#i think they should hang out and be so mean to each other (magical vessels club)

[seasicksilver]

rwby news has me acting unwise

[undyne-the-sea-witch]

Hello! I'm by no means an expert, but here is what I would do. Take or leave whatever works for you:

Question 1: You can seal a jar a variety of ways. The most common way to seal a jar is to drip candle wax over the cork or lid--enough to cover the top. You can do this by (safely) tipping a lit candle over, or warming up some wax in a candle warmer with handle and then (again, safely!) pouring the wax over the jar.

If you can't or don't want to work with candle wax, you can seal a jar by tying a string around the neck of the bottle. You could also tape the lid shut. I've used washi tape before because that's all I had on hand, but I would recommend a stronger type of tape for spell jars as washi tape comes up easily, unless you put the ends of the tape on the bottom of the jar and have the ends overlap each other.

Honestly, though? My favorite (and easiest) method for sealing a jar is to say out loud, "When I place the lid on this jar, the jar is sealed, and the spell is cast. I declare it so," then I tightly pop the cork or lid on the spell jar. Tada! Sealed jar.

As for burning/smoking the ingredients, it absolutely isn't necessary for spell jars. I personally have never encountered a spell jar that requires it! You can use spell jar ingredients as they are. If you decide that it makes sense for your spell to have burned/smoked ingredients, go ahead, but be sure to do research first on what's safe to burn and what isn't. Also be sure to practice fire safety, maintain proper ventilation, and keep pets out of the room when you're burning things.

If you're a beginner, I recommend doing spell jars as they are (no burning/smoking) for now. There are plenty of other opportunities for you to burn/smoke things in spells, rituals, or cleansings.

Question 2: I would not recommend burying spell jars. If the jar breaks, that glass can hurt an animal. Also, depending on what ingredients are in your jar, those can cause harm to the earth. For example: salt can negatively affect soil and any nearby plants.

If you really want to bury a jar, I've heard some people will dedicate a houseplant or outdoor plant to bury their spell jars into, then they'll remove it when the spell has done its job or until they no longer want it to take effect. I wouldn't recommend doing this for baneful magic, but for other spells it should be fine. Just be wary of the spell jar potentially breaking and harming your plant.

I haven't done this yet, but something I thought of doing is dedicating a large bowl or pot or some kind of vessel and then fill it with sand so that I can bury any spells in there. This way, I don't have to worry about harming the earth or animals with a buried spell jar. I'm a sea witch, so this would fit perfectly with my practice, but feel free to do something similar if you think it would work for you!

Anyway, some spells call for you to bury things, but you don't necessarily have to bury a spell jar for it to work! Most witches will leave them on their altars, on windowsills, in a relevant area (i.e., if you make a sleep spell jar you'd put it by your bed), etc. For glamour magic spell jars, I'll tie a string around it and then hang it on my mirror. Really you can leave them anywhere.

If you're in the broom closet, spell jars don't have to be out and about to work! You can keep them wherever you need to hide them and they'll still do their thing.

Question 3: you can certainly have multiple spell jars at once, but I recommend making one spell jar at a time vs. a bunch at once.

A good exercise would be to try one of the spell jars above, then document the results for the next two weeks before making another one. This will help you figure out how you like to assemble spell jars, whether the spell jar had the intended effects, and what part(s) of the process need tweaking.

I know it sounds boring, but documentation throughout practicing your craft is so important, especially when you first start out. If you don't document what you do or how you do it, you won't know what works and what doesn't--which can be frustrating in the long run when you recast spells and get mixed or no results.

Me personally, I have about three spell jars out right now, but you can have less or more! Again, try assembling one at a time and see how it goes. When you no longer want the effects of the spell, I recommend deconstructing the jar by breaking its seal, carefully discarding the ingredients inside (except for anything that can be salvaged like crystals or coins), washing the jar if needed, and finally cleansing it (unless you plan on repurposing the jar for the same type of spell, in which case you don't have to cleanse it unless you want to).

I kinda got carried away with these responses but I hope this helps!! Happy Witching 🎃 🌊

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

The Magical Word of JKR

In this post, I want to point out all the inconsistencies of the world that JKR has created. Some of us had been worshiping her for so long. But JKR made mistakes, not only outside her world, but inside.

Owls for muggleborns. Sending a letter through an owl seems to be something common in The Wizarding World. But why do children with a muggle background need to go back in time and use them when they could use a phone? Why can't students use any muggle technology? I know wizards are anti muggle and magic does not allow these devices to function at Hogwarts, but why not?

Drunk portraits. How could portraits get drunk? Did artists paint vessels and digestive systems for them too? How can they bleed? They are portraits with voices and personality based on real people yeah. But they are not alive. They don’t bleed or get drunk.

The trace. Wizards under 17 aren’t supposed to do magic outside Hogwarts. But The Ministry doesn’t seem to control this by which wand did it. But by location. Since Dobby did magic in the Chamber of Secrets, and they blamed Harry for it. So, what happens with pureblood kids? They are allowed to use magic outside school because their families are supposed to, so they wouldn’t trace them. So it seems unfair for muggleborns not to be able to practice magic. Since they are the only members of their family that would do it.

Hogwarts being the only school. There is only one school in all Britain for magical people. Yet there seems to be very few students when there should be a lot. And it doesn’t make sense that Hogwarts is the only choice. Or Hogwarts, or homeschooling.

I don’t understand the population of Magical Folks. It seems little because most of the wizarding families are known. There are only 28 pureblood famous families. They even practise inbreeding, they are all related. But why is that, if the wizard gene is dominant? There are more half bloods and muggleborns than squibs. So the magical population should be as large as the muggle one, even more.

Hogwarts Houses are cool. But the way kids are sorted doesn’t make sense. They get sorted when they are eleven. Seems pretty young to me to form traits and criteria that might change as they grow. Also, let’s say 100 kids enter Hogwarts one year. They won’t be sorted equally 25/25/25/25. Because according to personalities and traits, there could be 60 Gryffindors and 10 Ravenclaws, and 4 Slyhterins, and 25 Hufflepuffs. What if one year, there are no Slytherins for example?

Also, sharing a dorm, common room and classes with people from your same house (same personality and traits) seems boring and unhealthy. Having friends with different personalities, traits and beliefs should help you grow and mature. Sometimes friendships are built between two opposite people. And separating houses, forces students to just hang out with people from their houses, not others.

Love potions. These are the wizarding equivalent of drugs. Think about it. Forcing someone to show love for you is very much like drugging someone and forcing them to do stuff against their will. Love potions can permit things like raping. Something that happened to Tom Sr. by Merope. It is horrible. Yet the wizarding world permits their selling and consumption without a problem. And what’s worse, they teach how to brew it in school to children! A potion like that shouldn’t be allowed or taught.

Azkaban being the only punishment. It seems whether you are a dangerous criminal like a mass murderer or just someone that stole something once, you get the same punishment. Azkaban. An inhumane place where dementors live, and make prisoners go insane, live their worst nightmares or suck their soul. Even characters who were under the imperius curse like Stanley Shunpike. Or even The Marauders would’ve gone to Azkaban if their animagus secret was discovered. No matter what your crime is, always the worst punishment: Azkaban.

Wizards hiding from muggles. The Statue of Secrecy in the Wizarding World seems to be important. But I may ask, how can wizards hide from muggles if they don’t know anything about them? Pureblood Wizards don’t have a clue how muggles live, behave, dress, talk. Not even Arthur Weasley who works in that Department. Yet they want to be unnoticed by muggles? For example, each time a wizard dresses like a muggle they do it wrong, using colorful clothes. Wouldn’t it be suspicious? Like even Vernon sees people in cloaks in book 1, celebrating. Also, if there are a lot of muggleborns, shouldn’t more muggles know about wizards?

It is totally inhumane to just obliviate muggles each time they see something. That spell should have some consequences in their brains. Like for example, Hermione’s parents must’ve had mayhem after their minds were modified.

Memories in pensieves are not supposed to be accurate. Memories are from our point of view. From the perspective of people who lived that memory. When Harry sees Snape’s memories or Bob Ogden’s memories, they seem to be clear. Harry can see Bob and Snape in those memories when they should be seen through their eyes, they are their memories. How could Snape remember himself, see himself. You get my point? Also, memories are subjective, not objective. We remember what impacted us the most, we forget about details we don’t care about. There are feelings involved.

Not having another education after Hogwarts. You graduate from Hogwarts at eighteen. Eighteen! And you're supposed to have figured out what you want to do for the rest of your life. Why aren’t there Wizard Universities? Wizards only have 7 years of education and that’s all. Nothing before, nothing after (unless you’re muggleborn). Seems that the wizard community doesn’t care about education that much. With only seven years of education, are you suddenly prepared for the rest of your life? I don’t think so.

Adding to the last point, wizards only teach about magic. What about math, wouldn’t they need it to count their money, or take care of their finances? What about English, spelling, grammar? Not every kid had the privilege to be homeschooled by their parents before. What about Sex Ed? I think it is important for teens that age to be careful with their sex lives.

Quidditch being the only sport in the wizarding world. Quidditch is cool, I get it. But it is not for everyone. Seems that if you want to be a sports person in the wizarding world, you only have that option. Either you like Quidditch or nothing.Shouldn’t there be other sports? In the muggle world we have tons: football, basquet, tennis, swimming, running, etc.

Love protection is not common. Lily sacrificed herself for Harry. She died for him and that love protection saved his life. Why is Harry the only one to experience it? Is it because of the prophecy? I mean Lily is not the only one who has sacrificed herself for love. Not in the story, not in History. Then why aren’t there more people with lighting scars walking around?

Why don’t wizards cure things with magic like eyesight? They have a potion that grows bones back. But they cannot cure Harry’s eyesight? And don’t say that it is because eyes are connected to the soul, that’s a lame excuse. In the muggle world, eyesight can be cured with surgery.

Hogwarts Express. Yeah, we all wanted to ride the train to Hogwarts. It is part of the experience right? But what if you live in Scotland already? Why bother traveling to London to King Cross Station to take a train if you already live there? It seems like a waste of time. Is there a provided transport for kids who live in Scotland? What about those who don't live in London? What if Scotland is nearer to them than King Cross?

Ghosts. They shouldn’t exist. It is not very well explained how you become a ghost. But it doesn’t make sense that they exist and yet many characters died and didn’t become one.

Discrimination against magical creatures. We know how magical creatures are seen in the Wizarding World. Discrimination exists. But the problem is that Jkr never does anything to fix this.Not with werewolves, not with half giants, surely not with house-elves. The only issue that the war solved was the discrimination against muggleborns.

And house-elves liking their slavery is problematic. It is saying that slavery is right as long as the victim accepts it. She created S.P.E.W and never properly addressed the issue.

The Forbidden Forest is dangerous, yet students have detention there. Dumbledore says at the beginning of each year that the Forest is out of bounds. So why would you send students to detention there, Dumbles? Also, building a school near a forest full of dangerous beasts: werewolves, acromantulas, centaurs, seems kind of risky for children. Not every child obeys the rules. Look at the Marauders spending every full moon there.

How did Hagrid come to be? Hagrid is half giant. Meaning that his father is human, his mother is a giant… Ehemm… Excuse me, but how do you have sex with a giant? That’s physically impossible. How does Hagrid exist?

Male veelas? We are only introduced to female veelas in the Wizarding World. Veelas are these beautiful women that men feel attracted to, they seem in trance by their beauty, and they are not responsible for their actions. It seems to me that JKR is saying that men should not be accountable for their actions when they see a pretty girl, because it is her fault? Pretty feminist, JKR. Also, veelas are dangerous creatures. How do humans procreate with them and have half veelas or a quarter of a veela? Are there male veelas too?

Teachers not having spouses or kids. It is a stupid stereotype that teachers are sad non social people, who are only teaching because they don’t have a choice. Like they are allowed to have social lives, date, get married and have children, right? Name one Hogwarts teacher who is married with kids. They all seem pretty single. And I get it, being single is not a bad thing. But all of them being single just because they are teachers in a boarding school? Just because it was convenient to the author? Only McGonagall married once, but her husband died a few years after.

Abusive teachers. Speaking of teachers, why would Hogwarts allow incompetent teachers that are abusive (Snape), and or are dangerous for kids. None DADA teacher had teaching experience before. And since there is no further education than Hogwarts, how do teachers get prepared for the job? Teaching is not about knowing a lot of stuff about the subject, but knowing how to treat children.

Muggle vs Wizard music. What is the difference between muggle and wizard music? I never understood that. Is it the fact that wizards play music with magic? If so, why would instruments exist? Why would they play instruments? If anyone can make a spell to produce music, then anyone can be a musician. The only difference that I find is that wizard music has wizard related lyrics. Which is a stupid difference. Wizards could write songs about muggles. Muggles could write songs about wizards.

Secret Keeper. The Fidelius Charm should be a spell to hide yourself from others if you are in danger. Period. There shouldn’t be such a thing as a secret keeper. Why? Why would someone else need to know the place you are hiding? James and Lily shouldn’t have trusted anyone with their location. Not even Sirius. Not even someone they trusted, because Sirius or anyone could’ve died and passed the secret to the others. Like, it doesn’t make any sense. And also, how could Bill and Arthur be their own secret keepers but not James and Lily?

Magical therapists. Healers seem to cure physical maladies or illness pretty fine, but what about mental health? And I am not talking about mental problems because of magic. Like Frank, Alice, Lockheart whose minds were affected by spells. I’m talking about mental illnesses such as depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, adhd, ptsd, trauma etc. Don’t tell me wizards don’t suffer that. What about Remus, Sirius, Harry? Who treats these things in the wizarding world?

Time Turner. Only exists for the plot. Otherwise it is useless, stupid and confusing. Time traveling confuses the mind. Also, we don’t exactly know how it works. Is it a domino effect? Do the things you do back in time affect the present? They should. Or does it create different timelines, like it is said in Cursed Child? Also, why not use time turners for important situations? For example, save important people from dying, go back to check events of a crime and see if they are true.

Veritaserum. Wizards have a truth potion and they won’t use it. They should use it on trials to take the truth out of criminals, to see if the accusants are innocent or not. They should’ve used it on each member of the Order to find out who the spy was. They should’ve used it to discover who was the Slytherin heir when the Chamber was opened. They should’ve used it on Harry when he came back from the Graveyard to prove Voldemort was back. Why would that shit exist anyway?

Incest families. Pureblood families, or at least some of them are supposed to practise inbreeding. But if you look at the Black Family Tree, the only Black-Black marriage is between Orion and Walburga. Just one. And even if this was the case, shouldn’t this inbreeding have consequences? I don’t know if it’s the magical gene or what but The Blacks and Malfoys seem pretty fine.

If you know more and you want to add them, feel free to do so. This is a critique to improve this word and fandom ourselves. Even JKR's world is cool and wonderful, it is full of flaws that we need to speak about.

[salilaoceania]

My COTL Headcanons on Why the Vendors Do Not Age/Die When Followers Do

Obviously the proper reason is just that the game devs need the vendors to always be there and cannot be constantly swapping them out like followers, but I like the idea of an in lore explanation for this phenomenon so I thought I'd share my headcanons anyway.

Ratau:

Former Vessel of the Red Crown; seeing as the Lamb is immortal, I think the Crown's power is more than capable of granting such everlasting life, and Ratau has received this even if he doesn't bear it any longer. Some of its magic still lingers within him.

Clauneck and Kudaai:

These guys are just cryptids to me honestly. They don't quite fit any animal I'd like to assign to them, and in the trailer Clauneck just sort of... vanishes after showing Lamb the cards. I wouldn't call them gods per se, just very very ancient beings. I think they were around before the Bishops even were (especially because I love the headcanons of Shamura being mentored by Clauneck about visions of the future, and Kudaai training Kallamar in combat) and will be around for a long time after.

Haro:

A god in their own right in the same way that the Bishop's are, though their Crown is dead. A lot less powerful than the Bishops, but still, immortal and with some control over their domain (which I like to imagine is time). Also probably older than the Bishops, given what they know about them.

Helob:

I saw the concept of lesser crowns tossed around by faery-the-diamond (who I am not tagging because I don't want to bother but absolutely suggest checking out) and tbh it's really funny to me to think that this guy has one. I adore Helob, but he feels like the last person to have his hands on something so powerful— at least until you consider what possible role he could've had in the past. I like to think tarantula are pretty well respected in Silk Cradle, and are typically high ranking followers of Shamura. Helob may not be anymore, but in the past I'd like to think that would've applied to him.

Sozo:

I mean... he does die. That's kinda a whole thing. BUT. I think Sozo is kinda just... held in a state of suspended decay by the mushroom. Like he's dying, yes, but he's not? Not until he's served his purpose anyway. I don't even know if he'd realize it either, given, well, *gestures vaguely*

Plimbo:

He's got an artifact in his stash that's extending his lifespan. I don't even think he'd realize it tbh.

Midas:

I feel like each sacrifice of a creature into gold extends his lifespan even further.

Forneus:

After her kits were sacrificed, she begged TOWW to let her see them one last time before her death. He agreed, and a bargain was struck. Until she gets to see them, Forneus will not die. It is a long, and very lonely, existence.

Ratoo:

By all accounts this man should be dead anyway, I mean look at him. He's got a gaping hole in his chest. I kinda just consider him undead in a way. He's not fully alive but he's not exactly dead either and he's gonna stay that way for a long while.

Flinky:

Married to Ratau, therefore not allowed to die, next question /j

In all seriousness I again like the idea of a 'lesser crown' in this situation, and them have receiving it as a gift from Ratau after one of his crusades.

Klunko and Bop:

I also like the idea of Klunko being undead, mostly cause of Bop hanging around him and then the hand thing. Idk it gives me vagueish Corpse Bride vibes and it's the best explanation I got.

Shrumy:

Not immortal or undead or anything else. He's just a tortoise. They live a really, really long time, even by comparison to humans, so to other animals he might as well be.

The Fox:

He's definitely some sort of demon or something of the like; regardless he's just not mortal.

Lighthouse Keeper:

Either that fire has some sort of magical property that's extending his lifespan, or it's just a new Lighthouse Keeper every so often and the Lamb doesn't notice because all of them kinda look the same.

Moth:

Not too many thoughts on the moth. Could be a different moth every time, could be the same one and they've got something a little weird going on, not really enough in game to go off of. I personally just imagine it's a different moth.

Rakshasa:

The power of this man's love for his wife has kept them both alive for millennia /j

I actually imagine he could just have some god's blessing or smth idk. Maybe Heket really liked his food or whatever and granted him (and his wife because I cannot imagine him saying yes without her included) immortality or an extended lifespan. Who knows. I have ideas but nothing particularly solid.

Fisherman:

I literally could not tell you. He baffles me.

[secretshinigami]

All Noble Things

Author: @kiranatrix For: @resilicns Pairings/Characters: Near and Gevanni Rating/Warnings: Gen, no warnings Prompt: Near reflecting on his relationship with Wammy’s and L’s reputation Author’s notes: In How to Read, it says that Gevanni’s hobby is building ships in a bottle. So I imagined a scene where Near is observing Gevanni, now in the role of Watari, building a special ship. The time period is flexible but I imagined it after the C-Kira case and before the case with Minoru. This is a loose interpretation of your prompt but I hope you enjoy it!

—

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Gevanni.” Near didn’t look up as he carefully laid out another domino on the floor, perfectly spaced from its neighbor and approximately two centimeters from chaos. Pinched fingers pulled back carefully and twisted around a strand of white hair. ���Two things, really.”

Gevanni looked up from his workbench as the long but comfortable silence between them was broken. Since Roger had died and he’d taken on the role of Watari, he was usually the question-asker. Would you like lunch now? Have you heard back about this or that piece of evidence? Did you have another nightmare last night? 

He’d gotten used to it, to Near. To being the bedrock that an island could rest upon. “Two questions?”

No, he was more of a species imported to Near’s world and being gradually altered by the isolation, evolving to fill his niche. But he had no complaints–it was a quiet, stable life and Near paid him well. He didn’t mind the solitude. “You’re exceeding your daily allotment. I’ll have to demand a raise if this keeps up.”

“I believe I gave you a raise just three months ago. If these demands keep up, I’ll have to find another Watari.” Near deadpanned it but his eyes flicked up briefly, and Rester knew he was joking. Another domino clinked against the terrazzo floors, this one with hand-carved scrimshaw detailing a breaching whale.

Gevanni snorted and turned back to the ship in a bottle he was working on. “Good luck finding someone else to source those pajamas with the specific blend of Pima cotton you prefer. I’ve kept that a secret. Iron-clad job security.” He grinned as he carefully reached a long wire into the bottle to pat down blue and white putty mimicking ocean waves. “So, what’s question number one?”

“Can you tie back my hair? It keeps getting in the way.” Near flicked a long strand over his shoulder but it fell again, dangling dangerously close to his creation. “Mind the–”

“Dominos? Yeah, I’m practically a ninja at this point.” Gevanni pushed his loupe glasses to the top of his head before carefully making his way over spiraling lines of set-up dominos to Near at the center. He knelt and pulled a hair-tie from his pocket, holding it between his teeth as he gathered up all the silvery strands. “Holf spill,” he murmured around the band. Near was stone-still as he made a quick and slightly messy ponytail, leaving some loose hair around the face for twirling. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Near very briefly made eye contact as Gevanni went back to his workbench before looking back to his pile of dominos. He sorted through them for another scrimshaw piece. Gevanni had made a special set for him on his last birthday but he always saved them for the end. 

“Mmhm.” Gevanni slid back into his chair and picked up the little ship, a model of a 19th-century whaler. “So what was the second question?” 

“I was curious what you were working on.” Near let a domino tumble across his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. “You’ve never spent that much time on just one ship before.” He caught the domino with his thumb and placed it next in line. 

“Oh, so you noticed?” Gevanni held up the little whaler on his palm, clearly proud of the highly detailed craftsmanship. All the masts were down and tied with an array of strings that could be pulled up once it was in the bottle to raise them. “I guess this one’s special since it doesn’t really exist. Thought I’d challenge myself. It’s…well, it’s how I imagine the Pequod to look, the whaling ship in–“

“Moby Dick?” Near stared at the miniature vessel, head slightly cocked as he smoothed a loose strand of hair. “The ship Captain Ahab used to chase his white whale.”

Gevanni smiled. “That’s right. It’s one of my favorite books. Have you read it?” 

“Years ago. I remember not liking it very much. The whale killed him in the end.” Near placed the last couple of dominos and let out a long sigh. The moments before flicking the first piece were the ones he both cherished and dreaded. The satisfaction of creation could be drawn out like a  monotone note, but when it was finished, the spectacular destruction was often over too soon. So, he hesitated and stood up instead, padding to Gevanni’s workbench to watch more creation. 

“I bet you’d like the book more these days. Single-minded obsession to defeat a power past human control? Throwing all caution and sense of self-preservation to the wind? The thrill of the chase?” Gevanni arched a brow. “Can’t tell me that doesn’t sound familiar.”

Near frowned slightly and hunched in on himself. “I suppose you mean L. Or do you characterize me as so foolish?”

“You’re L now.” Gevanni disliked that he had to remind Near of that even now, years after the first L had died. “But yes, it reminds me of what Matsuda told us about your predecessor’s obsession with Kira. I never met the first L, but maybe I can understand him, in a way.” He quoted Melville, "All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.’ You’re L but you’re not him, and I’m glad for it.”

Near wasn’t sure if he was glad for it or not. So many times over the years he’d compared himself to that avatar and wondered if he could measure up. Drily, “I guess that makes me Ishmael." 

"You survived, didn’t you? Lived to tell the tale and learn what he couldn’t." 

Gevanni turned back to the little ship, carefully threading another string through the rear-most mast. He worked quietly for a while, cognizant of Near’s focused attention and feeling sorry for bringing up the Kira case. It wasn’t often that Near took such an interest in his own projects, or perhaps the man was merely thinking about what he’d said. “Sit down, if you want to. I’m about to get to the exciting part.”

Near pulled a chair closer and slinked into it, one leg pulled tight to his chest and the other dangling off the end. “Which is the exciting part? Stuffing it into the bottle?”

“That’s part of it. The thrilling part for me is raising the masts and sails inside the bottle.” Gevanni pointed to the flat masts and the multiple lines of string leading from them. “If anything goes wrong or a string gets tangled…or some bit of glue doesn’t hold, well–”

“You’re screwed.” Near smiled faintly and rested his chin on his knee. “Hours of planning for one moment of glory. Or disaster.” It also sounded familiar, so familiar.

“Exactly.” Gevanni chuckled and looked over at Near, pleased to see that small, rare smile. That in itself was the product of so much patience, of hours spent in understanding and the slow building of confidence and trust. “Once I get the ship in, would you like to raise the sails?”

Near’s eyes widened and he rocked slightly in the chair. That was Gevanni’s moment of glory and he deserved it after so much time and hard work. The inlaid wood, the meticulous paint, the delicately carved and articulated ship’s wheel capped in brass. The hand-sewn sails and gold script that read Pequod on the ship’s side. Each detail was evidence that someone else had built this and he would only be stealing the best part, swooping in for the end of the trick.

“You built it so you should do it.” It didn’t help that he was worried about making a mistake and ruining it at the last moment. How would it even fit? Despite the masts lying flat, it seemed impossible that the ship would make it inside the bottle. “I don’t know how.”

Gevanni sensed Near’s hesitation and uncertainty, recognizing the subtle tics of anxiety. “I can show you. You’re great at stuff like this.” He motioned to the vast lines and towers of dominos filling the room. “Plus, I trust you.” 

When Near didn’t answer, he turned back to the ship, placing a small line of glue at the bottom and oh-so-carefully maneuvering it into the narrow mouth of the glass bottle and onto the ‘waves’ of translucent blue putty. It was a very tight fit and when it stuck down in the right position, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Not bad, huh?” The strings dangled from the bottle’s mouth as he held it up to show Near. “Offer still stands.”

Near wanted to do it, to try. Honestly, he wanted to ask Gevanni to show him how to build one of his own, how to trump the rigid enclosure and build something impossible inside. To raise it up not by magic but by human ingenuity and patience. A creation not to destroy but to keep.

“Alright.” His fingers moved from his hair to tentatively touch the white strings hanging from the bottle’s mouth. “All of them?”

“Just these.” Gevanni pointed out several lines connected to the three masts. “Don’t yank, just pull slowly until you feel resistance and I’ll tape them up.”

“If it works.”

Gevanni laughed quietly. “It’ll work. Stop stalling.”

Near mumbled, “I’m not stalling,” but stalled a moment more before gently tugging the strings. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat when all three masts raised in unison, perfectly aligned and straight. He smiled as Gevanni secured the strings, then slid off the chair to gaze at the bottle from the side. This floating world, this impossible thing that’s bottled the sea. “I can see why you like these so much.” 

“It passes the time.” Gevanni felt warm inside since it was rare that they connected like this, despite all the time spent in each other’s company. He glued the strings to the ship with a long wire and then cut them, leaving no trace of how it had really been made. Setting it on the bench to dry, he said, “Would you like to have it? I have about a dozen. I mean, if you want it.”

“As a warning against white whales?” Near smirked and climbed back into the chair. He fingered the hem of his specially-ordered Pima cotton pajamas, the exact blend he preferred. “Or for the memory of Ahab?”

“Neither? Or…maybe both.” Gevanni knew that so much had changed for Near when Kira died. Monster or not, that moment of destruction had ultimately felt unsatisfying. He knew Near struggled with assuming the name and reputation of L, a legacy that had become so confused in the mind of a world that would never know two L’s had died and a third now had to make peace with that. It was easier to bottle ships than emotions.

Mildly, “Or maybe just because it’s something we built together.” It was odd, but somehow it would mean a lot to him for Near to have it. “How about it?” 

Near found a loose string at the hem of his pants and yanked it, snapping the thread. He got up and crouched beside the winding, spiraling rows of dominos and pressed a slender finger against the first one. That catalyst set off the reaction, the staccato clack clack clack! that echoed in the high-ceilinged room. It was over in seconds and silence crept in again. 

“I’d like that.”

-End-

[The title comes from a quote in Moby Dick: "A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy. All noble things are touched with that.” It reminded me of  Gevanni’s rather solitary hobby as well as the occupation of solving cases as L.]

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: The Armputation

Yeah. Yeah it’s time bitches :) you read it right we’re chopping that shit off

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: amputation (omg wow), noncon surgery/body mod, body horror, slight gore

Erebus had sensed something was off when Neteri failed to bring him dinner one night, and when the guards appeared at his door the next morning instead of her, he knew what it meant.

It was time for another procedure.

He understood why she didn’t tell him it was coming, but having hardly any time to process that something was going to be drastically different about his body within the next hour wasn’t the best feeling. Before he knew it, he was on the table again, this time with his shirt off, that silly little rat drawing on the ceiling staring down at his restrained form. Maybe he should give it a name? That was something to focus on, and it’s not like he could see what Neteri was up to at her workbench with his head strapped down. After debating a bit, he settled on Zander, after a big black dog he’d played with sometimes as a kid. He missed seeing dogs. And cats. And birds and the sky and trees and flowers-

“Morning, Erebus!” Neteri seemed far too chipper for someone who was about to…do whatever she was going to do. “How are you feeling?”

“Not...great. Because I’m here. I don’t want to be here.” Even though I deserve to be.

“Yeah that’s expected. But nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Do I get out of this if I say yes?” She laughed and stroked his face.

“You’re fine.” He felt himself grow more and more nervous with anticipation as she rubbed something cold all over his right shoulder. Right there, she was going to cut him open and, and...what was she getting from her workbench? When she came back into view and he saw what she had, he felt his stomach drop. The knife she was holding was the most horrific looking instrument he’d ever seen. It was large and curved, and the fact that she was going to use it on him made it that much worse. 

“What,” he gulped, “what are you going to do to me?”

“Well...do you promise not to freak out?”

“Uh...no. You do realize that makes me more worried, right?”

“Oh, yeah I guess so. It’ll probably be better that you know the full plan beforehand anyway. So,” she put down the knife and clasped her hands, “I’m going to be replacing your arm.”

“Replacing my...with what, exactly?” 

“Another arm, of course. This one, to be exact.” She motioned to a box on the counter. “It’s from a lust demon.”

“Wait, you’re going to cut off my arm?!” Neteri nodded matter-of-factly as Erebus’s heart rate skyrocketed. He didn’t deserve that...did he?!

“I thought that was implied in the ‘replacing’ part, but yeah. Off with your right arm, on with this one.”

“You can’t just do that! That’s-you can’t just amputate my arm!”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d freak out.”

“Of-of course I’m freaking out! You want to cut off one of my limbs, for Drottkia’s sake!”

“I mean, yeah, but I’m going to give you a new one right away. So at the end of the day you’ll have the same number of arms you started with. It’s honestly not worth getting that worked up about.”

“Yes it is! You’re going to just-just attach someone else’s arm to my body! What in the world makes you think that’s not-” his voice cracked, and he realized there were tears streaming from his eyes. He didn’t want this, he was so, so afraid, and no matter how much he struggled and pleaded it was inevitable. 

“Shh, shh. That’s enough now, you’ll be alright,” Neteri said as she wiped away his tears. He hated the way she comforted him, as if she wasn’t the source of all his problems. She reached for something out of his line of sight, and he didn’t manage to get a good look before she shoved it in his mouth. It was just a wad of cloth, but it silenced all of his further protests. He struggled uselessly against the tight leather straps, but he could hardly move at all. There was nothing he could do as she picked up the knife again. There was nothing he could do as he felt the cold blade touch his skin. 

There was nothing he could do but wiggle the fingers of his right hand one last time while he still could. 

The knife sliced through the flesh of his arm in one swift stroke, pain exploding out from it so quickly that Erebus could hardly register it. He barely had time to scream before he felt her place another tool on the wreck of his arm. And when it started moving, he knew exactly what it was. That was a saw, that was a saw, she was sawing through his bone, the vibrations shaking him to the very core. All of a sudden, there was a quiet thud and the sawing stopped, causing a suffocating panic to descend over Erebus, threatening to crush him.

It was gone it was gone his arm was gone the arm he’d used to write and eat and draw and plant flowers and hug his mother one last time and hold his father’s hand as he died was gone and the horrific new one couldn’t replace that, not at all, not at all, but it was too late because it was gone. He heard her pick it up and take it away, leaving a gaping hole next to him on the table, a space that had always been filled before by his arm, but his arm was gone and there was nothing there, nothing at all.

But when he felt her set something else down in that empty space, and his stomach twisted. It was the arm, the one that wasn’t his, the one that was going to be attached to his body, that was going to be his. After fiddling with it a bit, she pressed it up against the stump, the cold demon flesh meeting that of a warm human. She started to stitch them together, and Erebus couldn’t help but whine at both the sting of the needle and the horror of what was happening to him. But once the stitching stopped, the healing magic started, and that was far, far more painful.

Erebus screamed into the gag as he was assaulted by waves of relentless agony, ebbing and flowing as each nerve and blood vessel was joined together. It felt like every pain sensor in the arm was lighting up all at once as the connections were forged, every imaginable anguish being played out in a single moment. And when the bones started to fuse, oh he could hardly breathe, it was like fiery splinters were stabbing up into his shoulder, as many pinpricks of agony as there were stars in the sky, and there was nothing, nothing in the world besides that stabbing pain and the hum of screams in his throat. But all at once, the intensity of the pain evaporated as Neteri’s magic ceased flowing. 

Erebus cautiously opened his eyes, looking at Zander the rat for a moment before turning his gaze to Neteri as much as the strap over his forehead would allow. He was shocked to see that she was clutching the edge of the table for support, breathing heavy as blood dripped steadily from her nose and ears. With a shaking hand, she pulled the gag from his mouth, her unfocused eyes meeting his tear-filled ones.

“Are you...okay?” she gasped between breaths. Erebus paused. He was absolutely, positively, nowhere near okay, but he knew what sort of answer she wanted.

“I’m...it still hurts, but not as much as before you, uh, started...connecting it.” Erebus replied, his voice painfully raspy from screaming. 

“Can you...can you move your fingers?” He hesitantly complied, and was relieved to feel the unfamiliar digits wiggling, even if it felt a little off. She nodded, looking between his hand and the place where she’d attached the arm. “Okay. Hang in there just a bit more.” She took a deep breath and placed her hands on the wound again. Her magic sparked to life, and Erebus could see it was hurting her, too, before he was consumed by his own pain. But it wasn’t long before the magic sputtered out again. Neteri nearly collapsed on top of him, catching herself at the last moment.

“I think...it’ll be good...good enough for now. I’m sure it’s not perfect...I promise I’ll fix it later but I...I need to stop or I’ll...” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry if...hurts...I know that...really painful...and you shouldn’t...more than necessary.” Opening her eyes, she pulled something out of her pocket before moving out of view. A few seconds later, the pair of guards from before came into the lab, shock flashing on their faces for a moment as they took in the bloodstained scene before them. Neteri came around the table, clutching something small and blue in one of her fists, seemingly a little more steady on her feet. She stood between Erebus and the guards, looking one of them dead in the eye.

“Take him back and give him something to take care of the attachment site, but I don’t want anyone else touching him, is that clear?” She jabbed a finger up at his face, her other hand clutching Erebus’s left arm tightly, either for support or out of possessiveness. “He is mine, and he can care for himself until I’m better.” She turned to the other guard. “I’ll probably need your help with a few things…”

Erebus let the guard take him back without a fuss after he was freed from the table. Trying to escape in this condition would just be dumb, and it’s not like there was much point in running with that spell on the brand. He was left alone in the cell with a roll of bandages and something to help fight off infection. But before he took care of the new wound, Erebus needed to wash off the blood that practically coated the right side of his body. There was so much of it on the arm...no, it was his right arm, that the skin looked completely red. 

But as the blood was washed away by the little rainstorm, Erebus realized that that really was its color. Honestly, with the bright red skin, pitch black nails, and the prominent stitches attaching it to his body, the arm made him look like some sort of...monster which is what he was inside, wasn’t he? He watched in horrified fascination as the limb he didn’t recognize as his own moved as he wanted it to. Well, for the most part. It was sort of shaky, and he couldn’t make a fist or straighten it out all the way, but that was hopefully something Neteri could fix...

And despite everything, a small part of him couldn’t help but hope that, for her sake, Neteri was okay.

Next→

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump​ @unicornscotty

[misdre]

misi's beyblade AUs masterpost

i like making AUs, i have many of them, here's a post of them from oldest to newest. (at least approximately) (the ones that got no art of them have photos from unsplash. i just enjoy setting the mood)

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Magical boy AU takao is an ordinary middle schooler who one day gets dragoon the magical spinning top from a cute little azure dragon, seiryuu, and transforms into a magical boy to protect the world from evil for some cosmic reasons that i haven't come up with yet. the rest of the characters have similar powers from their holy beasts and takao needs to gather up his team to fight the evil and. you get the drill is there art of it? yes 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 is there a fic of it? no note: i originally created this just because i like designing the outfits so i haven't planned the story much (this used to be my main focus but then 4kingdoms happened GJSDHGHSDG) i'd want to though, i'll get back to it eventually...at some point...... one of the charm points of this AU is that the holy beasts are these digimon-like animals that hang out with the characters and each have their own personalities.

Fairy tale monster AU takao and gramps live in a cabin in the middle of a forest full of monsters and takao decides one day to venture out to look for a silver-haired boy he once saw, he meets up with the other BBA characters one by one in the grim woods. is there art of it? no is there a fic of it? yes note: my oldest halloween fic. the characters are all these different cute spooky creatures and it's intended to sound like a fairy tale.

One day, he determined that the time was ripe: Takao decided to leave for an adventure. For his grandfather was old, it was not at all unusual for him to lay down to bed before sundown. Once the hut had fallen in drowsy silence, Takao packed his one and only bag with what little he felt he needed, took his cap and jacket, and stepped over the doorsill. He had left the safe warmth of the hut behind.

Royal fantasyverse AU (the tale of four kingdoms) takes place in a fantasy universe with four kingdoms (east, west, south & north) created by the four holy beasts, in an era where each kingdom happens to be ruled by an exceptionally young king due to their respective circumstances. when the four meet for the first time, a snowball of events is set in motion that's going to affect all four kingdoms. is there art of it? yes 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 is there a fic of it? yes 1 / 2 note: like a period drama with magic and gay and tons of worldbuilding. probably has way too many mysteries for the boys to solve because i have no self control when it comes to creating twists. this is The one AU that i have crammed every usable canon character into, i need enough people to inhabit four fucking countries

After creating the four lands, the holy beasts created people to inhabit them. Because the beasts were celestial beings and couldn't but guard people and the world they lived in from far above, they needed human vessels to lead the four nations. Thus they created four kings who would rule over other people using the four beast’s powers. The four kings were neither human nor gods, but something between – they were messengers, or icons, of the four holy beasts.

Omegaverse AU a canon divergence AU (i guess??) where genders are replaced by A/B/O and everyone being either canine or feline. max is a late bloomer canine and finds out he's the only alpha of the BBA boys thanks to a certain feline omega. is there art of it? not really but i do have dog boy max and cat boy rei art (which are a bit too cute for this kinkfest. i mean they're obviously aged up for the real thing.) 1 / 2 is there a fic of it? it's been in the works for like, five years but i always shy away from finishing it note: it's omegaverse, it's exactly what you'd expect. the smut is so filthy i've been too embarrassed to even post it. hiromi is also an alpha by the way

Coffee shop AU highschooler rei goes on a venture to hit on a local Hot University Teacher and coffee shop owner judy in a cafe owned by her, ends up receiving a bunch of flirty cups of latte from barista max working there. is there art of it? no is there a fic of it? yes note: i mean, rei being into blonde MILFs is pretty much canon

Now that Rei looked at the boy more carefully, he realised his hair was just as fair and eyes just as blue as he knew Judy Mizuhara's to be. Maybe they were related? It wasn't that strange if Judy had hired a relative's kid to help out at the shop, right? He certainly looked American, but he had spoken Japanese. And then, all of a sudden, the boy turned to look back to him. Startled, Rei blinked his own golden brown eyes and shifted them back to his now empty cup. God, it was rude to stare at someone, wasn't it? He'd been too deep in thought to even notice doing it. Not that the boy had looked judgmental – he only seemed to wear a smile.

Soulmate AU max keeps having dreams with peculiar scenarios about a boy named rei. one day he borrows a book on soulmates from hiromi and finds a chapter talking about meeting your soulmate in the realm of dreams. is there art of it? no is there a fic of it? yes note: i don't even care for soulmate AUs, this was my own dare to myself to find a single soulmate trope that interested in me enough to write a thing of it.

Max was walking through a crowded airport, carrying a heavy backpack with him. He had never been to this airport in his life, but somehow he knew exactly where he was, and where he was supposed to go. And he was in a hurry, and Rei had at some point emerged from the crowd, as usual, keeping up with him without bumping into any of the people that should have blocked his way. “I'm sorry, this is probably my fault,” Rei said. “I haven't even travelled in ages anymore, but these dreams just keep coming back to haunt me.”

Chess player AU rei is a young chinese chess champion participating in the world junior championships, ends up falling for the american chess prodigy max somehow in the process and is determined to get to play against him again. is there art of it? no is there a fic of it? yes note: so this is one of the weirder ones i've done. it was inspired simply by me having a very vivid mental image of a scene of them playing dramatic chess together. this is probably my most underrated AU even by myself, i think the writing is pretty solid for such a short story of a topic i know practically nothing about

As a child, Rei had initially been taught to play xiàngqí, a Chinese game much more popular back in his home country; but chess with its refined, uniquely shaped pieces was love at first sight for the young Rei. He was a fast thinker and had amazing concentration skills once he set his mind on something, and he also had an outstanding memory, making it easy to memorise game patterns he once saw and then use them for his advantage. This all granted him natural talent in chess. But despite his skill, he had a bad habit of easily losing his temper and becoming indecisive once his focus wavered. Also, he was just a tad bit too sentimental. These traits often became his worst enemy in important matches, much worse than the actual opposing player. Keep your cool. Focus. Play well.

Flower shop + fake dating AU yuriy doesn't really know anything about flowers but is working part-time in a flower shop for the easy cash. he keeps getting a pair of weird customers who ask about flower language for hypothetical situations. is there art of it? not by myself and i don’t have a link to the fanart made of it unfortunately is there a fic of it? yes note: did i write this for valentine's day? i feel like i maybe did. this is my only AU (and fic in general) so far that's about a non-BBA character as the main lmao

“So, I need some advice for a particular situation,” the customer then began, idly tapping the counter with his hand. “I mean, not a real situation, of course – hypothetically speaking, if someone was just pretending to be going out with another person, but they weren't really going but it just needed to seem that way to everyone else, what kinda flowers would get the message through?” Possibly an idiot, Yuriy concluded his analysis. “So you need suitable flowers for a date,” he stated, shooting his eyes at his notes about common flower-usage.

Classical music AU (the heart that i love) max is a piano prodigy attending a classical music college that holds annual music competitions for the students. he's got some haters for being the son of a world-known pianist who's one of the teachers, but he also ends up having a budding romance with rei the mysterious chinese violinist. is there art of it? yes 1 / 2 is there a fic of it? yes note: the origin of this was my "max and mao are besties" college AU. then it got mixed in with my thirst for classical instruments and max being bullied.

Max isn’t exactly a synesthet, but he has always been able to see music as pictures – as entire sceneries, as great adventures. This tendency of his emerges especially strong whenever he’s learning to play a new piece on the piano; as he moves along the melody, the scenery is also being built around him like a jigsaw puzzle, creating a complete picture piece by piece; and once he has mastered the song, he’s able to freely traverse and immerse himself in the world inside that puzzle. Some pieces have a more relaxed or soothing scenery than others, some are exciting and thrilling – even deliciously sinister in the way that a good horror film can be. Setting himself down in front of a piano is always an invitation to a world of his choice.

Bakeneko AU after moving to a small rural town in japan, max hits his head and starts seeing things, such as a weird white cat following him around. after a while, he's convinced that he's being haunted. is there art of it? yes is there a fic of it? yes note: another halloween AU, a more surreal one where max is human and rei is. well. not

Max kept walking, his eyes still on the narrow road. He hadn't noticed while deep in thought, but it really was quiet that evening. The sun had nearly set by now, leaving the sky striped with the dusk of the approaching nightfall. There was no wind to rustle the treetops, no birds chirping, nothing. Only the sound of Max's own footsteps on the pavement, and the matching sound that followed. Followed. What if someone actually was following him? A sudden, violent chill struck down Max's spine, causing his hair to stand on end. He stopped. After a short delay, the steps also stopped.

Genderbend AU a canon divergence AU where everyone's a different gender from canon (duh). starts off as an alternate version of the g-revolution world championships where the girls meet for the first time and befriend each other. rei is a professional model in addition to being a blader in the baihus, and max from the PPB is delighted to be able to battle her. she has no idea that rei has fallen for her at first sight, though. is there art of it? yes 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 is there a fic of it? it's... in the works. note: i created this because i wanted to design attractive girls, what about it. absolutely partial to maxine's huge badonkadonks.

It wasn’t like Rei hadn’t already taken notice of her before, given that they were participating in the same world championship tournament, but the real turning point was the first time they stood on the opposing sides of a bey stadium. It was the day when the match-up roster signalled the match between the Chinese team and the American team, the Baihus versus the PPB All Starz; and despite both teams consisting of five players, it came down to, to Rei’s immense joy, the tag team of Rai and herself against the two most interesting US players, Rikki Anderson and Mizuhara Maxine.

Vampire & merboy AU rei is a starved vampire just about to end his own life when he meets merboy max at a forest lake. is there art of it? of max yes is there a fic of it? yes note: yet another halloween monster AU, this time they are both monsters though. this one’s a pretty grim one i have to admit

Rei succumbed into deep thought, considering his few options, when something grabbed his unsuspecting hand. Something yanked him forward in one mad splash and forced not only the rest of his arm but also his shoulders and head underwater. Half a second later Rei, so badly startled that he’d come close to slipping into insanity, found himself staring at a pair of bright blue eyes only inches away from his own face. His other hand and lower body still firmly on land, Rei pulled himself back with strength that he didn’t even know his weak body still contained. As he did, he also pulled up whatever was clutching his hand, which turned out to be another hand – a white hand with elongated, dirty fingers, so sharp at the tips that they looked like daggers.

Mafia AU max is the boss of the BBA mafia family, rei is a hitman and max's right hand man, the rest have various roles in the organisation. salima, mariam and some other girls (at least) are reporters doing investigative journalism on organised crime who get interested in covering the story of a group of russian elite detectives doing a thorough investigation of the BBA. is there art of it? of rei and max yes 1 / 2 / 3 is there a fic of it? it's in the works but it's just a gratuitous reimax smut note: this is a story i wish existed but this kind of police investigation action thing is so not my genre of expertise. that's why i'm just doing a PWP of my boys and the rest exists on conceptual level

“Did you know,” Salima said, perfectly peppy about it, “that there are secret underground auctions for stolen artwork that’s sold in the black market? Not just online auctions in the dark web but actual, physical events held somewhere in the city! Isn’t that so intriguing? Can you imagine how an event like that would look like, Max?” Max can – in fact, he doesn’t need to imagine. But he’d rather not think about it; the memories bring the familiar taste of bile in his mouth and make his gut curdle with a mixture of disgust and very particular guilt. The mere thought of it makes him set his coffee aside and bring a hand between his tightly shut eyes.

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the next thing i come up with? who knows............

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #169

Two builds in one day? That’s right! Today’s my birthday, and that means I get to pick the servants! As a birthday gift to myself, we’re making Caster of the Nightless City! As usual, expect spoilers in the build breakdown below the cut and in their character sheet here!

Scheherazade is a Creation Bard to truly bring her stories to life, and a Genie Warlock to create her own Bedchamber of Survival.

Race and Background

Wildly, Scheherazade is a Human, giving her +1 to all abilities. She’s also a Guild Artisan with one of the most demanding patrons in the world, giving her proficiency with Insight and Persuasion. 

Ability Scores

Your Charisma better be as high as possible, you’re literally famous for your storytelling skills. After that is Wisdom. Anyone can read a story, but to tell a story you’ve got to be able to read the audience. Your Intelligence is also pretty good, because let’s be honest, remembering over 1,000 stories is pretty goddamn impressive. Your Dexterity isn’t awful, because we need to be able to go from standing to dogeza in seconds. This means your Constitution and Strength are rather low. Sadly, telling stories doesn’t make you all that battle hardened.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: Being a bard gives you proficiency with Dexterity and Charisma saves to avoid fireballs and being banished to other dimensions. (Though I guess banishment is better than death?) You also get proficiency in three bard skills, that is to say, three of any skill. Performance for storytelling, Acrobatics for faster dogezas, and History for more story material.

You can use Bardic Inspiration to give a d6 to an ally Charisma Mod times per long rest, and these dice can be added to pretty much any d20 roll to make it a bit better. (Not yours though, heaven forbid you have to get out there and... attack things.)

Speaking of not attacking things, let’s talk Spells. You cast em with Charisma, and get stuff like Blade Ward for taking less damage and Friends for convincing people to let you live in the first place. You also get Charm Person for a similar reason, Bane to weaken their offense if they still want to try anything, Feather Fall to avoid death by heights, and Silent Image for the first of your storied illusions.

2. Bard 2: Second level bards become Jacks of All Trades, adding half their proficiency to ability checks they’re not proficient in. By becoming more useful, you’re less likely to get killed! Probably. You also get a Song of Rest to boost healing during short rests. Healing is good, healing helps people not die. Finally, your Magical Inspiration lets allies add your inspiration dice to damage or healing caused by spells. Again, healing is good, and I guess doing more damage can be nice sometimes.

Speaking of doing damage, we’re not doing that. Instead, grab Sleep for a bedtime story.

3. Bard 3: Graduating from the college of Creation will help you bring your stories to life thanks to your Performance of Creation. As an action you can create a nonmagical object once per long rest or by spending a 2nd level spell slot. The item must be medium or smaller, and can only be worth at most 20 times your bard level in GP.

You can also help your allies star in legends of their own with Stories of Potential that add extra effects to your bardic inspiration depending on how they’re used. Ability checks get advantage on rolling the inspiration, attack rolls deal thunder damage to nearby creatures if they fail a constitution save, and saving throws add temporary HP to their users.

You can also cast Calm Emotions to keep the king from beheading you in the morning.

4. Warlock 1: Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get some help from a Genie. Picking this patron gives you a Genie’s Vessel, a tiny object like, say, a scroll case, within which you can find a Bottled Respite that you can hang out in for up to 2x your proficiency bonus hours per long rest, but you can only enter once per long rest. Any items you leave behind stay in the respite until the vessel is destroyed or you take them out again. Also, I gotta remember to point out the inside is bigger than the outside, space isn’t an issue for you.

You also learn to imbue your attacks with a Genie’s Wrath, adding thunder damage equal to your proficiency bonus to one attack per turn. You don’t really attack that much, but it’s nice to make every bit count.

Speaking of attacking, you can actually do that with your new Spells! You still use Charisma, but you have Pact Magic, so these slots don’t mix with your old ones. The plus side is they recharge on short rests instead of long ones, and you can still cast bard spells with warlock slots and vice versa.

You get Minor Illusion for cheap lifelike stories, as well as Eldritch Blast for the ever-present caster balls. For first level spells, you get Detect Evil and Good and Thunderwave for free, as well as Comprehend Languages because copyright doesn’t exist in D&D, and Protection from Evil and Good. Some kings are evil, some are good, but very few are neutral. (WARNING: does not actually protect against good or evil aligned humanoids)

5. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, ways to customize the selling your soul experience. Armor of Shaodws gives you free mage armor to avoid dying, and Eldritch Mind makes it easier to concentrate on your spells, which are keeping you from getting killed.

Speaking of spells, Sense Emotion lets you read the prevailing emotion of a nearby creature as an action, and you can repeat the action each turn. Good storytelling requires you know what your audience wants.

6. Warlock 3: Third level warlocks get a Pact Boon, and Pact of the Tome gives you a super cool magic scroll that gives you three cantrips from any spell list. You get Guidance and Resistance for added protection, and Mage Hand. Handling hot objects can be dangerous! Now you don’t have to do that.

Besides that, you get second level spells here, like Enthrall. Being the center of attention is dangerous, but you’re the most personable member of the party, so this might be less dangerous than letting them talk. You also get Phantasmal Force and Gust of Wind for free, letting you attack with fictional characters and just make things a bit more dramatic.

7. Warlock 4: At fourth level you finally get your first Ability Score Improvement, which will be used to round up your Dexterity and Constitution for a higher AC and higher HP. Not dying’s good, you should try it out.

You also get Prestidigitation to add minor effects to your stories, and Flock of Familiars to summon background characters.

8. Warlock 5: Fifth level warlocks get third level spells, like Major Image to make larger effects for your stories. You also get Create Food and Water and Wind Wall for free.

On top of that, the invocation One with Shadows lets you turn invisible as an action in dim light or darker, and lasts until you move or take an action. When a truly good storyteller gets going, the story takes on a life of its own, and they just sort of... fade into the background.

9. Warlock 6: Sixth level genilocks get an Elemental Gift, giving you resistance to thunder damage. Like Cursed Arm always says, you can’t travel the desert without protection from wind. As a bonus action, you can now fly for 10 minutes Proficiency times per long rest. Admittedly you don’t really do that too often, but I’m sure you can illusion up a big genie hand or something to lift you up.

You can also summon a main character now thanks to Summon Fey. You can create a small fey creature in one of three moods that can teleport around and fight for you. Fuming fey get advantage on attacks after teleporting, mirthful fey can charm creatures, and tricksy fey create magical darkness which you can use to turn invisible.

10. Warlock 7: Congrats on your fourth level spell slots! Your freebie spells are Phantasmal Killer and Greater Invisibility to put less focus on yourself and more focus on the terrifying monsters you can summon. You can also use Hallucinatory Terrain to reshape the world into the world of your story. You can also use Trickster’s Escape once per long rest to cast Freedom of Movement on yourself to get the hell out of dangerous situations.

11. Warlock 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Charisma for better spells and better stories. You also learn how to Charm Monsters to avoid even more danger by just... getting along with everything.

12. Warlock 9: Ninth level warlocks get fifth level spells, like the freebies Creation to make even more nonsense out of nothing and Seeming to again, avoid danger. On top of those, you can use Modify Memory to retcon your stories to prevent your audience from getting too upset. You also gain the Gift of the Protectors, allowing you or another creature to write its name on part of your scroll. The scroll can hold the names of Proficiency people, and once per long rest the first creature to drop to 0 hp sticks around at 1 hp instead. You can also erase names if you have a falling out, but since it’s first come first served you might just want to keep this to yourself.

13. Warlock 10: Tenth level genielocks get a Sanctuary Vessel, allowing you to take up to 5 willing creatures into your Genie’s Vessel with you. You can eject creatures as a bonus action, by leaving yourself, dying (don’t do that one), or by destroying the vessel.

On top of all of that, creatures that stay in the vessel for at least 10 minutes get all the benefits of a short rest, plus they add your proficiency to any healing they get from hit dice. That’s on top of the d6 they were already getting from your song of rest.

Oh right, you get another cantrip too. Grab Blade Ward again. You can never be too careful.

14. Bard 4: Yeah, did you think we were done with bards? Nope! This level of bard gives us another ASI that’ll max out your Charisma for the best spells possible!

You also learn Message, because miscommunication can be deadly, and Lesser Restoration. You never know what kind of status effects might doom your party, after all...

15. Bard 5: Fifth level bards get their inspiration bumped up to d8s, and they finally become a Font of Inspiration to recharge their inspiration on short rests. I wanted to get sanctuary vessel as quickly as possible for the sake of getting your bedchamber of survival, but it’s awfully tempting to put these two levels earlier, ngl.

You also learn how to Feign Death, because nobody’s going to bother killing you if you’re already dead, right? This spell makes you or the targeted creature effectively dead by the reckoning of anyone around them. They can’t take actions, are blinded, and can’t move. They get resistance to all damage except psychic, and any diseases or poisons they’re affected by are frozen until the spell ends an hour later.

16. Bard 6: Sixth level bards can use Countercharm to protect their party from effects that would charm or frighten them, giving them advantage on those saves for a round.

You can also put on an Animating Performance to turn a large or smaller object into a Dancing Item, which follows your orders, given by your bonus action. You can do this once per long rest, or by spending a third level spell slot.

Your last bard spell is Catnap, putting up to three creatures to sleep for 10 minutes. If they stay asleep the entire time, they get the benefits of a short rest. Dying of overwork... what a horrifying concept.

17. Warlock 11: At eleventh level, instead of getting your spell slots made bigger you get a Mystic Arcanum, allowing you to cast a sixth level spell once per long rest. Guards and Wards is very useful if you’re paranoid, creating wards to protect up to 2,500 square feet of space (a.k.a. 100 5′ squares). You can specify creatures that are immune to effects, or a password that does the same thing.

In corridors, fog fills the area, and forks in the road have a 50% chance of forcing creatures down the wrong way.

Doors are magically locked, and up to 10 doors in the area can be covered by illusions.

Stairs are covered in Webs that regrow when destroyed.

You can also place: Dancing Lights in four corridors, Magic Mouth in two places, Stinking Cloud in two places, Gust of Wind in one corridor or room, and Suggestion in one five foot square.

Casting Guards and Wards in the same place every day for a year makes it permanent.

18. Warlock 12: Use your last ASI to bump up your Constitution for better concentration and health. You also learn your last Invocation, Minions of Chaos! Once per long rest you can cast Conjure Elemental using a warlock spell slot. It is a little bit risky, but even you have to be willing to stick your neck out at some point. Might as well be level 18.

19. Warlock 13: Your seventh level Mystic Arcanum is Mirage Arcane, allowing you to reshape reality in a square mile, altering the entire terrain to your story and even making entire structures out of nothing. Even creatures with true sight will still feel the illusion, so feel free to recreate the tower of babel and hide out on the top of it.

20. Warlock 14: Your capstone level gives you a Limited Wish from your patron, recreating any spell of fifth level or lower once per 1d4 long rests. Sometimes your story just needs a Maelstrom, and nobody’s going to wait for you to take 9 levels of druid just to finish a story.

Pros:

If your DM rewards creativity and you’ve got the mind thoughts to power this build, this build will treat you very nicely. This whole thing is basically an excuse for the roleplayer inside of you to ham up your acting, chew the scenery, and distract everyone from the rogue rifling through their pockets.

Speaking of distractions you can make some really good ones. Show up to the BBEG’s lair, butter them up with some stories, then trick them into entering your vessel, and then they’re trapped in there for up to 12 hours. If you can trick them into allowing you to catnap them, that gives the rest of your party a full 10 minutes to ransack the place before they even know what’s happening. You can always kick them out if they’re being unwelcome guests, but there’s no way for them to leave on their own outside of killing you. And that’s easier said than done, because...

You’re really hard to fight. Between all the illusions, summoning creatures to fight on your behalf, the invisibility, and the altering reality in a mile radius, landing a blow on you is an ordeal, especially if you know they’re coming.

Cons:

If you’re actually stuck in a cage match with an enemy it’s gonna take a while, because you really aren’t built for damage. You have a negative strength stat, and your first damaging spell doesn’t show up until level four. Just bring them into the vessel, help them relax, and put them to sleep with catnap, that’s way less work than actually fighting them.

On a similar note, anything that can see through your illusions is going to cut through you like butter, because you’re pretty squishy. Only 15 AC and just shy of 150 HP means you should avoid fights like... well, you do in canon.

Another side effect of your squishiness is that your concentration saves aren’t that great, which is really bad for an illusionist/summoner. Neither your animated item nor your invisibility use concentration though, so you can actually get away with more than you’d think, it’s just a complicated juggling act. And trust me, you do not want to drop them in the middle of combat.

[uglymanchronicles]

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Madarcher fanfic - In which Alice and Robin try on some of OUAT's most iconic gowns

It had been six months since the united realm was created and Alice and Robin had split their time between their two favourite things: exploring and being with the people they love. They had just returned from an adventure that took them through Arendelle and the Southern Isles to Neverland, Avalon and Treasure Island. It had been the perfect opportunity to practice the seafaring skills Nook had been teaching them and they were eager to tell him all about it and hopefully convince him to accompany them next time. Therefore, as soon as they had docked their borrowed vessel at Storybrooke marina they made their way to Alice’s Papa’s new place of work, Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop.

Nook had taken over running the shop shortly after the realms were united as a way to honour his old friend. He also viewed it as an opportunity to get to know people and be connected with the community. It didn’t hurt that organizing the store was essentially a treasure hunt, either. When the little bell above the door rang announcing the girls’ arrival Nook immediately dropped what he was doing to envelope them both in a hug. After touching on how much they missed each other. Alice quickly took hold of the conversation telling her Papa all about her and Robin’s latest adventure. When she was done Nook was beaming.

“I’m glad you ladies had such a wonderful time and were able to put my lessons to good use,” he offered, “and I’m glad your home in time for the ball, I was worried you were going to miss it.”

The ball he was referring to was being organized to celebrate the uniting of the realms. It had been scheduled for the 6-month anniversary of the united realm’s creation in order to give everybody enough time to get settled. When it was first announced Alice had been ecstatic. She had never been to a ball before and looked forward to dressing up all fancy and spending the night enjoying free food and dancing with the people she loved, but her busy adventures had pushed the ball completely out of her mind.

“I completely forgot,” Alice explained.

“Me too,” Robin added, “when is it again?”

“Tonight,” Nook answered, “In five hours, to be exact,” he added, checking his pocket watch.

“So, we have five hours to eat lunch, have showers, buy dresses, and get ready for the ball,” Robin supplied, “and if we want to stay at the ball later than 8pm, I think we’ll need to find time for a nap, because I for one am wiped.”

Alice nodded in agreement. Her face had taken on a look of disappointment as Robin talked but then lit back up.

“Well, it won’t be easy but if anyone can do it, we can. Where should we start?” she asked.

“I think I can help,” Nook offered, “There is a rack of ballgowns in the back that I just finished organizing. I’m sure you can find something suitable among them and while you do, I’ll run across the street to Granny’s and get us all something for lunch.”

“That would be great!” Robin exclaimed

“Thanks Papa,” Alice added, placing a kiss on Nook’s cheek before grabbing her fiancé’s hand and pulling her further into the store.

They found the rack of dresses Nook was referring to without problem and Alice immediately grabbed a handful of hangers and handed them to Robin.

“This will be fun,” Alice exclaimed, “I loved playing dress-up when I was wee but there was never anybody to play with in the tower,” she finished taking a handful of hangers for herself.

Robin had hung the dresses Alice had given her on a hook in one of the newly constructed changerooms.

“Some of these are ridiculous,” Robin said as she thumbed through them. “There’s no way I could wear them to the ball.”

“You can’t know that until you try them on,” Alice replied hanging her own dresses in the changing room across from Robin, “and even if you can’t wear them to the ball, that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun trying them on.”

“Fine,” Robin relented, “but I’m only doing this for you.”

Alice smiled and clapped her hands together. “You’ll enjoy it. Just wait and see,” she said before disappearing behind the curtain.

Robin closed the curtain in front of her own change room and began changing into the dress at the front of her pile. It was blue and looked more like a cupcake or a jellyfish then a ballgown.

She rolled her eyes but put it on determined to make this experience as fun as possible for Alice. Afterall, she remembered spending hours as a kid playing dress up with her friends and Alice deserved those kinds of happy memories too.

When Robin finally got the dress on and emerged from the change room Alice was already waiting for her and upon seeing each other both girls broke into fits of laughter.

Alice’s dress was black and burgundy with exquisitely bedazzled seems and the biggest and spikiest collar Robin had ever seen.

After catching her breath Alice spoke, “I like the colour,” she offered, “and these are kinda cool,” she added running her hand through the streamers hanging from Robin’s skirt.

“and I don’t hate that neckline for you,” Robin offered gesturing to the deep-V of Alice’s dress as a blush covered her cheeks, “but I think we can agree neither of these are a winner.”

Alice nodded, “Well then onto the next,” she said slipping back into her change room.

Robin followed suit. The next dress on her pile was only slightly better than the first but she changed into it excitedly, anticipating Alice’s reaction. Alice’s laugh and smile was all it had taken to energize Robin and get her into the game.

When Robin emerged, she was once again met with that magical laugh.

“Oh my gosh, we look like a bedroom set,” Robin laughed taking in Alice’s white, feathered gown.

It complemented Robin’s red and white dress with a seemingly quilted front, almost perfectly.

“Wait, I have the perfect thing to complete the set,” Alice exclaimed before disappearing back into her change room then reappearing in a large, white fur jacket with red lining.

Robin burst into laughter as Alice twirled to show off her newest accessory.

“We’d definitely be the talk of the town,” Robin offered.

“We could become mascots for Sleepy’s new mattress store,” Alice replied.

“Or we could try on more dresses,” Robin countered

“Deal,” Alice replied disappearing once again behind the changeroom curtain.

Robin was surprised and happy to find her next dress was actually quite pretty. It was shiny purple and strapless with some jewels inlayed on the bodice and a huge skirt.

Alice had once again beat Robin out of the changeroom. She stood waiting in a simple black, beaded dress that highlighted her figure.

(See Cruella's dress above - because I can only have 10 images)

“Wow,” Robin stuttered “You look good, like really good.”

Alice blushed and let out a short laugh, “Thanks, you look gorgeous.”

It was Robin’s turn to flush. “Thanks, it is beautiful, but I just don’t really think it’s me. Too purple. Too poufy. Just too princess. You know?”

Alice nodded. “I like poufy and colourful,” she replied, “this one’s kind of boring,” she added running her hands down her dress.

Robin laughed. “Fair enough. Should we try the next ones?”

Alice agreed and both girls returned to their change rooms. Robin’s next dress was not ball worthy, but she was having so much fun playing dress up with her fiancé she didn’t care. She quickly put it on and was surprised to find that she had beat Alice out of the changeroom. Alice emerged a couple minutes later in a stunning red ballgown with long sleeves.

“I think, that’s the best one yet,” Robin said, “you look beautiful.”

Alice smiled “You too,” she replied, “I like the green on you. It brings out your eyes.”

Robin laughed. “Thanks Al. I like the colour too. But there is no way I can wear this to the ball. It’s way too short.” She emphasized the ‘way’ as she pulled the dress down for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to keep it covering her butt.

“I don’t see the problem.” Alice teased giving Robin an exaggerated wink.

“It’s probably for the best,” Robin pushed on, “if we went like this we’d look like a walking Christmas display.”

Alice shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. Christmas is great. Yummy cookies, snow to play in and lots of time with loved ones. But I don’t think this is the right dress either. Still a little too plain.”

Robin nodded. “In that case, onto the next.”

Robin was down to the last dress Alice had handed her. She stepped out of the change room at the exact same time as Alice and they immediately both stopped.

“That’s the one,” they exclaimed in unison as their eyes landed on each other.

“I know,” they both replied.

Robin gestured for Alice to spin and she obliged. Her gown was shiny blue, with a big, poufy skirt and covered in decorative embellishments.

“You look wonderful,” Robin said, “that one really suits you.”

Alice was beaming. “Ya, I think it’s a winner,” she said admiring herself in the mirror. “But enough about me. Look at you. Talk about beaty and elegance.”

Robin’s dress was gold, with a skirt that was long but not too poufy and an embellished neckline with off the shoulder sleeves.

Robin smiled. “It is pretty beautiful. But the real question is can we move in them.” She offered a hand to Alice. “May I have this dance.”

“Why. Of course.” Alice answered in her poshest tone.

They started by simply swaying back and forth but as they continued to dance the moves became more and more elaborate. By the time Nook returned with the food they were spinning and dipping each other all over the store.

“Save something for the ball,” he said coming through the door.

The girls stopped dancing immediately, distracted by the delicious smell wafting from the carry-out.

“You both look beautiful,” he offered, “I might even have to give you those dresses on the house.”

Alice and Robin smiled and shared their thanks before heading back to the changerooms while Nook set up the food.

30 minutes later. They were leaving the pawnshop with full stomachs and two beautiful dresses and three hours after that they were rested, showered, dolled up and on their way to the ball to dance the night away.

[nurgletwh]

For fluffy prompt oh gosh maybe quirrel/ghost and they break into an abandoned jewelry store and have fun trying on various things and make fun of the people who wear a lot of jewelry. Gottah have silly fun in the apocalypse lol.

All the Pretty Things

Summary: Ghost and Quirrel find a jewelry store with an odd feature, have some fun poking around in the glitter and glam, and have a talk.

Notes: This is from the Ghosts That We Knew universe, at some nebulous point in the near-ish future. xD Things get convoluted enough, and writing for this prompt definitely didn’t go anything like I expected, but also doesn’t end up going anywhere I wasn’t planning on going anyhow. This is considered (future) canon for my story.

Quirrel snorts when the crumbling passageway they were making their way through drops down and dumps them into a closet. Looking up at Ghost, he smiles and says, “It’s another closet. By my count, that makes twenty-two. Do you want to place bets on what’s going to be on the other side?”

Shaking their head, Ghost lays on their stomach and props their head on their hands as they look down at him. Of the twenty-two closets below this crumbling maintenance hallway, four of them were second closets that led into the same shop. Out of the eighteen shops so far, six were some variation on small art objects for five different themes, seven were bizarre herbal remedy/soul reading/soothsaying setups, four were shops for cloaks, capes, robes, and hats of some sort, one was furniture, and the last was bedding.

Sadly, they were too far away from the Pleasure House to take advantage of the furniture store, but they had raided the options for bedding, blankets, and pillows. Ghost was surprised at Quirrel’s creativity for how to get the pillows down to a size such that Ghost could manage to store them, but he does love his pillows. Well, he loves anything soft and squishy that he can lay in, on, or wrap around himself. Watching him surround himself with the silk they had given him makes them feel warm and happy, because he sounds so happy.

He watches them for a few more moments, then asks, “You seem lost in thought; what are you thinking about?”

They huff softly. Caught. They point at him.

“I… me?”

Ghost nods.

“Ah… well!”

They chuckle silently when this seems to fluster him. Dropping his gaze, he looks around the small closet as if it will have suddenly sprouted magical mushrooms while they talked. It seems only fair – they feel similarly when they catch him gazing at them and looking all soppy and affectionate.

The only warning they give him is a quiet snort, and they roll off the edge of the ceiling and drop beside him. He startles back with a yelp, and they snicker.

“So kind,” he grumps, but steps up beside them to rest his hand on the side of their head, gently pulling them against his hip. He caresses the base of their horn with his thumb when they wrap their arm around his leg.

With a last gentle squeeze he says, “Shall we?” and gestures at the door.

Ghost nods, and he steps forward to open the door.

They find themselves in a room of… mirrors?

Ghost turns around slowly as they walk into the room, watching thousands of reflections of themself spin slowly, followed by thousands of shocked-looking Quirrels.

There is a divan with several cushions on one side of the room, and a small dais on the other.

Quirrel quietly closes the door they just came through, which fully completes the mirror enclosure.

Ghost looks up; the ceiling is also mirrored.

What the fuck is this place?

“Uhmm…” Quirrel says intelligently. Not that they should judge, it sums up their thoughts quite nicely.

Ghost walks over to the divan and hops up onto it. It’s surprisingly comfortable, and they poke the cushions a few times before flopping over.

“Uh…”

They roll onto their side and prop their head on their hand to look at him. He seems a bit distracted.

He stares at them for a few moments before suddenly turning away. Being as there are mirrors everywhere, this in no way allows him to disguise the fact that he is getting turned on by seeing them lounging.

Ghost is confused.

Which doesn’t surprise them, as they are confused approximately 100% of the time that he is so reliably aroused by anything, particularly by them. They can’t find any logic to what titillates him, which would probably make him laugh as he tells them it’s the root of their confusion.

There are a number of things that are almost 100% guaranteed to turn him on; many of the things that he finds arousing are also things that other bugs consistently find arousing, at least as far as they have managed to pick up from reading or listening to other bugs. So, while they don’t find those things arousing for themself, his reaction isn’t necessarily surprising.

Sometimes, he just seems to be in a mood where merely existing appears to be arousing; trying to anticipate what he will find alluring on those days is impossible. That hadn’t been his mood today, at least so far.

A room full of mirrors with a divan… wasn’t on their mental list of things that might possibly float his boat. It’s weird.

He rapidly figures out the folly of having turned away, and sighs as he crosses his arms across his belly, meeting their gaze – one of their gazes anyhow – in the mirror.

They tilt their head, hoping he will explain.

Quirrel groans softly, glancing up. He goes absolutely still when he sees the mirrors on the ceiling. After a moment, they hear him swallow, and he whimpers slightly.

“Ghost…” he says, his voice sounding mildly strangled.

They sit up and hop down, walking over to stand beside him. He doesn’t look down, but seems to be tracking their movement using the mirror on the ceiling, so they look up. He whimpers again when they meet his gaze.

They watch him for a few more moments, then take pity. They are absolutely not interested at the moment, so they shake their head and drop their gaze. Reaching up, they grab one of his hands and step closer, kissing his palm. Looking back up at the ceiling they once again meet his gaze, and press another kiss into his palm as he moans softly. Huffing quietly, they press their tongue against the base of his thumb before kissing his hand again.

Stepping away, they squeeze his hand gently between both of theirs. When he looks down they sign, “I go see what out front. You go feel happy, come out after. Ok?”

He shakes his head and starts to say something, but apparently makes the mistake of glancing at the divan, and groans.

Glancing back, they sure hope it isn’t the divan that’s arousing. Although it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve heard of, they suppose. Shaking their head, they pat his thigh and then abandon him to his fate with the divan.

- - -

The front of the store appears to be a jewelry shop. It still doesn’t explain the mirrored room, at least not to the extent of having that many mirrors. That room would have made far more sense in the shops that sold capes and cloaks, but those had just had a few curtained off areas with one of those tri-fold mirrors in each. One of the shops actually had small rooms instead of curtains, but the rooms were still outfitted with the standing tri-fold mirrors and not… that.

Poking through the drawers behind the counters, Ghost hopes Quirrel is willing to explain. They aren’t completely sure they will want the explanation, but if he’s going to randomly be so completely and utterly floored by furniture, they figure they need to know about it. Maybe it’s the mirrors? They know some bugs like watching other bugs get it on. Maybe it also applies to watching oneself have sex?

They shake their head. Sex and arousal are confusing as fuck. Having had sex a few times now hasn’t opened up any vast depths of understanding, nor have they suddenly been graced with unassisted arousal. They hadn’t actually expected that to happen, but had occasionally heard some pushy bug or another claim they could do that kind of thing. Quirrel’s only comment on the subject had been that sex was different than masturbation, and that they may or may not find the experience more pleasurable, but that he would be surprised if it changed their overall drive, even if the novelty of it all temporarily boosted it.

That conversation had happened a week or so before they had actually gotten around to having sex, but a day or two after they had tried to initiate when they had been so desperate to avoid thinking about the whole mess that was the other Vessel and that fight.

In retrospect, they are glad he stopped them that time and made them think it through.

The drawers are full of a variety of chains for necklaces, and things one would hang on a necklace. The contents look like they are duplicates of several of the items on display, which makes sense. They pull out one of the chains and drape it across their hand. The metal links are fine, and flattened somehow. It doesn’t fold over the way they would have expected, instead curving into an arc, and then stopping.

Fascinated, they push on it gently. Their experience with jewelry and other luxury items is limited. They don’t need things like food or water, and have gone without for years from time to time. It’s boring to not eat or drink, but it certainly makes running away and hiding far easier. When they need to hole up, they can literally hole up. But it also means that they haven’t gone shopping for much of anything beyond paper, ink, and journals.

Holding the chain up, they watch the light reflect off of it as it swings. It’s pretty, and they drape it across the back of their hand again. They like pretty things, similarly to how Quirrel enjoys comfortable things. Ghost is certain they would like comfortable things as well, if falling asleep on them didn’t tend to result in them attacking and ‘killing’ the pillows or blankets.

This on the other hand… Ghost pulls the chain across the back of their hand, feeling the metal slither across. This is pretty and it feels nice. It isn’t something that they would be sleeping in, just something they would wear. Like Quirrel wears his mask.

They fiddle with the clasp until they figure it out, then put it on. They sigh when it dangles down to their crotch. Being small is fucking annoying sometimes.

Leaving it on, they lean over and start digging through the drawer of chains, trying to see if there is a pattern to the storage and – more importantly – a much shorter chain.

By the time they find one that only dangles down to the middle of their chest, they have bedecked themself in six other chains. Huffing, they step back. The flattened shape of the chains mean they don’t jingle the way they expected, although they can’t see how they look with all of the chains on.

Likely ridiculous, but they need a mirror to confirm that. Quirrel has usually been quite flustered if they interrupt his current pursuit, so they should probably be polite and find a different mirror.

Ghost discovers an additional problem when they start trying to walk around and find another mirror – the slope of their shoulders means that the various necklaces keep slipping down, refusing to stay put. They’ve currently draped them over the top of their cloak, but Ghost is certain that shifting the chains under it instead wouldn’t help anything. Sighing, they stand there and fiddle with one of the necklaces, running the flat chain over the back of their hand, then through their fingers. Deciding that they want to see how silly they look more than they want to not feel foolish, they lift their hands up and walk around the room until they find a mirror.

Standing in front of it with their arms in the air, they snicker. They definitely look absurd this way. They drop their arms to their sides, and their cloak falls back into place.

While a bit less absurd, wearing seven necklaces of lengths varying from short enough to fall to the middle of their chest to the one that is dangling just below their knees is definitely not dignified. They giggle as they run their hands along one of the chains again.

Hearing a door open, Ghost turns to see Quirrel emerge from the room of mirrors. They snort as he glances away; this has to be the first time they’ve ever seen him act embarrassed by anything regarding sex. They know they regularly catch him off guard, and often fluster him, but he hasn’t ever seemed genuinely embarrassed before

Either their snort or the chains catch his attention because he immediately looks back and then just stares at them. Well, they can give him something to giggle about. Having him acting awkward about sex is upsetting, and is not something they ever expected to see. They don’t want to ever see it again, either.

Sticking their hands back up in the air, they walk over to him as he continues to stare at them, speechless.

When they stop in front of him, he finally manages to utter, “Uhmm…”

That again? Maybe they are magic mirrors, and steal brains?

Ghost puts their hands on their hips and glare up at him.

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, choosing to look around the store first. Looking back down at Ghost, he asks, “I take it we found a jewelry store?”

Ghost nods.

He continues to stand there, hand on the door handle, staring at them.

Ghost sighs.

“You sit down, please? You upset, I not understand why. I want to understand, please tell?” they sign.

Quirrel sighs.

Turning, he pulls the door to the apparently brain-stealing mirror room closed.

They dig the pad out while he closes the door, moving slightly to the side so he can lean against the wall instead of the door when he sits. They don’t know the range of the mirrors’ effect.

He continues to stand there facing the door once he’s closed it, eventually resting his head against the door. He finally sighs again, turning back around and then sitting in front of them. He takes the pad when they hand it to him, draping it across his chest and belly, and they step into his lap and wrap their arms around his neck, nestling their face into the side of his head and rubbing against his kerchief.

He huffs quietly as he wraps his arms around them, pulling them in for a tight hug. They work one of their hands up under his kerchief, massaging the back of his head as he finally relaxes. They kiss him through the kerchief, then the side of his face as they pull back. They can’t kiss his cheek while his mask is on, so they rest their hands there and press their forehead against his mask.

Quirrel chuckles softly as he cups their head in his hands, his fingers brushing the back of their head.

“Abandoning me to my own devices didn’t upset you at all, did it,” he murmurs.

Ghost huffs and shakes their head. They aren’t sure why he thinks it would, but are aware enough to know it frequently bothers bugs. However, expecting him to adjust his libido to match theirs is just as realistic as trying to go the other way. He might not explode, but he’d likely feel like he was going to. For them to say no and then try and make him feel guilty for handling things himself would be manipulative.

He gently pushes their chin up and ducks in to kiss them, humming softly as he brushes his fingers along the back of their head. When he finishes, he presses his forehead against theirs again as he says, “I love you.”

They trace their thumbs along his cheekpads and press against him, then kiss the middle of his mask as they pull back to sign, “I love you, too.”

Quirrel trails his fingers down the side of their face as he sits back, smiling as he looks at the necklaces again. He meets their gaze as he tangles his fingers into the longest of the chains, saying, “You look preposterous in all of these, you realize.”

Ghost snorts and pulls their arms out from under their cloak to wrap them around all the necklaces, shaking their head firmly.

He laughs. “You’ll trip! You have to hold your hands up to keep them from falling down!!”

Giddy that he’s laughing, they bounce back and attempt to flap away, only to discover that having all of the chains on top of their cloak prevents it from transforming into the wings – or at any rate prevents it from lifting up and flapping. They crash to the ground on their back and stare at the ceiling, slightly dazed.

They hear Quirrel snicker, and his face appears above theirs, grinning brightly. “See?”

They flip him off, and he sits back, laughing. He reaches forward and wiggles his hand under their head, and they huff as he helps them sit back up.

Pushing to their feet, they choose to wrap their arms around the necklaces again and go back over to the mirror. Yes, they look silly as fuck, but… but. They hadn’t ever wandered into a store like this and poked around to see what they might look like if they wore something different. They might be stuck with the cloak, but…

Sighing, they start fiddling with one of the chains again, running it across their hand as they watch it in the mirror. They huff quietly, and trace the chain to find the clasp, starting to open it. They jump when Quirrel closes his hand over theirs; they hadn’t even noticed him move. He’s sitting beside them, and smiles when they meet his gaze. He gently tugs their hands away from the clasp.

“Have you ever had the chance to put anything like this on, wear jewelry or decorative wear?” he asks softly.

They retrieve one of their hands and wobble it, then turn to look in the mirror again. The few times that they may have had the opportunity – that they recall – they felt far too self-conscious about it. It would have meant letting someone know their cloak wasn’t something they could take off, and at some point they decided that if they couldn’t remove their cloak, it meant there wasn’t any point in trying to wear something different.

Ghost touches the necklaces again, feeling the smoothness of the links, looking at the colors against their cloak. They think they recognize the gold ones as… well, as gold. But there are two silvers, one that’s bright with a slight trace of blue, and one that’s softer, yet still just as bright, but has a slight trace of pink instead of blue. The gold and the slightly blue silver both look nice against their cloak. The slightly pink silver also looks nice, but the other two look better.

Quirrel asks, “Do you know what the metals are?”

They shake their head.

“Would you like me to tell you?”

Ghost turns to look at him and nods.

“I’m sorry I teased,” he says softly.

They snort and shake their head. “You not worry, I not upset. I know I look silly, it ok I look silly. I…” They turn back to the mirror, touch the necklaces again. “I not see before, not try before. I see now, I feel… I not know I feel. Unsure.”

They watch themself in the mirror as Quirrel leans over and softly kisses their horn. It feels different, watching. Seeing him kiss them, not just feeling it. They aren’t sure how that makes them feel either. It’s both surreal and more real. He hums softly, kissing them again before sidling over to sit closer, moving so they are standing where he can loosely fold his leg in front of them but still be off to one side, his other leg – the one he usually keeps more upright – behind them.

Lifting the gold one, he says, “I expect you know this one. It’s gold, or at least mostly gold. It gets complicated, but gold is soft enough that for a longer chain like this, one that’s also thicker, pure gold is often not the best choice.” He laughs softly. “It wasn’t something the aristocrats liked to hear, of course.”

They can feel his knee brushing their cloak near the small of their back, and watch him as he sits casually folded around them. Can see, for the first time, what they look like as a couple. How other bugs might see them; as lovers, maybe more.

He lifts the slightly pink silver one next. “This is platinum, which is rarer than gold but has the unfortunate characteristic of looking an awful lot like silver, and not being obvious that it’s more valuable, so the nobles didn’t tend to bedeck themselves with it. It’s also a fairly soft metal.”

Maybe more? They hadn’t thought about it before Ogrim had brought it up, and the idea had shot straight through their likely non-existent heart, short-circuiting their void-displaced brain. Perhaps it had been self-defense, their subconscious refusing to look at something they had always believed they could never have. Because now, now… oh, how they want the more. It doesn’t make sense in this ruin of a kingdom. There’s no legal benefit, and the gods have abandoned it. There are only a dozen or so bugs here who would possibly ever know.

Pausing, he leans in and brushes a kiss against the base of their horn again, turning to look at them in the mirror as he leans his head against theirs. Their chest seizes up as he smiles at them, wrapping his arm around them. He looks happy, he’s holding them and he’s happy. He’s with them, and he’s happy to be with them.

And they want; want to call him their spouse, to call him their husband. To be called his spouse in return.

Gasping, they turn and grab him in a tight hug, shuddering.

Maybe mirrors have a magic to them after all.

“Ghost? Are you ok?”

They nod firmly; he sounds worried. They didn’t mean to worry him, they are just… overwhelmed. Love is far more overwhelming than they had realized.

“Alright,” he whispers, pressing them against him and tucking his chin over their shoulder, hugging them firmly and then holding them.

- - -

Quirrel finishes up his explanation of the various metals and short tidbits of information about their properties, and helps them remove all but the shortest of the necklaces – which happens to be silver. Ghost promptly puts the ones they removed around Quirrel’s neck as he laughs. They certainly fit his body better, although the longest one might get caught somewhere inconvenient if he’s wearing it and gets aroused again.

They continue to poke around the store, looking at the assorted styles and ways to adorn a bug’s body. There are plenty of pins and brooches for those bugs who choose to wear clothing or cloaks, and Quirrel helps them choose a few to try on. He starts laughing when they decide to see how many they can put on, and shakes his head as he sits down to help.

Ghost definitely clinks now, and the monarch wings refuse to even try to transform. Laughing, they stand in front of the mirror and turn around. They almost glance back to the other room, but Quirrel still seems to feel mildly guilty. They don’t like that fact – they want to poke their nail into whoever said no to him, but then told him no for himself as well.

Maybe there’s another room that has more… normal mirrors for seeing behind yourself? There’s a door on the other end of the counter that neither of them have opened. Which… Ghost turns back and faces the door where the mirror room exists, finally realizing that it’s not exactly an obvious door. In fact, if they didn’t know it was a door, they probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

Interesting…

They shake their head and then take off for the other door. Quirrel looks up and smiles at them as they pass him where he is browsing some of the various rings and bracelets, and they wave back.

Opening the door, they find a short hall with a couple of alcoves that ends in another door. Unlike the stores for capes, cloaks, and whatnot, these alcoves don’t have privacy curtains, but they do have a couple of chairs and small versions of the tri-fold mirrors. Which makes sense, they suppose. One generally wouldn’t bedeck themself with fifty or so brooches and want to see what that looked like. They snicker again as they poke into the other alcoves.

The alcove at the very end of the hall has one of the taller floor-style tri-fold mirrors – so, maybe someone would want to do that. Happy, they step into the alcove and position the mirror so they can see all the way around themself.

It’s something else they hadn’t done often, look at their backside. Not that it’s generally exciting, except for when it contains thirty or so of the fifty or so brooches and pins they have all over themself. They bounce, and watch as everything shifts around and clinks. They bounce again, and hear a soft chuckle as Quirrel walks down the hallway. They look up at him as he smiles down at them and steps into the alcove. He’s still wearing the five necklaces that had fit him, although he has added some pendants to a couple of them. His hands are full of rings and bracelets, his body language full of mischief.

He sits down beside them and dumps what he is carrying beside him. Shifting to be next to them again, he snickers and leans in to kiss them, and they huff. Turning to kiss him back, they ignore the magic the mirror is trying to tell them to focus on the magic in front of them.

Quirrel hums as he caresses the side of their face, fingers curling around their horn as his thumb rubs along their cheek. They run their hands along his cheeks, start to brush them along his mandibles before stopping and cupping them under his chin instead.

He briefly deepens the kiss before sitting back with another hum, trailing his fingers along the side of their jaw as he smiles at them. Huffing softly, they capture his fingers as his hand drops, pulling it back to kiss his knuckles and then press it against their chest.

He ducks back in to kiss their cheek, and gives them another smile as he sits up. Turning to his pile, he starts shuffling things around before looking at them in the mirror.

“Are you ready to look truly ridiculous?” he says with a grin.

They laugh as they nod.

“I don’t think they had rings small enough to fit your fingers—” Ghost glances up briefly as they shake their head, and he chuckles “—but some of these might actually work as bracelets or anklets, depending on how your body shifts.”

Ghost cocks their head as he holds one of the larger rings out, then shrugs and holds a hand forward. He grins and they slip their hand through it, and he laughs as it is blatantly too large.

They snort and look at him as they sign, “I small! You silly, you forget.”

Shaking his head he says, “It’s not easy to forget, love, but more a matter of I don’t think about it much any longer.”

He sets the ring aside and goes back to pushing through his little stash, and they fiddle with the edge of their cloak, slightly embarrassed.

“Not many bugs can actually wear rings,” he rambles on. “Even I have some difficulties with it, despite having fingers. To wear a ring, most bugs need it to have little prongs to hold it in place, and the ring needs to have a latch rather than just slipping on and off.”

Turning to face them, he holds one of the rings up to show them what he means. “I don’t think you would find it particularly comfortable, though.”

Ghost shakes their head, but takes the ring to look at it as he goes back to the pile.

“Other rings would be glued in place, and the bug would need to have a solvent that would work for that particular glue to get it back off. Some rings actually had a rubber backing and would either slip on or had a clasp and would clamp into place.” He turns to face them again, showing them a different ring that he opens. “This should be far less uncomfortable,” he says with a smile, and they hold their arm out again, holding the other ring beside them.

He clamps it on, and it’s still slightly big but not by much. Unless they tuck their hand in, it wouldn’t come off. Huffing, they look down at it. It’s wider than several of the others, intricately braided fine wires of gold that have been set onto a solid backing of… they think it’s platinum. It has several small emeralds worked between the braiding. It’s gorgeous.

They look back to the mirror, and huff. Set against what they’ve done with their cloak, it does indeed look absurd, but like the necklace they are still wearing, they think they might keep this one. It spans from their wrist to the middle of their forearm, but it’s light and doesn’t seem like it would get in the way. Stepping closer to the mirror, they hold their arm up and look.

Quirrel shakes his head and holds his hand out to them. “I think I have a better idea,” he says quietly. They turn to face him again. “I think you are perfectly content to figure out how ridiculous you can be, but I also think you’ve discovered you like pretty things,” he says with a smile.

They’d known they like pretty things, they just hadn’t put that thought together with the idea of liking jewelry. They glance back at the mirror, and see he is still holding his hand out to them. They turn back and take it with a sigh. He tugs them over to where he is sitting, leaning his forehead against theirs. Ghost drops the ring they are holding and puts their hands on his cheeks, gently rubbing their thumbs under his eyes.

Pulling his face to angle it better, they kiss him. He hums and rests his hand on the back of their cloak, chuckling as his fingers catch on all the brooches.

Sitting back he asks, “Do you want to take these off and see which ones you may actually want to keep?”

Ghost snorts, then nods and turns around to have him start removing the ones from the back as they get to work unpinning the ones they can reach.

- - -

They’ve both selected several items to keep. Ghost is still wearing the necklace, and the ring/bracelet Quirrel had put on them earlier. He’s down to one silver necklace with a sapphire pendant, although he chose a couple of others with different chain styles as well.

The pendant has a thin band of finely braided silver filigree around the edges of a deep blue sapphire. There are a couple of small purple sapphires embedded into the filigree, as well as a few tiny diamonds Quirrel called ‘seed’ diamonds. Ghost had run across it tucked in the back of a drawer, and when they saw it they thought it would match his shell nicely, as well as the blue silk they still wish they knew how to use to make a cape or robe. Unlike some of the other pendants they have handed him, he cooed softly and immediately pulled the necklace off to string this pendant, putting it back on and finding a mirror. He still touches it every once in a while, and it makes them feel warm.

Ghost is now standing in front of what they finally recognize is a variety of engagement and marriage identifiers. They’ve seen a wide variety of them as they wandered, and while this array doesn’t have quite the extreme range, it is varied enough that they hadn’t picked up on what this corner of the store was until a few minutes ago. Quirrel joins them, looking at the assortment.

As far as Ghost can tell, almost all of the options are for monogamous marriages. They know it’s quite common for polygamous unions to simply use the more common identifiers and just stack them up, but know that isn’t always true.

Quirrel huffs a quiet laugh and steps forward, picking up a small dual-banded bracelet. The two bands are held together by small, twisted loops, although they must be attached somehow because they don’t move.

He stands there and looks at it for long enough that they touch his leg, curious why it’s holding his attention.

Glancing down at them, he shakes his head and starts to put it back. “It’s not…”

Stopping, he sighs. “These are the marriage bands my parents wore,” he murmurs. Glancing at the shelves for a moment, he leans forward and picks up a tray that is displaying several small bead-like items.

He sits down slightly behind them, pressing a kiss against the base of their horn before tucking them into his arms and resting his head against theirs. If they had wider shoulders, his chin would be on them.

“They didn’t specifically wear these bands; these are new,” he says quietly. “But this is the style that was used within our community in general, as well as some others. The self-pin and four twisted circles hold the two bands together and divide the circlet into five general relationships. The two bands represent life and death.” He leans against them briefly, then turns to kiss their cheek before continuing. “This pin here is the clasp, and represents the person wearing the bands. Depending on who you asked it could simply be the easiest place to mark the top of the circle, or a representation that the person is an important part of the whole family, and something is missing when you pull that person out of the circle.”

He huffs quietly. “Before I left, I was one of those that figured it was just a convenient starting point. But I think I’ve changed my mind. It’s a starting point, but also required to hold a family together.”

His fingers run around the circlet, pulling out the pin and opening it before closing it again. “The top band represents the living family, although it is usually limited to parents and children. Some families would expand it and add a third circlet, representing grandchildren.” He holds it up, with the clasp at the top. “The top of the self-pin is slightly different than the bottom, so you know which of the two circlets represents life. Those outside the community often found the inclusion of those who have died morbid, but it wasn’t. Anyone who was a part of the family has affected it, and continues to affect it even after they are gone. Trying to hide that fact doesn’t change the truth of it. It’s why even if someone left a family group for other reasons, their marker was usually modified but not removed.”

Quirrel turns and kisses their horn, pressing his forehead against it after. He’s trembling slightly, so they turn to lean into him, hooking their arm over his shoulder and working their hand under his kerchief to caress the back of his head.

He takes a shaky breath before kissing them again, looking back at the circlet he is holding.

“There are two main divisions, partners and children,” he says. “There are five overall divisions, represented by the self-pin and the four twined circles holding the two bands together. Partners are divided at the self-pin, one section to each side. The one to the left as you face it from the top represents what most bugs would traditionally recognize as ‘spouses,’ and the one on the right is usually described as ‘siblings.’”

He chuckles softly. “They are all your partners, your spouses. Bugs you choose to share your life with, love. Sometimes you share your life with bugs you are romantically involved with, sometimes you share your life just as intimately but not romantically. Sometimes your true, related siblings are part of that family. Sometimes, your partners bring in a someone you aren’t so involved with, but they are still a part of the family. Sometimes the markers move back and forth between the two sides.” He laughs as he says, “Papa said that was to keep everyone guessing.”

Quirrel nuzzles their cheek. “The bottom three sections represent any children.” He chuckles again. “Or for those you regard as your responsibility, including pets. Not all families want or can have children.” He hums softly. “Any children in a family are the children of all partners. The divisions are mostly so that the genetics can be kept untangled within the community, which is particularly important if partners change.” He taps the bottom left division of the circlet and says, “The leftmost of the three is for children genetically related to any of the partners on the left-hand side of the self-pin. The middle section is for children genetically related to the person wearing the band. The rightmost division is for children that have no direct genetic relation to the person wearing the band.”

He falls silent, flipping it over in his hands a few times.

Turning it so they are looking at it edge-on he says, “This one has the death band made from a different material than the life band. Not all of them were that way; it was a fairly even mix, even within a family group. If someone died, their marker was moved from the life band over to the death band.”

Quirrel picks up the tray he had grabbed before sitting. “These are one style of markers, or beads. Currently blank, they would be marked somehow to make them unique for the bug they represent. Usually it was a part of their name, sometimes it was more creative. How they are attached to the band varied wildly; it looks like these have a little clasp so you can shift them around.”

He sighs. “This one is obviously meant to be a bracelet of some sort. There are as many ways to interpret the general symbology as there are bugs to think it up. Generally you wouldn’t find a ring trying to represent this style, as it would be too large. But pendants for necklaces were common, as were the bracelets.”

He looks at the bracelet for a while before setting it into the tray with the beads. He pulls them against him, turning them so he can tuck his chin over their shoulder. His breath catches, then he shakes his head slightly and sighs as he shudders.

Ghost wraps their arms around his neck and hold him tight. They wonder… no, they don’t. They know that if they turned around and chose one of the circlets or pendants and gave it to him, he would accept it with joy. They just don’t know if there should be more to it than that. They doubt they could get him distracted long enough for them to seriously peruse the options and choose something to give him later. The circlet he’s been using to tell them what things mean is obviously far too large for either of them, although Ghost could possibly wear it around their waist. They’d need suspenders to keep it in place.

Huffing at the mental image, they turn their head to kiss the side of Quirrel’s face and then step away to pick up the circlet. They poke at it, looking at the self-pin before pulling it out and spreading the bracelet apart. It isn’t hinged, and without the pin holding it together it’s definitely flimsy. Once the pin is in place, however, the whole thing becomes far sturdier. Holding it, they decide they like the symbology it represents.

They glance up at the wide variety of selections in this corner. They doubt very many of them reflect this particular kind of relationship. Most of them seem to be for the two bug partnership type. Ghost looks at the bracelet again, leaning back against Quirrel. They hadn’t ever even thought about being in a relationship, much less a larger one. Quirrel obviously grew up in such a family, and listening to him talk about his partners they know he relishes the idea of a large family.

They aren’t sure why he hadn’t been married before he left, although they think it’s for the best. They can’t begin to imagine how much worse it would be for him to have come back and learn he had walked away from partners, possibly children.

Ghost steps back forward and picks up one of the little marker beads, fiddling with the clasp to see how they open. If they give him one of these, it means that if they survive, they are accepting the possibility of having more partners – platonic or otherwise. That Quirrel would have other partners, although they are certain it’s far more complex than him showing up one day with someone else in tow.

Do they know how they feel about that?

Probably not, but they feel a warm happy glow at the idea of a larger family. They certainly don’t have an aversion to the idea of Quirrel being with someone else as well as them, even if they aren’t exactly excited about it.

Clamping the little bead into place, they figure that neutral is probably an acceptable place to start from. They can see their future opinion on the matter being highly dependent on whoever the future theoretical additional partner is.

Ghost looks at Quirrel, sees that his gaze is locked onto their hands where they have been investigating the bead and idly turning the bracelet around and around. They falter a little, unsure of what that focus means. His eyes snap to theirs when they stop turning the bracelet, his breathing slightly uneven. They shift so that they are facing him, and hesitate. They don’t have the right signs, but the thought of using the slate for this feels wrong.

Taking a deep breath they don’t need, they see Quirrel tense up but force himself to relax. They force themself to ignore it, and slip the circlet onto their arm for now so that they can sign.

“I love you.”

Quirrel smiles and touches their face, thumb brushing along their cheek. His fingers are trembling. “I love you, too.” he says softly.

“I want you. I not know how to tell you, I not know if there a way to say, a way to ask. I also not know right signs.”

Ghost hesitates as Quirrel goes absolutely still, relaxes slightly when they see a tear form. “I want to have a home with you. I want you to have a home with me.”

Quirrel seems to have stopped breathing, his gaze fixing on their face as they pull the circlet off of their arm. Knowing it isn’t the one they actually want to give him, they simply hold it up between them, lifting it up far enough that he can see it without glancing down.

Gasping as he shudders, he shakes his head slightly as he grabs the sides of their head and pulls them forward to press his forehead against theirs. Breath heaving, he starts to say something but gets stuck. Uncertain, they hook the circlet back over their arm and then put their hands on his cheeks. They’d been certain of his answer, but now they are starting to get nervous.

He shudders again as he inhales deeply, forcing the breath out slowly as he grips their head. His hands are trembling. He takes another deep breath and exhales slowly. Unsure, they start tracing their thumbs along the edges of his cheekpads. It’s not like they can take back what they said. They don’t want to either.

“There are traditional words and phrases,” he says, voice shaky. “I like yours better.” He laughs breathily, squeezes again. “Ghost… I…” He puffs another breathy laugh. “Although the problem with you choosing your own words means I have to figure out my own words. Ghost, yes, you are my home, my heart, my everything. I want nothing more than to be your home. Yes.”

Ghost huffs, stunned. They probably shouldn’t be, although their thoughts are all scattered.

Quirrel pulls them forward and wraps his arms around them with a laugh, squeezing tight as he rocks back and lifts them off their feet. He laughs again as he clasps his hand against the back of their head, holding them against his shoulder, and they wrap their arms around his neck and hug him back.

“Ghost! Oh gods, my love! You are an eternal source of surprise, but I have to wonder, do you surprise yourself as well?”

They snort. He knows that answer, knows that this was semi-impulsive.

Ghost wonders how much longer he’d have waited before he asked them. They are fairly certain he’s flinched away from asking at least twice in the last week or so.

But they nod, because they know it will make him laugh, and they love it when he laughs.

And Quirrel does laugh, tipping over sideways and laying them on the floor, his arm behind their shoulders as he rests on his elbow and looks down at them. Laughing with him, they reach up and pull his mask off, and he takes it from them to set it aside, humming as they start to work at the knot of his kerchief. As it falls to the side, his antennae swing around and start pattering along their horns as he leans back in to kiss them, humming as he smiles.

They don’t go any further in their explorations, setting up camp for the night in the store.

But not in the room with the mirrors.

End Notes: This will be incorporated into the main work at the appropriate time, which I will do my level best to make happen soon. I have been trying to figure out how to get these events to happen, but hadn’t managed to come up with an appropriate lead-in for the story. The prompt I received allowed me to find that scenario! Now I just need to get them back to the City of Tears for a day as an excuse to link this in. xD

Hopefully the fact that this doesn't quite match the parameters of the prompt is acceptable!

[minijenn]

KH Comm #4

Another Keys related writing comm for @rosie-drawss, who wanted another “what if” scenario for what would happen if the glamor spell had faded following the ball and Cinderella’s Castle. Angst and hurt/comfort ensues as Sora has to fess up to all his many lies early! Enjoy!

***

Kairi is still in a haze of half-slumber when she gets up as quietly as she can so as not to wake Sora or Riku. She tip-toes to fetch a drink of water from the pitcher on the far side of the room before heading back to bed in a similar silent manner, eager to return to the pleasant dreams she’d been having of the enchanted evening they’d just had together. That happiness still hangs over her as she climbs back into her spot under the covers right beside Sora. She smiles drowsily as she takes in the sight of him sleeping peacefully, the ghost of a contented grin on his face, his white hair draped loosely, lazily over his closed eyes-

Wait… white hair?

Her sharp gasp breaks the quiet of the room, a startled cry soon joining it as she rolls backward out of bed, ultimately landing hard on the floor. Riku bolts upright first, calling for Kairi as he glances around the darkened room amidst trying to regather his bearings. But when Sora sits up only seconds later, he’s the first to find Kairi, still sitting on the floor, staring up at him with a look of nothing less than absolute shock. 

“Kairi?” he presses, concerned as he leans over the side of the bed. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?” 

When Kairi finds herself far too bewildered to offer him an answer, Sora turns to Riku next, hoping to get his help. Only to catch the same exact sort of stunned stare from him too. “What?” Sora frowns, glancing between the pair in apt confusion. “Why aren’t you guys saying anything? What’s going on?”

“...I think we ought to be the ones asking you that question…” Riku finally says, his tone and expression both tense. 

“Huh?”

“Sora,” Kairi’s on her feet now, retrieving a hand mirror from the nearby dresser. “W-what… what is this?”

She hands the mirror over to him, and the very second Sora so much as sees his own reflection within it, it slips out of his hand and shatters on the floor. Tears swiftly form in his now-golden eyes, a shadow-streaked hand slipping over his mouth as he tries to make sense of how this might have happened. Of how the awful secret he’s been hiding for them for so long could somehow reveal itself entirely on its own accord.

Kairi carefully steps past the broken glass on the floor to sit back on the bed alongside Sora, placing a gentle hand on his arm as he chokes out a small, frightened sob. “You… know what this is… don’t you?” she asks, gauging his mournful reaction for exactly what it is. 

Sora refuses to offer an answer, all but shutting down as he wraps his arms around himself, shutting his eyes so he doesn’t have to meet their piercing, questioning gazes. Kairi softens when she sees how scared he seems to be, but Riku knows he can’t do the same. Not when this is something that certainly can’t be anything good. 

“Tell us,” he places a hand on Sora’s shoulder, his voice coming out quiet and calm. Or at least as calm as it can be right now. “Please, Sora, if something’s wrong then you need to let us know what-”

“I-I’m the Organization’s thirteenth vessel!” Sora suddenly shouts, distraught and distressed. He’d been half-tempted to lie to them, but he knows it won’t do him any good now; not when they can both so clearly see the truth for themselves. “W-what you guys did to save me during the exam didn’t work and now I… I’m being… Xehanort is-”

“H-he’s taking over your heart…” Riku finishes in a whisper. A grave silence falls over the room as this horrific realization sinks in, a realization that none of them want to face. Kairi clings onto Sora’s arms, joining him in his sorrowful, ceaseless tears. But those tears aren’t something Riku shares. Instead, he continues staring solely at Sora, at the white in his hair, the gold in his eyes. He stares in solemn, saddened silence as he thinks about just how much he’s managed to fail Sora, how he failed to save him, how he failed to notice that something was even this wrong until he could see it laid so plainly before him. He stares and says nothing, shedding not a single tear as he realizes the only thing he can really do right now is to somehow be strong for them both. Even if he doesn’t really want to be. 

“Sora-” he starts, only to nearly lose his composure completely when Sora practically falls into his arms, Kairi following not long after. 

“I’m sorry!” Sora cries, completely despondent by this point. “I’m so sorry for lying and hiding this and trying to fix this on my own even though I knew I can’t! I don’t know how to stop this, and I’m so, so scared that there isn’t any way to stop it-”

“We will stop it,” Kairi speaks up, her tone tight and anxious as she holds Sora even tighter. “W-we’ll find a way, we have to and we will. Won’t we, Riku?”

Riku takes in a long, deep breath, if only to steady himself for the journey on the road ahead of them now. A road that is bound to be long and painful, but one that needs to be taken. Especially if what’s waiting at the end of it is what somehow sets Sora’s already captive heart free. 

“Go wake up the others,” he instructs the pair as he gets out of bed. “Tell them to pack their things. We’re leaving in an hour. We… have a lot to talk about.”

***

Word spreads between the other guardians of light like wildfire. Before they even leave Cinderella’s castle, each and every one of them hears about what’s happening, and very few of them are truly caught off guard when they see Sora’s startling change in appearance. The only three among them that had been in on his lie are surprised, however, to find out that the truth had slipped out so suddenly. Ventus breathes a sigh of relief, glad to know Sora won’t be able to drag this dangerous charade out any longer than he already has. Meanwhile, Donald and Goofy are both baffled by the mysterious failure of the glamour spell, something that the magician chalks up as a side effect of his magic mingling with Fairy Godmother’s. And since Fairy Godmother’s spell had worn off when the clock struck midnight, so too had the spell that had helped Sora hide his secret for so very long. 

The trip back to the tower is a long, quiet one. No one’s really sure what to say or where to start, so they decide to discuss it all in a proper meeting instead. Said meeting kicks off almost as soon as they arrive, and it starts with Sora having no choice but to explain the situation to the other lights in full. He soberly shows them everything: his hair, his eyes, his hands, his scar, his Keyblade, even his powers in steady succession. Telling the full, unbridled truth is strange, in a sense; because even as much as he feared the thought of doing exactly this before, he can’t deny that actually unveiling it all is something of a bizarre relief. Like every secret he’s shedding is a weight finally lifting off his shoulders, weight he should have let someone else share a long time ago. 

One he’s revealed everything he can, Yen Sid asks Sora to sit the rest of the meeting out. While the reasoning for such a request isn’t initially clear, he does so gracefully, waiting just outside the door for the others to emerge. And as he waits, his fretful thoughts wander to just how quickly things have gone wrong over the course of one night alone. Just how fast a night of dreams had turned into his worst nightmare. 

After what feels like ages, Riku and Kairi finally leave the meeting behind. The others hang back, likely to give them a bit of privacy to allow the pair to relay to Sora the verdict they’ve all just reached. 

“Ok, here’s the plan,” Riku begins, wearing the steadfast composure of the leader he was chosen to be. “The others are all heading out tomorrow to look for the rest of the Keys. Kairi and I are-”

“We’re staying here, with you,” Kairi interrupts, taking Sora’s hands and holding them tight. “At least for now. And while we’re here, we’re going to look into every way we can find to free you from… f-from this.”

“B-but… what if we can’t-”

“If we can’t find answers here, then we’ll look somewhere else,” Riku continues, resolved. “But we won’t stop until we find a way to help you, Sora. That’s a promise.”

“But it’s not a promise we can keep unless you promise to meet us halfway with this too,” Kairi insists earnestly. “Which means… no more lying, and no more secrets. You’ve always been able to trust both of us with anything before. That doesn’t have to change now, not even with something like this.”

Sora looks between the pair, caught off guard by the brazen plan he’s hearing. One that he desperately wants to believe will work, just as much as he wants to believe they actually mean what they say. But his anxious, guilt-ridden heart still finds room to foolishly doubt them all the same. “Y-you… you really want to help me?” he asks, his voice small and edged with shame for something he doesn’t feel he truly deserves.

“You know we do,” Riku vows as he gently pulls both Sora and Kairi close. 

“More than anything else,” Kairi adds just as warmly, just as lovingly. 

And… despite everything else, despite all of the fear and despair and remorse he’s still carrying… Sora decides to let that love--their love for him--lighten that load at least a little bit. “Then ok,” he finally smiles for the first time since the glamour faded. For the first time since he opened the door to let his two best friends back into his heart. “I promise.”

Commissions are CLOSED

[heartwoodventures]

Primary Access Required: Testing, Testing

In which Heartwood heads back to (bloody) Coerthas in order to test Aislinn’s aether dampener and catch themselves a spidery bioweapon!

Aislinn arrived in Heartwood’s front hall after a quick rest and a change of clothes. Seeing Rising near the tanks, she walked up and peered into the aquarium. "How's your friend?" she asked, doing away with any preamble.

Rising was eyeing the smaller fish swimming around the bottom of the tank as Aislinn approached. "Seems like he's doin' alright! If he ain't been eaten yet I don't think he will."

Aislinn gave a brief smile as she caught sight of the little bugger. "Looks like he's one of the team now. Good on him." she nodded before turning and taking a seat to wait for things to get under way. "How about yourself? How's things?"

Cravendy slips out from her room and joins the others by the couches. Once seated, she immediately begins to fiddle with her gun, double and triple checking its parts on repeat.

Riylli lazily waves to Cravs as she enters and takes a seat near her. "Hey! Have we always had this many Miqo'te in the company? Why'd no one tell me?"

"Still need a name though." Rising rubs her chin as she was clearly running through suitable options in her head. "Crimble I suppose seems alright, an' can't complain here, yourself? Carve anythin' neat yet?"

"Crimble." Aislinn tried the name out a few times, murmuring it under her breath. "Aye, that fits. Tiny-sounding. Like a crumb or a thimble." At Rising's question though, she tilted her head. "I'm getting really good at spatulas. And kindling. Lots of kindling for the fire." she replied in a deadpan way before shrugging in wry amusement. "So it goes."

"Well then after you start your fire with the kindlin' you have somethin' to flip your food at least! I guess next thing ya should work on is a fork or a plate eh?" Rising plopped down on the other chair, cursing a moment later. "Shite, we're headin' to Coerthas right?"

N'yami moved through the estate with a carbuncle following right behind her, the Seeker chose to stand next to the railing and eye the group that had showed up. Ears flicked at the mention of Riylli's comment then offered a small wave. "I tend to hide out in my workshop, only come out when I'm either needed or dragged out."

N'ana Firesong stretches.

“I always figured ye cat-folk kept to yourselves...” Cravendy dips her head at N’yami. Case in point.

Riylli waved back to N'yami and flashed her a quick grin. "Well, it's nice to finally meet ya then. My names Riylli." She said, before her friendly attitude turned on a dime as she turned back to Cravs. "Don't call us cats." She said, her voice cold and clearly annoyed.

Haila meanwhile, merely remained silent. She could see new faces being involved in this particular case, and it didn't bring any relief more than worry. Having more people meant bigger risks of losing someone again, or at least, such was the case in her eyes as she glanced around with a small frown.

N'ana Firesong simply dusted her legs and made herself comfortable.

Evelyn Blazewing laughs and shakes her head upon hearing Riylli's comment. "Fufufu... this vessel is merely temporary. But I suppose I am still /technically/ a Miqo'te..." She brought her bandaged right hand up to cover the left side of her face. "I much prefer the company of my familiar than I do that of mortals. But, I figured I should at least come out every once in a while to converse with the commoners..." She smiled smugly to herself with her last comment.

Riylli Aliapoh raised an eyebrow at Evelyn's comment, then looked around the room to check everyone elses reactions only to find no one looking as confused as she was. "Erm... Right. Well, nice to meet you too... I think."

N'yami Synch: "N'yami, ya ever need somethin' fixed lemme know and I'll lend a hand." The carbuncle next to the Seeker jumped up onto the Seeker's shoulder to wrap around her like a scarf, the summon wanted to feel a part of the conversation. "Oh, and this is Whackara before she hits me for not introducin' her." The summon puffed out her chest with joy. "So I'm sure the rest of ya are as excited as I am to head out to Coerthas and deal with that cold hell."

Cravendy Hound grunts, but obliges to Riylli’s request. She was used to hanging out with pirates whose conversations were often thinly veiled insulting contests, and old habits die hard. “Right...Mee-quote-tay. Not cat.”

Aislinn was about to open her mouth to reply to Rising but quickly shut it as N'yami started talking. She turned her attention to the miqo'te and simply sighed. Damned bloody Coerthas.

N'ana Firesong: "What is in this Cold hell ye are dealing with?"

Haila Wetyios: "The reason we're short three people within the Company right now..." was all she'd comment, choosing to allow N'yami to take the floor on this one.

N'yami Synch: "Allagan spider creatures that some crazed scientist made to drain aether from living things...." She paused and thought it over for a moment. "I think that about sums it up." The Seeker shrugged. "I just got pulled into this recently."

Evelyn chuckles to herself. "Ah, are you all going out? I, Evelyn Blazewing, third incarnation of Lord Blazewing the Phoenix, the Eternal Ember, shall accompany you. You said we are headed to Coerthas, is that right, mortal? Fufufu... a phoenix not need worry about the cold. You should be most glad that I'm tagging along! My prowess with fire shall prove most useful to all of you there... i-if you'll have me, I mean." She looked away a bit at her last statement.

Rising Lotus grumbled more as their location was confirmed, shrugging as Riylli glanced at her. "Don't have my damn cold gear with me..gonna be a fun day." she sighed and slumped down a bit in the chair.

After casting an askance look at Evelyn and her declaration, Aislinn murmured almost to herself. "I'll have to grab my bleeding coat before we head out." If Aislinn hated anything, it was the cold.

N'ana Firesong: "Well then meh blade if for ye then. Don't know much of whatever these spiders are but aye am always willing to test meh metal."

Riylli grinned. "Finally, I've been waiting to go after those spiders ever since I joined this group! You can't just lead with that then make me build up some town for moons instead. I'm built for smashing, not building!"

Haila snapped her eyes towards one of the newcomers. "Pride won't do you any good in this, nor recklessness. These things have casters as their primary targets each and every single time we've come across them." she said, immediately sighing afterwards as she raised a hand to her forehead. "It goes without saying that magic should be the very VERY last resort in this expedition you're all about to go." she added, this time glancing at everyone.

Cravendy Hound: “Are ye all ‘earin’ what I’m ‘earin’? Or am I ‘avin’ some kind of...” Cravs shakes her head in confusion at Evelyn’s remarks. But it was all very curious to her, and she found herself wondering about the curious character. “Aye, let’s bring along that one.”

N'yami had a very confused look on her face for a moment but it vanished as soon as it appeared. "Well, I believe Aislinn had a device to help us?" She perked a brow when looking over to the Hyur. "Last time we talked we were goin' to use me as bait for pullin' the creature in while the rest of ya bring it down."

Haila Wetyios: "All of this while keeping the spider as intact as possible. 'Tis all I'd ask to finish cracking the data and communication they all share."

N'ana Firesong: "So we are studying them, not slaying them."

Riylli Aliapoh breathed a sigh of relief that someone else was hearing what Evelyn was saying, and that she had not just gone insane. But she had another concern now, turning to Haila, "Wait, we can't use magic? No one said anythin' about not using magic."

Aislinn nodded to N'yami. "The aether dampener, aye. Did you remember to grab it from your mother's desk?" she asked. "Like I said before it. ..*should* mask a person's aether signature a great deal. But, you can't get something for nothing. In return, it makes using aether far more difficult. Like training with weights on. Should being the operative word. I've tested it out here but it's never really been field tested before. And not against those bioweapons." she added.

N'yami’s ears went down for a moment, that's right she was supposed to grab it. But never fear Whackara was on the case! The carbuncle swatted Yami over the head before opening her mouth to show the object they were talking about. "Oh yea! Gave it to ya to protect." Holding her hand out the carbuncle just dropped it in Yami's hands like it was no big deal. Clearly this wasn't the first time the carbuncle was used for storage.

Cravendy‘s frown deepens at the mention of N’yami being bait. “It sounds like ye ‘ave all the pieces aligned, but that sounds risky. If it looks like yer in trouble, then ye’ll ‘ave to forgive me for trashin’ the enemy.”

"We've lost three people so far, all of them having a specialty somehow tied to conjury or white magic. We can't take extra risks again." Haila paused, turning over to Riylli. 

"When the first person went missing, a group of three assembled secretly and went to try and find them without telling anyone... Needless to say, only the one person that wasn't exactly magically inclined came back. Those creatures are an army of machina to say the least."

Evelyn Blazewing sighs. "Fine, mortal. I shall hold my magic unless it is absolutely necessary. You needn't worry regardless, for a phoenix always rises from her ashes!" She struck a small pose, leaning back in her seat for a moment before returning to her usual position. "So we're letting it live? Perhaps it is best I not use my magic after all..." She sighs and shrugs. "I will simply find another way to assist you all, then. I shall exercise extreme caution so you do not worry, viera. Does that help ease your nerves?"

Riylli Aliapoh peaked up from over the back of her couch to listen to Aislinn explain. "Well... I should be able to work with using less aether, but you won't be getting me at my best! I was hoping to show off proper this time too, since no one could see anything during that dodo fight..."

Aislinn nodded in thanks to the carbuncle for remembering. She looked back to N'yami. "Once you're ready, just cuff it to your wrist, the stone and circuitry should do the rest." she once more eyed Evelyn with a wary gaze.

Haila Wetyios: "As long as you keep your own distance, I won't complain." she merely stated with a serious tone, though from her voice, it was clear that she had her own reservations or even personal feelings about this entire case.

Rising Lotus raised her hand "Going with what Cravs said, in case things start to go sour, we ought to have a signal or somethin' to switch from catchin' to smashin' and gettin' outa there."

Aislinn turned her attention to Riylli. "Unfortunately, I only had time to create one prototype." she jerked her chin to the one in N'yami's hands. "The rest of us need to be careful."

Riylli groaned. "Great... Guess I'll just... Play defense, or somethin'..." She muttered, totally pouting over not getting to fight the spiders properly

"Should I put it on now or wait till we get there?" N'yami eyed Riylli for a moment, an actual caster would be better playing bait but the Seeker couldn't bring herself to letting the others getting injured if things went bad.

Aislinn does her best to hold her tongue in the face of such idealistic exuberance. The gravity of the loss of Heartwood members in the face of these bioweapons hadn't truly sunken in for the new recruits. Sometimes experience was the best teacher. She looked to N'yami and took a refocusing breath. "Depends on if you think you're going to need to call upon some aether between now and then."

“Scream once if yer in trouble, twice if yer just foolin’ with us.” Cravs dryly advises N’yami.

"What happens if I do it three times?" N’yami grinned, joking of course and an attempt to lighten the mood. "No worries, if things start goin' bad I'll let ya know guys know."

Evelyn: "Ah, is that what our signal shall be? Primitive and simple, yet effective. The success of our mission is all but assured regardless if we take the necessary precautions."

N'yami nodded. "So." N'yami clipped the item onto her wrist. "Who wants to hold the Carbuncle? If things start goin' bad she'll let ya know." The summon’s ears perked up and pitch black orbs looked around the room to determine who her Coerthas buddy will be.

Evelyn raises her hand enthusiastically. "I shall care for thy familiar, mortal. Choose me, and you shall not regret it."

Cravendy Hound tries to lean into N’yami’s confidence, and tries to tell herself this mission will be smooth sailing. But an ever familiar anxiety sets her heart pumping.  Cravs huffs, and moodily looks to the corner of the table.

"Whackara is connected to me, if I'm in trouble her fur will bristle so just keep an eye on that." The carbuncle jumped down from N'yami's shoulder and went to sit on the arm of the chair where Evelyn was, a paw reached out to rest on the red heads shoulder as if to say 'Buddy'.

Evelyn grinned quietly to herself and chuckled. "The pact is complete, then. I shall guard this one with my life. You needn't worry, I will simply resurrect should anything happen to me. Your safety is all but assured, friend." She reaches a hand out to softly pet the carbuncle.

Rising Lotus "We have somethin' to catch it or keep it too right? Or should we jus' break it's legs an' bring it in?" she crossed her arms and leaned back into her chair. "Granted I don't know anythin' near enough 'bout them as Haila, but I do remember ya sayin' it can call other ones too right? Do we have some way to stop that?"

Haila turned over to Rising, "No ways to disrupt it yet I'm afraid, 'tis one strong signal, but the best would be to drag the straggler you mean to capture as far away as possible before it calls reinforcements."

N'yami hummed in thought for a moment. "Could use wires? A barrier would just be absorbed by the damn thing, but we would need a couple people who would want to volunteer to just jump the damn thing and tie it up."

Aislinn let her gaze drift over to Rising and Cravendy

Evelyn sighed and looked around. "Unfortunately, this vessel's arms are quite frail, otherwise I would love to volunteer... are any mortals willing to take the lead?"

“Seems easier to just break its legs. We won’t be needin’ those to do whatever we need the spider for, right?” Cravendy looks around, suddenly wary of another’s gaze on her. “Jump it. Beat it up. Been there, done that...”

Rising Lotus grimaces "Ugh, alright. I don't wanna see a wave of them things again if I can help it." she glanced at N'yami as she offered her suggestion. "..that sounds like it'd work, sure Cravs is a right fine knot tie-er too. " she looked toward Cravs.

Riylli raised her hand. "I could probably incapacitate it with my magic pretty easy, depending on how strong the thing is. Would give me something to do too..." She said with an overexaggerated sigh

Haila Wetyios: "As long as it gets the job done, I have no quarry with it. Breaking the legs should do the job, but if all else fails, I'll take a broken spider."

"Ah, are you not joining us, mortal? A shame, your apparent experience with these spiders would be quite the help." Evelyn said, turning her gaze to Haila.

Haila Wetyios shook her head. "As much as I wish I could, I have my reasons for not going... 'Tis been by mere coincidence that the spiders didn't pick up on me the other times. But I can't risk a third one. At least not if I want a few plans of my own to work."

N'yami Synch: "So who's ready to go catch us a spider!? That's a dumb question no one really is but hells we need the bloody thing so let's go punch it in the legs."

N'ana Firesong gave a small sigh. "Why spiders" she mumbled.

Cravendy glances back at Rising. “Can’t say I’ve ever kidnapped a spider, but there’s a first for everythin’. But the idea would be the same. Lure it away to some lonely corner, away from pryin’ eyes, and tie it up afore it knows what got ‘im. Or beat it till it’s broken.”

Riylli gave a concerned look to the pirate Roe, unsure if she was joking or not

Rising Lotus: "Well lets play it by ear then. If we have a chance to bind it lets do that, if not we'll smash it's legs off, and as a last case option we'll kill it all together."

Evelyn stands up and strikes a pose with her staff. "Let our operation commence. The Goddess of Victory is on our side, so long as we err on the side of caution. Now, let us show these spiders true despair..." She held her bandaged right arm up to her left eye again, folding her left one across her body. She let out an enthusiastic "Fwahahaha!" and shook her head afterward.

Aislinn nodded and rose to her feet. "Seems like we have a plan in place." Roughly, but it was still a plan. "I'll go grab my bloody coat." she shook her head and retreated briefly back to her quarters.

After the group made the walk through Coerthas back to the area where they knew the spiders would appear, with some grumbling cause of the cold of course, N'yami lead them through the snowy terrain. Stopping in her tracks the Seeker looked around with perked ears. "Where exactly were you all ambushed before? Perhaps that will be the best spot to look for one."

Riylli kicked at the ground below, trying to keep her shivering to a minimum. "...Hate this stupid place... Grounds all frozen... Terrible to work with..." She muttered to herself as the rest of the group did their thing

N'ana: "Aye hope we finish up quickly. As much as aye enjoy mountain trips in Othard this cold is a different story."

Aislinn looked to Rising and Cravendy to answer that question. She hadn't yet ventured out to meet these spiders head on. For obvious reasons. Heartwood still needed at least a semblance of a medical staff until they could get G'lewra and Vanriri back.

Rising Lotus huffed as they exited the cave, rubbing her hands together as she was a tad underdressed. "I think it was a bit more down there, near the bridge right?" she glanced at Cravs, keeping her body moving to build up some heat. It then dawned on her the Cravs was kind of not there at the time, but maybe she knew somehow?

Evelyn shivered quietly, holding Whackara in her arms. "F-Fufufu... this cold is n-nothing... you m-mortals always complain about the silliest things..." she posed again in her usual fashion.

Cravendy feels her gut sink as she remembers a time when...it was before she woke up, and yet. She groans, but answers to the best of her ability. “Yeah, I remember it was by that hill, and we crossed a bridge at some point. Over there?” Cravs points down south.

N'yami Synch: "Works for me." She offered a shrug and just started walking down the path, they'd eventually run into the blasted thing right? That's how it usually worked from what she heard. "Time to give this damsel-in-distress thing a try I suppose."

"I-If these things go after magic users, how 'bout we just start channelling and wait for it to show up?" Riylli offered, getting sick of standing in one place freezing her tail off

Cravendy lightly elbows Evelyn as she passes her. “Phoenix-lass, right? Ye think ye can ‘eat up the poor sods who’re freezin’ their arses off?”

Rising Lotus looks at the river over the hill. "This is lookin' familiar, bridge ain't too far from here." she pointed across it. "They all came from the other side of it, and we fell back to the bridge." she pointed to the left down the path.

Aislinn heard Cravendy and looked over her shoulder. "I'm good. No need to light me up or anything."

Evelyn Blazewing 's eyes open wide. "Sh-Share my warmth? With... e-everyone? F-Fwahaha, I certainly would if it were possible. Touching a mere mortal with my body temperature s-so high would incinerate them to mere ashes!" she quietly mumbled to herself. "B-Besides, I'm kinda using it right now..."

Cravendy nods to Rising’s statement. “Some of ‘em were underneath the snow too, so watch where ye step.”

Aislinn took a few steps back at that. "Great." she muttered as she peered down at the frozen ground around them.

N'ana Firesong: "Ye seem ye can mix a drink right now, Phoenix."

Evelyn: "I would be happy to mix you a drink were now a good time, mortal. Ask when we return home and I shall happily oblige."

N'yami looked around for a moment as they paused. "We'll stick around somewhere safe so the rest of ya have a place to hide while I drag the damn thing out." The Seeker pointed over at the boulder sticking out of the ground. "Go hide over there while I call it out. Rising, and Cravs, get ready to launch yerself at it once it comes out."

Rising Lotus: "Aye, pulled...uh.. someone off one before it got her, then it called it's friends." she tapped her boots on the ground to shake some snow out of her sandals.

Cravendy: “Aye. Come on Rising, we got a boulder to snoop behind.” She starts to walk over.

Heartwood runs into another RP FC also RPing (Riylli Aliapoh) (feels like two rival gangs are passing) (Aislinn North) ((Throwdown)) (Haila Wetyios) Oh snap)) (Rising Lotus) We have to intimidate them, everyone make yourselfs big)) (Cravendy Hound) OH?? )) (N'yami Synch) PUFF OUT)) (N'yami Synch) I think we win)) (Cravendy Hound) omg haha )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (as big as you can get) (N'yami Synch) Lol one of them is a friend of my so I whispered yelled at him to get out of my swamp xD))

Rising Lotus nodded, pumping herself up before tailing behind Cravs, drawing her spear on the way.

"I can help too y'know..." Riylli muttered as she stomped off to hide behind the boulder

Aislinn murmured to N'yami as she gestured to the device on the miqo'te's wrist. "If your plan is to take that off to lure a spider, I'd suggest snapping it right back on the moment you get one on your trail. As it is we're going to have a hell of a time shutting it up before it calls any others." she nodded. "Watch yourself, aye?"

Cravendy ducks behind the boulder and peeks out, as sneakily as she can manage. But she’s half-distracted by Rising, who to her...does not look dressed for success, in this weather. “Nophica’s teats, ye askin’ to catch a cold again?!” She harshly whispers.

N'yami Synch: "Cravs and Rising, pull Riylli with ya when the thing comes out, the faster we bring the thing down the better." The Seeker looked over to Aislinn and offered a short nod. "I can defend myself pretty well, if you know someone else needs it more I'll be fine without it."

Riylli's ears perked up, her pouting interrupted. "Wait, me? I mean, yeah! The grounds a bit frozen, but I'm sure it'll be fine" She finished with a confident nod, back to her usual self

Rising Lotus was peeking around the other side of the rock, spearing humming away as they waited. "I'll be fine, been through here lots of times dressed like this. Build's character." she shivered a bit as she said the last part. " 'sides fightin' will keep me plenty warm."

Aislinn shook her head and snorted. "I'm not playing the lottery like that. You're going after the spider, you take it. I'm just saying." she turned and went to stand with the others.

Riylli kicks a bit off snow onto Rising's exposed toes. "Builds hypothermia is what it does. How are you gonna fight when you're frozen to the ground?"

Cravendy: “Might be awhile ‘fore we’re fightin’.” Cravs looks back at N’yami and watches the miqo’te like a hawk. Her breath coming out in chilly plumes, she mumbles something under her breath. “Feh, character...Personally, I’m done buildin’ anymore of that.”

N'ana Firesong keeps a watchful eye over her surroundings.

N'yami unhooked the device from her arm for a moment, and that's when the rest of the group would feel a surge of aether crash over them. The group would feel a wide range of emotions hit them, the strongest one they felt would send a warmth through their cold bodies. Raising her hand in the air the Seeker summoned a ball of aether and shot it off in the air, one after the other like a show of fireworks and each one burst in the sky. Red aether mixed into the white winds that were carried off to call upon the creature they were looking for and with how much the Seeker was giving off did the group hear an echoing screech off in the distance. Those who had met the creatures would know the sound all too well, it was coming.

N'ana Firesong knelt over, feeling the warmth take over her body and shivered. "Thralls balls!"

Rising Lotus shot Riylli a glare, flinging the snow off her foot, about to retaliate before N'yami started and she focused up, tightening her grip on her spear. She grit her teeth as they had garnered hopefully only one's attention.

Evelyn recoils a bit, reeling from the emotional surge she just felt. She then turns her attention to the sky, and back to N'yami. "An excellent show, mortal, but will it do the tri-" She's cut off by the screeching, which causes her to smirk. "Fufufu... it seems your ploy worked. Everyone, ready yourselves. Our enemy will be upon us soon." She mumbled to herself again. "I-I think... that's our enemy..."

Aislinn stumbled back as the aetheric emotions hit her, the warmth flowing into her body triggering a sense of alarm. No. Not now. But it soon passes as she realized it was only N'yami and not herself. She breathed and tried to shake off the feeling. "That'll get them if nothing else." she said low, her voice wavering slightly.

Riylli glances over to Evelyn. "Hey, crazy lady, how hot can that fire of yours get? Y'think you can thaw the earth a bit for me when we jump out?"

Cravendy grunts as she weathers the wave of aether, sets her jaw as foreign emotions flow through. When it passes, she finally takes a gasp of air. Without knowing it, Cravs had been holding her breath. But she could not breathe easy, not yet. They were coming.

Evelyn glares at Riylli. "I am not crazy, mortal. My flames are the hottest in the realm. I would be more than happy to assist you, however." She sighed.  "So, my talents shall simply be used to thaw the earth? Fine, fine... I came here to offer my assistance, after all."

The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard as the beast came crashing through the snowy plains, this one was the perfect size to carry someone off and with how much aether it detected it seemed determined to catch whatever was creating it. At the last possible second N'yami slapped the device onto her wrist again to dampen her aether, and that's when the Crawler stopped in front of her. The familiar whirring noise was heard as it scanned the Seeker for the aether source.

Aislinn North From her hiding place behind the boulder, Aislinn tensely watched, her breath trapped in her lungs. She sincerely hoped her device wouldn't fail now, of all times.

Cravendy‘s eyes widen at the sight of the machine, but any hesitation is quickly pushed down. Cravs shuffles over the boulder and charges at her target, hoping to knock it off balance with a low blow to one of its many legs.

Rising Lotus "Great, a big one..." she hopped out from her hiding place and charged forward, taking a great big swipe at it's front left leg as she got in range.

Riylli Aliapoh hopped up onto the rock, shouting out to Evelyn. "Time to shine, crazy phoenix lady! Help me get the earth under it's legs!" She commanded, and began to swirl aether around her as she commanded the earth to reach out and swallow up the spiders legs, though as she suspected the ice made it difficult to manage. However, with Evelyn's help…

N'ana Firesong: "Take out it's eye!"

Evelyn sighs and smiles, bringing her rod close to her. "Fufufu... behold mortals, the purest of flames, the hottest of cinders! This is a gift from Lord Blazewing himself! To ash do we fall, and from ash do we rise... now!" *she launches a small fireball, which then explodes into a larger flame that consumes the ground around the spider. "Hell's Maw!"

Aislinn reached into her coat, white-knuckles wrapping around the grip of her pistol as the others charged. She wouldn't use her aether but she would shoot if things began to take a dire turn. For now, she watched and waited, fighting the frustration that rose in her.

Despite the several attacks aimed at the spider, it seemed as only a selected few even had an effect on it. Riylli's rocks for once, managed to at least ground it on the spot. It's metal legs though, were stronger than the ones that they'd faced before, that much was clear from the fact that it's hindleg barely took any damage from Rising's attack. The edges of it's fleshy limbs suffering very slight charring as it detected the aether sources around it. The fire spell becoming it's first target as it had been the biggest display of aether out of all of them, with the earth rocks being a close second.

Aislinn North can see where this is going and cursed harshly under her breath. The weapon was already assessing and zeroing in on those who had created a display of aether. "Get ready to scatter." she warned.

Finishing it's scans of it's primary targets as well as potential threats, the mechanical spider made several whirring sounds, had it been a smaller one, it would have surely attempted to call for backups already. This one though, was big enough to attempt it's own attacks. Lifting the few legs that weren't trapped in stone, it attempted to free it's other legs as it hurled rocks around at the closest people within it's range whilst smaller spiders dropped off the big one, rushing at the people in the back.

N'yami watched as the crowd charged at the Crawler and watched the chaos start to form, the Seeker waited for the right time to interfere and if needed she would join the battle. Her ruby gaze kept flicking down to the device on her wrist, debating to take it off to act as bait again, that's why she was here right?

Riylli pumped more aether into her spell, refusing to allow the spider freedom so long as she could help it. "Gonna need you guys to keep those things off me! Can't exactly multitask right now!" She called to whoever might be able to help

Ready for it, Aislinn dashed out from behind the boulder as the smaller spiders charged toward them. She fired off a few shots as she went, hoping to pick a couple off before they swarmed the others.

Rising Lotus managed to dodge the stones that were throw at her, grunting and gripping her spear tightly. With a mighty shout she jabbed the tip of her spear right between where the leg meets the body, twisting and pushing open a gap towars the now exposed and vulnerable shoulder mechanics! If someone could aim several shots in there it would sure do a lot of damage!

Cravendy Hound: “Umf! Shit, thing’s built like a brick ‘ouse!” Why did she think that tackling a thing made of solid metal was a good idea to begin with? Now her shoulder felt all kinds of wrong. She rolls to dodge the flurry of rocks and, out of the corner of her eye, she sees the smaller spiders rush at the party’s backline. A bitter cocktail of anger and anxiety sets her heart alight. Not on her watch!

Cravendy grins when Rising serves her an opening on a silver platter. “Thank ye, flower. Now!” She whips her gun out and sends a flurry of shots aimed directly at the exposed circuitry.

N'ana stabbed at the smaller spiders around her. slashing and kicking the ones too close to her.

Evelyn targets the small spiders approaching her, readying another area fire spell. Without giving a small speech this time, she simply readies and casts another area fire spell, hoping to get rid of the smaller spiders coming after her. After launching her attack, she mutters "Calamity Blaze." and strikes a pose.

Relatively assured that she hadn't made herself a target for the smaller spiders, Aislinn continued to fire off shots to drop the bastards before they could reach the ones casting aether about with abandon, pausing only for the scant seconds it took her to reload. Her precision as a sharpshooter on display, she rarely seemed to miss her marks.

Riylli grit her teeth, trying to hold on as the spider did everything it could to free itself from it's bindings. "I ain't gonna be able to hold much longer! Do whatever it is you gotta do, and do it fast!" She called out to the front lines, swearing under her breath. "'Take it alive' huh? Easy to say when you aren't the one holding the damned thing..." She mutters angrily, before pumping another dose of aether into the earthen shackles

Rising Lotus grinned as Cravs fired several shots into the hole she made, twisting her body around to try and spear the other front leg, aiming for the first joint from it's body and thrusting hard, hopefully she'd continued to have good results aiming for those points compared to hacking and slashing

Cravendy feels that telltale burn of combat. Of blood boiling, of time slowing. Given her proximity to the large machine, Cravs decides to try to grab hold of another leg and directly press the end of her gun at its joint. Squeeze, and fire.

The onslaught of attacks took it's toll, for a moment it seemed that the large spider had underestimated it's targets. Such was the issue of programming it's priorities. The leg that Rising and Cravs had worked together to damage caused several circuits to go haywire. The spider had to pause for a moment as the rest of it's legs too, started taking damage from the shots, the spears and the rocks keeping it grounded all causing damage beyond acceptable parameters, the creature attempted to step back to no avail, it's smaller spiders being taken one after the other with the group work from everyone attacking it. Upon finishing it's damage calculations, it buckled down, almost compacting part of it's body for a moment as it emitted a deafening sound alongside static that was nearly palpable in the air. It wouldn't damage it's opponents as much as it would deafen them briefly, but it was for sure calling for nearby backups.

Riylli just kept channeling really. Nothing to see here. She wasn't getting tired or anything. It's fine. All fine.

Cravendy recoils at the explosive sound blaring right next to her ears. She searches for the source of the sound but can’t quite focus with this ringing in her head, so instead she opts to continue her assault. Cravs aims her gun at the spider’s chassis and fires several times. If it’s broken, the racket’ll stop, right?

N'ana shook her head feeling a bit dizzy and off balance from the noise. She put the sword inside its holdster and then drew it with a blinding light of power on one of the spiders back legs.

Aislinn staggered to the side and clapped a free hand over one ear as the blaring beacon went off. Damn it all. That thing simply needed to -die-. Gritting her teeth against the painful noise, she did her best to keep watch on the casters, and pick off any of the smaller spiders that still remained. "Someone shut it up, fast!" her words barely heard over the blaring siren.

Rising Lotus braced herself as the screech blared, bracing herself while she gazed over the ugly thing. Things usually make sound from their mouths, so she thrusted right under it's glowing eye, hoping that was where it would be? If it had one?

N'yami Synch placed her hands over her ears as the creature called out for help. Why did it need to be so loud? "Take it down now! We need to get out of here fast before the backup arrives!"

Riylli Aliapoh huffed, feeling neglected out there in the backlines, watching everyone else do cool stuff. She was not one to enjoy taking the support role, and suddenly a very stupid idea dawned on her. She grinned, "Alright, time to end this!" She called out, suddenly thrusting her arms out to the sides and pumping in every last bit of her aether, the earthen shackles that had been binding the creatures legs suddenly flying out in opposite directions, ripping the spiders legs out with them

Evelyn Blazewing covered her ears and crouched down in recoil from the harsh noise the spider emitted. "I-It's worse than the wails of the damned... shut up!" She stood up, braced herself, and fired a ball of flame at the mechanical arachnid, yelling out "Flames of Ifrit!" as she did.

Cravendy Hound brings her arms up in time to guard herself against a shower of earth and ice. “By the godsdamned Navigator! Warn me next time ye use yer magic!” But, seeing as the spider was now rendered legless by Riylli’s efforts, it seemed a good opportunity to grab and go. Cravs stumbles to the other end of the machine and tries to lift it. They had to get this thing, and themselves, out of here fast.

While incredibly risky and stupid, Riylli's idea worked, the sudden pull from the rocks alongside it's already damaged legs nearly ripped all of them off on the spot. Only one leg remaining, which was the one N'ana kept attacking as the blasted thing started to squirm as much as it could. Several smaller spiders dropped off it's insides, clearly confused as the signal it was sending out to them was not going off well thanks to the damage caused by Rising and Crav's shots.

N'yami bolted towards the giant spider and went to lift it with Cravs. "Let's go go go." The carbuncle grew in size to be big enough to ride and trotted up to Riylli incase she needed to be carried home. "Those who can lift get over here."

The large spider was rendered defenseless, and most of all, it was half intact.

Riylli fell to her knees, aether spent and body exhausted. She grit her teeth and picked herself back up, using her staff to keep her balance as she didn't want people seeing how wiped out she was. "What else could 'time to end this' mean!?" Riylli shot back to Cravs, before carefully trying to crawl her way off the boulder she was dramatically perched on. Maybe exhausting herself right before it was time to run... was not the best plan

Rising pulled her spear back just in time to watch Riylli pull it's legs off like a child would do to a bug, and probably Riylli to a bug too honestly. Quickly returning her spear to her back, she made her way to the front, squatting down and preparing to lift it with the others.

As the limbs come off the spider in a mighty pull of earth, Aislinn wasted no time rushing towards the downed bioweapon, taking out the small spiders that wandered around in confusion. "Alright. N'yami's right. Let's take it and run." she holstered her weapon and made ready to lift along with the others.

Evelyn applauded Riylli's display, a proud smile on her face. "Excellent, truly excellent work, mortal. Your prowess with the earth is quite remarkable..."

Cravendy grumbles something under her breath about being more specific, that “time to end this” should clearly state -how- as well. But it was all bullshit and Cravs knew it - couldn’t expect people to say all that in the heat of the battle. Didn’t stop her from complaining the whole way back though.

Riylli gave a tired grin, always ready to accept some praise. "Best geomancer in eorzea, you can bet on it! You were a big help with that fire though. Couldn't have done it without ya." She said with a nod, before noticing the large carbuncle seemingly waiting for her to pass out. "Oh, hey... you. You offering a ride?" She asked, giving a shrug as she hopped on and did her best not to look so relieved.

As Heartwood managed to take the giant Crawler back, hopefully Haila was fine with the size of it, the group successfully completed their mission and even managed to escape the backup before they showed up but now the real question. How are they going to get it through the door?

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Prologue)

Prologue Part I

You stand before the remnants of the Sentinel base, taking in the sight before you. Looking past the crumbling architecture and growing moss, you can see the echoes of dignity that this place once possessed. Now, however, it stands empty and silent, devoid of life save for the insects, birds and slugs. You call out, but no one responds. Finally, it becomes obvious that any chance of joining the Sentinels of Light here is long gone.

You stare at the ruins for a little while longer before turning to walk away. As you approach your boat on the beach, however, you notice another vessel drawing closer. Two figures step out from the craft and begin making their way up the beach.

“Those outfits… Are you two Sentinels?”

“Halt! This is the headquarters for the Sentinels of light!”

“Um, hello? Mind if I catch a ride?”

Lucian: “Well I’ll be. Looks like we were right to come here.”

Senna: “We need to speak to the one in charge here. Where’s your commanding officer?”

“Gone, along with all the other Sentinels.”

“I’m not sure. This place was abandoned when I got here.”

Senna: “What? Then you’re the only one here?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Not for much longer. This place is a dump.”

Lucian: “Great, just great! We come all this way and all we can find is one damn Sentinel?”

Senna: “What’s your rank, Sentinel?”

“Rank? I don’t exactly… Have one.”

“I’m kind of new here, so…”

Lucian: “Oh, great! The kid’s a rookie, too!”

Senna: “Enough, Lucian. Listen close, Rookie: right now, there’s a Harrowing on the way bigger than any we’ve ever seen before. Like it or not, no one’s leaving this island until we drive them back.”

“Woah, hang on! A real Harrowing? I did not sign up for this!”

“Oh, finally! Here I was, worried that I wouldn’t ever get to see some action.”

Lucian response 1: “Suck it up, Rookie! You’re a Sentinel, so this is EXACTLY what you signed up for. Wait, where’s your weapon?”

Lucian response 2: “You’ve got spirit, Rookie, now let’s see if you can back it up. You know how to use that weapon, right?”

“Um…”

“I don’t have one. I thought I’d receive one here, but…”

Lucian: “Oh, for the love of-”

Senna: “No time for talk, here it comes!”

Prologue Part II

The Black Mist rolls up onto the shoreline. From the haze, countless malformed creatures emerge, moving toward you with murderous intent. The sight sends a chill down your spine, but Lucian and Senna respond calmly with a torrent of light from their weapons. Their movements tell of years of experience, each shot carefully aimed to tear through the onslaught.

“Wow…”

“I almost feel sorry for the monsters.”

As you watch, transfixed, a shadow looms over you. You turn and see that hulking undead figure with several faces has raised its claw, preparing to strike you down then and there.

Senna: “Look out!”

Senna fires a blast from her Sentinel gun that seems to go right through you, blasting a hole in the monster’s chest. Rather than harm you, however, the light seems to invigorate you.

“What just happened?”

“I didn’t know Sentinel weapons could do that!”

Senna response 1: “No time, Rookie. If you can’t fight, then get inside the base and take cover!”

Senna response 2: “Most can’t, but there’s no time to explain. Get inside the base and take cover, Rookie!”

You start to do as told, but you quickly see that your path is blocked by howling wraiths. The undead have you completely surrounded.

Lucian: “Senna, a little help over here!”

Senna: “Lucian, hang on!”

Dread begins to wash over you as you realize how hopeless the situation is. Outnumbered and with no way to fight back, the wraiths start to close in on you. Just as they’re about to reach you, though, something cuts through the Black Mist and strikes down the undead before they can reach you.

???: “Are you quite alright? That must have been quite the fright!”

“Thanks! You really saved me there.”

“Uh, not to sound ungrateful, but who are you?”

“Uh, is that… A giant pair of scissors?”

Gwen: “Oh, pardon my manners! My name is Gwen, but we haven’t the time to talk now! Quickly, we must get you inside!”

Before you can think to respond, Gwen grabs your arm and pulls you along, leading you into the remnants of the old Sentinel base.

Prologue Part III

Gwen: “Ah, so this is a Sentinel base? I must say it’s rather drab in here.”

“Uh, thanks again for saving me, Miss Gwen.”

“Wait, we have to go back! The others are still out there!”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a dump.”

Gwen response 1: “Oh, you’re very welcome! Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I believe your friends require some help as well, no?”

Gwen response 2: “Yes, quite right! You just wait here where it’s safe, and I’ll see to them.”

Gwen response 3: “Well, regardless, it seems that the undead do not wish to enter. I should go and find your comrades to bring them in as well.”

With that, Gwen rushes off, charging back into the fray. You watch from the entrance as she slashes apart the undead with her giant scissors and pierces them with floating needles. Around her, a peculiar mist seems to form that repels the Black Mist around her. Eventually, Gwen vanishes from sight, though you can still hear the sounds of battle from the shoreline.

“…Whelp, time to sit back and relax until they sort this out.”

“Damn it… There has to be something I can do to help.”

You looked around the Sentinel base and notice a peculiar table in the center. Inspecting it closer, it looks to be a map of Runeterra, carved out of Relicstone. A peculiar object rests on top of the table, shaped like a key with a small orb at the end. Curiously, the objects begins to glow, almost as though calling out you.

You reach out and clutch the object in your hand, lifting it from the table. You then notice that a portion of the map seems to be glowing in response: the small island where your base is located. Cautiously, you bring your weapon closer to the table. The two seem to thrum in unison together, before both going dim. Then, the building starts to shudder…

Prologue Part IV

The shaking stops abruptly. All around you, ancient markings in the walls start to light up one-by-one. Then, in a flash, you see the entire island outside consumed by golden light. In a massive pulse of magic, the Black Mist is dispelled and the markings return to normal.

“…”

“What… Just happened?”

“Woah… That was awesome!”

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Lucian, Senna and Gwen walking into the base.

Lucian: “Rookie, you mind explainin’ what in the many hells you just did?”

“Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“Just how many hells do you think there are?”

Senna: “Hang on, Lucian. He’s not the only one we should be questioning”

Senna turns her attention to Gwen.

Senna: “Thanks for helping out back there, but just who are you? You’re not a Sentinel, and those scissors aren’t Relics, but they cut through the undead just the same.”

Gwen: “Ah, I suppose I should reintroduce myself properly this time. I am Gwen, the Hallowed Seamstress, at your service! A pleasure to make your acquaintances!”

“A pleasure to meet you, too!”

“What’s with that weird mist you can summon?”

Gwen response 1: *Giggle* “I’ve heard a great deal about the Sentinels, and how you devote yourself to fighting the Black Mist! I’ve come to offer you all my aid.”

Gwen response 2: “Ah, you mean the Hallowed Mist? Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure myself. I suppose you can say I was born with it.”

Lucian: “Hmph… Well, right now I’d say we could use all the Sentinels we can get. It ain’t exactly standard procedure, but you weren’t half-bad out there, Scissors.”

Gwen seems delight to receive the praise, but before anything else can be said, the map in the middle of the room starts glowing again.

???: “Hello, is anyone there? This is Sentinel Fetu of Buhru! Please, respond!”

Prologue Part V

You and the other Sentinels gather around the table as the image of a strange man flickers above it.

Fetu: “Ah, good, it seems we weren’t mistaken. That’s odd, though… I thought the old headquarters had been abandoned.”

“What’s going on?”

“Is that another ghost? How did it get in?”

Fetu: “Not the brightest relic in the vault, are you? Hard to believe that you would be chosen to use the Wayfinder.”

Lucian: “Wayfinder? You mean the Relic Rookie’s got there?”

Fetu: “Bah, don’t they teach anything at the other outposts these days? Alright, listen closely: that Relic you have there? It is the Wayfinder, a very special and ancient Sentinel tool. It has the power to link itself directly with the Nexus crystal in the heart of Sentinel bases. Nexus crystals, as I’m sure you are aware, are conduits for magical power.”

Senna: “So that explosion of light earlier, that was from Rookie using the Wayfinder to link with the base?”

Fetu: “Aye, but that’s not all it can do. The Wayfinder also has the power to connect to the Nexus crystals of other bases, allowing instant transport between them and communication across vast distances. That is how we are speaking now.”

Gwen: “My, what a versatile little took you have there!”

Lucian: “I’ll say. Definitely not something that should be in the hands of a greenhorn.”

Fetu: “Unfortunately, that is not your call to make. It is said that the Wayfinder chooses its wielder, and can only be used by the one to whom it is bound.”

“So… I’m its chosen wielder?”

“The Wayfinder chose me… What an honor!”

“So it’s less of a weapon, and more of a multitool?”

Lucian: “Ah hells… You mean to tell me that no one but this kid can make use of it?”

Fetu: “Hmph. The Wayfinder is strange with its choices, but perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. No one has been able to wield that Relic in ages; that it awakens now may be our one hope of overturning this nightmare.”

On the map before you, you see much of the land being overtaken by darkness.

Senna: “Damn it… He’s growing stronger.”

“Who’s growing stronger?”

“I… Assume that’s bad?”

Lucian response 1: “The Ruined King. The guy responsible for the Black Mist and the Harrowings. Right now, he’s spreading his damn mist all across Runeterra, and if we don’t stop him, it’ll be the end of life as we know it.”

Lucian response 2: “You don’t know the half of it, Rookie. A Harrowing this big can only be the work of the Ruined King. If he’s not stopped, that darkness is gonna take over the entire world.”

Fetu: “Then it’s as we feared… Listen closely: the Black Mist is at our doorstep, and we cannot hold out for much longer. Soon, this Sentinel outpost will be abandoned, meaning that it is up to you all to stop this calamity. Use the Wayfinder, travel to the other Sentinel outposts and recruit as many of our comrades as you can. If Runeterra is to survive this Harrowing, we must stand united! We must-”

The image vanishes and Fetu’s voice goes silent. You and the others all stand around and stare at the map for a moment before Gwen speaks up.

Gwen: “Oh dear. I hope he’s alright.”

Senna: “If he is, maybe we’ll meet him again one day. Right now, we know what we have to do.”

Senna turns and stares at you.

Senna: “Looks like we have a job to do, Rookie. Fire up that Wayfinder.”

“Yes, ma’am! Where to first?”

“Geez, I wasn’t expecting all of this so suddenly, but I guess I can’t back down now. Where do you guys wanna go?”

Lucian: “Demacia. Looks like the Mist is all going there, which means there’s a good chance the Ruined Creep’s there too. If we take him out, this whole nightmare’ll be over.”

Senna: “It won’t be easy, but with more Sentinels on our side, we might just stand a chance. You ready, Rookie?”

You nod solemnly, clutching the Wayfinder closely. Though not what you expected, it seems the time has come for you to partake in your first proper mission as a Sentinel of Light.

[definegodliness]

Halloween 2020

It was the night of Halloween, and in its uncanny way the full moon had energized Little Red Riding Hood and The Phantom for hours after midnight. Yet now they were finally Paige and Sam again, spooning and whispering their last conversations of the day in the queen-sized bed Paige had made with blood-red sheets to fit the date. The candles were running on empty, and the pain of the high-heels that had pinched Paige's feet finally faded when Sam's half-drunk, half-sleepy voice all of the sudden turned clear for a question:

"What's the last time you were actually afraid?"

"Oof... that last IT movie, I don't know why I watched it. I hate ---"

"No, I mean, like, in real life?"

She hated it when he'd interrupt her, but there was a certain tone in his voice that made the question seem pressing. She let it slide, and sighed a soft pondering hum before answering.

"Can't really remember. There must have been times as a child, but... nothing stuck. I guess I don't scare easily in real life."

"I.R.L.", she giggled, doing the high pitched bubbly voice that had often made Sam laugh, but this time he was unresponsive.

"Good," he yawned, "I can't stand cowardice."

And that was that. Big spoon Sam rolled over to his side of the bed and remained silent. Not even a good night. Leaving Paige puzzled. All night long he had been all over her, rubbing her thighs over the smooth silk of her little red dress as they danced, and more than once she had to stop him from going too far in public; plucking the elastic of her thick white stay up stockings; kissing her neck as he pressed his pelvis against her tick-tocking bottom. When they got home he even lit those candles in the bedroom, creating a circle of magical light. But then when they finally went to bed, all he did was bother her with supposedly scary Halloween stories and odd questions.

'I'm never letting him drink whisky again', Paige thought, turning away from him administering an unseen, unfelt cold shoulder; simmering in the silence of her scorn, 'what a waste of a wet cunt.' The lust had long left her body.

*

That night she dreamt. A hellish nightmare where she roamed between fiery pillars, cages and gibbets filled with scrawny wailing humans. Their arms reaching. Flaying. Blackened nails clawing at her. She looked on with horror as thick blood gushed over the captive's faces in a continuously oozing, drooping flow. And these beings would laugh at her maniacally whenever she'd make eye-contact. Louder and louder until laughter was all that echoed in her brain. Then, at the peak of the pitch, with a shock so sudden, their eyeballs would explode, splattering her body, naked and vulnerable.

She picked up the pace and started running. Rushing. Fleeing past the gibbets and cages with her heart pounding in her throat. Away from the fire. Away from it all. She heard the sharp metallic clangs of the cages presumably opening. She did not look back, though, wouldn't dare for the life of her. She kept her eyes peeled to the end of the fiery pillar surrounded path. There, where the path turned darker, dimly lit, she saw their bedroom's door. And as she walked into that very darkness, all turned calm as of sudden. No more wails, no more laughter. She grabbed the door's handle and stumbled inside the room that waited as a safe haven for her.

The candles were still burning, and Paige cursed herself for not seeing how they were situated before. Surrounding the bed, now clear as day, brightly flared a pentagram with her locked in the middle, neither sleeping, nor breathing, nor moving. Eyes wide open. She looked around. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Yet as she inspected the room, soon chills went down her spine. Paige noticed she was floating. Aimlessly floating through her bedroom. Her hands transparent. So, her body. Helplessly she was as she rose to the nook of the ceiling. She understood she was now her soul watching her body. An onlooker, merely. Another jolt of fear slashed through her gut.

An onlooker... for what?

*

Eight thin and sharpened pins of shiny metallic black lowered down from the shadowy vortex whirling above her body, piercing her ankles, knees, wrists, and shoulders. Pinning her down in sharp pains as the beast sank down from the darkness. Painstakingly slow. Its bulbous abdomen, hanging from a thread of shimmering silver, displaying that same metallic shine under the full moon's glow. Wriggling, or rather pulsating, in presumed anticipation. So, its fangs, alternating in an up-and-down motion, oozing a milky fluid that drooped down to form thick droplets. Like a starved critter rubbing his hands and salivating before his meal. Yet the nearer it drew to Paige's face, its fangs moved faster and faster, sputtering that milky fluid in droplets blurring her vision. Likewise, the swift moving daggers blurred in motion. A malformation. And in the grotesque maw that appeared where once was the head of the creature, a shape-shifting shadowy face tore at the fabric of existence. Struggling to get out into the light, it seemed. Twisting, contorting, until suddenly and violently dead-locking its hollow eyes with Paige, sending a shockwave she felt through body and soul.

She now saw them clearly, the eyes of the demon. Bright red and flaring, consuming all her thoughts and vision. She now saw them, in her flesh, as well as in her ethereal existence. Petrifying. Suffocating. Paige felt a strong gale blow right through her, as if her every atom was consumed by this... thing, trying to engulf her. Closer and closer. She felt weak, anguished. So nauseated by the waves and waves of terror, she could not even feel the sharp pains of the animal's piercing pins anymore. It was a battle, and she was losing. Till panic struck in the sudden realization what the demon was doing. Entering the vessel of her body, taking over completely. Leaving her soul to wander eternity aimlessly like itself once did.

Paige's heart thumped violently as adrenaline surged through her body. Then, as if amassing all the energy, power, and vigor she possessed as a living being, she started to glow as a soul, gaining control of her ethereal form. She pounced down from the ceiling nook and lunged herself to the back of the creature. Immediately vanishing in the dark of its being. And there, as the breath before the plunge, she braced herself, and in her dream silently screamed from the top of her lungs:

GET OUT!!!

*

With those words still ringing in her ears, Paige woke up. The all too known maniacal laughter of the underworld faded in its echoing. With eyes wide open she saw a shadow dash through the bedroom, zig-zagging past the candles, then disappearing in one of the ceiling's dark upper corners. She jerked her head to the left where Sam should be. Where he was. Blissfully sleeping, apparently. Gasping for breath and with her heart still pounding violently in her chest, she had to force her voice out to peep:

"Sam..."

He answered a muffled moan.

Paige paced herself, and hissed a whisper, "Sam, wake up", and, shaking his shoulder, whimpering, "please turn the lights on."

With that, Sam, who's body had been limp asleep while she shook him, froze up in the tightness of resistance.

"No."

Another wave of fear undulated through Paige. Sam's voice was cold and harsh. Yet peculiarly clear. Clear in that way his voice would change from half-drunk half-asleep when they were whispering conversations earlier that night.

"Sam, please..."

He remained unmoving, and his back looked so much broader. As if he had sucked in all the air his lungs could fit, and he spat out the words as if he was choking.

"You shouldn't have feared."

The shadows in the room thickened, like thunderclouds swirling, rolling over each other, closing in toward the bed wherein they lay. Panick-struck, Paige fumbled to find her phone, lying on the bed stand next to her. All the while Sam kept retching words.

"You should not have shown us fear. Not me...", a snakelike hiss, "I despise cowardice." He continued, "Not him...", and following a groan, Sam's voice got louder, to the point of almost shouting, "Now, he knows you are weak, Paige."

"He knows you're a target."

A roar:

"And that's exactly what you'll forever be!"

Paige turned 'round and pressed the button of her phone's flashlight, illuminating the room with its harsh light, yet in that she found herself staring directly into the pitch-black of Sam's eyes. Sam, who had turned around and now lay with his hand supporting his head. Grinning. For a second she froze, seeing those eyes. Yet it was not the first time she had seen them. They were like the shark's, pools of the merciless empty, and in that she understood Sam's true predatory nature.

She leapt out of the bed, flashing the light of her phone through the near impenetrable thickness of the darkened fog around her. Then, thinking on her feet, jolted across the room to reach the window. Something inside her screamed she had to open it. Let fresh air in. Air. She grabbed the French window's handles and pulled on them, all the while hearing the two demons' maniacal laughter, gaining in loudness and penetrating her mind again. Finally, the window's panels flew open and a strong gale came washing in. Paige did not look back, agilely climbed on the sill, and in a fit of fear and insanity promptly plummeted toward her redemption.

*

With a shock Paige woke. This time for real. She knew because their bedroom never had French windows, but tilt and turn windows, and she was directly looking at them, awash in light as she had instinctively pressed the light-switch next to her side of the bed. She turned back, toward Sam, who had woken up and looked at her sleepy-faced. Kind eyes. Normal eyes. Needing little more than a half, still adjusting to the light, look to open his arms for Paige, taking her in a warm embrace.

"Bad dream?", he sighed, softly kissing her cheek. Caressing her back as she drove her face into his neck. She whimpered softly in his arms, softly shuddering in release of emotion. He lulled, "Shh, it was just a dream." Then, hugging her more tightly, "damn, that must have been a wild one."

"I'll hold you."

The light-switch on his side clicked.

"You can tell me all about it tomorrow."

As her heart paced itself, and her breaths returned deep and normal, Paige was awash in relief. The power of the nightmare already faded within her, so much that she even rolled her eyes at her first thoughts beholding their old alarm clock, and the violent orange light of its numbers displaying 3:33 AM. Instead, she kissed Sam's neck, and welcomed the fact that the hand caressing her back had already trailed down to find her butt, and was teasingly squeezing her.

[unnatural-narrative]

Bro

What if Dean and Cas got drunk together

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975014

Truth or Dare

Dean wasn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to angel crap.

Cas appearing out of the blue certainly wasn’t one of them, but at least now he was used to it enough that he didn’t jump out of his skin when he saw Cas standing in the middle of their motel room.

That didn’t stop him from nearly spilling his beer he was nursing on himself as Cas appeared in the corner of his eye.

“Jesus-”

Cas looked at him with uncaring eyes. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, putting his beer on the nightstand. He willed his heart rate to go back to normal, well as normal as it could be without the alcohol pumping through his system. But Dean was only three beers in, with his experience he knew it probably wasn’t that much higher.

“I see you got our message,” Dean said, putting his laptop aside.

“Yes,” Cas said, scanning the motel room. “But I don’t understand why you need my help. Is there something wrong? Did you find Jesse?”

“No, nothing like that.” Dean didn’t even want to think about the little antichrist and how badly they almost fucked up with him. Lying, going to his mom, telling her where he was wasn’t the smartest move. Cas didn’t fair any better. Frankly, Dean thought it was lucky they were all alive after he saw what the kid could do. They had had too many close calls, too many to count and Dean suspected with the coming apocalypse, the number wasn’t going to start decreasing.

Dean got up from the bed, suddenly at a loss for what to say, forgetting why they even invited Cas over in the first place.

“Uh,” he started with. “How are you feeling?”

Dean felt Cas’s eyes roving over him, searching for hidden meaning. “I’m… fine. Considering the circumstances.”

Before he could stop it, a chuckle came from Dean. “Yeah. I don’t suspect anyone would like getting turned into G.I. Joe from Rosemary’s baby.”

“Did you find the Colt?”

“No, not yet-”

“Then I don’t understand your summonings.”

“What? No, it’s not. I mean-” Dean gave up trying to explain himself and pushed past Cas to the mini fridge sitting under the tv. He pulled out a beer, turned and held it out, expectedly at Cas.

Cas took it after a second, tentative. His eyes go from the beer to Dean. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Drink it, Cas. Boys night in! What do you say?”

Cas looked back at the beer, quizzically, using both of his hands as if he expected the can to magically hop away.

“Boys night…” Cas said.

“Yeah…” Dean said, doubt creeping in as the awkwardness of the night was suddenly making an appearance to him. God, why did he even think of this idea? “A little get together. You, me, Sam, booze. Maybe watch a little West coast football. Waddya say?”

Dean didn’t expect Cas to say yes. Hell, he didn’t even think Cas would come tonight let alone hang out with the people that turned Cas’ world upside down. Didn’t he have heavenly shit to do?

Cas still wasn’t answering, so Dean went back to the nightstand and took a sip of his own beer.

“Where’s Sam?” Cas said.

“Beer run. But we got some heavy stuff in the trunk if you’re interested.”

“Heavy stuff?”

“Shots. Tequila.” Dean paused. “You ever got smashed before?”

“No, I can’t say I have,” Cas said, looking at the nutritional facts on the side of the can. “Besides all the affects of alcohol uh… ‘don’t do it for me’ as you say.”

“Well, let’s test the theory a little bit, don’t you think?” Dean smiled, taking another sip. The beer was losing its chill, the carbonation wasn’t attacking his tongue as strong as when he opened it. Dean wished Sam would be back soon. He was almost halfway done.

Cas looked at him curiously. “I don’t understand. What do you require of me?”

“Uh. I require you to drink that beer,” Dean said as he sat at the corner of the bed. “Come on, sit down. I want to know what a beer tastes like to an alcohol virgin.”

For a second it looked like Cas was going to protest, but then his mouth closed. He slid out the desk chair and sat across from Dean a little too close for Dean’s comfort, their knees centimeters away. Dean let it slide, for now.

Cas looked at the beer then at Dean.

“Here-“ Dean set his beer between his knees and took the can from Cas’ hands. “You pull the tab like this.”

With a sharp, metallic snap he cracked open a cold one and handed it to Cas. Cas still took it gingerly. When Cas didn’t drink, Deran raised his own beer to his lips, and finally, Cas echoed his movement.

“So?” Dean asked when Cas swallowed. “What do you think? You in?”

“It tastes like molecules.”

Even though it wasn’t funny, Dean had to laugh. “I’ve drank worse things than that, compadre. But, uh, thanks for your honesty.”

“Dean, what am I doing here.”

“Because… we’re friends, duh.”

Cas considered him a moment before playing along. “Right.”

It’s not like they weren’t friends before. But they never officially “hung out”.

Dean realized this when he (again) almost lost Cas that day. Cas already died once this year, and once was enough.

So what if Dean was the reason for Sam going on a beer run. It’s not like he can drink alone tonight. The uselessness against the onslaught of the apocolaypse might be wearing on him, but right now, he just wanted a fucking break. Maybe he had more than three beers. He had been sober as soon as Sam went off. Somehow, this run-of-mill demon drama this week, somehow he was craving something more tonight.

“Cas, this is what we humans call ‘asking you to prom’.”

“What?”

“We want to hang out with you, dumbass. Stick around, enjoy a beer… talk a little. I just thought we could-“

“Explore each other’s emotional bonds with each other.”

“Well, jeez, Cas, when you put it like that. Why can’t you get drunk?”

“My tolérance level can’t compare to the mind of mortals.”

“Well, okay then,” Dean said. “Then in that case, lets test that theory.”

“What?”

“I wanna see if I can out drink an angel.”

“Dean, I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“What, you chicken? How do you know your tolerance level if you’ve never tested it?”

“My grace takes care of all my vessels automatic functions.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like you’re scared.”

“No, it’s just that you’d be at a disadvantage.”

Dean blinks at Cas, a smile tugging on his lips. “Is that so? Ooh, I know, we should play a drinking game.”

“A game where you… drink?”

“Yeah uh, like Never Have I Ever, Truth or Dare-“

“Go fish?”

“I mean,” he laughs towards Cas. “Anything can be turned into a drinking game, but I think I’d rather stick to Truth or Dare.”

“How do you play?” Cas asked. Dean was surprised. He didn’t expect the angel would want to stay.

“Uh simple, you have to choose between telling the truth or doing what I tell you.”

Dean had had seven dreams the past few weeks about exactly that, but he willed his brain not to think about it.

“And if I don’t?” Cas’s eyes locked with Dean and for a moment, Dean can’t breathe. He suppressed a shiver and moved on like nothing happened.

Dean grinned. “Then you have to drink. Hold on.”

Dean kicked in the motel bedroom a bottle of tequila, salt, and three shotglasses. “Let’s make this more interesting. Every time you don’t answer a question, or doesn’t do the dare has to take one of these.”

“And this is a common bond strengthening that’s been shared for millennia between man?”

Dean shrugged with the bottle of tequila in his hand. “Pretty much.”

“Well, frankly, I don’t know what I expected.”

“You mean you have no idea what humans do in their freetime?”

“It never piqued my interest until now, no.”

“You’re interested now?”

“You could say that.”

Dean felt Cas’ eyes as he sat down, laying his supplies on the bed. He didn’t ask what Cas could mean.

“Alright Cas, truth or dare.”

“I pick one?”

“Yep.”

“...Dare.”

Surprised, Dean smiled. “Ooh, you’re going to regret that. Take a shot.”

Cas blinked at him. “Right now?”

“No, next Tuesday. Yes, right now, it’s truth or dare, man.”

“Okay.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Here, I’ll teach you,” he said, putting his beer on the floor.

Dean made him hold up a shot glass while he filled it, the tequila’s pungent aroma reaching his nose. He then took it and made Cas hold another. He then licked the back of his hand and, ignoring Cas’ confused expression, poured salt on his wet hand.

“Wish we had limes, but this will do.”

Without being told, Cas copied him, tongue quickly darting in and out of his mouth, marking the back of his hand. Dean salted his hand and said: “Lick the salt then take the shot.”

“Why?”

“It’ll make it taste better.”

“Oh. Why are you taking one too? It was my dare.”

“Can’t let a man take his first shot alone.”

“Is that another human ritual?”

“No, but it should be. Works for all parties involved.” Dean hold up his shot glass. “Cheers, man.”

Thankfully, Cas knew how to cheers. He had taught him that at the brothel Dean had taken him to. Cas had learned a lot that night, more than Dean thought, évédent of the fact that Cas knew how to take a shot. One swallow, all going to the back of the throat, just like Dean did it. Dean watched Cas’ Adam’s apple bob up and down just as the burn at the back of his throat spread into a warm feeling in his stomach. Should’ve ate something today…

It was no sooner than Cas swallowed, he broke into a fit of coughing.

“Whoa, you okay?” Dean laughed, clapping his friends’ shoulder. “How’d that go?”

“It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t drink it for the taste.”

“Even if I did have human habits, I don’t know how that would be worth it.”

“So, you don’t feel anything?”

Cas sat up straight after the coughing. He frowned and looked down at his shot glass.

“No. But… there may be a point where my system can be overloaded… then I might feel something.”

“So drink enough and you might get a buzz?”

“Possibly.”

“Hell, I’ll take it. We’ll get you feeling good by the end of the night.” The shot he just took winked at Cas.

The corner of Cas’ mouth twitched. Dean wanted to see the whole smile.

“You’re drunk already Dean. I don’t understand, I thought we were waiting for Sam.”

“Yeah, we are. We’ll just have a head start. Sam will have to catch up. We’ll get him with a good dare. But in the meantime, let’s see what you got. Ask me.”

“...Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Dean declared.

“...I dare you… to take a shot.”

“What, come on you can’t repeat dares!”

“You didn’t tell me this before.”

“Well, I thought you had a little imagination, Cas. You want to make them do something they wouldn’t normally do. Eat a spoonful of mayonnaise, streak naked through the parking lot. That sort of stuff.”

“Oh.” Cas’s eyes look around the room for inspiration.

“Take a shot… with no salt.”

Dean gave him a look. “Seriously? Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I want to see what it looks like.”

“What, being drunk?”

Cas nodded.

“You’ve seen me drunk before, Cas.”

“I think that was a different blood alcohol than what you’re at now.”

“You can tell my blood alcohol level?”

“Well, not exactly. But I can take a pretty good guess.”

Can you now? He wanted to say, but didn’t, because reasons.

“Fine. I’ll take a shot. But only for you to realize what you’re missing as a human.”

“I’ll study closely.”

Dean lifted his eyes to where he was filling the shot. Was Cas flirting with him? Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t, but he couldn’t disguise the ease he felt when he was around Cas, especially, now, letting his guard down with this stupid game and the drink running through his veins.

“Cheers to you, the biggest douchebag in all of holy heaven.”

Dean knocked it back, the tequila going down easier than the first one, despite the lack of salt distracting his tongue from the taste. That was a bad sign. Then he found Cas’ eyes. No. This was a good sign.

“If this is all we’re doing with the dares, I’ll just pick truth instead.”

“I thought the point of the game was getting drunk.”

“I didn’t know you would go for maximum damage.” He had to get back at him now. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

Again, a surpriser.

“I dare you to bring me top-shelf tequila. And you have to drink the whole bottle by the end of the night.”

After a pointed stare, Cas disappeared in a woosh of wind and reappeared a moment later, holding a very big, very expensive bottle of tequila.

Dean laughs. “Nice. Much better than my $12 shit.”

Cas shifts the bottle into both of his hands.

They both speak at the same time.

“Do you want to-“

“Can I have a -“

“Try it?”

“Taste?”

They both look up at each other from the bottle. Dean got caught in Cas’ stare, absentmindedly licking his bottom lip. Cas eyes the movement.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll make it a little easier for you.”

Dean took the bottle out of Cas’ hands and poured another shot for him and Cas. Dean started to think he was enjoying himself because the warm feeling in his gut steadily spread up his chest and into the back of his head.

Cas was his bar: holding up the two shotglasses while it took Dean two hands to pour the bottle. Deans fingers brushed Cas’ when he took his glass. This is was his third shot in ten minutes.

Cas and Dean clinked their glasses together, but Dean couldn’t think about anything to cheers to.

“To the end of a very long year.”

“Dean, it’s October.”

“Ain’t too soon to start celebrating.”

Dean’s shot went dutifully down the hatch, but he couldn’t help but make a face when he resurfaced. Cas shot his down a moment later.

“Truth or dare?” Cas said.

“Truth,” he relented. His vision was swimming. It was a nice feeling.

“I assume this part of the game also ends in humiliation for the players?”

“You got it.”

“...When was the last time-”

Here it comes.

“-you were happy?”

Oh. That certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Come on, man, you can’t ask that.”

“Why not? If you don’t, you’ll have to take a shot.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I said a drink. It doesn’t have to be a shot.”

“I thought you said you could outdrink me. You also said I could ask anything I want. Are you sure you know how to play this game?” Cas’ eyes focused on Dean. “Answer the question.”

“I don’t know. When we found James Dean’s car, that was pretty gnarly.” Right now was a close second though. “Why’d you go all deep all the sudden?”

“I just… wanted to know. I’m sorry if I broke another rule.”

“No, you didn’t it’s just- No one’s ever asked me if- In the game- It’s usually how many girls you’ve been with or how many drugs you’ve taken. Not any Dr. Phil crap.”

“So the question worked? It made you uncomfortable anyway?”

“No, I guess it’s just…pretty surprising hearing that talk from you.”

“I’m just trying to understand what I rebelled for.”

“What did you rebel for?” Dean asked.

“Dean. I didn’t pick truth.”

Dean had to stop himself before he swayed too far in Cas’ direction. He covered it up with an easy smile and a little laugh. “Oh, so it’s your turn now. I didn’t know you’d like this game so much. Dare then. Okay.” He took a pensive little sip of his beer. “I dare you to pick truth next term.”

“You’d waste your turn on that? That can’t possibly be legal.”

“There’s something you don’t want me to ask, Cas?”

“I’m just making sure the game is fair.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Truth or Dare, Dean.”

Oh, what the hell. “Truth.”

“How many sexual encounters encounters have you had before?”

Dean cracked a smile. “Can’t say I’ve kept track. You’d be the first angel I’ve...that um, ever asked me that.”

“What do you think a rough estimate would be?”

“Why are you so keen to know?”

“It was one of your suggestions, Dean.”

“16.”

Cas only nodded to that information. “I see.” Cas looked down to where he was holding his beer and shot glass in both of his hands. “What did you want to ask me?”

So many things. Why did you pull me out of heaven? What’s it like being an angel? How many sexual encounters have you had? But what came out was: “Why’d you agree to play?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a stupid game, why are you playing with me?”

Cas studied him for a moment before tilting his shot glass towards Dean.

It took a moment for Dean’s alcohol filled brain to catch up.

“What-? Seriously? You’d rather drink than answer that?”

“It’s not like it’lll affect me.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, hotshot.”

As Dean was filling up his shot, a question burned inside Dean’s body, heating him up from the inside. Why didn’t Cas answer? Dean felt his ears turn pink as he looked up at Cas- and was met with the most startling, electric-blue stare that made Dean overfill the shot glass, spilling clear liquid all over the angels lap.

“Shit.” Dean set down the bottle and pressed the sleeves of his jacket to Cas’ pants before he knew what he was doing. Cas’ legs were warm to the touch.

“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas said, but he didn’t try to push him away.

“I’ll get you a towel-”

“Dean-” Cas’ hand snaked out and caught the wrist of Dean’s. Dean stopped getting up, breathless.

“Truth or Dare,” Cas asked him. Dean sank back against the bed. He realized he didn’t want Cas to let go.

“Whoa, there, Speed Racer. You got to finish your shot.”

Never taking his eyes off of Dean, Cas took two swallows of tequila. The hand that held the shot glass pressed against the back of Cas’ mouth to get stray drops of moisture, but he still didn’t let go of Dean.

“Look at you, big boy.” Dean smiled. “Do you feel anything yet?”

“Maybe,” Cas said. He looked at his own thumb brush against the edge of Dean’s jacket. “There’s something.” Cas’ eyes raked slowly up, finally stopping when meeting Dean’s. “Truth or Dare,” he said, deadpan and deep.

For some reason Dean felt that Cas wanted him to pick dare. “Truth,” he said defiantly.

“Why are you addicted to alcohol?”

Dean felt his blood run cold. He thought a minute, sucking on his lips. “Why wouldn’t I be? You saw me in hell.”

“Do you still get nightmares?”

Dean laughed nervously. “Hey, buddy, one question at a time.” He took a sip of beer, pulling back his hand. He had let that gone on long enough. But, damn, that tequila was getting to him. “Every damn night,” Dean said quietly. He avoided Cas’ gaze. After a moment, he said: “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Angel, you never fail to surprise me.”

Cas raised a tortuous eyebrow.

“What’s your addiction, Cas?” he heard himself say.

Cas looked down at his own hand, fingers curling around the absence of Dean’s.

Cas was silent for a long moment.

You, Dean wanted him to say.

“Humanity,” Cas answered.

“Seriously? Come on, man. What’s so great about mankind? We fight, we kill. We drink.”

“I don’t think you give yourselves enough credit, Dean,” Cas said, pinning him with his stare. Dean didn’t realize how close they were until he felt Cas’ baritone, deep inside his chest. Dean wanted to close his eyes and take all of the moment in. Cas’ eyes, that feeling in his gut, the simple knowledge that he knew he was getting closer and closer to Cas.

“You… find joy in the darkest of times, you love, you… play games. Even though it’s the end of the world.”

Dean felt himself swallow. They stared at each other, both of them breathless.

“Cas,” he said, barely a whisper. “Ask me.”

Dean looked at his friends’ hair and wanted to run his hand through it.

“Truth or dare?” Cas asked. Dean couldn’t move.

“Dare,” Dean breathed.

“Kiss me.”

:P and then sam comes back