And if there's only one thing you take away from this, it's that if any of you fuck up Starscream's egg cracking I'm throwing you to the bot-eating snails at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean."

Soundwave: "As head of the Decipticon Inclusivity Enterprise, I will ensure this punishment is administered. I have witnessed these creatures on the Animal Planet, this is a credible threat."

[LASERBEAK closes the LONG-RANGE COMMUNICATION terminal screen-thing in his chest.]

Frenzy: "Ok well so what? You deflected it, right? Problem solved?"

Laserbeak: "Problem not solved rust-for-brains! Starscream gave us A Look. That look means he's gonna dig until he finds out why we were acting weird, and then he's gonna find out because you can't lie worth chromium dust, and then I'm gonna be eaten by snails because I'm in the punishment radius!"

Frenzy: "Ok, rust, how do we get out of this?"

Laserbeak: "I don't know! I'm not dumb enough to get in these messes! What do you do to avoid responsibility for your screwups?"

Frenzy: "I tell Soundwave! But I can't tell Soundwave because he's the one who's gonna feed us to vicious snails!"

Laserbeak: "Making someone else do our work. Yeah, that's good, that could work. But who do we know that's dumb enough to save random people from their own mess but smart enough to emotionally manipulate people?"

[LASERBEAK and FRENZY look directly at each other]

In unison: "Autobots!"

[LASERBEAK opens the LONG-RANGE COMMUNICATION terminal screen-thing in his chest. BUMBLEBEE appears on screen, sitting on a chair in front of Teletraan l. He is dressed as a Dracula, complete with cape. He is rocking the cape better than Starscream.]

Bumblebee:" You've reached the Autobot emergency hotline, this is Bumblebee. Laserbeak, is that you? This line is supposed to be for emergencies only, not crank calls."

FRENZY: "This is an emergency! I need your Autobot therapyspeak-rust or Arcee is gonna feed me to the evil ocean creatures!"

Bumblebee: "Oh she gave you that speech too? Well what exactly did you do?"

[FRENZY begins sobbing, no longer needing to maintain the facade of coherence now that he has a competent authority figure to beg.]

Frenzy: "There was an earth protoform, and she had a costume, and that costume was Starscream, and she picked it because of gender, and I said that even the protoforms know, but Starscream didn't, and then Starscream went away to swineback in front of the cameras, bu the gave us A Look, and I cant lie so when I have to lie Soundwave is gonna feed me to the Snaaaaaaiiillls!"

Bumblebee: "So what I'm hearing is that you haven't broken Starscream's egg, you're just worried you're going to once Starscream gets back to grill you?"

[LASERBEAK and FRENZY synchronize their braincells to nod in unison like the morons they are.]

Bumblebee: "Ok, we have time to fix this. First you need to take a couple deep breaths so you can calm down and think."

[FRENZY refocuses himself, becoming moderately less wet and pathetic.]

Bumblebee: "Ok now we just need to make it so you're prepared for Starscream to talk to you later. Starscream is a paranoid megalomaniac who creates conspiracies for fun, which is why he sees other people's conspiracies everywhere. That's what's making him follow up on this, but it's also how we can get you out of this.

Laserbeak: "How's that exactly?"

Bumblebee: "It's simple. You just need to make a fake secret for Starscream to ruin, so he doesn't keep digging for the real secret."

Laserbeak: "But ball-bearings for brains over here can't lie in the first place. That's why we had to call you."

Bumblebee: "Well this is gonna be the hard part. You need to actually do something nice for Starscream, so it's real. Then Frenzy doesn't have to lie if it's real. If you can make it involves literal eggs but not gender, that's even better. Ties up loose ends."

Laserbeak: "Well we can't get him another Easter bunnysuit. It's moon-cycles till Easter, He'll never believe we're planning in advance."

Bumblebee: "Wait, another? Wait, nevermind, different question, when did you learn about Easter?"

Laserbeak: "You watch enough horror movies you learn all the human holidays. Christmas, Purge Day, Easter."

Bumblebee: "We are going to have to have a conversation about that, but it can wait. What other ideas do you two have?"

Frenzy: "We could, um, get him a ticket to the Neo-New Zealand Biodomes?"

Laserbeak: "Megatron caved on getting our lifetime ban lifted in the peace settlement. He only got it down to a century ban. It's another ninety-four local years till we're allowed in. And the only tickets Starscream would want anyway are hunter's tickets and those are like, 3 times as much dosh."

Frenzy: "Oh yeah. But Starscream does love killing organics, what if we got him a tour in the Third Emu War?"

Laserbeak: "Ugh. The sign up sheet is already full. We'd have to bribe someone to swap."

Bumblebee: "I can chip in a bit for this. Fifteen Energon cubes enough?"

Laserbeak: "With how hard Weirdwolf has been going in on hunting? At least twenty."

Bumblebee: "Fifteen and I won't complain about you skimming the extras."

Laserbeak: "Deal."

Bumblebee: "Now we just have to invent a reason you want Starscream at the Indonesian front lines."

Frenzy: "Haven't you two been fighting that shadow-war over the group Shudder account? You keep trying to watch Chucky movies while he's watching I Saw the TV Glow. Is that anything?"

Bumblebee: "Oh man, you're a Chuckster? Laserbeak, this is great, none of the autobot horror-heads will chuck out with me. I've done the first seven and I'm trying to get the tv show-"

Laserbeak: "Ok we have a plan now we're not friends this conversation never happened byyyyyyyyyyeee."

[LASERBEAK closes the LONG-RANGE COMMUNICATION terminal screen-thing in his chest.]

Frenzy: "Aw man I wanted to keep talking. Soundwave says Me n' Rumble can only chuck out supervised and you don't watch movies with us anymore."

#microfiction #transformers #halloween #starscream #laserbeak #I like worldbuilding through implication #no particular canon #definitely missed a few typos #sorry #frenzy #boise idaho

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shrinkthisviolet · 9 months ago

Note

B, O, P?

B: A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

Samtory/Lanichols! I think it was “different but same” by @jenpsaki that changed my mind first…and then @leohtttbriar’s fics just kept reinforcing my love for the ship (especially this one omg please read it, it’s my favorite). Two of my favorite authors for this ship fr

Also Barrisco (thanks to @alittleflashvibe, also Savisco and Saverb by the same token), Speedyquick (you see enough moodboards, you start to change your mind lol), and Nora/Mia, aka xstar (“happy endings aren’t overrated” did it for me, I can’t recommend it enough, the ship is mostly background but it's SOOOO good and adds some wonderful layers to Nora's story)

There are probably more, but those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head.

O: Choose a song at random, what ship does it remind you of?

Emmylou by First Aid Kit! This has sooo many Snowest vibes, especially the first verse:

Oh the bitter winds are coming in And I'm already missing the summer Stockholm's cold, but I've been told I was born to endure this kind of weather When it's you I find, like a ghost in my mind I am defeated and I gladly wear the crown

Also verse 2:

Now so much I know that things just don't grow If you don't bless them with your patience And I've been there before, I held up the door For every stranger with a promise But, I'm holding back, that's the strength that I lack Every morning keeps returning up my window And it brings me to you, and I won't just pass through But I'm not asking for a storm

And the bridge:

And yes, I might have lied to you But you wouldn't benefit from knowing the truth I was frightened but I held fast I need you now at long last

(Not so much the chorus tho)

Just!! It’s them!! It’s so them

P: Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

Hmm Star Wars route: AU where Anakin and Obi-Wan are age-swapped. Possibly with Obi-Wan as the Chosen One, tho I do like the idea of keeping that as Anakin’s role. How does the story change with Anakin as Obi-Wan’s mentor, rather than the other way around? Who falls in this story? It’s still a story that’s part-father-son and part-brotherly, but a new angle could make all the difference.

fandom ask game!

#fandom ask game #samtory #lanichols #cobra kai #barrisco #speedyquick #xstar #nora x mia #snowest #the flash #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #brotp: i am very proud of you #star wars

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forthedancingandthethriving · 1 year ago

Text

(For the record, I am not implying anything between the Abyss and Juliano. It's just using the junk data it's accumulated to figure out ways to manipulate him.)

Juliano knows full well that his Avatar Code, as half formed and broken as it is, it still Avatar Code. While he doesn't have to deal with the wackiness or stupidity, he's still capable of doing some things.

So when his foot slips through the ground and shadows engulf his vision, he knows that it isn't his code pulling some tricks on him. Somethings grabbed him, and it's not letting go.

He hisses in pain, knowing better than to struggle, especially now as his wireframe scars flare. Shadowy tendrils wrap around his body tightly, keeping a hold on him as he's pulled lower and lower into the pitch black darkness.

Finally, he's let go, and standing in front of him is someone who'd he rather not see again. Yet as he stares at the being, he realizes it's not Shadow of Doubt.

When the being of negativity first came to be, when it first formed from his own negative emotions, it always enjoyed tormenting him. Especially once he reformed into his old code, his universe was dead and lifeless.

No, what stands in front of him is a being who exudes power and authority. Their entire body is a charcoal black, their short black hair almost ironically fluffy, contrasting with their sharp appearance. They wear a half-cloak with fur lining, sleeves that aren't attached (he can see the broken threads), and two skirts, with one having a hoop. A twisted crown with specks of dark colors is around their head, and their dark violet eyes stare down at him. Large wings, larger than Abyssal's, hang by their back and are a deep magenta, matching the crystal around its neck.

They grin, and something speaks into his mind.

A pleasure to finally meet you, Avatar Juliano!

Juliano jolts. “Wait, you're.. the Abyss.”

Its smile grows. The one and only.

He stands up and shakes his head. His grip on his staff is tight, yet he knows there's little he can do. The Abyss was the Nothing, the very basis of Luke's computer. It was far more powerful than him, and both of them knew it.

I only want to talk. It assures him, holding up its hands.

“Talk about what?” Juliano narrows his eyes. “What's so important that you felt the need to drag me down here, and also use Shadow of Doubt's body to talk?”

The Abyss examines its hand. It's better than being a writhing mass of shadows, isn't it?

“.. Fair point.”

And I brought you down here for something simple. A proposal.

“A proposal?” Juliano repeats. “What kind?”

A partnership. The Abyss smiles as it approaches Juliano. You see, dear Avatar, we're a lot more similar than you realize.

“How so?” Juliano takes some steps back.

We've both been forgotten! Pushed aside! The Abyss’s voice in his mind gets louder, yet he doesn't wince. It spreads its arm as does its wings. Pushed aside by the ones that should look up to us, admire us!

“Admire?” The former Avatar does a double-take. “Why would anyone admire me?”

You're the first ever Avatar. The Abyss lowers its arms. You deserve more than being a mentor to those that are below you.

You deserve to be treated properly. Like the true paragon of progress you are.

Juliano looks at the Abyss, his eyebrows furrowed. He knows what manipulation sounds like, and this was it. But he also could hear sincerity and genuine emotion in its voice.

It genuinely believed what it was saying.

“Why do you believe this?” Juliano frowns.

Because we're the same. It repeats. It walks over and slings an arm around his shoulder. It's not cold, but it's not warm. We've been forgotten by the Higher Powers, the ones meant to, at the very least, help us.

They didn't even try, you know. To bring your universe back.

“I don't expect them to.” He grips the top of his staff. His code is already tugging. “There are far more important things.”

More important than trying to help the first Avatar?

“It's not that important of a role. It doesn't even hold meaning anymore.”

But it can. The Abyss smiles. I can help you.

“How?” Juliano tilts his head.

I can bring back your universe. Bring back your loved ones.

His breath hitches a bit. “Only D- ClearAll can do that.”

I created him. It grins too wide. Do you think I don't have dominion over Life and Death, Creation and Destruction? I am the Creator of Creation, I am the Creator of Destruction. Nothing is beyond me.

Juliano swallows thickly. His code is screaming at him now. It demands he take the deal, take it, and go back to his old home.

He exhales.

“What's your side of this deal?” He narrows his eyes. “You didn't bring me here to just give me a deal that would only benefit me.”

Mhm.

It holds out its palm, a green colored flame flares to life. It twists and curls, soon forming into two entities. One Juliano recognizes, one he doesn't.

Information on ClearAll and Database..

The images are chained and brought to their knees on the Abyss's palm.

Their capture..

The flame changes to the silhouette of a familiar Admin, also chained up.

The release of my dear daughter..

It then changes one last time, to two strings of code floating.

And the deaths of ClearAll and Database, as you call them.

Juliano huffs softly, a not so amused smile on his face. “Take down a god of Death and Destruction, and a god of Life and Creation.” His tone turns sarcastic. “Not too hard for a mortal like me.”

The Abyss closes its hand. It's not an easy feat, I'm aware. But in return, you'll not only have your own life back, but you'll be known as Abyssal's herald.

Abyssal doesn't really like being known as a goddess, he thinks, but he bites his tongue.

“A tempting offer..” he admits, and the Abyss smirks.

So we-

“Don't have a deal.” He shakes his head as he turns and walks off. The ground feels lighter.

Wh- Why?! You'll be getting so much!

“You're just forgetting one thing.” He chuckles humorlessly as he turns his head. “I have bonds with the new people in my life. I care for them, I love them.”

Juliano smiles wryly. “I'm not going to turn my back just because of one deal.”

He turns around and takes off his hat, bowing deeply. “Farewell.”

The former Avatar takes one more step back, and his foot slips again. He falls.

He opens his eyes.

He's back in the woods behind the Showgrounds.

○●○

Juliano slips through the ground again, but this time, it's when he's with the other Avatars. At first, he isn't concerned, thinking he's perhaps just slipped into the Backrooms. But as he descends past it, shadows grip him tight, and he sighs.

He lands once more, and a Chat Box appears.

Sora: >OMG JUL ARE YOU OKAY?!

Mayro: >I think he's en the backrooms

He chuckles gently.

Juliano: >I'm fine. I'll find a way out, you guys carry on. Just don't destroy anything.

As the Chat Box vanishes, he frowns deeply. There was nothing around him.

Until a soft melody of a piano began playing. Reminiscent of a song.

Juliano looks around, gripping his staff. What was its game this time?

Ubi abscondis? Dulcis puer, dulcis puer..

He presses a hand to his forehead, with his head pounding. Why was it singing? (He hated to admit it, but the Abyss's voice was enchanting.)

Wait, how did it know Greek?

Nocte trepidas? Dulcis puer..

That was a stupid question. It was the literal abyss, who cared what it knew.

Adsium.

Hands snake around his wrists, and he quickly pulls away. He looks around, chest already rising and falling with some panicked breaths.

Where was the Abyss?

Penitus somnum liberos, mater venatibus.

Juliano's grip on his staff tightens, turning his knuckles white. Was it.. was it trying to lure him in? Like a siren? Could it have gained that ability?

He also did not like the fact that his Avatar Code was translating this for him. Why was it calling itself a mother?

Audite et sequimini ad oblivium..

Juliano's body almost moves on its own, but he stops himself. This wasn't good.

He looks around before heading in a direction opposite of where his body was trying to take him. But deep down, he knew it was impossible. The Abyss was everywhere, after all. He was in its domain.

The piano continues, trying to lull him.

Nunc in tenebris, dulics puer, dulcis puer..

Tendrils try to grab at his ankles, to hold him in place, but he keeps moving.

Manus extendem, dulcis puer..

It was still on about its deal. Of course it was.

Esurio..

Juliano involuntarily shudders. He could only guess what it was hungry for.

Penitus somnum liberos, mater venatibus.

He hated that it was working.

Audite et sequimini ad oblivium..

Juliano needed out. His own code was working against him at this point.

Oculos non aperi, mater vigilantes.

Hands slowly grab his wrists, making him halt. Juliano’s breath hitches and he stumbles, but he can't move.

Audite et sequimini ad infinitum..

A head gently rests on his shoulder. Do you see now? The voice of the Abyss speaks into his mind, no longer singing.

I can help you. It croons. Take your rightful place, I take mine..

“My answer.. is the same..” He manages to say, trembling in its grasp. Slowly, the Abyss pulls him so his back is against its chest.

Wings, oddly warm, slowly curl around his body. Where the hell did it learn this?

You're tired, aren't you. Tired of your code screaming against you, trying to control you. The Abyss's voice smooths out, enticing and sweet like sugar. His head is pounding and screaming. It's telling him to not give in, as is his heart, but his code disagrees.

“Get.. away..” He growls weakly before he manages to wrench himself from its grasp.

He stumbles and falls. He falls to his room.

Juliano tries to calm his beating heart.

He finds it hard to.

○●○

The Abyss does it again, and again, and again.

It's the same song again, and again, and again.

He knows full well its trying to wear him down, and he hates to admit it, but it's working. The Abyss is succeeding. He's hardly getting any sleep.

Juliano doesn't show it, of course. He's perfected the act of presenting a facade, a mask, a farce. Not even Nimbus could ever tell he was missing sleep. They all noticed he seemed to be dozing off at times, but it was always written off as him being tired from all the antics.

It was only a bit true.

The Abyss would pull him down when he was about to fall asleep. Dragging him to its domain, again and again, to sing him that song. Try to lull him into a false sense of security. To make him agree.

Juliano doesn't know how much longer he'll be able to resist the Abyss's song.

#avatar: juliano #the abyss #fanfiction: my writing!#!posts!#def gonna explore their dynamic more if inspiration ever hits me again

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twobraincellkentwell · 1 year ago

Text

The Last Supper

[A Game Called Revenge]

Part Seven

Series Masterlist Part One.

Summary: "ᴀᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀʟ ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ɴᴇᴀʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʙᴇ ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛʜʀᴏᴏᴍ."

The last supper. A time for victors to overcome their differences together and get along for the night. Or not.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. I don't think there's any specific chapter warnings this week, but there is the usual mentions of murder and death. Language always.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Enjoy a little scrappy chapter that is sort of filler but also has a lot of character defining information in there. Get to know some more information on how I imagine the reapings work in a few of the districts and what makes some of our minor characters tick. And the major ones. If I said I didn't base this chapter round that one meme of the cat at the dinner table then I'd be lying.

As always there is a reference in there somewhere and I want to know if you can find my favourite line yet again! :)

"Do we have to go?" Clio huffs, as she removes the golden sun crown from her hair.

"Yes, we all need to be there," Enobaria replies, leaning against the door frame of Clio's bedroom, "Okay yes, it was suggested by the idiot from Twelve but it's a farewell dinner Clio, don't you want to say goodbye to your friends."

"Look as much as I want to go and remind them all how much of a bitch I am, all I really want to do is wash a plate of cinnamon rolls down with a bottle of wine and-"

"There will be plenty of wine at the party." Enobaria cuts her off, snapping her fingers in front of Clio's face and gesturing towards the black jumpsuit she had fished from the girl's wardrobe, "Now hurry up, we're already late and there might not be any cinnamon rolls left."

Once in the lift to take them to the penthouse where tonight's dinner will take place, Enobaria turns to the couple, now changed from their extravagant parade outfits and in more comfortable clothing, "Tonight's ground rules."

Her raised eyebrow and piercing glare halt the interruptions that threaten to spill past the pair's lips. "You." Enobaria directs her pointer finger at Clio, "Please try not to be a complete bitch. Remember that half these people are going to be trying to kill you in five days time, don't give them more reasons to want to."

Clio doesn't protest the woman's words, shrugging her shoulders in defeat as she mutters a 'fine' under her breath. This is good enough for Enobaria, who turns her attention to Cato, "And you. Don't threaten anyone."

"But-" Cato objects but is silenced by Enobaria clicking her fingers in front of his face. "I don't care if they talk about Clio. Do not threaten anyone, do you understand me?"

He nods with a roll of his eyes, the four of them facing the doors of the lift in silence listening to the low hum of the lift as it flies up to the thirteenth floor. The silver doors slide open with a hiss, unveiling the large, luxurious dining room already coming alive with the symphony of laughter and clinking of glasses of the victors and mentors from other Districts. The flickering lights from the vast buildings surrounding the penthouse floor pour in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the sleek, polished marble walls and reflecting against the gilded mouldings that frame exquisite paintings. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, refracting the moonlight in a lavish display of wealth. An Avox stands stiff at the lift's entrance as if acting as a bodyguard for any unwelcome guests, extending a hand towards the centre of the dining room once he verifies the identity of the arrivals.

The room hushes at the sound of the District Two quartet's footsteps, the heels the two women wear clicking along the intricate marble tiles. Those sitting with their back to the elevator turn to face the noise, eyes settling on the last arrivals who hold their heads high, striding forward purposefully and exuding their usual confidence. As they step further into the room, they are greeted by the beautifully decorated dining area. Crafted from the finest mahogany, the centrepiece of the room was a large, gleaming table spanning the length of the space; resplendent with fine bone china, polished silverware and delicate crystal stemware atop a shimmering white silk runner. Fresh bouquets lie in detailed glass vases, reflecting the light of the glowing candles dispersed between every third seat. The gazes of the others, already sitting in the plush, velvety chairs, follow their moves as they near the table, scanning for available seats.

Enobaria huffs when they reach the table, realising that they're the last to arrive and so the four remaining seats are at opposite ends of the table. Grumbling under her breath at her available options, she follows Brutus to the left hand side of the table, understanding that the easiest way to keep her tributes from starting unnecessary arguments is to have them sit with the older mentors and the morphlings who will keep to themselves. However when Brutus pulls out the chair beside Luna at the far end, the redhead stops him.

"I'm sorry Brutus," she says, "I saved this seat for Clio."

Several heads around the table snap towards Luna, each mirroring confusion. Enobaria blinks twice as if she imagined those words but upon seeing Luna's small smile she realises the girl really does want Clio to sit next to her.

"Luna, are you sure?" The man asks with a laugh. The girls aren't exactly known for getting along but as his eyes scan the table he realises that the seats at the other end are diagonally opposite Katniss and that is a recipe for disaster - and he would actually quite like to eat tonight.

"Rude" Clio scoffs as she pushes past her mentor and throws herself down ungracefully, the legs of the chair scraping noisily against the marble flooring.

Brutus holds his hands up in mock defeat, walking around to the seat on the other side opposite Mags when Cato squeezes past him and slides into the chair, looking over his shoulder and pointing to the seats at the bottom end of the table, "The old people are down that end."

"Don't push it." Brutus jokes as he moves to sit beside Augustus, the seat between Topaz and Haymitch already occupied by Enobaria.

Avoxes silently circulate the room, tightly gripping platinum trays holding delicate canapés and glasses of sparkling champagne and carefully crafted cocktails. One Avox hands Clio a tall, thin glass filled with a strong, purple liquid and as she takes it from their gloved hand she looks down the length of the table. Silver platters lie between the table arrangements, showcasing a medley of delicacies from fresh seafood to cured meats and fruits acting as appetisers for the victors prior to the first course being delivered. Everyone is laughing in clusters with those around them, the conversations are friendly and good-natured - a stark contrast to how it will be in less than a week.

Suddenly the chatter stops and Clio notices everyone has turned to face Finnick who has risen from his seat, standing tall with his shoulders squared and eyes sparkling with a mixture of determination and sincerity. With a graceful sweep of his hand, he raises his glass, the crystal stem catching the glimmer of the candle light beneath, and clears his throat. "My fellow esteemed victors."

Finnick shakes his head with a chuckle as laughter ripples through the room at the serious tone in his voice, words carried with authority and his usual charm. "Before we eat, I would like to propose a toast."

Everyone nods as Finnick continues, "As we sit together for our final dinner before this year's games, I can't help but feel a mix of gratitude and sadness. I want to take a moment to appreciate each and every one of you. We've become a wild, dysfunctional family through sharing our experiences, our laughter and our tears. We've seen one another at our best and at our worst and yet, here we all are."

There are hums of agreement from all ends of the table. He's right. As much as Clio hates to admit it, he's right, everyone at this table has seen her win her games and the majority have seen both the highs and lows of her year as a victor.

"I'm definitely not one for long speeches but I would like for us to try and put our differences aside for tonight to enjoy what is, for many of us, our last meal together. I know you all have your own battles to prepare for; your own choices to make but let's raise our glasses high and toast to us."

Heads swivel around the room, looking up and down the table at the mention of it being the last meal together that most of them will have considering that the majority of people at the table are the tributes for this year's games. Clio's eyes make contact with Johanna's opposite her. Both girls give each other a small smile before Clio turns to face Luna - the girl who saved her a seat. Luna's head moves from looking in Mags' direction and the redhead smiles widely at the short brunette to her right. It leads her to thinking that if the girls weren't all from different Districts, if they had grown up together instead of meeting after the Hunger Games, they could have found themselves friends.

"Toast to our victories." Finnick flits his eyes up and down the table, making eye contact with everyone for a split second.

"Our strength." Again, his eyes meet those of the others. "Our determination."

"To our sacrifices to protect those we love." Clio watches as Finnick's gaze rests on Katniss and Peeta, drawing everyone's attention to the newest victors in the middle of the table. She rolls her eyes as Katniss keeps her head down, seemingly more engrossed in the engraving on the platinum cutlery laid out neatly in front of her, while Peeta smiles warmly at those around him. Finnick's eyes then meet Clio's for a moment but quickly looks away and resumes his toast.

"And to the friendship we made along the way." He smiles at Mags, who signs something back to the man. He then looks to his right, smiling at Haymitch who, already drinking, lifts his glass and takes a swig. His eyes then move up the table, smiling at Brutus and Enobaria; Katniss, Peeta and Chaff beside him and Cashmere and Gloss diagonally opposite. He grins at a wide-eyed Beetee and Blight before his gaze rests on Cato, lifting an eyebrow as he continues to smile. Finally, after wiggling his eyebrows playfully at Johanna sitting on the end of the table he maintains Clio's eye contact for a moment before turning to smile lovingly at Luna. Meanwhile, Clio uses the time in which Finnick is distracted to lean back in her chair and flash a wide, open mouthed smile at Cashmere who looks keen to meet her eyes from five seats down. She gets one in return before she feels eyes burning into the side of her head, and turns to find Cato smiling at her.

The sound of Gloss clearing his throat catches Finnick's attention, pulling his stare from Luna as he begins to speak again. "To those of you who I'll see in the arena, you have my support and my condolences that you have to endure the horrors of the games again. But, no matter the outcome, know that you have my greatest respect. It's been an honour to call you all my friends."

No doubt his words are directed at the tributes from the outlier Districts but Clio can't help but silently applaud the man's bravery for speaking so openly about what many consider horrific experiences. There's something nagging at her about those set of words. Support suggests that he's going to be someone's ally, she thinks, but who? Because we're yet to hear back about whether he's involved in our alliance. Clio scolds herself mentally, this dinner is supposed to be a happy send off and she doesn't want to waste the time dwelling over whether Finnick considers himself a career or not but the tone in which he said no matter the outcome is bothering her. Stop thinking about it, it's probably nothing.

"May the odds be ever in our favour and all that, not just for ourselves but for the hope that the future holds something better for the children of Panem." Finnick raises his glass higher. "Cheers, my friends."

Everyone raises their glasses in unison, eyes locked with those around them. The clinking of glasses echoes throughout the room as they toast. While Finnick sits down, avoxes weave around the room, placing the first course in front of each victor. No sooner than the hand-painted porcelain plates settle on the table, cutlery is lifted as everybody wastes no time in bringing food to their mouths. Conversation halts for a while as they eat before slowly starting up again in clusters. At her place at the end of the table with the only people she really wishes to speak to being several seats away, Clio's eyes are glued to her plate as she pokes at the food with her fork. A vibrant orange substance oozes from the poached quail egg that sits on top of the mountain of greens and seeps into the other ingredients. The balsamic vinaigrette is sharp, contrasting with the eggs and complimenting the sweetness of the thinly sliced rosada tomatoes and lilliputian beetroot spheres. The clang of her fork against the porcelain is loud as she stabs at the tomatoes in an attempt to keep them on her utensil.

"Oh my god, Clio." Luna's attention is drawn to the girl, her eyes focusing on the scuff marks now visible on the dish.

Following Luna's eyeline she comments, "It wasn't intentional."

"That's too bad then," Luna says, a sarcastic smirk visible on her face. "I could teach you a thing or two about controlling a fork if you want."

A fake, sardonic smile graces Clio's as she remembers Enobaria's rules for tonight. Not wanting to break them this early into the meal she denies Luna's offer, regardless of her intentions, "No thank you, Luna."

The redhead shrugs, returning her attention to her own meal as she remarks, "Suit yourself."

As Avoxes once again swarm the room to collect the empty plates, others immediately bring in the main course to the table now chatting animatedly. Each presented with a large portion of tender, braised ribs resting atop a bed of creamy parmesan risotto. Roasted carrots and asparagus spears lie beside the meat, doused in a red wine reduced sauce causes a shared appreciation of the food in front of them as lips curl up into satisfied smiles.

As Clio quickly slices the carrots, she wonders how anyone in the Capitol gets anything done with such blunt knives and feels a nudge to her side. Looking up from her plate, she continues to cut up her meal as she makes eye contact with Luna who has been looking at her for the past minute. "What, Luna?" She asks, "I don't think there's anything you can teach me about knives."

Luna's eyes widen as she takes note of how quickly Clio is cutting up her meal without paying attention to it. "I actually have something to ask you," she replies, "It's about what Zeus told me on the train."

"Anything that man told you is a lie." Clio rolls her eyes.

Luna nods her head gently. "I believe that," she scoffs, "But considering he's the reason I was supposed to be reaped, there's a few things I need you to clear up."

"And what makes you think I won't just lie to you?" Clio questions, bringing an asparagus spear up to her mouth.

"Because it has to do with Cato." Luna says after she swallows her bite.

"Fine." Clio responds with a raise of an eyebrow. "What bullshit did he feed you?"

"His right hand..." Luna whispers, chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she fiddles with the vegetables on her plate.

Clio's shoulders shake with laughter as she remembers the disfigured state of the man's hand, "What about it?"

"He told me that Cato crushed it out of spite. That he was supposed to be the volunteer for the seventy-second Games until he couldn't hold a spear anymore."

"Yeah Cato crushed it but I take it he didn't tell you the reason why?" Clio asks, taking a sip of the purple cocktail. When Luna shakes her head no, she continues with an eye roll. "Of course he didn't. The fucker tried to dislocate Cato's knee with a baton the month before the Reaping so that he wouldn't be able to volunteer and he could go in his place."

Luna gasps, "He- What? Did you tell anyone?"

"Obviously not. Everyone knows getting selected as the volunteer means accepting that people are going to try and injure you so that they can volunteer instead, there's nothing either of us could say. He wasn't successful anyway." Clio shrugs nonchalantly. When she turns to face Luna, she finds her jaw open in shock.

"What?" She questions the redhead through a mouthful of rice.

"People fight each other to go into the games?" Luna asks, struggling to comprehend the younger woman's words. "Who would actually want to go?"

"I did." Clio says bluntly. Luna's mouth opens and closes in response, causing Clio to snicker to herself. How fitting that the girl from Four looks like a fish, she thinks. "You do know I volunteered, right?"

"I knew that," Luna shakes her head, "But why?"

"Because I wanted the honour of winning." Clio says, pushing some of the braised meat past her lips. "There was no way I was letting anyone else become the pride of District Two."

Luna chews slowly, mulling over Clio's words as they both begin to eat again. Luna returns to conversation with Mags, while Clio finds herself smiling in amusement at Johanna's frustration with Wiress who is seated nervously between her and Cato. Once the main course is cleared, the dessert platters arrive. A variety of sweet dishes are placed along the table. Delicate ramekins of chocolate mousse each adorned with raspberry coulis and edible golden leafs designed to replicate the victor's crown. Tall towers of croquembouche threaded with salted caramel and decorated with macarons, sugared almonds and thick, chocolate ganache. Platters of creamy profiteroles and tiers of tiramisu, crème brûlée are placed alongside the plates of cinnamon rolls and pavlovas are accessorised with bowls of freshly picked berries. Finally, what I came here for Clio thinks as she eyes up the large portion of cinnamon rolls in the middle of the table. As is customary at these types of events, those sitting in the middle seats serve themselves first before the others get a chance. Clio watches impatiently as Katniss and Peeta eagerly serve themselves first, along with Gloss and Topaz who pile their plates with profiteroles. Her eyes narrow when she sees Katniss reach for a cinnamon roll, mentally counting the number on the plate and her chances of getting to one. Enobaria and Brutus are amongst the next few to help themselves to the desserts and she watches in disbelief as both of her mentors each place two cinnamon rolls each onto their plates. With a dramatic sigh she leans back in her chair, arms crossed as she thinks about what she's done to deserve such injustice of having to watch everyone eat her favourite treat.

"Are you just going to sulk or are you going to thank me?" Enobaria asks her as she slides one of her cinnamon rolls onto Clio's empty plate.

Her eyes snap towards her mentor and then towards Brutus once he speaks, "Here." He slides another cinnamon roll onto her plate, laughing at the way her eyes light up at the sight of the pastry before placing a small pot of thick, sugary syrup next to it.

"Thank you." She says sincerely as they both walk back to their respective seats. She watches Cashmere sit down with a cinnamon roll on her plate, looking defeated and whispering something to her brother, causing Clio to wonder if the woman was headed over to give her a cinnamon roll too before obviously deciding against it once she realised it had already been done.

She continues to watch as she waits for her turn to add more pastries to her plate, observing the morphlings reach for a single chocolate mousse each while Finnick is the first to break into the croquembouche, picking apart the threaded caramel and sugared almonds. She smiles to herself when he jumps back slightly as the tower crumbles and pieces of choux fall onto the plate of an unsuspecting Peeta. However, her smile drops slightly when she watches Cato slip four cinnamon rolls onto his plate, ignoring her wide-eyed glare as he also picks up some profiteroles and a crème brûlée on a second plate. Four. She follows his movements as he sits back down, transferring one pastry onto the second plate. What is he doing? She thinks but her thoughts are interrupted when he smiles at her and pushes the plate across the table towards her. Reaching to grab it, she mouths a "thank you" with a gleaming smile before loading it with the other two pastries she had been given to free up one of the dishes. As she pushes herself from her chair to finally help herself to the dessert choices, she sees Luna glide the sixth cinnamon roll onto her pile. With a grin she serves herself a helping of pavlova, neatly organising the summer berries on top of the peaks, some of the croquembouche doused in caramel and ganache and finally her own pastries. When she returns to her seat, she picks up her cutlery and as soon as she cuts into her first dessert, Luna nudges her. The redhead gestures with her head towards Finnick who holds a cinnamon roll in the air on his fork, offering it towards her. Shaking her head, she refuses his offer. I've already got eight cinnamon rolls she thinks, on top of pavlova and pastries. Finnick shrugs and everyone around the table digs into their desserts, conversation flickering quietly until their plates are empty and cleared.

As an Avox refills her large glass of wine, she spins her chair slightly so that she can see the rest of the table properly as the uneaten desserts are hastily cleared from the table. Conversation lulls momentarily before Beetee involves everyone in a discussion, "Although I have watched many tapes of the Reapings, I must ask how it works in each of your Districts. It is something I have never considered before now so please enlighten me."

"In One we're chosen the week before the Reaping." Cashmere tells them, moving her hands expressively. "To be selected as the volunteer you have meet all the aca- mentor's requirements."

Clio notices how she almost says the word academy but quickly corrects herself. It's clear by the looks on Cato and Gloss' faces that they caught her near slip up but if anyone else noticed they haven't said anything. Cashmere continues, "We're selected based on measurements such as height, proportions, strength, hair and eye colour, intelligence. Both of us topped the criteria each year but the mini prep teams we receive definitely don't hurt."

Several of the others are astounded at the mention of the District One volunteers having a mini prep team working on getting their volunteers' hair and makeup ready on the day of the reaping. It makes sense, Clio thinks they always look presentable and ready for the cameras when they volunteer.

"All it really means is that no one is blindsided by the Reaping. We aren't sending our tributes in completely unprepared and it puts the District's minds at ease if they need tesserae." Gloss finishes, taking a large swig of his wine.

"We just fight each other for the honour," Cato shrugs as he leans back in his chair.

At the shocked looks on some of the victors' faces and the not-so-surprised expression on the others', Clio offers them some clarification. "It's not some kind of free for all. It's scheduled in April to test your general fitness and your intelligence. The overall winner is then allowed to volunteer."

"Well, we just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best." Finnick says, being rewarded with lots of hums of agreement as they nod. "But for completely opposite reasons. Where you want to be picked, we will do anything not to be."

"You could've just said you're boring." Clio teases. Multiple heads whip to face her, jaws dropped open in shock as they glare at her. "What?" She laughs.

"Not all of us are trained psychos," Johanna spits, rolling her eyes at the woman opposite her.

"Bit rich coming from the girl who lied to the entire nation and then hacked people down." Clio laughs. We were getting along today but it was never going to last long was it? She thinks as she watches the woman's eyes narrow at her.

"It would be such a shame if I take to using rocks in this arena wouldn't it?"

"Speaking of the arena. Who wants to die first?" Clio asks with a sarcastic laugh, fed up with Johanna's attitude. I was only joking and she decides to bring up the rock incident. Absolutely fucking not, she thinks. The room falls silent at her words, the natural lull in the conversations at the other end of the table meaning that her voice rang loud and clear, echoing slightly in the vast space around the table. A sigh echoes throughout the room quickly afterwards and she swears she recognises it as Brutus' and the slap of skin caused by the palm of the hand hitting the thin skin of the forehead is distinctly Enobaria's. Although everyone in her immediate line of sight looks directly at her in challenge, she notices that Wiress has suddenly become very interested in the wine she had refused to drink before. Perfect, she thinks.

"Okay let's make a deal." Clio says, gaze finding Cato's as she reaches over and steals a coin from the stack Luna is nervously creating in order to leave as a tip. "If it's heads I kill Nuts, if it's tails I kill Volts."

"Sounds good to me."

At Cato's response, Clio twists her hand, moving the coin from the back of her hand into her palm. She stretches her arms out in front of her, placing the copper on the silk runner at the edge of the table. As she goes to lift her hand to reveal the answer, Johanna furiously swipes the coin off the table and stamps on it with her heel.

"Ooh, is somebody angry?" Cato taunts her.

"That's just her resting face." Clio smirks in response as she watches Johanna get more and more irritated while Wiress grows increasingly uncomfortable. Sorry Enobaria but this is far too much fun, she thinks as considers the older woman's words in the lift.

"You wonder why everyone hates careers?" Blight asks rhetorically in defence of his district partner. "Look at you, threatening people for no reason. That's really honourable" The man from Seven's fingers wrap around the blunt dessert knife, lifting it with a bend of his elbow as he moves to throw it in Clio's direction before his wrist is caught and brought to a stop by Cato's hand grabbing it tightly and forcing him to release it.

"Oh you're serious?" Cato laughs over the protests of Cashmere and Gloss further down the table.

"What's wrong Cato, not used to people fighting back?" Chaff says, leaning forward onto his elbow as he angles his chin forward to be seen from his position a few seats down.

"No I'm actually just not used to people being this stupid." Cato retorts, making Clio giggle.

"Right stop." Beetee asserts, raising two hands in their direction, palms splayed to try and placate the situation as he turns to look at the men as he addresses them. "Cato he's sorry. Chaff. Stop. He will kill you."

"I can see the vein in his forehead from here." Clio laughs as she points her finger in Blight's direction before turning to face Johanna. "I bet you think that's so sexy."

"Fuck you Clio" Johanna curses angrily.

"Come on. Either of you." Blight shouts as he picks up the knife again, waving it around. "Come at me."

"Blight! Stop!" Beetee pleads.

"I will gladly kill him for you but maybe we should save it for the arena."

"No, I want him to try." Clio replies, tilting her head to the side. "C'mon, throw it. I dare you."

"Stop!' Ven, the mentor from Four, shouts desperately. "We were having such a nice dinner and now it's ruined. C'mon-"

"He's right." Enobaria says. Her and Brutus now stand between each of their tributes, frustration clear on their faces at the violence they've caused at the table. The one thing they were both instructed not to do. "Up. Both of you. Now."

Clio and Cato both roll their eyes as they force themselves from their chairs and begin to follow Enobaria out of the dining room. Brutus falls slightly behind, using the time to apologise to the others for they were 'acting like children'. When Brutus' attention is on a visibly distressed Ven, she smirks as she makes eye contact with a still irate Blight and winds up her middle finger; pleased when he huffs angrily.

Once the lift doors have shut behind them, Enobaria grabs Clio's throat, pressing her into the wall whilst Brutus pins Cato to the wall next to her by holding his arm over his chest.

"You had one job!" Enobaria shouts, tightening her grip on Clio's neck when she tries to push it away.

"You two couldn't play nice for an hour?" Brutus asks sarcastically as he pushes Cato into the wall a little harder.

"She-" Cato tries but Brutus doesn't let him finish his objection.

"I don't care who said what right now. I only care that you've just landed yourself at the top of everyone's kill list. Congratulations."

Luckily the lift doors slide open onto their floor, leading Enobaria to release her hold on Clio and Brutus removes his arm from Cato's chest. Clio gasps for air, both of them turning to glare at their mentors, "You can't just ambush us-"

"I just did." Enobaria taunts, her intense glare stopping any interjections as she storms towards the suite and throws the door open so harshly it sways on its hinges. "Go to bed. I don't even want to fucking look at you right now."

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