#ironically my first attempt left me like I NEVER WANT TO STUDY SCIENCE and now I’m like 👀 sports science???? real shit??? 👀👀👀 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sturchling · 3 years

Note

I loved the Avengers story you wrote!! I hope it's not too much to ask for another so soon, but I had this idea. What if Peter goes on a trip with Tony to France while he does some work, but on the condition that he has to go to school. So he goes to Dupont. He ends up in Bustier's class as a temporary student, not mentioning he's there with Tony Stark, but mentions he's from NYC. Lila takes that as a cue to start lying about knowing Tony Stark. Peter is not amused. Nor is Tony. Who sues her.

Sorry this took so long! Got so busy out of no where and then the rainy season started! But here you go! Hope you like it!

Peter was very excited today. Mr. Stark was going to Paris for some business for the next several weeks and Peter had convinced Mr. Stark to let him come too. Peter had never been to France and had always really wanted to go. He spent days convincing Mr. Stark, telling him that it would be a good educational opportunity to learn about France and to practice his French. Of course, Tony had always intended on Peter coming with him, not that he ever would tell the kid that. Tony had found Peter's attempts at convincing him pretty funny actually. Tony 'relented' and said Peter could come, on the condition that he attend a school while they are there, since they would be there for several weeks. Peter eagerly agreed and the pair started looking into potential schools for Peter.

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The two wanted to make sure that they choose a school with an excellent curriculum and was a fantastic school for peter. After a while, they found one school that looked particularly promising. Francois Dupont. All the students seemed to excel in their studies and the school had classes for several diverse interests. Peter was especially interested in Mrs. Mendeleiev, seeing as she is the science teacher. Once they had decided on this school, Tony started filing paperwork to temporarily transfer Peter to this school. Peter was soon accepted to Francois Dupont and got his class assignment. He had been placed in Mrs. Bustier's class. Soon, Tony and Peter were ready to leave for Paris and were on the way to the airport.

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Peter had arrived early at Francois Dupont for his first day at the school. He was now sitting in the principal's, Mr. Damocles' office, and the principal was going over some of the rules for the school. After a while, the door opened behind Peter and a smaller girl with dark hair walked in. "Ah, Peter, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class rep for Mrs. Bustier's class. Miss Dupain-Cheng, thank you for coming. This is Peter Parker. He has temporarily transferred into your class and as class rep, I would like you to show him around the school." The girl, Marinette, smiled at Peter. "Of course Mr. Damocles. It is nice to meet you Peter! Lets go, I'll show you around." Peter got his bag and followed after Marinette, glad to be free of the rambling principal.

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Marinette did a fantastic job of showing Peter the school and telling him about the members of the class. Peter had been given a class roster when he arrived, with the names of his new classmates. While Marinette had spoken highly of almost the entire class, she had clearly avoided talking about one student in particular. All Marinette had said about Lila Rossi was that she was a transfer student from Italy. That is it. She had gone on and on about all the other students and their interests and achievements. But she was obviously avoiding discussing Lila, and that didn't escape Peter's notice. He did wonder why Marinette didn't talk about her, and was a bit hesitant about this Lila. If a nice girl like Marinette won't talk about her, maybe this Lila wasn't too nice herself. Peter didn't want to judge her without meeting her, but he would be careful when he did.

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Peter was sitting in the classroom now. Marinette and he were sitting on a bench towards the back of the room. He really liked Marinette and the two quickly became friends, talking about random things and Peter told her all about New York. The classroom was still mostly empty with only a few other students there. The students that were there had already come to talk to him and welcome him to the class. Then he felt Marinette stiffen next to him. Peter looked over and saw her staring at the door. When he glanced over, he saw a girl had just walked in. This girl had long brown hair in three different ponytails, one at the back and two at the front. She seemed very confident and as soon as she walked in, practically the whole class gathered around her. This girl must be Lila, based on Marinette's reaction. Lila focused in on Peter almost instantly. As she approached his desk with a fake smile on her face, Peter started to understand why Marinette may not like this girl.

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Lila noticed the new boy immediately when she walked in the room. He was reasonably handsome, and he was a new person to trick. So he had Lila's undivided attention. She was sure she could have him under her spell by lunch. She walked over to the desk he was sitting at, next to little miss goody two shoes Marinette, with her most dazzling smile. "Hi, my name is Lila. Who are you?" Peter smiled tightly at Lila, trying not to judge her based on that very fake smile of hers. "My name is Peter Parker. I have transferred here temporarily from New York." Lila didn't let her smile fail her. But him only being here temporarily is hardly worth the effort on her part. After all, he would leave eventually, and then she couldn't use him in any way. But he could be good practice for her lies anyway. Besides, she has plenty of lies that should work for a New Yorker. Lila prepared for her next performance, not realizing it was the first step in her downfall.

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"You are from New York? I love New York! I visit there from time to time when my mother's work brings her there. I have a lot of friends there. I even know Tony Stark." That made Peter pause. She knew Mr. Stark? He had never mentioned a Lila or knowing anyone in Paris. It was clear to Peter that this girl was nothing but a liar. He wanted to see how far she would go with this story, and he was sure Mr. Stark would want to know as well. "You know Tony Stark? Really?" Lila saw that Peter was interested so she grabbed on to this story and continued. "Yeah! He is so sweet. He thinks of me like a daughter and sometimes I even get to stay at Stark Tower with him. I've helped him work out some of the problems with a few of his inventions. I've even given some input into his latest Iron Man suit design. There was even this one time that I helped him catch some criminals when he was acting as Iron Man. It was super cool! I could probably introduce you to him sometime if you like?" Peter was genuinely shocked by all the lies this girl just told. There was no way she actually knew Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark would never need her help with his inventions or the Iron Man suit. And he certainly wouldn't involve a random civilian girl in his fights as Iron Man. Peter just nodded and mumbled a thank you, before the class mercifully started and he was left alone. Marinette leaned over and apologized about Lila, but Peter was too busy thinking about what to do to say anything.

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At the end of the day, Peter went back to the hotel he and Mr. Stark are staying and went straight to Mr. Stark's room. Peter had spoken with Marinette about the liar and asked about everything that she had lied about. He told Mr. Stark everything that happened with the liar, and everything she had said about him. Mr. Stark was angry that this random girl was trying to use him for gain. Tony didn't tolerate this kind of thing at all. If this girl wanted to lie about him, she would find out why that is a bad idea. Tony got on the phone and started speaking to his lawyer. This Lila would regret the day she lied about him.

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The next day, Peter was sitting in class waiting for the chaos to start. He knew that Mr. Stark was coming, and that he was going to take down the liar. The liar in question was holding court down at the front of the room. She was slightly disappointed that her lies didn't seem to work too well on Peter, but it hardly mattered since he would leave eventually. He just better not try to reveal her or she would make his life difficult for the whole time he is here. About half way through the class, the door to the room slammed open, and in walked Tony Stark. He walked straight to the center of the class, and his lawyers followed, surrounding him. Peter suppressed a smile, Mr. Stark was fond of his grand entrances.

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Tony looked around at the class, before zeroing in on the girl that Peter had described to him. He took off his glasses, while the class just stared at him stunned. "Lila Rossi, I have heard you have been telling lies about me. What is this nonsense I heard about you helping me with my inventions and suit? I have never met you in my life, and I certainly wouldn't need your help with my work. And you said that I put you in harms way and had you help me with my work as Iron Man. I do not tolerate slander." Tony snaps his fingers, and one of his lawyers drops a thick stack of papers on the desk in front of the liar. The liar stares at the papers in front of her, not even able to understand what is happening. "What is this?" Tony smirked at the young liar. "That is a lawsuit for slander. And before you try to hide this from your mother, because I know you have a habit of keeping things from her, you should know I have already spoken to her and sent a copy of the paperwork to your home. Maybe you will think twice before you try to lie about me again."

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At this point, Lila gave up trying to hide that she was a liar. That was clearly a lost cause. She had just been revealed in front of the whole class. And she was angry. "How did you find out about me?! I only just said that stuff yesterday! It was Marinette wasn't it?! She has been trying to reveal me for ages, it has to be her! But how did she get in touch with you?!" Tony's smirk only grew. "Actually, I don't know a Marinette. You really should be more careful who you lie too. Isn't that right Peter?" In less than a second, every head snapped around to stare at Peter. Peter took his turn to smile. "That's right Mr. Stark. You never know who someone might know." The whole class looked back and forth between the two, before Lila yelled, "YOU TWO KNOW EACH OTHER?! How could you know Mr. Stark!? You don't seem very important." Tony walked past Lila, and up the stairs towards Peter as he speaks. "Actually, Peter is part of the Stark Industries intern program. He actually does help me in my lab, he is very smart." The whole class was shocked by this revelation. Tony turned to face Peter and Marinette again. "You know Peter, I think we should go get some lunch somewhere. And are you Marinette? Peter told me about you. Why don't you join us." Marinette quickly agreed, still a little shocked that Tony Stark was standing in front of her and had invited her to lunch. The small group left, and the class erupted into chaos. They all turned on Lila demanding answers, asking if she had been lying the entire time. Meanwhile Lila just sat in horrified silence. Everything was over. She had been revealed. She was in so much trouble. She was being sued. And all because she lied about Tony Stark to Peter Parker, the exact worst person to lie to.

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bokettochild · 3 years

Text

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

Angst! My Beloved!

Not a lot of whump here, but I put Wild through the wringer!!! Lots of BotW2 ideas and concepts here, but nothing really cannon.

Also, disclaimer: I think Flora is a wonderful person, a bit harsh and sometimes unkind, but I feel for her a lot. The prompt submitted to me however asked for her as an ass, so that's what's here, for angst reasons. THIS IS NOT HOW I PLAN ON WRITING HER NORMALLY!!!

When Wild left the Chain behind in the woods, it was with a soft smile and a hesitant wave of his right hand. It was with a gentle ‘See y’all later’ that made Warriors shake his head with a sigh while Twilight offered a wobbly grin.

He would join them again, he knew that. After all, Hylia wouldn’t have chosen him to go with them in the first place if he was only supposed to leave before they’d even really started to know what it was that they were meant to be doing.

He’d see them again, and he’d fall back into a routine with all of them, sparring with Warriors and teaching Hyrule to cook and shield surfing with Wind and learning to carve from Sky. He’d go back to sewing with Legend, to exploring with Hyrule, to learning the Ocarina with Time and teasing Twilight about his terrible singing. He could work with Four on the Sheikah Slate and experimenting with different plants he’d gathered. He would see them again, and he’d go back to being busy and smiling nearly every day.

For the time being however, he had to square his shoulders and harden his jaw as he stepped through the swirl of black that had repulsed all the others every time they tried to enter. He had to tame his mind and wild spirit and come to stand before the Princess of Hyrule in all of her stern glory and receive the scolding he was due for wandering off without permission.

He never had time to question what she meant by being gone for ‘two whole weeks’ before she was marching off towards the labs and explaining that there was a new task for them to complete.

Such a task was one that left in his mind no time for thoughts of his brothers save on the lonely nights in the sky when the islands above the clouds were silent save for the birds about him that reminded him of Sky, or when he ran across the forests and was reminded of the wolf that once ran at his side. And, alright, the tiny people in the grass and the fountains reminded him of Four and Hyrule. When the wind sang strong in his ears as he dove towards the earth from the highest places in the sky, he couldn’t help but envision a small hero whose laughter danced like the sea and who’s fingers mastered the currents of wind and sea both.

It was a lonely quest, just like his last before it, but somehow it was more painfully so, now that he knew what it was to have brothers at his side to catch a monster’s blade when he was too slow or to help him patch himself up afterwards. It was quiet when the Princess and he sat around the fires as night, she studying him as he sat still and stonelike as she worked.

The hand that had waved goodbye to his brothers now flickered green and ethereal in the night shades, iron bands clinging to the wisping appendage and acting as a bond to hold its form together. It was nothing like what he’d known or studied in the Sheikah technology, or even what he’d seen from the many worlds he’d traveled with the other, and it earned many a stare and twist of the lips from those he met and traded with during his journey.

The arm was only the first of many changes, it’s power seeping through his body and altering him before he even knew what was happening. He’d hated it at first, disliking how it changed him, made his eyes glow and his hair touch with the same ethereal shades, red bleeding through at the roots and earning him even more wary looks.

Ganon, in all his terrifying power, had been a surprising comfort during the quest, an aid to discovering his new abilities and training them to bend to his own will. The Princess had been wary of their relationship, but had accepted it when she saw what he learned to do, and every evening she would require a report of his newfound skills, as well as the occasional demonstration or examination.

It all came to an end both too soon and not soon enough.

Ganon was gone, as if he’d never been there at all, and the Princess was as cold as ever even after their second adventure at each other's sides. And now there was no use for the abilities that had fused to his soul like the arm had to his flesh. He’d asked Purah if there was something that could be done to restore his body to its normal Hylian state, without the glowing limb that earned his only stares and insults from the village people, but the Princess had overheard it and declared that such a thing should not even be attempted.

“You don’t understand, Link. Don’t be foolish! We have here a scientific marvel ready for our investigation and exploration and you want to get rid of it just because it looks odd?”

He’s shuffled his feet slowly, resisting the impulse to rub at his chest where the Hylian part of him ended and the eldritch horror began. “I can’t live like Hylian anymore.”

“Because you aren’t one!” Her Highness rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Sir Knight, after everything I certainly doubt that Hylian even applies to you anymore! Hylians do not possess the qualities that you now do, and they most certainly do not travel through stone or time or any other such thing at will. Think would you! You’re something else entirely, and I intend to find out what that is!”

Purah had frowned at that, eyes full of sorrow as they met his own with an apologetic sigh. But there was nothing the de-aged scientist could really say against the royal Sovreign of Hyrule, not as a Sheikah sworn to the service of the royal family. The woman/girl had offered him a sympathetic pat on the head later after climbing up to reach high enough to do so, as well as a few dumplings that Paya had sent on her grandmother’s behalf the day before. It was a welcome gesture, but amounted to so little on the grand scale of life. Not when so many others he had once called his friends had so blatantly rejected the mere sight of him.

Bolson and the other carpenters shied away from him with harsh whispers as they spat insults across the distance.

‘Half-blood’.

‘Gerudo Bastard’.

‘Freak’.

‘Demon’.

There were favorite insults spread from stable to stable and up and coming village to up and coming town and slowly all of Hyrule knew of the monster that had once been the hero. Gossip abounded, and he couldn’t even turn to shield his face with his hood without drawing attention to his arm.

It was only the koroks that welcomed him, themselves all too accustomed to the strange and ethereal. Them and the blupees.

Maybe it was the knowledge of how it felt to be shot at for his oddness that allowed him to ease into the graces of the flighty animals. And maybe it was his lonely heart crying for comfort, but when nestled in their midst, it almost reminded him of how it felt to be hugged by the salty veteran, on the rare occasional that the pink-haired hero had let down his guard.

The fairy’s tangled themselves in his hair and the blupees gathered at his feet, koroks dancing around him and flying to his side as if he was some sort of forest god, but the strange rise of his spirits in their presence shattered the instant a traveler caught sight of him.

Arrows and fire, once his favorite of weapons, were turned against him as words in every language of the New Hyrule had burst from the mouths of its people, and like his namesake, he ran before them, darting through the forest and fading in amidst the trees, hiding, incorporeal and translucent within the halls of the forest as those he’d once seen as allies pushed him away.

He’d begged the new Queen for aid, for relief or even just a word to the people that he wasn’t the evil they had come to think he was, but she only waved him aside with a purse of her lips. “You are not meant to be here without first asking.” The Child of Hylia declared, eyes as cold as the Shrine’s waters themself. “And why should I make a declaration on behalf of a man who refuses to even speak to me properly? You come groveling like a worm, yet for years it was I who you ignored. See how it feels, Sir Hero, to be the one left helpless at the hands of the country. Know what it is to be scorned by those who you thought would love you.”

He’d barely made it out of the window before the trainee guards of the newly repaired Hyrule Castle had caught him and Queen Zelda Diana Hyrule had stared after him with eyes colder than Hebra’s tallest peaks.

It was the Father Tree -the Deku Tree as the Queen had called it, but the koroks laughed at him for using the name, so he’d adjusted in kind- who suggested that he hide the changes, and he’d begun to wander Hyrule as much as possible to find the materials he would have needed.

The Queen still required his presence regularly so she could inspect him; her love of science no ways tainted as to stop her from ordering him to appear regularly, as there was now no need or safety in his acting as her guard. The Queen sought her people’s respect, and to employ such a being as himself, not Hylian and not quite mortal, would be to spark fear in the people. Indeed, when he skirted villages, he would wince at word of ‘the queen’s monster’ as gossip was traded. Those who didn’t see him themselves knew him as a beast of feral nature who lived amid the lost woods and destroyed any who came close.

“A specter that glows with the light of the shrines.” They would tell each other over campfires. “It has eyes like a ghost, empty and lost, with no care for humanity or Hylia’s chosen. They say it was once the Hero of this world, but he died ages ago.”

“I heard it’s the body, possessed by a being beyond this realm, a monster escaped from the edges of reality that tried to hide in our midst but corrupted it’s host so that it only scares away others, leaving it roam the earth in a shattered body. If you get too close to it though, it’ll take your instead.”

He’d stayed away from towns after that.

The blupees and koroks had been happy to help him to find what he needed to hide among the Hylians should he wish though, and two in particular guided him; the korok swinging little twigs like they were batons and humming swinging little shanties as it hopped along the path, the blupee snorting softly and nipping at his heels when he wandered too far, unnatural purple eyes staring up at him with something that was fondness and a reprimand all at once, and in their care he’d made his way across the land of Hyrule to find what would be needed to return to his once life.

The fairies and their Great cousins had been welcome help, and in time, he’d been able to walk amid the populace of Hyrule like any other, as long as he kept a long cloak about him and his hair pulled back to hide where the roots would begin showing again in gold and ethereal blue.

Once Hyrule had talked about needing to hide in his world, about the curse that followed him and made the Hylian people afraid. He’d thought it bizarre and ridiculous of the people at the time, but now he understood what it was to live it.

When the portal opened beneath his feet the day that the Queen had reprimanded him for concealing and potentially damaging the strange limb, startling the Skeikah scientists and Queen both, he’d nearly cried tears of relief.

He was going away, somewhere where he wasn’t a science project and where, unless they traveled to his world’s future, no one would know how much he had changed. His copy of the slate had enough hair dye to last him a few months, and he was certain he could make more over time, and as long as he continued wearing the tunics and gloves the fairies had helped him to adjust to hide the glow the others would probably never catch on. Or well, he could extend it anyway.

His brothers greeted him with open arms and teary eyes, and in a strange parallel to his adventure, he found himself thinking of blupees when Legend had curled against him, stiff and cold on the outside, but with fingers that clutched his tunic just a bit too tight to really be reluctant. And Four, Hyrule and Wind’s exuberant hugs and chatter brought to mind tiny forest people and koroks with twigs for batons.

It was good to be home.

It was good to cook for other people again, and they were glad to have him cook for them, even if his fondness for both Gerudo spiced dishes and fae like sweet things had increased exponentially during his newest adventure. It was good to fight at their sides, even if it was strange to once again have to take others into account before he could select a weapon. It was good to sit around a fire and talk with the others too, but that was perhaps the hardest one; it had been ages since he’d had a proper two-way conversation with anything other than a tree or a korok, and neither of those was good at either staying awake or staying focused for very long.

There were some harder things to adjust to though. Fire, for one. Unlike before when he’d have been happy to burn an enemy camp to the ground, now he was wary of using faming weapons or spreading heat further than necessary. The same went for hunting; he couldn’t bring himself to shoot an animal unless it attacked first or they needed the meat it would provide, and even then, he felt a bit bad for doing so. Is this what Twilight had felt like? Is this why the rancher never liked hunting? Because he too knew what it was like to be on the other end of the bow?

But the hardest thing by far to readjust to was his name.

‘Wild’ they had called him again, and after months of ‘the wild one’, ‘wild beast’, ‘monster’ and every other insult, slur or title that had been used on him, it made him flinch ever so slightly at the words. And unlike the other things where his brothers dismissed it as a change caused by his adventure or an increase of maturity, it was something that the others seemed to either not notice or to excuse as situational.

He had adapted though, learned to keep a smile on his face where blankness had once been required in his knightly duties, and the more he wore the mask the easier it was to put on again.

He’d reveled in traveling across time again, in dancing through battles and exploring the world without the Queen reprimanding him in her cold tones to stop wandering off. He’d pushed himself to learn more music in the last adventure, and even if his experience was more with what few instruments Ganon had had time to help him learn, he’d enjoyed sitting down with the others and borrowing one or another instrument to play a tune and sometimes he even got to sing.

He fell to comfortably into his role though, even with the changes, and he hadn’t even noticed when they’d come back to his world. To be fair, it was different in the daytime, and Hyrule had changed so much in the absence of her hero as he hid himself away from the eyes of civilization. Towns and roads had sprung up where there had only been fields before, and the Guardians that had littered the land had all been dug up and hauled to the castle to be either restored or destroyed by the Sheikah, depending on what Queen Zelda decided after she looked at them herself. The world was so different to him, so unlike that which he knew, that he’d failed to keep as alert as he ought to have been when he wandered about an open market with the others, laughing and chattering away with the other younger ones as Time and Legend herded them towards the needed stalls.

It was a traveler that was his downfall, a man who’d seen the Monster Hero and had been among the first to discover the disguise he wore.

No questions were asked when the word spread, and Wild hadn’t caught on to the whispers until a stone had struck his cheek and he was stumbling forwards on the path.

“Wild!” Twilight was at his side in a minute, Time right after him as Legend launched a barrage of insults at the guilty party who’d thrown the thing.

“’m fine.” He was careful to wipe the blood away with his cloak, holding the fabric to the wound to prevent bluish blood seeping down his face and exposing him to his brothers. He wanted to keep them as long as possible and proving himself to be a monster, not even Hylian, would surely have them turning their backs on him.

“Get away from him!” A woman scolded, grabbing ahold of two of the younger heroes while several other shoppers had like ways grabbed Legend and Sky. “Are you dears alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Freaking what?” Legend shrieked. “Who’s the injured party here?”

“I’d avoid that thing, son.” A man huffed through a frankly walrus like mustache, eyes hard as they trailed to where Wild stood, cloak still pressed to his cheek as he attempted to wave off a fussing Twilight and Time. “It’s not natural. Sure, it looks like a normal Hylian, but that’s just an effective ruse.”

Another villager nodded. “It’s one of the Calamity’s puppets, a Gerudo-Bastard set on destroying the kingdom!”

“He’s the freaking hero!” Legend shrieked, barely being held back by a steely eyed Sky. “He saved all your freaking asses and all you can do is insult his flipping guts? Who’s the-”

“Enough.” There were few times that Sky’s voice reached levels worse than Twilight’s growls, but the stern command, regal and firm, froze all present as the man stiffened with a cold nod towards the villagers. “I see we are unwelcome here, and with that being the case it would be wise to spend our rupees elsewhere. Legend,” A tug to the boy’s shoulders. “Let’s join the others and be out of their hair. If they cannot be welcoming and kind to our brother than they will not receive our patronage.” And like a swan gathering it’s cygnets, Sky swept down the street, cape fluttering as he ushered the rest of them out of the town and back to the safety of the wilds. The village stared after them with wide eyes, as if they’d just been judged by a breathing god.

The stiffness in Sky’s shoulders faded as they neared the edge of the forest, and instantly the Chosen Hero been tutting over Wild, gently but firmly prying his hand away from his face with a kind smile that almost set Wild at ease. Almost.

“It’s fine, it’s just a scrape.”

“Still.” Sky crooned softly. “I’d rather we clean it up now and make sure it’s nothing worse than let it sit and get infected later.”

And though he’d tried to fight, his single Hylian hand was no match for the firm grip of the Skyloftian, and within minutes his face was exposed to the shocked faces and flickering eyes of his brothers.

“It’s blue...” Wind breathed as Hyrule darted forwards, hands already glowing softly only for them to stutter to a stop over Wild’s skin.

“It’s... Wild, why is your blood- why is-” The healer’s eyes had flickered golden for a moment, wide as they stared up at him. “What happened to you-”

“What the freak!” Legend had startled, blinking in surprise as he stared. “Your eyes are glowing!”

Shit! The healing properties of the arm had already taken affect and it was making everything act up all weird! He shot a glance down at his arm, one hand raising to tangle in the long hair he couldn’t even see at the moment, praying silently beneath his breath that nothing was showing through. It wasn’t, but that didn’t change how Hyrule had come to fixate on his right arm, or how the healer's fingers hovered over it sparking and eyes twinkling as he whispered softly under his breath.

“Wild.” Time had sighed. “I think this one is going to need an explanation.”

All the breath left his lung in instants.

He’d panicked to say the least and Time had eventually shooed the others away to make camp as the eldest hero had sat at his side, waiting silently for him to regulate his breathing. Touch was too much right now, and any attempts from the others to ease him down or help him level out his breathes had only made him panic more. But when at last his blue eyes blinked back to clarity it was to see Time sitting at his side, a gentle tune wafting from the Ocarina at his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying his hardest not to startle Time or otherwise make the situation worse. “I should have said something, I know. I just- missed being Wild and I wanted to come back and be normal and I didn’t want to-”

“It’s alright.” Time’s voice rumbled softly, a single blue eye turning to him with a pained look, even as the man offered him a hint of a smile. “None of us talk about our adventures either.”

“Yes, but you’re people.” He sighed, rubbing the fingers of his glove together. “You’re allowed to choose things.”

There was pain in Time’s voice when their leader answered. “And you’re not?”

“I’m not Hylia anymore.” He whispered. “I don’t count.”

“You count to us.”

“That’s because you don’t know.”

Time shifted, turning to face him fully as the ocarina was set firmly in the grass. “That’s because you’re family and we care. Wild, I don’t care if Demise himself named you the king of the dead, you’re still my kid and Nayru knows I’m not going to let you go without a fight. If that means fighting you, alright, but you’d best better believe that no amount of physical or mental changes will break the bonds we all have with you.”

Something, something damaged and crushed and stitched up and torn open again clenched inside of him, tears pricking at his eyes as he stared up at Time’s royal blue gaze. “W-what?”

“You could be granted godhood, made a monster, I don’t care. You’re ours and you’ll have to deal with that.” Time smiled, warm even with the pain in his eyes as he looked down at him. “So how about you start again, maybe with the facts rather than the insults. Or,” Time softened, brows furrowing lightly. “If you want, we can just sit here and you can choose to talk about this later. We do need to know, so we can help you and keep you safe, but you don’t have to tell us right now. You can take some time to figure out what you want to say if you need.”

And, well, shoot him, but Time’s arms had always been a safe place and there was one thing he’d wanted more than anything since he had come back. Wild threw himself into his grand-mentor's arms with a soft sob, clutching tightly to the other, ignoring the armor and its sharp points and awkward shapes as he tried to hold back all the emotions swirling in his chest.

Time’s arms folding around him broke the floodgates though, and when the man’s hand had stroked through his shortened hair, he’d had to bury his face in Tim’s neck to muffle his sobs.

“There, there,” Time hummed softly, rocking slowly as he held the broken wild hero. “Let it out, little one. I have you, I’ve got you and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

#whumptober 2021 #linkeduniverse #linked universe #idiot writes angst #idiot writes whump #lu wild #lu time #lu sky #lu legend #sky is scary when he's mad #wild whump #botw2 #botw2 theories #mean flora #flora bashing #zelda botw bashing #I ACUALLY LOVE FLORE PLS DON'T HATE ME!!!!#father time

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

teenage dirtbag [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: when you're paired with the most popular girl in your grade for Chemistry class, you definitely don't expect to start liking her like that...

warning/s: none i don't think??

author's note: okay so i have a ton of requests to work through but i got sidetracked and before i knew it, five parts of this imagine were written.

It's based off the song 'Teenage Dirtbag' and idk, i thought it was cute to write! Who doesn't love the popular girl!wanda and loner!reader concept?

Here’s a cover of the song to listen to because i really liked it and a girl sings it so it immediately made the song 10x more gay, just how i like it 🥰

"Are you all comfortable?"

The class stayed silent, watching our Chemistry teacher, Mr. Hale, as he looked to everyone with a raised brow.

"You all like who you're sat with?" he asked again, as if expecting an actual response from someone.

I exchanged questioning glances with my best friend, Y/BF/N, who was sat beside me. It was the first day back in Chemistry class of our final year of high school and we were just waiting to begin.

"Anyone?" he asked, looking around.

"Yeah," a few students mumbled in response so we could move on.

He clapped his hands together. "Great! Well, don't get too comfortable because I made a seating chart."

A chorus of groans erupted from the class, including from me and Y/BF/N. Every other class had successfully managed to not give us a seating chart. I'd heard that Mr. Hale was an awkward teacher who hated students (ironically), but I didn't think he'd stoop so low as to pair us with students who weren't our friends. These new seats were also our partners for the rest of the year and were non-negotiable, so any projects or work we did would have to be with our seat buddy. Fun.

Students began to shuffle to their newly-assigned seats reluctantly as Mr. Hale read out the chart. When Y/BF/N left my side, I frowned dramatically, waving goodbye to him.

"Wanda Maximoff, you're now partners with Y/N Y/L/N," said Mr. Hale, making me look up at the mention of my name.

I didn't get chance to register what he'd said as the aforementioned girl soon approached me, settling her bag on the table beside me. I looked up and saw Wanda Maximoff smiling my way before taking a seat on the stool.

Huh. Wanda Maximoff. She was one of the most popular girls in our grade. Everybody loved her, either wanting to be friends with her, be with her or be her. I'd personally never crossed paths with her apart from the few classes we shared. She seemed nice enough, but I guess I had preconceived notions of what she was like since she'd made the very poor decision to date the most obnoxious guy ever. Anyone making decisions that terrible definitely had a flaw.

She had a twin brother, Pietro, who was also in our grade and played on the football team alongside her boyfriend. Her parents were good friends with mine, through mutual friends, I think, as I recalled my mum mentioning 'Mrs. Maximoff's boy' or 'Mrs. Maximoff's girl'. And I remembered when her family moved into our town back in second grade.

Admittedly, Wanda was the star of the show back then, too. We were only kids, but child Y/N wasn't blind. She was the first girl I'd crushed on, an innocent child crush – the crush that made me realise I liked girls. Apart from that, and the fact that she had a locker behind me in the hallway, I never really thought about her.

I glanced behind me, catching Y/BF/N's gaze across the room as he sat beside some other kid. He frowned, implying he wished we were partners, and I knew just how he felt.

Once Mr. Hale finished assigning seats, he gave us five minutes to get to know our new partners as he struggled to find the powerpoint for today's class. If there was anything worse than getting assigned seats, it was ice breakers.

"Er, well, hi," Wanda greeted, turning to face me. Green eyes sparkled brightly behind a friendly smile. "I'm Wanda. But, I mean, we already know each other."

"That we do," I said with a nod, returning her smile. "How're you doing? Your summer go well?"

She ran a hand through her hair, adjusting herself so she was comfortable on her stool. And as she did, a waft of her perfume washed over me and I blinked, trying to ignore how nice it smelled. Floral. Subtle. It suited her.

"Good, yeah," she answered with a nod. "Could have gone on longer for all I care."

I chuckled. "I feel that. I'm definitely not ready to be back."

"Right?" she said with raised brows. "It's gonna take a while to get back into routine, that's for sure. But I guess I did miss seeing my friends everyday."

I hummed in agreement, eyes flickering to Mr. Hale as he attempted to tackle the oncoming stream of animations on his powerpoint. I tried not to laugh as I looked back to Wanda, who clearly noticed the same thing as me and stifled a smile.

"Have you had Mr. Hale before?" I asked, nodding his way.

She shook her head. "Nope. You?"

"Never."

"Sucks that he makes seating charts," she said with a sigh, before realising what she said and looking to me with panicked eyes. "Not that I don't like you or anything–!"

"It's fine, I get it," I cut her off with an amused smile. "I wanted to sit with my friend, too."

She breathed out quietly, a hint of relief in her eyes, and scrunched her nose with an apologetic smile. Okay, yeah, maybe that was kind of cute. Older Y/N wasn't blind either. Wanda Maximoff was beautiful, with long brunette locks and matching hazel eyes that seemed to change from blue to green to brown in a kaleidoscope of colour. A winning smile and soothing voice was enough for anyone to fall for her unintentional charm, but it was purely admiration. Everyone pretty much had a mild crush on her, you'd be stupid not to.

"If we're gonna be working together, d'you wanna get the whole awkward number exchange out the way now?" she asked, half joking, half not.

"I– er– sure," I stumbled out rather carelessly, before cringing internally. Where did that come from?

Thankfully, she didn't seem to pick up on it (or just saved me the embarrassment of acknowledging it) and was already writing her number on a slip of paper. Sliding it my way, she capped her pen and gave me her signature smile.

"Thanks," I said with a nod, accepting the paper and pocketing it. "Can't wait to start those lovely science projects we've got coming up!"

She let out a quiet laugh at my sarcasm. "It'll be fine. You're not dumb, right? So, we'll be fine."

"Can't promise you that," I joked, making her roll her eyes playfully.

"Maybe if we–"

But she was cut off when Mr. Hale spoke up loudly, interrupting everyone's conversations.

"Five minutes are up, let's begin!"

I wondered if everyone was thinking the same thing as me – that was not five minutes.

"So it begins...," I mumbled to myself, facing forward.

Wanda breathed out, a stifled laugh, probably having heard my comment, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. Maybe I judged her too harshly. She wasn't actually that bad.

—

Since being paired with Wanda, I was surprised by how much she'd made an effort to befriend me outside of class. We'd always been back to back with our lockers though not quite speaking, but since becoming Chemistry partners, she'd wish me a good morning if she caught me, or greet me briefly as we collected our books.

She didn't have to, but I could see why everybody liked her now. She was just genuinely nice. Due to circumstance, we'd become partners, but rather than leaving it at that, she made a genuine effort to befriend me. And not even just me, but also Y/BF/N, who was at the locker next to mine. He was as surprised as I was, expecting Wanda to mind her own business as we weren't exactly in the same social circles.

This was, I guess you could say, the start of our friendship. And it was a good one at that. I grew to learn how funny she was, how much she loved her brother, the passion she had for art and painting... she was a wonderful person. Which is why I didn't understand why she was with her boyfriend, Nate. He was a grade-A dick and everything Wanda wasn't. How were they a thing?

It sounds like I'm being a bitch and judgemental, but he really is the worst. The few unfortunate times I shared a class with him or caught sight of him around school, he was causing some sort of trouble with the teachers or picking on students in a way that made it seem like a joke but everybody knew it wasn't.

For example, there was a time when Wanda and I were studying for an upcoming Chemistry test we had. We decided to just help each other study since we already worked together in class, so knew we could motivate each other to actually put in the work. It was, maybe, the fourth studying session we had, and I was going over some notes when I felt her eyes watching me.

"You need a hand?" I asked, unable to take the staring any longer. I looked up at her, quirking a brow.

She seemed to fall out of her daydream and straightened up, eyes flickering to mine. "Huh?"

I gave her an awkward smile, unable to maintain her gaze. "You're staring."

She didn't seem fazed as I called her out, instead leaning back in her seat and continuing to study me curiously.

"Did you do something different with your hair?"

Subconsciously reaching for my hair, I straightened up my ponytail and shook my head. "No...?"

She chewed on her lip, saying after a pause, "You tied it up. You usually leave it out."

Did I? I wasn't sure. I just knew that her noticing something like that made me feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"It looks good," she decided, before offering up a small smile. "You should do it like that more often."

Quickly, I felt warm. Was it stuffy in here or was it just me? God, compliments already made me feel stupid. And compliments from pretty girls made me feel ten times that. It didn't help that she was watching me with an endearing expression, making me focus on my book before me.

"Thanks," I got out quickly. "I– yeah."

Her smile widened before she looked back down to her own book. Suddenly, I became acutely aware of the way her leg brushed up against mine under the table.

Thankfully, the strange fuzzy feeling following her compliment faded and we were able to get back to work without her tuning out again. As we were going over each other's practice questions, an annoying voice shouted from across the library.

"Wanda, head's up!"

"Hey, no talking in the library!" a librarian hissed at the voice.

Wanda and I looked up just in time for a football to smack me in the side of the head. I didn't even see it coming until I felt the thing slap my head, giving me an instant urge to strangle whoever threw it.

"Fuck," I cursed, holding my head and closing my eyes to breathe through the pain.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Wanda's voice made me open my eyes and I saw her leaning forward, hand resting on my shoulder and the other on top of mine that was clutching my head.

"Been better," I admitted, trying to make light of the situation because as angry as I was at the idiot who threw it, I was also embarrassed because it hit me.

Wanda seemed concerned as she gently pulled me hand away, not letting go as she got a better look at the side of my face which I was sure was burning red. At least that's what it felt like.

"Shit, I'm so sorry."

I looked up and saw none other than Nate Green, Wanda's boyfriend, hovering and stifling a laugh as he looked at me. He had his stupid varsity jacket on and I was tempted to strangle him with it.

"I thought Wanda would catch it," he explained stupidly, before moving around the desk to collect his football.

Breathing out through gritted teeth, I pulled away from Wanda and nodded reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Just need an ice pack."

"You're such an idiot, Nate!" Wanda snapped, looking to him with a glare. "You need to watch what you're doing!"

He smiled sheepishly, making me roll my eyes and clench my jaw at the heat on the right side of my face. Fuck, that really hurt.

"What did you want?" Wanda asked him with a quirked brow. She definitely wasn't impressed. I'd hate to ever be on the wrong side of that condescending glare.

"I thought we could go out," he said like it was that simple.

"I'm studying," she quipped with crossed arms.

"I'm happy to wait," he said, toying with the ball in his hands.

Knowing I definitely didn't want that, I closed my books and said, "It's cool. You guys go. I think we're done here anyway."

Nate grinned. "See? S'all good."

Wanda ignored him and looked to me with worried eyes. "Y/N, are you sure?"

"You know your stuff," I said, referring to the work. "You'll be fine in the test. I'm sure."

I offered her a small, forced smile, before standing up to pack my bag. She did the same, beginning to pack her own things, but her eyes kept flittering towards me.

"D'you want me to go to the nurse's office with you?" she asked, shame laced in her voice.

"It's fine, I'll be fine," I said, hurrying up with my actions so I could just get out of here whilst I still had (some of) my dignity left. "See you in class tomorrow."

She nodded, sending a guilty smile my way. "See you tomorrow, Y/N."

Without giving either of them a look, I shouldered my backpack and left the library. Just another reminder of why Nate Green was literally the worst person ever.

—

Liking Wanda as more than a friend wasn't something that happened for a while if I'm being honest. I guess I started to enjoy her presence more and more the longer we spent time together.

I'd come to appreciate it whenever she'd say something completely out of the blue that made no sense whatsoever, or whenever she'd laugh at something I'd said that was arguably not funny but she didn't want to make me feel bad, or even whenever I teased her about something stupid she did, resulting in her doing that cute little nose scrunch she did. But I didn't think of it as liking her, more just a randomly-formed friendship that I was glad to have.

Maybe it was this misinterpretation that didn't make me see how I was acting around her, such as the time I was in the dinner queue at lunch when I realised she was stood behind me.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," she said when she noticed it was me in front of her. Her usual bright, friendly smile was on her lips as she looked to me. "You good?"

I nodded, returning her smile. "Yeah. Just getting some doughnuts for Y/BF/N and I. You?"

"Same," she said, before nudging the guy next to her, who I recognised as her brother. "Pietro and I thought we'd treat ourselves."

At the mention of his name, Pietro looked down to his sister before his gaze fell on me. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips as he put out his hand.

"Pietro Maximoff," he introduced. "You must be the Chemistry partner, Y/N, right?"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise as I shook his hand. "You, er, know who I am?"

He glanced at his sister with a cheeky smile. Wanda was avoiding both of our gazes, her cheeks dusting pink.

Clearly saving face for Wanda, he said, "We've been in the same grade since kids, right? 'Course I do."

Despite the truth to his words, something told me that wasn't how he knew who I was. Especially since I was sure I'd never spoken to him in my life. But, to save Wanda the embarrassment of clearly having spoken of me at home, I nodded to Pietro.

"Right," I agreed with an amused smile. "Duh."

I moved down the queue and grabbed two doughnuts from the display, putting them in two separate paper bags.

"Dibs the last one!" Pietro exclaimed as soon as I returned the clippers to the display. He reached around his sister immaturely and bagged the last doughnut.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "You know I can ask for more, right?"

Pietro grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Go on then."

The two were twins, but they couldn't have been more different. I simply revelled in their interaction, finding it adorable.

Wanda did as she said, asking the dinner lady if there were any more doughnuts in the back. Unfortunately for her, those were the last for the day, making Pietro laugh as Wanda pouted.

"Sucks to be you," he teased her, as I paid for mine and Y/BF/N's doughnuts.

"I hate you," she mumbled playfully, but I saw the disappointment in her eyes as he lovingly but annoyingly waved his bag before her eyes.

Without even thinking much of it, I held out one of the bags in my hand. "Here. You can have mine."

Wanda looked to me with surprise. "Are you sure? I can live without a doughnut, if that's what you're thinking."

I chuckled, grabbing her hand and making her take it. "It's okay. I wasn't in the mood anyway."

Plus, you look better when you're smiling and not pouting, I added in my head.

She accepted the bag reluctantly. "I– thanks. At least let me pay for it–"

"It's just a doughnut, Wanda," I teased, before nodding her way. "See you later."

Leaving her and Pietro to it, I headed back to the table Y/BF/N was sat at and took a seat opposite him before giving him his doughnut.

"Sweet," he said, quickly opening the bag before realising I didn't have one. "Where's yours?"

Over his shoulder, I saw Wanda and Pietro taking a seat at their lunch table, doughnuts in hand and a heartwarming smile on Wanda's lips.

"They ran out," I answered Y/BF/N. "Wasn't in the mood anyway. Enjoy."

He shrugged before digging in. I'd like to say I didn't spare glances in Wanda's direction every now and then for the rest of the lunch hour, but I'd be lying if I did.

—

I'm in the art department. You okay to bring it here?

I read over the text Wanda sent me before shooting her an 'okay' and heading to the Art department. I'd grabbed her notebook in class earlier on, only realising as I was studying with Y/BF/N in the library and pulled out an extra one, so I was going to give it her back.

I guess, when you realise you like someone, it comes randomly, suddenly, without warning. Liking someone isn't instant, it's constant and gradual and subconscious. I guess I'd been falling for Wanda for a while, without even realising, but today was the day I acknowledged that fact.

The Art department wasn't somewhere I frequented regularly – give me a paint and brushes and I'd probably present you with a finger painting – but it was definitely worth the visit. Art pieces from current and past students were hung on the walls, a mural of the school was spray painted on another, and sculptures stood around. The whole department brought a smile to anyone's face with its bright colours and open space – I could see why Art students always hung out here, Wanda included.

Speaking of Wanda, I found her in one of the classrooms sat at a stool in front of a series of canvasses. The room had a few other Art students littered around, working on their own pieces during their lunch period, otherwise it was empty.

"Hey," I called, getting her attention as I approached her.

She followed my voice and straightened up with a cheery smile. "Y/N, hey. Thanks for coming. I'm working on my Art project, so I couldn't pull myself away."

I waved my hand dismissively, joining her side. "It's all good, don't worry." My eyes wandered to the series of canvases on easels she was working on and widened. "Holy shit, these are so good."

Three unfinished hyperrealistic portraits of people were before us, one whom I recognised as Pietro. The paintings were so detailed, despite their medium-size, and I couldn't imagine how long they must have taken.

"You think?" she asked, glancing between them. "I think I messed up the nose here." She pointed with the back end of her paintbrush to the nose of Pietro. "It's a bit bent."

I almost laughed as I looked to her with disbelief. "Are you kidding? Wanda, these are amazing. How did you even do this?"

She looked down bashfully, a nervous smile on her lips. "I don't know. It's for a project. I chose to do family portraits." She pointed to each one as she said, "My mum, my dad and my brother."

I was in awe of her talent, jaw dropped with amazement still. I always knew she was an artist, but I'd never actually seen her work. I was starting to wish I'd come here a lot sooner.

"So, you got my notebook?" she asked, pulling me back into reality.

I looked away from the paintings reluctantly before getting her notebook from my bag and holding it out for her. As she accepted it, she must have forgotten she was holding her paintbrush as the tip brushed my wrist, leaving a swipe of red there.

"Oh, my bad," she said with a laugh, before setting her notebook and brush down and grabbing a paper towel from beside her.

Wetting it with water from her bottle, she pressed it to my wrist and swiped the paint away. It was such a mundane action, but the way her fingers gently held my wrist and emanated a warmth only she seemed to carry sent shivers down my spine.

I glanced up at her, letting her do it, and noticed the swipe of paint she had across her cheek, as if she'd touched her face without realising.

Now that I paid attention, I noticed how cute she looked in her Art getup. An old, oversized shirt covered in paint was being worn to cover her clothes, sleeves loosely rolled up to her elbows. Her long hair was tied back into a ponytail, but her baby hairs framed her forehead adorably.

When her hair wasn't in her face, her eyes only seemed more intense, glistening with excitement and happiness. I almost forgot to breathe when they met mine briefly, a hint of embarrassment there from when cleaning me up. She was in her element here and it made sense to me now.

I knew I'd fallen for her.

—

"You don't get it," I was saying to Y/BF/N as we hung about the school gym, waiting for the teacher to start the lesson. "It's bad. I like her. Like, like like her."

Y/BF/N laughed, clapping me on the back with pity. "You're screwed."

I frowned. "I know."

As he stretched for class, he continued, "I mean, I get it, I do. She's super nice. Pretty. And you guys seem to get on."

I chewed on my lower lip worriedly.

He gave me a knowing look. "There's one problem though."

I groaned, running a hand down my face. "I know, I know. She's got that dick of a boyfriend."

He chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

I sighed, crossing my arms with annoyance. Since realising I liked Wanda as a little more than a friend, things weren't going well for me. Whenever we worked together, I'd forget what I was thinking because I was too busy admiring her side profile or getting lost in her eyes. If she spoke about the work, told a joke or was simply speaking her thoughts aloud, I'd focus on every little thing she was saying, knowing I could listen to her speak all day. It was bad, but thankfully I hadn't stumbled over my words or made a total fool of myself in front of her. I was determined to not let it get that far.

My eyes wandered around the gym as Y/BF/N tried to give me advice, but admittedly, his words flew in one ear and out the other when I caught sight of Wanda.

She was standing with her friends, smiling and laughing to whatever they were saying. Like everyone else in here, she was wearing her gym kit – black athletic shorts and a blue and white tee shirt, the colour of our school. It wasn't anything special, yet she made it seem that way, outdoing anyone in here. Her brown hair was tied back, the ponytail falling down her back, showing her stunning profile and making my mouth go dry.

Another clap on the back from Y/BF/N pulled me from my reverie and I looked to see he was laughing at me.

"Majorly screwed," he corrected his previous comment.

He was definitely right.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu #wanda maximoff au #Spotify

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Illuminated, pt.2

Summary: Seeing an old friend isn’t always a happy occasion, but it can direct you to someone who undoubtedly makes your heart beat faster.

Warnings: talk of war and death, book spoilers

Part 1

=================================

It felt strange to be walking the same halls she once revered. Y/N had barely grown at all since her time at Little Palace, if anything she'd claim she got shorter, but the walls didn't seem as intimidating as they used to.

Back then, she was just a clueless girl with dreams that turned into nightmares. The war had left deep wounds everywhere in Ravka and for that, Y/N would curse Alina Starkov's name until her dying breath.

Ravka trusted Alina to rescue them from the darkness, but she only expanded it. She fled from her responsibility and responded with force when General Kirigan asked for accountability.

Y/N was considered too young to be allowed in battle, sent away by the Darkling with children who have not yet mastered their particular branch of small science. Grisha a year older than her were given the chance to protect Ravka, something she wished she could have done.

If it were up to her, she'd have stood by him instead of hiding.

Y/N had always been quite capable of controlling her power. Whether it be fire, wind or water, she held a firm grasp over all three elements with an iron fist and a terrifyingly sharp mind. She had developed attacks no one else is capable of, the kind that made other Grisha wary of her ferocity.

Naturally, she assumed that was why General Kirigan had called on her. The last thing she expected was to have the General, her King, admire the abominable blue flames she wields.

"Y/N?" A breathless reminder of a voice she once knew had stopped her in her tracks.

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N's lips break into a wide smile at the sight of her old friend and confidant.

She didn't waste time, running toward the girl who had fiery hair Y/N always wanted to have too. Colliding with Genya, Y/N couldn't stop a laugh that escaped her as she wrapped her arms around her much taller friend.

“I. Can’t. Breathe!” Genya manages to say between shallow, strained breaths.

Chuckling, Y/N releases her from the death grip she calls a hug. She’s never been subtle in showing affection, or hate.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Y/N exclaims, her attempt to quiet down failing before she even tries.

With a surprised smile set on her lips, Genya nods. “I didn’t realize you’d be at Little Palace.”

Faltering, Y/N licks her lips as her smile is erased. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“Little Palace isn’t exactly the safest place in Ravka anymore”, Genya musses.

Scoffing, Y/N furrows her eyebrows. “Alina made it unsafe.” Lifting her chin, Y/N continues, “The Darkling will protect us.”

Pursing her lips, Genya looks around carefully to ensure they’re alone. “That’s the problem. While he’s here, no one is safe.” Taking Y/N by the elbow, she pulls her aside toward the open window to help disguise their voices from any curious listeners. “Alina was our only hope of killing him.”

Ripping her arm away from Genya’s hold, Y/N narrows her eyes at the friend she once trusted more than anyone else in this world. When there was no hope, Genya put a smile on her face. Even when Y/N was losing herself, she had Genya to remind her of who she is.

She never doubted her friend, never questioned her loyalty or sanity. Until now.

“Genya, who did you fight alongside with?” Y/N asks sharply, her lips forming a thin line.

“You don’t know the entire story”, Genya tries but Y/N steps away as if she’d been burned.

The war had made warriors from children for no matter how they tried to protect their innocence, war leaves no one untouched. When Alina Starkov decided to turn her back on Grisha, Y/N and many others have been forced to grow up far too quickly. No silly crushes or petty arguments mattered for the blood had reached them once Alina slaughtered Botkin in front of them. It was the only taste of war Y/N had for she had killed for the first time on that day.

Alina is the reason she has blood on her hands.

“The story I do know is enough for me”, Y/N huffs as she shakes her head at Genya. “The fact our General did not kill you is proof of his generosity. Perhaps you should learn to appreciate him. Your precious Alina never showed such mercy.”

Turning her back on Genya, Y/N headed back. She didn’t want to explore the old corridors anymore, but to bathe and sleep. From tomorrow on, she’ll be working with Kirigan on her new ability and she didn’t want to display any reasons for him to distrust her.

She pauses as Genya speaks up.

“I wonder what will get you killed faster – your loyalty or stubbornness?”

Turning her head to the left, Y/N could see her old friend in her peripheral vision. “At least I’ll die for something I believe in. I’ll die for Ravka. Can you say the same?”

Fuming, Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. She turned the pillow to the colder side, she even tried turning her head on the opposite side of the headboard, but nothing could calm her mind or the itching to use her powers to blow off some steam.

The one part of herself she truly did connect with the Inferni was the temper she often got in trouble for. When Nina Zenik called her stupid, she burned off her eyebrows and Botkin forced her to wake up at the crack of dawn and do sprints for the next month as punishment. It’s probably the only time in her life she was truly in good form.

Grunting, she raised her legs and slammed them back on the mattress in frustration. Tossing the blanket off, she grabbed her blue kefta and left the room.

Her footsteps echo the halls as she all but runs out, straight into the foggy morning air outside. The cold pinches her skin, her lips trembling for a moment before she sinks her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her breaths come in visible puffs of air as she wraps her arms around her middle while securing her hands under her armpits to stop herself from using her power that’s calling to her like the siren song calls sailors to their certain death.

Y/N always had the misfortune of wearing her heart on her sleeve with those she cares for. She also has a nasty tendency to either feel nothing or everything at once and when someone she loves turns out to be different than what she believed, it causes an uncontrollable explosion of emotion deep within.

“Is there a particular reason you’re outside at this ungodly hour?” A deep voice makes her gasp as she turns to look at the very person she most admires.

Raising her eyebrows, she nearly laughed as she realized the Darkling wore not his kefta, but the clothes he sleeps in. It’s loose clothing, black as his kefta and horse and yet it gives off a softness she did not realize a man as powerful as him could ever possess.

“I’d ask you the same, General”, she retorts with her eyebrows still raised as if she’s challenging him to come closer and make her stop ogling him.

For a moment, she thought he might turn away and leave as he stood there calmly. It feels as if he’s studying her, taking in every inch of her and committing it to memory. If it were any other man, Y/N would have spoken up or acted out to prevent the uncomfortable feeling of being watched so intimately, yet she didn’t want Kirigan to ever stop looking at her. If not for her fear of being too forward, she’d invite him closer.

As if he read her mind, Kirigan takes a step closer….and then another one. She can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

What does he see when he looks at her?

How does she look in his eyes, because the way he’s looking at her now is taking her breath away?

He looks at her as if there is something worth looking at.

“Sometimes my mind turns on me”, he admits in a low, quiet tone that Y/N has to strain to hear him properly. “I’ve lived a long life and a longer one awaits me. My mind is full of ghosts that want retribution for what I did to them.”

Swallowing thickly, she straightens her back as she comes closer – close enough to feel his breath as it fans the hair at the top of her head.

“What did you do to them?”

The left corner of his lips twitches. “You’d think ill of me if I told you.”

Averting her gaze to his bare chest revealed by the wind as it pulled the fabric of his shirt, Y/N licks her lips. She argues with herself on her next move, wondering if it would be improper to touch the man who had been considered untouchable by everyone she ever met. Her fingers years to feel his skin under their tips, to slowly trail the jawline she wants to press her lips against.

Frowning softly, she bites her lower lip as she locks her eyes on his dark ones. Unlike many before her, she does not crumble under the weight of his heavy gaze. Her heart trembles as she reaches out and places her palm on his chest.

He didn’t expect her to touch him, tensing up. It’s surprising how warm her hand is, more so how inviting the warmth is. He’s hyper-aware of every breath he takes as his chest expands under her touch, hoping this incredibly brazen Grisha does not feel the way his heart jumps with the sudden surge of her bravery.

When he notices her lips move, he holds his breath as if the simple act of breathing could muffle her voice and make it harder for him to soak up the blind loyalty and love she holds for him.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things. You’re not evil for choosing to protect yourself and your country. I could never think badly of you, General.”

It’s been a long time since he found someone so incredibly devoted to him and his cause, exhilarating him to the core. Alina had never truly believed in him for she always considered him wicked, but Y/N couldn’t be more different. Perhaps he’s right and this time it will work.

With someone trusting as Y/N is, he can’t possibly fail again.

Letting her hand fall, Y/N looks away as she realizes she crossed the line and his silence is the easiest way for him to inform her of it. Truth be told, she wondered who was the last woman who got to lay her hand on his chest.

Was it Alina?

There were rumors of the relationship Kirigan and Alina supposedly had and Y/N always felt a pang of jealousy upon hearing the girls talk. She never knew him, she never truly had him and she never will, but the idea someone else does brought her pain.

Perhaps her overthinking or the increasingly awkward silence prompted her temper to speak instead of her brain.

"Did you love her?" Y/N blurts out.

Her eyes widen as she realizes her thoughts have become vocal and in the presence of the very man she should be watching her mouth around.

"I apologize. It must be a difficult time to reminisce about." Maybe Nina was right – she is stupid!

"It is quite alright.” Darkling lets out an audibly heavy breath. “I did not love her, I trusted her. I trusted her enough to put all my hope for a better Ravka on her shoulders and she betrayed our country."

"No", she reaches out slowly, her hand finding its way to his as it gingerly grasps his fingers. "She betrayed you."

Smiling reluctantly, Kirigan finds himself wondering if he should embrace the fact Y/N seems to be a very touchy person or if he should set some boundaries. Despite the shiver that runs down his spine, he allows her hand to fully take his as he closes his fingers around hers.

"I should have seen it coming. I'm far too used to betrayal."

"I'd never do that", she pauses. "I'd never betray you. I'd never break your trust."

Her responses are quick, so innocent and naïve that he can’t help but feel guilty about every moment he spends near her. No one should send a doe eyed beauty into the clutches of a beast so easily, yet he has no desire to force her to leave.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Smiling, her entire face lights up. It’s a true delight to witness so early in the morning after a long night of nightmares he faced.

“Do not worry, General. I have every intention on proving myself to you.”

Glancing at their hands, her smile widens. She spent years wishing for this and now that it’s happening she can’t seem to believe it’s real.

“The sun will come up soon”, he changes the topic.

Y/N fears he might leave and her hand would be back at her side as she watches his retreating figure, but when he speaks again her heart dances in her chest.

“Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

Inhaling sharply, she nods. “Very much so.”

Unfortunately for them, someone else couldn’t sleep that night and they had seen just enough for a terrible plan to be born.

=================================

A/N - So, I’m definitely going to play with the books here and twist some things to fit the storyline I have in mind. There might be some spoilers, so read with caution. I debated on making more than a one shot for this and taking on some ideas I have for Darkling but also Nikolai, so I’m not sure how long this will be just yet.

Tags: @deceivedeer @evyiione @measshaw

Part 3

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadown and bone

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actress4him · 3 years

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The Barn 4 - The Pole

(Prompt #1 for Summer of Whump)

Yes, I’m coming in at the last minute with one more Summer of Whump prompt, and yes, it’s prompt #1. Also, if you read more than one of my series I’m sorry that this one is kinda like that one chapter of In Irons...? But I actually thought of this one first, and yes, it was inspired by Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: captivity, restraints, dehumanization, references to beating, mild blood, starvation, dehydration, nausea, emeto, fainting, heat exhaustion/stroke, probably medically inaccurate

Stetson dropped Jacob’s foot, and another puff of red dust went up into the air, joining the cloud that his body had created as it was dragged. It would have been the perfect time for him to leap up and try to run again, but he couldn’t move. His everything ached.

A second later a leather-clad hand gripped his arm and yanked him upright. Jacob’s head swam with the swift change in elevation and his nose throbbed. While he was busy trying to get the world to stop spinning around him, Stetson roughly pulled his arms behind his back and started winding rope around his wrists.

Fantastic. He hadn’t even gotten to enjoy them being free.

Once they were thoroughly wrapped and the rope pulled tight, Stetson stood, taking the tail end with him and jerking Jacob’s arms backwards in the process. He cried out in surprise, and tried to get up. His legs only cooperated enough to scoot him back a few inches, but it was enough to let his arms rest against his back again.

Whatever Stetson was doing, he finished up and came back around to squat in front of his captive, arms propped across his knees and brown eyes studying him just as emotionlessly as ever.

“Maybe a few days of this’ll teach you some manners.”

“Doubt it,” Jacob immediately shot back without thinking. “My mom’s been trying to teach me manners for twenty-six years. I wouldn’t count on a few days making much of a difference.”

Stetson huffed very lightly, something that almost could have been taken for a laugh if Jacob wasn’t positive the guy didn’t know how. “We’ll see.”

Straightening with a quiet popping of joints, he turned and strolled away.

There was no way he was just leaving Jacob alone and able to run off. Craning his neck painfully around, he finally took a look at what was behind him. A post. A wooden post, probably coming up to around his shoulders. And the rope that was tying his wrists was looped through a metal hook in the top and knotted.

Okay, no problem. Jacob was good with his hands, he had nimble fingers from spending all day typing code. Struggling to his feet, he bent over forward so that he could reach and felt his way up the rope until he reached the knot, fingers fumbling around it, trying to get a sense of where it started.

Instead, he found a padlock.

Jacob let out a frustrated scream, the first time he’d actually had a chance to vent his feelings since this whole nightmare began. It felt good enough that he did it again. Then he ran forward, as hard as he could, as if he was somehow going to break the rope or pull the post out of the ground instead of nearly ripping his shoulders out of socket when he abruptly reached the end of his lead.

Tied to a stupid pole like...like a horse, or a dog. He was a human, dang it! Who did these people think they were, treating another person like this? The last…forty-eight? seventy-two? He didn’t even know how many hours anymore...had been completely flabbergasting, just seeing the sheer number of people who thought this was perfectly okay. And now he was stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with some psychopath who thought he was gonna what, train him? To do what, he didn’t even want to know.

Night was falling by then. Jacob was beyond exhausted, and resigned himself to sinking back down to the dirt, resting his back against the pole and getting as comfortable as possible.

The next day dawned with little sleep having been found. The sharp pains of yesterday had given way to stiffness and aches that made it hard to pry himself off the ground. His face was coated with dried blood and who knows what else, making him sticky and disgusted in addition to everything else.

He’d really never liked the outdoors that much. He was much more at home inside, in front of a computer. The outside had far too many things that could get you dirty, like, you know, dirt, for instance, like the kind of dirt he was currently sitting on and covered in. Most of his friends growing up had been your typical rough-and-tumble boys who lived for mud puddles and rolling down grassy hills, but Jacob had never been able to stand the feeling of being dirty.

Sweat was a thing encountered more often outdoors, too, and was just as bad as dirt. He could feel it, collecting underneath his shirt as the sun rose higher in the wide, blue sky. There was nothing in the way of shade in this field. Just dirt, dust, and more dirt, all surrounded by a wooden fence. A corral, probably. Meant for horses, not people.

The heat only grew more intense as the day wore on. There was no sign of Stetson, no indication that he would be bringing food or water or coming to untie him. Jacob hadn’t had anything to eat since this whole thing had begun, and no water since before the auction. His tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of his mouth.

He tried pacing around the pole, circling until the rope was tightly wound one way before turning and going the other way. His brain wasn’t used to boredom. There was always something to think about, always something to do. But now the only thing to think about was how absolutely screwed he was, and that wasn’t helping anything.

He tried pulling some more, too, not running this time, but turning until he could grip the rope in his hands and tugging backwards with all his might. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a lot. He was a computer geek, okay, working out wasn’t high on his list of priorities. The moral of the story was, pulling on the rope did nothing but make his back and arms ache even more.

The heat and the lack of stimulation made the day drag on and on forever. Jacob’s stomach moved from groaning to aching to roiling. If there had been anything in it, he was sure it would have been expelled. His head pounded something awful, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from heat or light or lack of water or having it repeatedly bashed in the day before.

By the time the sun finally started to sink beneath the horizon, his clothes were soaked with sweat, which was not only gross but also turned cold once night fell. He never thought that he’d actually miss the sun once it was gone. But now he was shivering, and the headache hadn’t gone away, and his stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out, and he was pretty sure there was dirt in his mouth, and he was completely, totally, miserable.

Day two was somehow even worse than the first. Jacob tried standing up and stretching his legs, walking around the pole again, but he was so dizzy that he collapsed right back to the ground. Groaning, he dropped his forehead against the pole, grinding particles of dust further into his skin.

His...dry...skin. He didn’t know much about health and science, like, at all, but he was pretty sure not sweating in this heat was not a good thing. He almost felt cold still, like the chill of the night was clinging to his skin.

Hours dragged by. Every time he swallowed, it felt like nails going down his throat. Moving his head in any direction made the world swim around him, the blinding rays of the sun making spots dance across his vision. His stomach kept feeling worse and worse until he finally ended up folding over, retching uselessly again and again until every muscle in his torso was on fire and his head felt like it was exploding.

His only vague thought was, am I gonna die? before he fell face-first into the dirt and passed out.

A blast of cold woke him. He tried to gasp for air, but instead inhaled a mouthful of freezing water, sending him into a coughing fit that racked his sore stomach muscles. But the water just kept coming. It was harsh enough that he couldn’t even sit up against the onslaught, not that he was sure he had the energy to, anyway. The spray scoured every inch of his bare skin, leaving it stinging from both the pressure and the cold.

But it was water. Sweet, beautiful water. As soon as he stopped coughing he tried his best to gulp it in, letting the cold coat his scratchy throat.

He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved when the spray finally stopped. Bringing up weary, unbound hands, he wiped the drips from his eyes, blinking blearily up at Stetson, who dropped the hose and stared him down.

“You didn’t last as long as I had planned.”

“M-maybe…” His voice came out as a croak, and he attempted to clear it. “Maybe you should try some...food ‘nd water. Haven’t...had any of that in a while.”

Stetson continued to stare with crossed arms for another moment before walking over and grabbing onto his ankle again. “You just had your water. Maybe you can have food tomorrow. We’ll see how well you behave.”

Ignoring Jacob’s weak protests and attempts to fight, he dragged him away from the doorway of the barn and into a nearby stall. Iron bars reached from the half wall up to the ceiling, giving it even more of a prison cell feel. The only good news was that he didn’t bother to tie him up this time, just threw him inside and left, shutting the door with a deafening creak and an ominous click.

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eldritchqueerture · 3 years

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Point of View - Original Statement Fic

Point of View (5004 words) by LadyNikita Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Statement Giver(s) (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), this was intended as the eye but evolved into the vast as well, happens, cosmic horror, attempt at Eldritch Madness, unreality, Discussions of pointlessness and meaninglessness, Canon-Typical The Vast Content (The Magnus Archives), from the eps about space, Mentions of Death, Compulsion, discussions of free will (kind of), Dissociation, Panic, Mentions of addiction, Leitner Book (The Magnus Archives), except it was not possessed by Leitner, Pretty Colours <3, Neurodivergent Protagonist, Queer Protagonist, because I can project a bit as a treat, Can Be Read Without Prior Knowledge of the Podcast (I think)

Summary: "Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?" --- Statement of Lyria Ellison regarding a different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

Notes: Hiiiiii <3 I've been reading Lovecraft recently and as much as I hate the dude, The Colour Out of Space gave me so much inspiration that I immediately sat down and produced this in one sitting. I've been meaning to play with the concept of eldritch madness for a while; something about this trope is really appealing to me and I'm really enjoying my attempts at shaping it with words. Lyria is a preexisting OC of mine, I will give some background on her in the end notes because I love her very much. This is a form of practice for me; I'm playing with horror themes and I'd like to get acquainted with them to better incorporate them into my overall writing. Therefore I will accept constructive criticism if anyone wants to give it, but only in the form of DMs, either on Tumblr (your-queer-vampire-dm) or on Discord, if we know each other through a server. All of the warnings I think should be mentioned are in the tags, but if you think something should be added then please tell me!

Date: May 10th , 2018

Name: Lyria Ellison

Subject of experience: A different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

—

How do you start telling a story that changed your heart, your mind, and your soul so profoundly that you can barely still function in a society? How do you say all that without sounding borderline insane? Nobody knows what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. I know they would all say I’ve hallucinated it all and should seek treatment. But I know it won’t help. I know… I know so much now. Too much and not enough. Never enough. I know what happened was real . I don’t have proof so I’m guessing you won’t believe me either, but I need to tell someone about it. So I might as well tell you.

My name is Lyria Ellison and I’m a neuropsychology major. Ex-major, I should say. I dropped out after… Yeah. I dropped out; there’s not much point in continuing studying things about the feeble, insignificant human brain. Utterly pointless venture.

Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?

Just a year ago, I was convinced I was going to finish my degree. I was so passionate about it too, eager to learn more and more, to research and seek knowledge. Curious and fascinated by the world around us. What a foolish thing it was to give into that drive. My mind was open to the supernatural, although I always approached it scientifically; I never said the supernatural existed, but I also never said it didn’t. It was plausible; all in all, every scientist must accept that there is still a vast amount of knowledge we don’t have about the world.

The ignorance was a blessing. But I shall not get ahead of myself.

It started around December last year; my dad had died, and my girlfriend, Shawala, and I were clearing out his house. There wasn’t really anyone else to do it; my mother had passed a couple years prior, I had no siblings, and extended family was out of the picture as well; and my dad had gathered a lot of things in his adventurous life; he was a traveller, and he loved the world, loved learning about it, just like me. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with it all; my dad meant a lot to me back then, and Shawala proved an excellent support at that first shock. She promised to do some first view assessments of the ground floor, while I went to scope out how things looked in the attic.

It’s always either basements or attics, isn’t it? I used to read horror, Lovecraftian was my favourite – how ironic, isn’t it? How stupid . How utterly ignorant. The hubris of the human race at its finest.

Anyways, the attic was half-lit from the small windows in the roof, and dust was swirling in the faint light of the afternoon sun. It was cold here, but I didn’t pay much mind; the house was old, and it wasn’t surprising that there was draft. To say the space was cluttered would be an understatement; I could barely walk around the numerous boxes, old furniture, crates, and overflowing bookshelves; all of which made something in my chest curl tight, bringing tears to my eyes. I steered my steps towards the nearest bookshelf; I’ve always been a bookworm, fascinated by nearly any tome I came across; I’ve been reading popular science books since I was eight. So naturally, I was drawn to the books, taking huge steps above the cardboard boxes and careful not to hit anything else.

The books were old, of course, and dusty. Some of them had loose pages, and I treated them very gently, almost reverently. I have a little bit of a bookbinder streak, and I decided I would take them home and try to put them back together. As I rifled through them, I saw they pertained to a vast variety of subjects, from poetry, drama, and history, to science, metaphysics, and maths. The deeper I looked into this stunning collection, the more reverence rose in my heart; at my fingertips I had the oldest and the biggest accumulation of knowledge I had ever seen. I saw some books dated back even two hundred years ago.

At that point Shawala called me to check if I was alright. I put the book I had in my hands back and my knuckles brushed against the black leather cover of the next one on the shelf. I felt pleasant tingling in my palm at the touch and my heart leaped at the prospect; I didn’t know why – the book seemed ordinary enough on the shelf and there was no title on its spine.

I sometimes wonder if I could have just left it there and gone downstairs; chosen to come back later and then maybe, it wouldn’t have enticed me as it did. If, by that point, I had had any choice left on the matter.

Alas, intrigued by the book, I placed my palm on the spine and took it out. The leather was soft and smooth, probably sheep, with familiar subtle grains all over the texture. I remember it striked me as odd that it was warmer than the rest of the books in the drafty attic, but I shrugged it off. The front cover had a title, small but visible in the centre, etched in gold – Punctum Visus .

I, by all means, cannot read or speak Latin, but I figured it was something to do with vision. I opened the book, an unknown anticipation buzzing in my stomach. The pages were worn and old, their texture was slightly rough but pleasant under my fingertips; as I opened the front page, I saw the title again, this time in thick but still elegant, black letters, and the smell came up to my nostrils.

I tried to describe it in my head countless times after. I always loved the smell of old books, and I knew it very well, so it came to me as a surprise to realize it wasn’t the only smell I could feel from the book. It was… cold, somehow, distant but prickling at my nose, a little bit the way peppermint tastes. It reminded me of the night sky and distant stars somehow. The smell awakened an unease within me, as I couldn’t quite place what it was and why it seemed so weird , but it wasn’t by any means unpleasant. It was… enticing. Like a promise of a mystery.

I breathed it in again through my nose, closing my eyes, and for a moment I lost all feeling in my body. I was untethered and immaterial, somewhere in deep darkness that seemed to envelop me whole. It felt cold on my mind, stretching it thoughtlessly in the empty vastness, and I saw distant flickering lights of stars. Before I could form a coherent thought, I was back in myself, panting and shaking, staring at the front page of the Punctum Visus . I looked around with shaky breaths; the attic looked the same, and Shawala’s steps on the stairs reached my ears, with her voice calling my name. A shiver passed down my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom on my skin; was it the draft, the dread, or the excitement I couldn’t tell.

I knew I had to read this book, no matter what it took for me to do so.

I took it home, almost forgetting about the rest of the books upstairs. It had spent the next month laying in my room, as I dealt with the formalities and moving the rest of things that weren’t sold from the house either to my place or to charity. After the day we left the house for the last time, I collapsed in my bed, exhausted, but instead of closing, my eyes fell on the book unassumingly waiting on my nightstand.

A surge of excitement passed through me, waking me right up. I sat up and reached for the book. It was still warm; I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but warm it was. I think it made me subconsciously assign it more… being? Like, even before I knew anything, I somehow subconsciously accepted that it was more than just an object; that it was, in a sense, alive on its own. I brushed my fingers on the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the etching of the letters. In the meantime during this month I had checked the meaning of the title – Point of Sight; a position from which a thing is or is supposed to be viewed. It makes so much sense now.

But then I didn’t know what dangers it held; or I didn’t want to think about them. I do remember feeling anxious, my hands trembling every time I opened the cover, but it was so mingled with exhilaration of the certainty I was discovering something important that I must have disregarded it. As I turned the pages, I wasn’t surprised to find the text in Latin; though I still felt a pang of frustration that it meant I couldn’t read it for now. I rifled through the pages, looking curiously at the letters that formed words yet unattainable to me. There was a hunger inside of me; a hunger to Know. As I turned the pages past various symbols, illustrations of the constellations, and of Earth, I determined it must be some sort of a metaphysical work. The point of view on the world around us.

Normally I just skim through works like this and leave them. While they are an interesting read sometimes, they’re not my favourite genre and, looking objectively, putting in the effort of learning a whole language just for the sake of reading a treatise on the meaning of cosmos by an unknown author seems strange at best. But somehow it seemed obvious to me that I had to read it. It called to me, sang into a part of my being that begged to be filled, promising knowledge that would finally leave me satisfied. I know now that it’s impossible. Once you’ve tasted the hunger for knowing, you will never find satisfaction; it’s like an addiction. You just crave more and more, and the knowledge never ends. After a certain point you know too much and when it all connects, when it starts to make sense… you slip. I didn’t know that, even though maybe I should have. I didn’t know what those things I was feeling meant then and I didn’t stop to question them; I gave into it as soon as it touched me. I was stupid.

What followed were a busy couple of months. Every waking moment that wasn’t spent keeping up the pretence of being interested in my major (back then I only thought it a brief hyperfixation, of course, and wouldn’t have called it a pretence at all), I was learning Latin online or staring into the incomprehensible words on the pages. This period of my life is a blur; I remember my friends checking up on me if I was alright, since I wasn’t particularly social anymore. Shawala got progressively more worried, but it fully escaped my mind to care. I know that staring thoughtlessly at the book took up more and more of my time; once, I remember, I returned from my classes at three PM and took the book out; when I came back to myself it was well past midnight. That’s when I started to feel truly uneasy about it. It was the second half of April; I looked back on what I’ve been doing these past months and this cold dread started creeping up to my throat. I realized I didn’t know why I wanted to read the book so much and I remembered the “vision” or the hallucination I had that first time in my dad’s attic. I had set it aside completely as unimportant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. I started shaking and theorizing in my head about the book being able to influence my mind somehow, to control it. Had my actions not been my own? How much of it was my own will and how much was the book? Was it even possible for it to influence me like that; could it be that it was supernatural in some way?

The house became cold, unnaturally so. It was dark and all the windows were closed, but a chill draft managed to find its way into the corridor I was in anyway. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees, trembling in panic. I was all alone in the flat, everyone I knew was surely already asleep in their homes, and I was small and weak in the face of something that maybe could have controlled my mind. I suddenly became aware of the leatherbound book in my hand, and I threw it along the corridor at the front door with a whimper, as far away from me as possible. The book thumped against the door, then the floor, and opened on a random page.

I’ve read enough horrors. I knew that the page would be significant, and that knowledge made me sob and hug my knees tighter. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt like I’d just woken up from a months-long dream… and perhaps I was right. The recent past felt alien.

I felt tears sting my eyes and that’s when the smell reached me. Again that mixture of old paper and peppermint cold, distantly sweet but freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in ragged and shallow, and tears streamed down my face as I stared at the open book that was calling me in an inaudible whisper. The logical side of my mind was trying desperately to make sense of it, to assign the dissociative feeling to my father’s death and yeah, it was plausible, but somehow it just didn’t feel right. The whispers sounded again, swirling around my head, the golden sound almost touching the back of my neck, making me wince. It was enticing and promising, but this time, I felt terror instead of excitement. Disregarding how my mind was trying to rationalize the situation, I knew the book was cursed somehow. I knew that I was its victim. And I knew that I would not be strong enough to resist it.

I don’t know how much time I sat there, trembling, and sobbing into my knees, before I calmed down from the panic and decided I had to do something. I had to find out what this book was and how it found itself into my dad’s library. I couldn’t remember seeing anything in his diaries that would mention it at all, but then again, I didn’t read them all cover to cover. On wobbly legs I carefully made my way back to my room and searched the Internet until the sun started peeking out of the window; I found nothing about any book titled Punctum Visus . I tried all the libraries that I’d known of, that had their assortment online, all the research databases; nothing.

So, at the crack of dawn, with a fast-beating heart, I stood in the door of my room, staring out into the corridor, where the book still lay by the front door, unmoving. The golden strings of a wordless melody made it to my ears; it promised an explanation; that this time if I looked close enough, I would find what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

Where else could I find the answers if not in the book itself?

I could feel its cold fingers slowly wrap around my mind, steering me to come closer. It called me with a hypnotising voice that awakened all the red signals in my brain, telling me to run and hide, but I didn’t. The voice meant danger, but I knew it also meant knowledge.

Dangerous knowledge. The pull dragged me through the corridor step by step; I hadn’t been fighting it as strongly as I could have had and I was about to start, since I was getting closer to the book, but suddenly I felt the chill of the influence let go, hovering close but out of reach. It was still compelling me to come, to Look, but I could move my own limbs. I had a choice to make.

Knowledge of danger. Did I believe my own warning thoughts that I would regret looking into the book? Did I take my own logical, rational side seriously? Was I ever good at resisting my own impulses?

I’ve never been addicted to anything, but then again, I never really had the opportunity, as it were; my friends were more of a no-alcohol types and I really ever smoked cigarettes once. I’ve never seen drugs in real life. So who’s to say if I’m not an addictive personality? And this, this was addictive. The thrill of mystery, the exhilarating process of learning, the anticipation of the answers.

Was it ever really my choice?

No supernatural force guided my steps that night; no cold fingers made me kneel next to the book and carefully cradle it in my arms, looking at the page with a shaky breath and tears in my eyes, as if I was coming back home like the prodigal son. But I’m sure it was by some paranormal means that this time I could understand the text on the pages.

I honestly don’t remember what it said. As I read the unfamiliar words, the meaning presented itself in my mind, not entirely unlike that first “vision” I had in the attic; as soon as I started reading I knew that I had made the choice and there was no turning back. That cold draft enveloped me, sat on my skin, and started to bite; I felt that smell again, stronger than ever before, something intangible but unmistakably inhuman . It was then that I realized that’s what had felt wrong to me about the smell since the beginning. It was inferior and alien. My hands started shaking as my eyes, glued to the text, moved now on their own down the page, drinking the words in. I was terrified out of my mind, but the pleasant tingling along my nerves was back, the anticipation of the promised understanding.

My mind was drowned with the tide of knowledge. This was just a prologue; a true discovery would require preparation, but I was almost ready. The voice said I was chosen, that I was a perfect candidate to bring It what It needs and that I would be rewarded. I cried tears of amazement and horror at the sheer scope of the voice – it seemed to encompass the entire world. I couldn’t comprehend it, but I didn’t know then that it was a blessing. I wanted to know, I craved to know what It was and how I could be of use to something so powerful, so huge. Divine. That was a word that crossed my mind, as much as I don’t like that. I don’t like many things, but I can’t change any of them.

The voice said I’m on the right path. I would Know and Understand. First, I needed to do something. As It told me what that was, doubt started to creep up to my mind. What was I doing? What was happening? How could this be real?

I came to on the floor by my front door, the cursed book in hand, with a tear-stained face and a bloody nose.

I knew what I had to do to get ready and, as I calmed down and went over everything in my head, I was surprised by how trivial it was. Honestly, by this point I was kind of afraid It would tell me to hurt someone, so I was glad this was just about reading a bunch of words in a specific location at a specific time. I was aware of the fact that this was most probably a ritual, and I was quite apprehensive. I kept arguing with myself in my head, over and over whether I should follow through, but deep down I knew that I would, no matter what I told myself. This part, I think, scared me the most; how compelling the promise of knowledge was, how reverently I’d found myself thinking of the book and its owner (which I assumed was the voice), how fanatical some of my thoughts sounded. I’ve never been religious, never really felt idealistic either. I was always focused on facts, on the here and now. Can knowledge be an ideal? Can you be a fanatic of Seeing and Knowing?

How much had I changed since I’d found Punctum Visus in that old attic.

I found a good, quiet spot, on the north-west side of the New Forest National Park near Southampton. I told no one about this, deeming it unimportant. I would come back after my big discovery, I would explain everything. I laugh at myself now; at my naivety.

The night of April 28 th was clear, and the starry sky looked back at me as I parked my car on the road in the forest and locked it. I tied a piece of a long red string to the wheel, not to lose my way in the forest, and started to walk forward. I held the book close to my chest, as if it could protect me from the dark, eerie outlines of the trees, swaying gently on the wind and whatever the darkness around me held. I didn’t light the torch; the moon was nearly full, bathing everything in its gentle light, and besides, for some reason it seemed that the crude yellow light would somehow break the sanctity of what I was about to do. I could see the ground in front of me and managed to lose sight of my car and everything else besides trees pretty fast.

I stopped when I found a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on me like a big eye; I didn’t know why this comparison seemed the most fitting, but it did. I took a deep breath, feeling a chill plant little dots all over my skin, making my hairs stand on end. The wind died down and the trees froze, as if in anticipation. I felt something watching me closely; I was not alone here anymore.

The realization made my breath catch in my throat and the last streaks of sanity broke through my thick skull. Run! Drop the book and run! I didn’t. My hands trembled, my muscles tensed, and I stood there, frozen with fear as something stared at me, seemingly for eternity. Something bigger than me, bigger than anything I have ever seen was watching me, waiting. My eyes dropped to the book in my arms. The black leather was warm, as always, but this time I felt a pulsating sensation from it. A heartbeat.

I screamed. The book landed discarded on the ground, and I stumbled backwards and tripped, landing in the grass as well. It was cold and wet, and it glistened with something in the faint moonlight. At first I took it for water, but upon closer inspection I saw it was the grass itself that glittered – a shy rainbow, glowing iridescently in an impossible way. I froze, stunned, for I have never seen such colours before. It seemed utterly alien, something unfitting for the human eye to see; simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

As I looked around, I noticed that everything alive in the forest – the trees, the grass, the bushes, the plants – had taken on that iridescent mixture of faint light that prickled my eyes and sent a shiver of terror down my spine. It was beautiful, utterly gorgeous in a way that nothing a human eye can perceive could be. It was horrifying in how different, alien, and other it was. My senses could tell this is not of the Earth; not of this reality, not of this world; everything in me that still had common sense tried to recoil from the inferiority of this magnificence and the danger it brought, but I had abandoned common sense a while back. Maybe even when I touched the book for the first time. I stared then, breathless and trembling, at this scenery as if from a fairy tale and decided to lock away my rational thoughts. I wanted to See, to Know; I wanted to experience and if this was the death of me then hell, it was a pretty good way to go. To behold such a sight, I thought, was a reward in and of itself.

Of course, I had no idea what any of it meant. I slowly rose to my knees and patted the ground down until I felt the book. It still pulsated with this heartbeat and the letters etched in the leather glowed with golden light. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t know whether I was shivering from fear or the cold. I opened the book on the first page.

What I saw was not what I had expected. I remembered that the first page, after the titular one, was the beginning of the introduction, that much I had understood, but now it was a big picture in black and white; a night sky, with an almost full moon and strewn with stars. It was a shot from the ground and treetops could be seen at the edges of the picture. As the book swayed in my hands, the stars glittered, and the perspective shifted ever so slightly, as if it was in 3D. Stricken by a surge of dread and cold certainty, I looked up. My suspicion was right – the picture in the book depicted the exact image that was now above me. I gasped quietly and looked down at the book—

And this is where things started to really go horribly, horribly wrong.

The book was gone. What’s more, the ground was gone too and suddenly everything was not where it should have been. I blinked but it did nothing to ease the dizziness; and when I composed myself enough to register what I was seeing I froze, the most intense horror I have ever experienced crushing my body from all sides and inside out.

I realized that I was Seeing. I was finally Seeing, and I Understood it all.

I don’t know how to convey in words what I saw. I don’t believe it’s possible; humans were never made to see and understand such things. I should have never touched the book, I should have never asked for knowledge. All my life I believed that knowledge was the point; it was a tool, and it was power. I don’t know what I think anymore. I think some knowledge should always be hidden because we were not made to know everything. We can’t , it’s physically impossible for us to comprehend.

For one moment in my life. For one moment I became something else, and I saw the world in the way It sees the world. For one moment I shared a mind with an eldritch being, a thing that is Fear itself, and I saw the Earth through Its Eye. I can’t… I can’t tell you just how horrible it is. How… How meaningless; we’re all intertwined things, guided by strings of web that lead us through life, and we’re all connected in this maze of fear . We’re not individuals; we’re not special. We don’t have souls and none of our experiences matter. We’re just fear. These… These entities are a part of all of us. They’re our fear and they live inside of us, inside of every living creature that can feel fear. Can you comprehend that? How can you be sure you are yourself when there’s a cosmic entity, a power as old as life itself, living you ? And no one has any idea. Nobody knows and if I tell someone they’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. But deep down I know what I saw. I know it was real. And I’m terrified. I’m terrified because I know that this Being of eyes that I became a part of watches everything I do. I feel Its presence here very strongly, and I guess it makes sense. It will never leave me. It’s a part of me, just like the rest of them; just like they’re all a part of every one of you, yet you have no idea. But I know. And I know I’m all alone with that knowledge, the knowledge that I can’t comprehend, but I know I could in that one moment. It’s a very lonely place to be and I’m scared.

I’m scared as I have never been before; this fear doesn’t leave me anymore. Every second of every day I’m aware I’m watched by something as great as cosmos. I’m aware I shared my mind with that being and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know what to do now, but I don’t expect any advice from you. I’m leaving the book with you, as proof. Its heart doesn’t beat anymore, and I’ve seen what I was supposed to.

Don’t read it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!! For people interested in a little bit of background: Lyria is a D&D character I have created that still awaits her chance to play in a campaign. She's an arcane scholar that has a dark little secret of actually being a warlock of a being she doesn't know a lot about. She's in love with knowledge and she seeks to learn about her powers as well as the world around her. I'm currently DMing a Ravenloft campaign and I just couldn't miss the fact how much potential for a corruption arc she has. Then I listened to TMA and I was like, she would definitely become the Avatar of the Beholding.

#i discovered you can copy tags straight from ao3 #ive been using that site for how many. 5 years now #:|#anyways #tma #the magnus archives #tma original statement #cosmic horror #niki.writes #lyria elerieth #goes in my oc tag because thats technically an au #im really happy with this one guys!

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cassandraclare · 5 years

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flash fiction

The July piece of flash fiction about Chain of Gold is here, this one focusing on Christopher Lightwood, Henry Fairchild, and science! (Chris isn’t wearing his glasses in the illustrated scene by Cassandra Jean because they don’t fit under the goggles!)

One of Christopher Lightwood’s earliest memories was of his mother, Cecily Lightwood, being rushed to the infirmary after a fight with a pack of Raum demons. Christopher and his older sister Anna were at the London Institute at the time, being looked after by their aunt Tessa and uncle Will while their parents were out on patrol. Tessa whisked Christopher away quickly, but not before he saw the worried look on Will’s face as he went to summon the Silent Brothers.

Later, Christopher sat by his mother’s bedside as she recovered from the Raum poison. She drifted in and out of consciousness, waking and smiling when she saw him and then falling back into sleep. Uncle Will waved his arms about a great deal, despairing that his sister was entirely too brave for her own good. Christopher’s father, Gabriel Lightwood, reminded Will that courage against all odds was what made them Shadowhunters, wasn’t it? This caused Will to splutter. But Christopher could tell that his father had been truly frightened, and was deeply relieved that Cecily was recovering. Christopher leaned against his father.

“Is hunting demons scary?” He asked.

Gabriel sighed, and drew Christopher closer. “It can be scary, but a world overrun by demons is much scarier.”

That made sense, but Christopher continued his line of questioning. “Fighting them with swords and daggers, that is scary. But what if there are other ways to fight them?”

His father looked puzzled. “Like with ranged weapons? Bows and arrows?”

Christopher couldn’t explain the ideas that were rushing through his head. He didn’t have the language for them yet. Instead he just smiled. “Not exactly,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

When Christopher was eight, his father and his uncle Gideon shut themselves in the study and talked in loud important voices about Christopher’s aunt Tatiana, and Tatiana’s boy Jesse. Christopher understood that Jesse was a cousin who he had never met, and that Jesse was sick.

Only a short while later, they received word that Jesse had died. Christopher’s father tried to visit aunt Tatiana, but she would not see him. When Gabriel came home, Cecily put her arms around him, and he cried. Christopher was shocked, less by his father’s tears than by the fact that they’d had a cousin who they’d never been allowed to meet, and now never could meet. Thoughts kept running around in Christopher’s mind. This is all wrong. If we had met him, we might have been able to help him. To save him. But when he said this out loud to his mother, Cecily only smiled sadly. “You are a brave and daring boy,” she said. “The world needs more minds like yours, Christopher. But you cannot take on the responsibility for saving every life. That is too heavy a load for one person to bear. The Silent Brothers were with Jesse before he died, and they are the wisest among us. Surely they would have saved him if he could have been saved.”

Christopher thought, But the Silent Brothers only hold certain kinds of wisdom. What if there was a different kind that could have saved Jesse? But he held his tongue.

Then, when Christopher was ten, Anna was bitten by a demon, and the wound became infected. The whole family was frenzied with worry for a day and a night over Christopher’s older sister. ...

The fever was the problem that lasted, the problem that loomed in his mind demanding a solution. Far too often in his life, Christopher found himself thinking the same thoughts he had the day Jesse died. This is all wrong. Something must be done about this.

Christopher had many cousins. Matthew wasn’t a cousin, but their parents were friends and they were as good as family: that was always understood. Christopher had called Matthew’s father uncle Henry since he could talk, and had always been impressed by the intriguing chair Henry got about in. Then one day Christopher got into Henry’s laboratory, which he found even more intriguing than the chair. Henry had left out his notes for an experiment, and Christopher promptly tried to perform said experiment.

You never forget your first explosion.

“Oh, well done, most well thought out,” said uncle Henry, but then aunt Charlotte had ‘a word’ with him. It was actually many words. Christopher didn’t see why people were so inaccurate.

After the many words, uncle Henry said that Christopher was too young to be causing explosions, and the laboratory was a dangerous place, and Christopher wasn’t allowed to touch anything in it without permission. Nor was Matthew, but Matthew didn’t want to. Matthew was interested in talking about mystifying things, like how Uncle Henry should ‘eat more’ and put a stop to a brilliant experiment for a foolish reason like ‘everything is on fire.’

Christopher was impelled by true scientific curiosity. He thought over the problem, and gave himself permission to touch whatever he wanted in the laboratory. Sometimes Uncle Henry locked things up away from Christopher, so Christopher was forced to break into cabinets.

It was all quite vexing, but scientific progress was an avalanche that must not be stopped. Christopher read Marie Curie’s papers on radium, the element that could destroy tumors. He read John Snow’s essay on how cholera might spread through a public water pump. He attempted to write his own piece, on Henry Fairchild’s invention of the Portal. These were the people who were looking at the world inventively, seeking the root cause of the problems that plagued humanity.

“Who do you think is the Shadowhunter who has saved the most lives, boy?” the Inquisitor asked him, when the Inquisitor was visiting the Consul at her London home, and Christopher emerged from the laboratory to have a snack. “I suppose you think it’s your papa.”

“No,” said Christopher after a moment’s thought. “I would say my Uncle Henry.”

The Inquisitor appeared thunderstruck.

“I performed an analysis,” Christopher said peacefully. “If Uncle Henry had not invented the Portal, there is a strong possibility that our numbers would be less by a third. I believe you yourself would have died nine years ago, during the Dantalion attack on the York Institute. Since Portals will exist long after uncle Henry is dead, I expect he will end up having saved more lives than any other Shadowhunter, including Jonathan Shadowhunter. Unless I can invent something which will be as useful. Which naturally I aspire to do.”

Christopher returned to the laboratory thinking about demons. How they walked between worlds, how stabbing them was a temporary solution at best, since they could always re-form in their own home worlds and return to wreak more havoc. How no one else seemed to be looking towards the root of these problems. Well, almost no one.

“Does it ever bother you?” Christopher asked Henry tentatively, a few hours later. “The way our people are? What they value, and what they… don’t?”

Henry laughed. “Does it matter if it bothers me? It doesn’t change the fact there is work to be done.”

It was a sensible and practical answer, but for once Christopher found himself wanting more. Henry understood him, the way Henry always seemed to.

“I know what I value,” Henry said firmly. “I do not think we are as separated from the ways of the Nephilim as you think. We are all warriors, charged by the Angel to keep the world safe in our different ways. We won’t win if any one of us fights alone. What do you want the most?”

“There is so much wrong with the world,” said Christopher. “I want it to make sense. I want to put it right. I want to find the solutions that are overlooked by others.” He gazed upon the diatom arrangements, the shining brass of their microscopes, the weapons they were trying to modify and the devices they were attempting to invent. Matthew talked about truth and beauty a great deal. This was where Christopher had always found his.

“This was what I felt most called to do,” said Henry. “I always thought it was right to use my mind, the best weapon I have, for the cause I believe in. It is a joy to see you reach for the weapon I reached for.”

“So I should join you in all your experiments, then,” Christopher said triumphantly.

“Yes,” Henry said. Then he hesitated, and for a moment Christopher thought he might deliver a lecture about being careful and preventing explosions. But Henry didn’t. Instead he just said, “Yes, we should.”

From then on, Christopher regarded science as not only that which he loved but as his Shadowhunter duty. Perhaps nobody else would ever think it, but he knew he was dedicated as an Iron Sister, a Silent Brother, a warrior stepping forward to face a field of demons.

When he was tired, or people were unreasonable, or his little brother wailed outside his door, Christopher remembered the smile on the face of the Shadowhunter he respected most, and Henry saying “Come, Christopher. Take up your best weapon, and fight your best fight.”

#tlh #tlh flash fiction #christopher lightwood #henry fairchild #chain of gold

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cinaja · 4 years

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Before the Wall part 32

Masterlist:

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than usual. I considered splitting it, but it felt more coherent as one part, so I left it like this. And after the last chapters, I did my best to make this a bit happier (at least in parts)

----

In the next months, life once again proves its uncaring ability to go on no matter what. In the scope of a war that spans an entire Continent, a few thousand dead soldiers are as inconsequential as the pain they cause the ones who survive. But to the lives of the people who were affected by these deaths, they are anything but.

Ironically enough, the next months go well for the Alliance. Jurian spends most of the time rebuilding his army from scratch. The number of new recruits is staggering, and within one months, they are back to their old number. With the newly-trained soldiers, they even win a few victories against to Loyalists. It helps that Jurian has a new spy, whose identity he refuses to disclose, but who brings invaluable information. Meanwhile, Drakon finds a way to work with his advisors that doesn`t look quite so much like he`s being manipulated. And Miryam… well, she manages to avoid any larger catastrophes with the council. Or with herself.

But while things may get better for the Alliance, nothing really improves for their little friendship group. For the first weeks, Miryam tries to ignore the changes in Jurian, but after a while, there is no denying it anymore. He grows harder. Colder. It`s like some spark in him went out. His smiles grow rare, laughs even rarer. When he isn`t busy training his new recruits, he pours over maps in his tent. Whenever Amarantha or Clythia are mentioned, cold rage flickers in his eyes.

Miryam worries about him. And she worries about herself. Lately, her power doesn`t just push and pull at her, there are moments when she actually loses control. Four times now, she had to rush out of the camp, away from anyone who might see, because she could not hold it in anymore.

It seems like today will be the fifth time. Standing in the war tent, Miryam does her best to focus on what Jurian is telling them. His spy sent some intelligence about Amarantha`s supply routes, and he`s hoping to intercept them. Miryam should be listening, but her focus keeps slipping. She tries every trick she knows – breathes in deeply, digs her nails into her leg, counts backwards from thousand. Nothing helps. It`s like she`s caught in quicksand and the harder she struggles, the further it pulls her down.

“Maybe we could lay a trap here”, one of Jurian`s new commanders says and taps the map. Jurian nods in approval and the discussion continues.

Miryam takes a shuddering breath. The ground seems to shift under her feet. She needs to get out of here. So far, she managed to keep her problems secret, but if she loses control in the middle of a strategy meeting, the council will know within the hour.

She jumps to her feet so abruptly that every eye around the table turns to her. “I have a meeting to attend”, she says as calmly as she can manage, “You`ll excuse me.”

By the time Miryam stalks out of the tent, Jurian has already returned his attention to the maps. Miryam walks through the camp as quickly as she can without running. The human soldiers stop and stare at her as she walks by, a few incline their heads. Their old soldiers were her friends - they were the people she sat with by the fire, the people who told her jokes and shared food with her. She likes the new recruits, but they are distant with her. They treat her with reverence, not friendship.

She`s almost out of the camp now. The ground seems to slip under her feet and she nearly stumbles. The guards wave her through and Miryam stumbles through the light birch forest they made their camp in, away from where her soldiers might see.

Somehow, she manages to get a safe distance away from the camp before her legs give out from under her. She falls to her knees on the ground and finally loosens her grip on her power. But letting go doesn`t truly offer relief. Without anywhere to go, her power rushes through the air, shoots into the ground and then back into Miryam. It shoots through her, burning like fire. She has to press a fist against her mouth to muffle her scream. Why does it hurt so much?

She doesn`t know how long she kneels on the ground, gasping for air, trying not to scream. An eternity passes, or maybe it is just a second. But eventually, her power calms down. Miryam lets herself sink to the ground and wipes the sweat from her forehead.

“Shit”, she mutters towards the sky.

“Can I do anything to help?”

Miryam screams and bolts upright. “Cauldron, Drakon!”

“Sorry.” He winces and carefully steps closer. “I wanted to help, but…” He trails off. “Do you need anything.”

Miryam shakes her head. Her head is pounding, her entire body hurts, but there`s little to be done. “It will go away eventually.”

“So that wasn`t the first time?”

Miryam runs her fingers over the ground. Cracks have formed in the earth, leading away from her like little bolts of lightning. The biggest is five centimetres wide. She supposes that she`ll have a hard time denying that anything bad happened now.

“The fifth”, she replies quietly.

Drakon curses. “Miryam. Why didn`t you say anything?”

The deep worry in his tone surprises Miryam. And scares her, to be honest. It isn`t unusual for her to be in pain after having to use her powers in battle, and Drakon never sounded this worried about it.

"Do you know anything about this?", Miryam asks, countering his question with one of her own.

Drakon shrugs. "A little. I had tutors on magic when I was a child and they liked to warn about what might happen if I didn`t pay attention and failed to learn how to properly control my powers. But air magic is one if the easier ones to master, and I'm not that powerful, so I never truly had problems."

Miryam tries to tell herself that whatever warnings Drakon`s teachers gave him were just an attempt to get a child to take his lessons seriously. But somehow, she can`t quite manage to convince herself.

"But I have a friend who studies magic", Drakon continues, "He might be able to help."

Miryam is already shaking her head before he finished the sentence. "No. Most certainly not. Do you have any idea what it will do to my standing in the council if this becomes public?"

"This is serious, Miryam", Drakon says. When she just crosses her arms, he sighs. “I swear that my friend will keep your secret.”

Miryam rubs her hand over her arm. She is so damned tired.

"How well do you know your friend?”, she asks and privately thinks that if they`ve been friends for over two years, she`ll take the risk.

"Oh, I'd hope I know him very well, since we were together for three years."

“Kiko?”, Miryam asks. As far as he knows, he was Drakon`s first and only romantic partner so far. “I thought he studied social sciences as well.”

“No, his subject were magical studies. He specializes in Elemental Powers, but he`d also have learned something about Higher Powers.”

Miryam smiles, mentally readjusting the image she had of Drakon`s former partner. It isn`t that she knew much about him in the first place, but she knows Drakon writes him letters at least once a month, and still talks of him fondly.

“How did you meet, then?”, she asks, “Since you wouldn`t have had the same classes.”

“My class had the task to organize social projects in a nearby city. He blew up his lab and was assigned volunteer work as punishment, so he ended up working on the project I lead. And don`t think I didn`t notice you changing the subject.” Drakon runs his fingers over the ground, where a long crack has formed. “Please”, he says, “At least give it a try.”

Miryam makes a face at him. “Fine.”

At least if it`s Kiko they`re meeting, she knows that Drakon knows him well. Chances of her secret getting out are slim. The risk is within reason.

Drakon perks up. “Really?”

“I`m probably going to regret this”, Miryam mutters, “but yes. Besides, I always wanted to see university.”

And maybe she is more scared of what`s happening to her than she thought, if she is willing to take the risk.

----

Mor is happy. It is ridiculous, she knows. Around her, the world is burning, yet she has never felt more like herself than in the last year. Especially right now.

Together with Adromache, she sits huddled around a campfire in Andromache`s camp, both of them wrapped tightly into a blanket. It is winter, and Andromache`s army has been stationed further north these past few weeks, so it`s freezing cold. Mor doesn`t much mind the temperatures. The Illyrian mountains get just as cold, and the temperatures give her an excuse to sit closer to Andromache.

Mor runs a hand through Andromache`s hair. Even after all these moths, she still can`t quite believe it.

“I have to go to Telique tomorrow”, Andromache tells her and absentmindedly turns the stick she`s using to roast a loaf of bread over the fire in her hands. “I`ll probably be gone for most of the day.”

Mor frowns. “I haven`t heard of any Alliance meeting.”

“No, it`s just the human queens. A…”, she frowns, “A strategy discussion, you could say.”

“Oh, another one of your secret humans-only meetings?”

Andromache jerks away from her, eyes widening in surprise. “What… how…”, she sputters.

“Az told me”, Mor says, “He had to find out for my uncle, but I think most of the Alliance knows.”

Andromache groans and rubs her temple. “So much for our attempts at secrecy. In that case: Yes, we`re holding one of our humans-only meetings, as you call them.”

Mor pulls her stick out of the fire and carefully takes a bite of the bread. It is so hot it burns her tongue and she curses softly.

“I suppose I shouldn`t ask you what you`re going to discuss.”

Andromache smiles wryly. “Might be for the best.”

Mor nods. She`s curious, of course. But Andromache is a queen with a duty to both her country and her people. Asking her after information that the human leadership has deemed secret would mean to ask her to choose Mor over that duty. And since Mor loves her, she`d never ask her to make that choice.

“I also have a meeting. With my uncle”, she says instead.

“Ugh.” Andromache reaches for the wine bottle standing next to her and passes it to Mor.

She laughs. “At least he likes me better than Rhys. Although that’s probably because I’m not a danger to his throne. Unlike Rhys, being his heir and all.”

Andromache shakes her head. “You Fae and your obsession with bloodlines and such things. I personally find it much smarter to have the ruler adopt the person they deem most suited to taking the throne, no blood relations required.”

Mor nods. She finds the human rule of having rulers pick their own successor, possibly also from adopted family, fascinating. Not that it could ever work in Prythian, where the power chooses the next ruler, but it still seems like an intelligent system. But well, most things the humans doo seem more intelligent than how Fae act.

She takes a swig from the bottle, then puts an arm around Andromache. “Either way, it looks like we’ll both need a drink tomorrow evening.”

Andromache laughs and leans against her. Right now, sitting by the fire together, Mor would like to freeze time and live in this moment forever. She smiles into Andromache’s hair and pulls her a little closer, thinking just how lucky she is to have this.

Mor leaves the camp early in the next morning to go meet her uncle. This time, at least, he didn`t demand she come visit him in the Hewn City. With the war escalating further each day, even the High Lord of the Night Court can`t constantly remain in his seat of power. He spent the past few days in one of the Illyrian camps where the soldiers gave him trouble, and that is where she is asked to meet him.

The camp is hundreds of miles further south, and Mor opens her fur-laced cloak almost as soon as she lands. The Illyrian soldiers watch her wearily, but they don`t try to approach her. It is a well-known fact that both the High Lord and his son like Mor, and that makes her untouchable to them.

Mor finds her uncle in the commander`s tent, eating a breakfast better suited to a palace than a war camp.

“Ah, Morrigan”, he greets her and gestures to an empty chair with his fork. “Sit. Have you eaten?”

“No, My Lord.” He wordlessly dumps some fried eggs on her platter and Mor smiles. “Thank you.”

“So, tell me”, he says and takes a bite of his eggs. “what news does the Continent have?”

“Nothing much”, Mor says, then begins to rattle off a few basic rumours she heard. Who got into an argument with whom, which Alliance members might be thinking of forging a new alliance.

“And your friend Andromache?”, her uncle asks, “Still dangling around with that guard of hers?”

“That`s a rumour”, Mor says, trying to sound as annoyed as possible.

The truth is, Andromache and her started that rumour. Well, Andromache`s spymaster did, but she gave the order. Andromache came up with the idea. She thought that the perfect way to keep rumours about a relationship between them from spreading was to start a rumour that she was in a relationship with someone else. The guard she asked for the favour is an old friend of hers, who`s currently uninterested in relationships and didn`t mind helping out.

The High Lord nods and returns to his food. Mor takes a small bite of her food and watches him over it. She wishes he`d just dismiss her and let her return to Andromache`s camp.

“What do you know about Miryam?”

Mor perks up. “What?” She catches herself. “What I know about her? She`s my –“ She remembers that her uncle can`t stand Miryam and catches herself before she can say friend. “I know her well.”

“Does she have any secrets?”

“No”, Mor replies automatically, which is, of course, a lie. “Why are you asking?”

“She annoys me.” He shrugs. “I think she`s an arrogant, stupid child who, through sheer dumb luck, got into a position she has no right to. And I`d like her to lose this position.” He smiles. “But since you know her so well, I find I have a hard time believing your no.”

Mor shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, all of her secrets are connected to her past. And I doubt it will work in your favour if you bring that up.”

The High Lord mutters a curse. “And Jurian?”

“No secrets that I know of”, Mor says, which is actually true.

The High Lord stabs his sausage with way more force than necessary. “Everyone has secrets”, he says, “It`s just a matter of finding them.” To Mor, he adds, “You`re dismissed.”

----

Jurian watches Miryam as she sketches the final symbol on a doorway, then steps back. The symbol glows and sinks into the wood, Miryam brushes the chalk off her hands.

“I wonder”, she mutters, “why we have to hold each of these meetings in a different location. I have to set new wards every time.”

“Secrecy reasons”, Jurian says and twirls his knife around his finger once.

Miryam makes a face at him. “I’d like to see the spy who gets through these wards.”

Jurian just shrugs. In his opinion, it’s better to be safe then sorry, and the more human palaces have wards, the better. With how the war is going, you never know when you might need them.

Outside, the sun is already beginning to set. Jurian sighs. He wishes the meeting they are about to attend was already over and he back in his camp. He still has an attack on Amarantha’s supply routes to plan, the information for it supplied by Clythia, who still hasn’t made the connection between her meetings with Jurian and the fact that intel about her army keeps getting out.

“It’s almost time for the meeting”, Miryam says, “We should go if we don’t want to be late.”

Jurian doesn’t particularly care about being late, but he still follows her. The meeting is held in one of the palace’s highest rooms. It has huge, open windows overlooking a small port city and the bay beyond. The windows aren’t filled with glass, but this is one of the human settlements furthest south, and even in deep winter, the temperatures are mild. Jurian sits down in a cushioned chair while Miryam walks over to greet Andromache.

Sighing, Jurian stares down at his shoes. He hates sitting around like this, doing nothing while outside, the war rages on. He hates these useless, stupid meetings where people only talk but never see to say anything and they can spend hours discussing without coming to a conclusion. Just the thought of spending the next hours sitting around in this chamber makes him furious.

But of course, Jurian if furious more often than not lately.

Finally, the meeting starts. Indeed, they spent more than half an hour discussing the current state of the war, as if they aren’t all fighting it every day.

“Things have been looking better”, Andromache finally summarizes the situation, “but we’re still losing.”

Jurian bristles. “We won’t lose. Not while I have anything to say about it.”

“If we do lose”, one of the other commanders says, “you might be dead, anyways. So in that case, you wouldn’t have anything to say about it.” Jurian just glares.

“Miryam”, Andromache says, “how is that spell you were working on coming along?”

“Not good.” Miryam sighs. “I’ve been stuck for these past months.”

“Or maybe you just haven’t been trying very hard”, Nakia says. When Miryam starts to object, she cuts her off. “After all, what do you care about other people, as long as yours get freed?”

Jurian glares at her over the table. He’s angry at her, too. Although he has to admit that Miryam hasn’t been working on the spell as hard as she could have been, for reasons Jurian doesn’t entirely understand

“Unlike you”, Miryam says, “I care about all humans, not just a group of them.”

Nakia jumps to her feet, but Andromache takes her by the arm and pushes her back down.

“That’s enough. Nakia, for the last time, stop implying that Miryam doesn’t care about humans outside of the Black Land. It’s ridiculous and you know it. Miryam, the same goes for you. We’re all on the same side here.”

Miryam presses her lips together. “I can create wards that hold off an enemy army for a few hours”, she says, “But you are asking for a spell that effectively cleaves the world in two and is able to hold off against any and all Fae for eternity! Do you even realize…” She shakes her head, and when she continues, her voice trembles slightly. “You demand the impossible. And when I cannot do it, you accuse me of failing on purpose. This isn’t fair.”

Andromache sighs. “No one truly believes that.” She looks at Nakia, who is glaring at her fingers. “Not even Nakia. Tensions are just running a little high for everyone, that’s all.” She turns back to Miryam. “And no one here expects the impossible. But you know how dangerous our situation is – you know better than anyone here what will happen to us if we lose. So I’m begging you to keep trying.”

Miryam fiddles around with her sleeves. “Of course I’ll try”, she says and Andromache moves the subject to different matters.

When the meeting is finally over, Miryam rushes out of the room and Jurian is quick to follow her.

“No one thinks that”, he says while they walk through the halls, “You know that no one thinks that.” But he can’t quite stop himself from adding, “But you have to admit that you haven’t exactly been doing your best.”

Miryam whirls around to him. There is true hurt in her eyes, and Jurian curses himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut. If there was ever a time not to bring this up, it is now.

“I’m not saying you didn’t try”, he says, “Just that, considering how precarious this situation is, I thought you would have been… you know…” trying harder.

“Sure.” Miryam rubs a hand over her face. “It’s only one of the most complicated spells I’ve ever heard off. Surely I must only try harder if I want to come up with a solution. Because it’s that easy.”

Jurian sighs. Now he just made it worse. “I’m sorry”, he says, “I didn’t mean that. I don’t really know that much about magic, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Miryam nods. “I’m going to university with Drakon tomorrow”, she says, “Maybe they have some texts or… something.”

“What are you doing at university?”

“You know how I’ve been having a little trouble with my powers lately? Drakon thought the university might have some information about it.” She turns to Jurian and manages a smile. “You could come along if you want to. I’d be happy to have you there.”

Jurian would love to say yes. But the very idea of spending an entire day with running around some university for rich Fae children disturbs him. He already lost one day – wasting another seems irresponsible. He has a war to fight, and two Hybern generals to kill. And if he’s honest, this entire visit seems far too Fae for his liking, anyways.

“I’m sorry”, he says, feeling terrible about himself because it is not Miryam he’s trying to refuse. “Things at camp have been terribly busy. If we want to pull that attack on Amarantha’s army off, I can’t be gone tomorrow. But I’m sure you’ll have fun with Drakon.”

“Of course. We probably shouldn’t leave the camp without a commander anyways.” Her smile is almost convincing. But only almost.

Jurian reaches for her hand. “But we can for a ride. After our raid. We haven’t had time alone together in a while.”

Miryam looks relieved enough that Jurian feels even worse about himself. “I’d like that”, she says, and this time, her smile actually looks real.

----

Miryam and Drakon set out three days later. At Sinna`s insistence, they are accompanied by two guards – although officially, taking the guard`s was Drakon`s decision. He winnows all of them to a well-kept lawn just within the university grounds. A few of the guards employed by the university look at them sharply, before one of them recognizes Drakon and inclines his head. Drakon nods back at him.

Meanwhile, Miryam is too busy staring at their surroundings to notice the guards. Drakon smiles at her, remembering his reaction to first seeing the university. Built in the centre of the Continent, it is almost like a small city in itself. The centre is made up of the university complex – libraries, laboratories, offices and lecture halls – but around it, there are normal houses and workshops mostly catering to the university.

"Beautiful", Miryam whispers.

Drakon nods. "The buildings are over a thousand years old. The university itself is far older, but it was burned down once and had to be rebuild." He points ahead to a huge wooden building that towers over the rest of the city. "The library is over there. It's where we'll meet Kiko."

His guards fall back and a few metres as they start walking and stay far enough behind that they likely won't be able to hear their conversation. Miryam absentmindedly links her arm with Drakon`s, but keeps looking around at the university buildings.

“It`s all wood”, she says, amazement colouring her voice.

“It was the style at the time. Well, at least here.”

Miryam nods. One of the buildings, a fragile-looking clocktower, catches her attention and Drakon has to tug her aside to stop her from running into a faerie who`s standing by the road. She turns around to smile at him, more freely than she has in a while. Drakon doesn`t know why, but his cheeks heat and he quickly looks away.

"I just wish Jurian had come along", Miryam says softly. "Getting out of camp for a bit might have been good for him."

Drakon nods, and turns back to Miryam, whose smile has dimmed considerably. They both spent the last months worrying about Jurian. Drakon wishes he could do more to help, but things between him and Jurian have been difficult lately, and the worst part is that he doesn`t even know why. It`s like from one day to another, Jurian decided that he doesn`t particularly care for Drakon`s company anymore. Even his refusal to accompany them on their trip today seemed to be aimed mostly at him.

Normally, he would have assumed that he`s seeing things, but when he asked Miryam about it, she shared his opinion. Although she didn`t know the reasons behind Jurian`s behaviour either. She offered to ask, but relying on Miryam to solve the problems between him and Jurian would just make him feel like he`s too much of a coward to do it himself.

“Does Jurian know why we`re here?”, Drakon asks.

“I`m not keeping this secret from him.” She shrugs. “He knows I have trouble with controlling my power sometimes, and that we`re asking a friend of yours for advice.”

Drakon frowns at her. Somehow, he finds it hard to believe that Jurian would have stayed behind if he truly knew why they were here. Jurian may not be interested in visiting a Fae library, but he cares about Miryam more than about anything else and the idea that he`d not at least try to help her with a problem like this seems outlandish.

“And you`re sure you told him how serious this is?”

Miryam suddenly finds huge interest in a smaller building to their left. She carefully studies it, then asks, “Is that a tavern? I thought this was a university.”

“Miryam.”

“It`s not…” She sighs and turns around to face Drakon. “I told him the truth. I just don`t see the point in exaggerating a problem and giving him one more thing to worry about when he can`t do anything about it anyways.”

Drakon does see the point in it. He sees several points, actually, and is about to tell Miryam as much when they get interrupted by a Fae male with colourful butterfly wings.

“Ah, Drakon”, he says and reaches for his hand. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?”

“Well. And you, professor?”, Drakon asks, trying to sound polite, but not overly cheerful.

Professor Niko taught two of his classes in his second and third year at university and him and Drakon never quite got along. He once had Drakon fail an assignment just because their opinions didn’t match. But him now being Prince seems to have increased the professor’s opinion of him, which only makes Drakon like him less.

“Oh, I can’t complain.” He smiles at Drakon. “I’ve read your papers. Good work as always. Although I do find a few of your arguments a little… extreme.”

“What is extreme about saying humans should be equal to Fae?”, Miryam cuts in, frowning lightly.

The professor turns to Miryam, seemingly only noticing her now. “And you must be Lady Miryam”, he says, “Well, I can imagine why you’d say that. Although even you must admit that Fae have certain inherent advantages over you mortals.”

“No, I do not see it that way at all”, Miryam says in a tone that dares him to argue.

“And if you’d ever talk to a human”, Drakon adds, “you might find you agree with her.” His cheeks are burning. “But as it is, Miryam and I have to be off.” He takes her by the arm and leads her away. As soon as they are out of hearing range, he sighs. “Sorry. That was… He’s from Rask, you see. You know that I don’t agree with that.”

“I know that”, Miryam says, “Just… are there slaves in this city?”

“No. Slavery has been prohibited on university grounds for millennia.” He hesitates. “Although the university doesn’t accept human students either.”

Miryam sighs – and changes the subject. “They don`t seem bothered by your new status.”

Drakon feels like he should say something more on the university’s leaning on slavery, but if Miryam decides not to pursue the subject, that’s her choice to make.

“Royalty isn`t as uncommon here as you`d think”, he says, “Most nobles, including royals, want their children to get the best education, and that means either this university, or the one in the Black Land. Most prefer this one, though, because it`s independent.”

Some extremely smart person decided millennia ago that education shouldn`t be tied to one single state, so he arranged for a small bit of land around the centre of the Continent to be made into neutral ground and to build a university there. The obvious flaw in that arrangement is that the university now has to cover its expenses from the money students pay, which effectively bars most people from attending.

“So this is where rich Fae families send their children to make useful connections for later?”, Miryam asks

Drakon winces. “Basically. Although there are even divisions between individual classes. Lower-ranking nobles generally go into social studies or sciences and hope for a seat on a ruling council. Well, or military. Royal children are generally expected to go either into politics or the military." He shrugs with an indifference he doesn’t quite feel. "My father always wanted me to go into politics. But well, I failed in the lessons, and since my father had little patience for useless things, he had me try military next."

"Even if you don't excel at lessons, they are hardly useless", Miryam objects.

"Well, I wasn't referring to the lessons." Miryam`s expression shifts from confused to upset, and he quickly adds, “We both know I`m hopeless at politics. Anyways, my father thought that at least I`d prove to be somewhat brilliant in military matters, so he sent me off to train under Sinna. But I guess I didn`t have any particular talent for that either, so when I was nineteen – after five years of trying – Sinna convinced my father to send me to university.”

Miryam stops walking to stare at him. He doesn`t understand what her problem is, until she says very softly, “Your father sent you to join the military at fourteen?”

“I don`t think you understand how embarrassing it is for a Continental ruler to have a child that completely fails at politics.” Miryam continues staring at him, and Drakon awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to another. “It`s not like there were any battles at the time. But after a few years at university, my father decided I was at least good enough at what I was doing that he could give me a seat on his council. Well.” He winces. “Until the matter with Ravenia, of course.”

Miryam stares at him for another uncomfortable moment, then continues walking. “Your father sounds horrible.”

Drakon is too surprised to say something at first. He just stares at her. But then, he catches himself and vehemently shakes his head. “No. No, he isn`t. Wasn`t, I mean. He was a good person.”

Miryam arches an eyebrow at him. “He sent you, his own child, off to the military at fourteen and sold you to Ravenia ten years later.”

“No, it`s…”, Drakon stammers. He hates the way Miryam says it, how she makes what his father did sound terrible and heartless. “It`s not like that at all. And please stop looking at me like you feel bad for me. You’re the last person who should feel bad for me for that!”

Miryam presses her lips together. “Bad childhoods aren`t a competition.”

“I didn`t have a bad childhood! And I loved my father.” And I got him killed, he adds silently.

Miryam looks at him like she very badly wants to argue, but bites her tongue at the last moment. Instead, she nods towards the towering building before them.

“Is that the library?”

Drakon nods and tries hard to push his thoughts away from his dead family and what they might think of him now. He makes to step through the library`s huge doors, but one of the guards in fronts stops him with an outstretched hand.

“No weapons past this point”, he says.

Oh, right. He should have remembered that. Drakon unties his weapons` belt and hands it to the guards, Miryam passes over her dagger. Then, Drakon turns around to his guards, who look extremely unhappy at the idea of giving up their weapons.

“We`ll be busy in the library for, say, three hours, and the it is well protected. There`s a nice restaurant just around the corner, if you want to go. You are, of course, invited.”

The guards don`t look overly happy that they won`t accompany them, but the prospect of a free dinner that isn`t army food seems to lighten their mood. Drakon hold open the door to the library for Miryam and follows her inside. They walk past the front table and Miryam cranes her neck back to look up at the high ceiling, and the stairs climbing up right to the roof.

“We meet Kiko in the ninth story”, Drakon says, “So, we could walk, or-“

“Fly, please.”

Drakon laughs and ruffles his wings. A group of students walks past, one of them whispers something to the others and then, they all stare. Drakon wraps his arms around Miryam, spreads his wings and sends them shooting into the air. They land on the ninth story and Miryam quickly straightens her clothes.

“There we are”, Drakon says and pushes open the door. “Magical studies, department for Higher Powers.”

It isn`t one of the parts of the library he visited frequently as a student, but he knows his way around well enough not to get lost as he leads Miryam through the labyrinth of shelves to where they agreed to meet Kiko.

He is already there, casually leaning against a shelf. In the soft light, his red skin seems to glow, the colours shifting around it making him look like a living flame. When he sees Drakon, he grins broadly and pushes off the shelf he was leaning against. Drakon closes the space between them with two quick steps and pulls his old friend into a hug.

“I missed you too”, Kiko says. He lets go of Drakon and gives him a mischievous smile. “So, tell me, Your Highness. Do I need to bow?”

“Don`t you dare.” Drakon laughs and waves Miryam over. “That`s Miryam. Miryam, Kiko.”

“Nice to meet you”, Miryam says.

“The pleasure is mine.” Kiko sketches a bow, then winks at her. “My friends will be beyond jealous if they hear I`ve actually met you. That is, if they believe me at all. But”, he adds, expression turning more sober, “I suppose you aren`t here just to give me something to brag about to my friends.” He turns to Drakon. “Your letter said you need my help. What can I do for you?”

Drakon sets up wards around them with a wave, then inclines his head to Miryam. “I think it`s best if you explain.”

Miryam nods, but looks around nervously even though she should know about the wards. “You know that I`m a witch”, she says carefully.

Kiko nods, excitement lighting his red eyes. The horns poking out of his curly hair seem to tremble slightly. “Yes, of course. That must be so exciting! I`ve never met a witch before – is it true that you can see spells? And talk to animals?”

Drakon winces. He didn’t consider how utterly fascinated any people who study magic are by witches. That the Guild is so secretive about their abilities only adds to the general interest. Maybe he should have warned Kiko that Miryam has a rather difficult relationship with both her abilities and the Guild.

“Yes to the spells, no to the animals”, she says. Drakon is probably the only one to notice that her smile seems a little strained. “I`ve been having… trouble with it lately, though. For over a year now.”

Kiko`s expression turns serious immediately. “What kind of trouble?”

“With the control. It worked just fine in the beginning, but now…” She shrugs a bit helplessly then begins to haltingly describe her problems. Problems that Drakon didn`t even know existed until a few days ago. “Do you have any idea what it might be?”, she asks after she finished. “Because it keeps getting worse and I...” She breaks off and shrugs again.

Kiko nods. “I see.” He starts chewing on his lower lip. “I take it you aren`t ready to take this to my professor?”

Miryam immediately shakes her head. “It has to remain secret.”

Kiko nods again, but his frown deepens. “The problem is that witches are rare. And, if you excuse me saying so, somewhat secretive about their power. Scholars have been petitioning with the Guild for centuries to get them to disclose at least some information, but they refuse. So I`m afraid that I have far too little information to be able to give you any definite answers.”

“Your guess is better than mine”, Miryam says. If she is disappointed, she hides it well. She now wears the same mild expression she usually dons for council meetings.

“For the reasons behind your troubles”, Kiko says, “The only guess I can come up with is that you simply grow more powerful with time and whatever control you had when you were younger is simply no longer enough. For Fae, it takes about seven years for their power to fully mature, and it might be similar for witches. You got your power at – sixteen? Seventeen? Count up from there.”

Miryam presses her lips together. “So you`re saying this will get worse for one more year?” Drakon squeezes her hand.

“I`m sorry”, Kiko says. “The best advice I can give you is to find someone with similar abilities and get him to teach you.”

“The only people I could ask for that are other witches. And the Guild hates me.” She shakes her head. “There has to be another option.”

Drakon shoots Kiko a pleading look. Just give her something! He can`t have dragged Miryam here, made her hope there might be a solution, just for them to leave empty-handed.

“Well”, Kiko says and gestures vaguely to the shelfs surrounding them. “This is the world`s biggest library. Not a problem those books don`t know a solution to. We just need to search.”

“Great”, Drakon says, quickly jumping onto the suggestion, “Where do we start?”

“Shelf 36 to 120 could have something”, Kiko says.

Drakon looks at the long shelves, then back at Kiko, brows raised. Searching this many shelves would take days.

“Good”, Miryam says, “I’ll start from the end, then.” She manages a parting smile, then rushes off.

Drakon has to fight off the impulse to run after her and find some words of comfort. This didn’t go at all as he’d planned.

“I`m sorry I couldn`t give her a better answer”, Kiko says as they walk over to shelf 36.

“Not your fault.” Drakon sighs. “I should have handled it differently.” Maybe he should have discussed the matter alone with Kiko before bringing Miryam into it. Or he should have made it clear that they might not find anything.

They start from opposite sides of the shelf and begin to sort their way through the books, checking each title and only taking a closer look at the books that sound promising. Drakon sighs. How are they ever supposed to find anything this way?

“And how are you?”, he asks.

“Can’t complain.” Kiko shrugs. “My studies are going well, and I haven’t blown up anything in a few months, so that’s a new record.” He nudges Drakon in the side. “And right now, I’m a little pissed at you. How come I only now find out that you have a crush on her?”

Drakon nearly drops the book he just pulled out of the shelf. “What?” Then, he finally processes what Kiko just said and vehemently shakes his head. “No. No, I don`t have a crush on Miryam! That`s ridiculous.”

Kiko laughs, puts his book back into the shelf and pulls out another. “Obviously you do.” He scans the book`s first page and puts it back into the shelf. “Just the way you look at her. Although I should have probably known from your letters already – you can`t seem to stop going on about how amazing and talented and wonderful she is.”

“I`m not…” …in love with her, Drakon wants to say, but he can`t quite get himself to actually speak the words.

He isn`t in love with her. He isn`t. Sure, he notices thinks about her, like how her smile lights up her entire face and makes her look like she might be glowing. Or that she is beautiful. But he`d have to be blind not to notice that. And she`s kind, and strong, and smart. He misses her when she`s not around.

They are friends. That`s why. But if he`s entirely honest, they have been friends for a while, but in the past months…

“Shit”, Drakon mutters and runs his hand through his hair. “Shit, I can`t be in love with her!”

“Why not? She seems nice.”

“Because it`s going to ruin everything! She`s my friend, and…” He begins pace between the shelves. “And she`s in love with Jurian. Who is also my friend. Oh, Cauldron, what if they find out?”

Jurian seems angry enough with him as it is. Maybe it`s because of that? Maybe he somehow noticed that Drakon fell in love with Miryam and is angry about that. Who could even blame him?

“Don`t you think you may be over-reacting a little bit?”, Kiko asks. His mouth quirks upwards like he is trying very hard no to smile. “Look on the bright side: at least it can’t end worse than your engagement with Ravenia.”

But this just horrifies Drakon more. “I was engaged to –“ He frantically runs his fingers through his hair. “When we first met, I… She… Oh Cauldron, I`m a terrible person.”

Kiko laughs and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Look, Drakon, not to interrupt your freak-out, but don`t you think you`re blowing this way out of proportion?”

“This is a disaster.”

“It`s a crush. The thing about crushes is, you can`t really control if you get them or not, and they usually don`t last long.” Kiko gives his shoulder a final squeeze and lets go. “So calm down a little”, he says, “As long as you don`t start trying anything with her, you should be fine.”

“Right.” Drakon nods and takes a deep breath. This is fine. The situation may not be ideal, but nothing needs to change about their situation. They can still be friends. It`s fine. He looks down at the book still in his hands and flips it open.

“Then we should probably, you know. Continue looking.”

Kiko laughs. “You really haven`t changed at all.”

Drakon doesn`t bother to tell him how very wrong that assessment is.

----

Miryam has never seen so many books in one place. The shelves reach up to the ceiling and are stuffed with volumes, some of which look like they might be hundreds of years old. She barely dares to touch them for fear that they might fall apart under her touch.

After she worked her way through the first shelf, though, she realizes that there may well be too many books. She could spend days here and still not have seen everything. Even if she just glances at the title of each book and only takes a closer look at the ones that sound like they might be useful, the search takes ages and the odds of finding any useful information seem minimal. Cauldron, she doesn`t even know exactly what she is looking for. Information on witches? On magic in general? On how to control power? Maybe Kiko doesn`t truly know either, and that`s why he has them search close to a hundred shelves.

After working her way through three shelves, Miryam is just about ready to give up. Coming here was a stupid idea. A waste of time. She should have known that witches would be so secretive about their abilities that no one would be able to tell her anything. Well, except for the Guild, but they`d probably rather kill her than help her. How foolish of her, to have hoped that this visit might be the solution to her problems. It will be the best to tell Drakon and Kiko to give up the search before they waste any more time chasing after information that isn`t there.

She walks past the seemingly endless rows of shelves until a small glass vitrine catches her attention. She pauses. The vitrine itself looks rather inconspicuous, as does the leather book lying inside, but the glowing strings surrounding both are anything but. Miryam automatically reaches for the vitrine`s lid, but stops herself in the last moment.

“Go ahead”, a voice says from behind her, making her spin around.

A Fae female in scholar`s robes stands between the shelves. She is easily one of the oldest Fae Miryam has ever met, hair already streaked with white and skin marked by deep wrinkles. Her deep brown eyes seem kind enough, though.

“I`m sorry”, Miryam says. She feels caught, even though she wasn’t really going to do anything. “I wasn`t going to touch it.”

“Please.” The female steps closer. “I`d love to see. I so rarely get the chance to see a witch at work.”

Miryam considers refusing, but the spells on the book are witch-made. If she wants to find out what is inside, this is her chance. Carefully, she reaches out for the lid. The wards on the vitrine are simple enough that Miryam doesn`t need to speak to disable them. She opens the lid and pulls out the book. Half a thought has it flap open.

“Fascinating”, the female says as Miryam carefully flips through the pages. “None of our experts have been able to open it.”

Miryam can easily imagine why. After all, her own spellbook is protected by similar wards.

“It`s a spell book”, she explains, “Warded against anyone other than a witch reading it.”

And, this much is obvious just from reading the first page, the spells inside are far more advanced than anything that Miryam has been able to find in her own book. She scans the pages, struggling to understand what, exactly, is written in there. Wards, if she`s not mistaken, but more complicated than any she has ever seen.

She flips the book shut. “May I borrow this?”

“Unfortunately, that will not be possible.”

Miryam hesitates. If she is correct, this book will not be able to help her with the problem she came here to solve, but it might just contain the solution to another issue. She promised Jurian to keep looking into ways a wall between humans and Fae might be constructed, and if there’s a chance of this book containing answers, she cannot give it up this easily.

“I have another book”, she says, “similar to this one. It contains general information on how witches` powers work. If you let me borrow this book, I could copy a few pages from mine and send them to you in exchange.”

She sees the light glinting in the scholar`s eyes and knows she has won before the female says, “That seems like a fair trade. I`ll expect the book and your copies back in a month.”

“Thank you”, Miryam says and tucks the book under her arm. “Now, if you`ll excuse me, I have to go find my friends.”

She feels the female`s eyes on her back as she quickly walks away to where she suspects Drakon and Kiko. She finds them by shelf 40, standing hunched over a book When she walks over to them, Drakon looks up.

“Oh, good that you`re here.” He smiles at her, then quickly looks away again, like he’s uncomfortable about something. “We may have found something.”

Miryam quickly steps closer. “Really?”

“Yes, uhm. Kiko thinks…” Drakon clears his throat and steps from one foot to the other. He really does seem uncomfortable. Miryam wonders if she interrupted something between him and Kiko.

“It`s a book describing the case of a shadowsinger who lived five hundred years ago”, Kiko says, “He also had trouble with his powers, from what I`ve been able to gather. I don`t know the book, or the author, but shadowsinging is considered a Higher Art, same as witchcraft. Maybe you`ll be able to find something useful in it.”

“Thank you”, Miryam says, not bothering to hide her relief. If there was another person who struggled with the same things and made it out of it, she might just be fine. “Truly.”

Kiko`s skin turns an even deeper red. “Anytime. And I`ll continue looking. If I find anything, I`ll let you know.”

“Thank you”, Drakon says and glances at a clock that’s standing in the corner. “I’m afraid Miryam and I have to get going. I told my guards we’d be back in three hours, and I don’t know what they’ll do if we’re late.”

Miryam thanks Kiko again, then steps back a few steps to let him and Drakon say goodbye in private. The two of them hug, Kiko says something that makes Drakon laugh, then they break apart.

“Take care, you two!”, Kiko calls after them as they walk back through the library. Drakon waves back over the shoulder at him.

When they are out of the library and walking through the university town again, Drakon nods to the second book Miryam still holds in her hands. “And what is that?”

“A spellbook.” She reaches for his hand and smiles. “Coming here was a wonderful idea, Drakon. Thank you.”

He smiles back at her. “I just hope this book we found will help.”

Back in their camp, Miryam spends the entire night reading in the book about the shadowsinger while Jurian sleeps next to her. The book isn`t helpful. Not in the slightest.

Dread growing with each page, Miryam reads the scarily blunt description of what happened to that long-ago shadowsinger. It started with trouble with controlling his abilities. Small at first, then bigger and bigger, until he had outbursts where he entirely lost control. The symptoms the author describes are scarily similar to what Miryam is struggling with, just applied to a different set of powers. But it didn`t end there. After a while, he started to lose touch with reality. Could no longer tell what was real and what imagined. Saw things that weren`t there. After two years, he died during one of his magical outbursts.

Miryam carefully closes the book and puts it on her nightstand. Blows out the candle.

She spends the rest of the night sobbing into her pillow.

But in the morning, when Drakon asks her if she found anything in the book, she makes herself smile. “It was very helpful.”

It’s not like there’s anything they can do about it, anyways. Better to focus on winning the war than to waste time on a problem that doesn’t have a solution.

----

Tags @croissantcitysucks @sjm-things @clolikescloquetas

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hdawg1995 · 3 years

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i just wrote a bunch of lore to explain a homebrew mechanic for a dnd campaign i'll never run, enjoy.

Mana Burn: the mage's desperate attempt at survival turned deadly.

Most mages know what mana burn is; its when you try to use a powerful spell without the proper training and the magic used to power it comes from your soul rather than the natural magic around you, blessed unto you, from the tomes of knowledge you’ve studied, or from the natural reserves of magic you have. It's painful, it causes physical damage that takes years to repair let alone reverse, and it makes using magic dangerous. It's why you don’t see first time casters slinging fire balls or casting lighting as soon as they pick up a book or realize they have magic in their blood. Yes, there have been times where, with a powerful focus or through the help of an elder, that younger mages have used these powerful spells. Mana burn doesn’t accrue in these instances because the magic is drawn from the focus or the elder.

When mana burn becomes severe- when it consumes the soul a significant amount- this is called Soul Burn. It happens more often than you think but not as often as you expect. Mana burn, in most cases, causes severe damage and can be healed- Soul Burn can not be healed. Not in the same way, anyhow. You see, the science behind Mana Burn is that you no longer have mana sufficient enough to cast the spell, so it is being drawn from another source that is just as powerful. Over time mana is restored to the body, focus, environment, allowing the damage to the soul to be healed. The science behind Soul Burn is that you have no mana to use and the spell was being drawn from your soul, and then you kept casting spells. Eventually, there won’t be a soul left. In most cases, however, there is just enough soul left but the natural magic of the individual starts eating away at it. The body has realized there are other sources of magic within itself and, ironically, in an attempt to heal itself from the mana burn, it is using the soul.

Signs of Soul Burn include being able to cast spells without mana, numbness in one of the eight Mana Pools of the body, feeling overheated or warm, a loss of wit or mind, extreme bouts of confusion, and pain when coming into contact with healing magic. It is that last part that makes surviving Soul Burn difficult. The signs of Soul Burn only begin to be seen shortly after Mana Burn symptoms and often around the halfway point for the patient’s constitution score.

Now, let's be honest here: you are never going to encounter Soul Burn in the wild. It is theorized that dragons die of Soul Burn when they near old age, and most magical creatures do not get too powerful for their kind as a natural defense against Soul Burn. you WILL encounter Soul Burn on the battlefield if there are any magic users. You WILL encounter Soul Burn in adventures. You WILL encounter Soul Burn in magic academies. On the battlefield mages giving it their all can result in Mana Burn- casting a desperate spell to wipe out an army, trying in vain to revive a fallen comrade- so Soul Burn is very easy to slip into. Adventures trying to show off or just trying to survive slip into mana burn sometimes. Most are responsible with their spells but desperate times call for desperate measures. Soul Burn in adventures is the easiest to spot as there will be at least two other people to monitor the subject’s condition. The magic academies are stressful. I can’t tell you the amount of times emergency services were called in when a student has gone though late stage Soul Burn in an attempt to pass a final. Its heart breaking, since the academies often have an attitude of “life happens”, and your friend pushing themselves to exhaustion just to get a good grade is no different from your friend pulling an all nighter and going through mana burn. This is a good time to explain Late Stage Soul Burn.

Firstly, it is not pretty. The magic user is all but gone mentally; typically they are dazed and latch onto a phrase that has been in their mind for various reasons, only responding to stimuli with the phrase. Their eyes glow as if they are casting a spell and that glow starts to be seen in their veins through their skin. At this point there is very little hope for the caster; their soul is all but burnt out, their constitution in the negatives. Eventually the individual will start to burn from the inside out. This is both literal and spiritually. The soul has been burnt away leaving smoldering bits of spirit that are now burning the body. Their eyes are embers as light escapes from their nostrils, mouth, ears, and any wounds or other openings in the body. The skin darkens like charcoal and flakes away to reveal more light. Hair and clothing is burnt away as a flame eats away the charcoal of their body leaving a vague shape of fire. There have been exactly three cases of an individual surviving late stage soul burn at this point. The first that many, such as yourself, are told about is the sorcerer who was held tightly by his companion. The typical explanation that is given is the companion was asked to hold the sorcerer (the phrase his mind had latched onto was conveniently “hold me tight and watch me”) and he refused to let him go. The man was supposedly burned very badly but it is theorized he had compressed the flame the sorcerer had turned into, like pressure onto coal creating diamonds. What was left was a living, breathing human sorcerer who’s soul had begun to heal naturally.

The second account was the sorcerer who was smothered by her companions. The typical explanation was when she had entered the flame stage her friend had grabbed a blanket to try and suppress the flames. The result was several burnt blankets and a small explosion as her fire ate away at the ground she had been kneeling on. Eventually a still breathing and living elf sorcerer whose soul had begun to heal naturally. With these two stories alone it would be natural to assume the cure for late stage soul burn is to suppress the flames. However, there are many documentaries that show this could also result in the flames being choked out and the individual dying anyway- rather than slowly burning out, they are snuffed out quickly.

The third telling is that of a cleric who was placed in a tiny hut spell and sung to by a bard throughout the entire experience. The typical explanation is the bard kept the smoke and embers the cleric was turning into within a secure magical dome- the magic did not touch the individual but was able to keep them within. It is theorized this process caused the soul to remain in a small space and the bard’s music was a focus for the individual to be drawn to. The result was a living breathing human cleric. There are a few sections of medical study that believe the reasons these individuals survived was due to the preparation involved (which is explained in the full stories) and the bond between the individuals in the stories. After meeting with two of the survivors (the elf had sadly passed away due to mummy rot) it is clear to me (in both my honest opinion and that of a researcher) I can confirm the bonds have some effect on the soul and it’s capacity to survive soul burn.

To put Mana Burn and Soul Burn into perspective for the non casters, Mana Burn is calculated as the level of the spell you want to cast + the spell slot you intend to use. The total is taken out of the caster’s constitution score. So trying to cast a level 1 spell with a level 1 spell slot while out of mana would do 2 damage to the caster’s constitution. It doesn’t seem like much until you realize most casters tend to have very low health and losing even that much constitution can be dangerous. Soul Burn is calculated as the caster’s level + the spell they wish to cast. The total is then subtracted from their constitution. Remember- Soul Burn happens after Mana Burn. So, how do you figure out when your mage buddy is going though Mana Burn (and you should stop them immediately) or though Soul Burn (and it's too late)? When your caster buddy’s Constitution score is Con x 0.3 - Con (round up. The number will be calculated as negative but that's fine, ignore that). At that point if they cast a spell again, they will start to suffer soul burn. So if your buddy’s constitution is 14, once it drops the 10 they should not continue to cast spells. If their constitution drops to 7 they are in the Soul Burn zone and should be taken to emergency services or secluded away from magic. Watch them carefully at this point- if they don’t seem to get better within the hour (deities forbid they get worse) your best bet is to attempt a restoration spell. It WILL hurt them and they MIGHT pass out. If they do pass out, stop the healing immediately. Your caster buddy could out will the healing and stay conscious, so if they do check them for feeling warm, rather or not they can count how many fingers you have, and if you can get more than a sentence out of them. Once they are back in the Mana Burn zone you can let them rest and heal naturally with rest.

#dungeons and dragons 3.5 #dnd #dungeons and dragons

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tlhnetwork · 5 years

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JULY’s Chain of Gold Flash Fiction by Cassandra Clare

LONDON, 1901

“Is hunting demons scary?” He asked.

Gabriel sighed, and drew Christopher closer. “It can be scary, but a world overrun by demons is much scarier.”

That made sense, but Christopher continued his line of questioning. “Fighting them with swords and daggers, that is scary. But what if there are other ways to fight them?”

His father looked puzzled. “Like with ranged weapons? Bows and arrows?”

Christopher thought, But the Silent Brothers only hold certain kinds of wisdom. What if there was a different kind that could have saved Jesse? But he held his tongue.

Then, when Christopher was ten, Anna was bitten by a demon, and the wound became infected. The whole family was frenzied with worry for a day and a night over Christopher’s older sister. The fever was the problem that lasted, the problem that loomed in his mind demanding a solution. Far too often in his life, Christopher found himself thinking the same thoughts he had the day Jesse died. This is all wrong. Something must be done about this.

You never forget your first explosion.

“Oh, well done, most well thought out,” said uncle Henry, but then aunt Charlotte had ‘a word’ with him. It was actually many words. Christopher didn’t see why people were so inaccurate.

“No,” said Christopher after a moment’s thought. “I would say my Uncle Henry.”

The Inquisitor appeared thunderstruck.

“Does it ever bother you?” Christopher asked Henry tentatively, a few hours later. “The way our people are? What they value, and what they… don’t?”

Henry laughed. “Does it matter if it bothers me? It doesn’t change the fact there is work to be done.”

It was a sensible and practical answer, but for once Christopher found himself wanting more. Henry understood him, the way Henry always seemed to.

“So I should join you in all your experiments, then,” Christopher said triumphantly.

including:

#the last hours #cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #chain of gold #tlh #christopher lightwood #cordelia carstairs #lucie herondale #james herondale #anna lightwood #grace blackthorn #matthew fairchild #tid #the infernal devices

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moccahobi · 5 years

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Climbing into a Relationship [Reader x Jungkook]

Warnings: None

Prompt: “You did that on purpose didn’t you?”

Word Count: 2.8k words

Genre: Sports AU! Idol AU! Fluff

The building’s air was filled with early 2000s pop and chalk and if you were a newbie to the gym you would have turned around at the stench of sweat that permeates past the front desk and through the door. This gym was your second home and you needed to move after your long shift, though. You also wanted to talk to someone, but the neon orange band you wore as an invite didn’t seem to bring anyone else looking in the bouldering section over to you. It was a new thing the gym was implementing to try and increase the sense of community in the climbing gym but most people didn’t feel the need to talk when climbing.

Getting up from where you sat on the chalky mats, you put more chalk on your hands and attempted the V4 once again. It was a deceivingly hard climb on the 45 degree wall. Especially for a static climber to do and you once again wished that you were better at throwing yourself from hold to hold.

For now, you just focused on trying out the new beta you had thought up which involved getting both your feet where your right hand was and not barn dooring when you stood up. It would be hard and nearly impossible for someone less flexible than you, but you loved trying and V4s were always hard to do.

Of course you failed at not barn dooring. Quickly and uncontrollably, you moved towards a large hold on the other side of the wall, hitting the back your head harshly. You gasped, the air leaving your lungs as your left hand released its iron grip on the small hold keeping you on the wall, leading you to fall onto the mat.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” A voice cut through your pain and disorientation, surprising you from where you landed on the mat.

“Excuse me?” You asked, looking up at the tall and muscular man who was looking down at you. He was in a baggy shirt and shorts, a pair of tight running pants underneath the shorts, and he looked like he would be an extremely dynamic climber (especially with the excess amount of chalk on his hands that you saw in almost every other dynamic climber). The man looked to be about your age, his wide eyes and small lips pressed into a thin line. What he was asking, you didn’t know, but you knew that he was not acting like a normal climber.

“That move where you swung out and faced away from the wall. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He said, trying to recreate the barn door you did.

“No… that’s called a barn door. You don’t want to do that.” You said, getting up and patting down your pants, leaving faded chalk marks in your stead.

“Well why’d you do it then?”

“When I was at that point in the climb, I only had two points of contact on the wall. So when I moved up, that movement lead to me swinging out and away from the wall. It’s called barn dooring. You don’t want to do that.” You said, giving him a once over. His undamaged hands and rented climbing shoes verified what you had suspected: This man was a new climber, “Do you want to try? It’s a hard climb.”

“Uhhhh… you were doing an actual climb?” He asked, his eyes widening and you giggled lightly in retur. He was very cute.

“Yeah. If you look at these holds,” You pointed at the starting point, a small square of purple laminated paper that said V4, “They have this slip of paper. It tells you the grade you’re attempting. It’s a V4 which means that it is 4 levels from a beginner’s climb. The two holds below the start holds are your starting foot holds. You just follow the purple holds up and you have your climb.”

He simply introduced himself before trying and failing to even make it past the start. Which lead to you laughing lightly as he pouted, “That’s really good for a beginner, Jungkook-sshi. I know many people who wouldn’t be able to hold on. How about we do something easier?” You hoped that you adding yourself to his climbing time wouldn’t be something that he’d mind.

You were lonely and stressed, and he was cute and wanted to climb.

“I would really like that if you’d want to climb with a noob.” He said quietly, his eyes downcast as he spoke. Was he shy? But why? You didn’t do something strange, did you?

“What do you suggest I start with?” He asked, this time talking with the same confidence and excitement as before as if the shyness you had originally seen was just a figment of your imagination.

You smiled, happy to see his excitement, “How about with a VB, they’re great warm-ups.”

Turns out, Jungkook was a fairly good climber, his brute strength and sharp mind making him soar through VBs, V0s, and V1s quickly. It was fun to try his dumb betas and show him different tricks, especailly because he loved to try static climbs. Even if he couldn’t really get his foot above his hip nor do the equivalent of a dyno without leaving the wall. He was strong and determined to try and you were happy to share your three years of knowledge.

It wasn’t until the gym was getting ready to close for the night that you were forced to try and figure out if you’ll ever see Jungkook again. He was in rentals and had never climbed in a technical sense before. You were most likely not seeing him again, even if he decides to climb again, unless you tried to keep in contact. You just don’t run into the same people at the gym that often.

“Would you like to grab dinner with me, Jungkook-sshi? There’s a good salad place near here that I love to eat at after a particularly hard day.” You offered awkwardly after coming out of the restroom. Jungkook looked like he had something he wanted to say as well but when you spoke, he shut up, a pink hue rising on his cheeks.

It was cute.

Very cute.

“I think I’d like that a lot, Y/n-sshi.” Jungkook said, his eyes downcast and hand rubbing his neck. You were a little shocked by how shy he was acting as it was so different than almost every other interaction you had with Jungkook up to that point. He was almost a different person with how shy he was acting.

Turns out, he doesn’t really go out much or interact with strangers which was why he was so shy when it came to social interactions. It didn’t fully make sense to you since he was extremely fit and had mentioned that he had some sort of job in dance. Although his awkwardness was really explained when you learned his age.

You actually spat out your drink when you heard his age, “Bwo! You’re only twenty one? Wow! I thought you were at least twenty three!”

“How old are you, Y/n-sshi?” Jungkook asked, his eyes wide. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that maybe he was worried about your age, but you knew better at this point. He was just a little shocked by your outburst.

“I am twenty five.” You laughed, “But I am still in school. I am hoping to get a PHD in food science.”

“Wow!! That’s cool! What got you into that field? It’s such a strange field!”

“It’s not really. Everything we eat uses it and my first job will probably be working for some junk food company to try and figure out the next combination of taste and texture to get more people to buy it. I got into it because of my second year bio professor. He kind of showed us some ways in which we can use food science to make our food last longer. My goal is to work for some nonprofit and make healthier food last longer in countries that don’t have as much access to it. GMOs and all that stuff.”

“It sounds like you’re very passionate about the work you want to do.” Jungkook said, laughing as you tried to spear a crouton onto your fork, “But I didn’t know GMOs were good. I thought they were bad.”

“They can be but overall they are the future if we want to live for more than one hundred years on this planet. What are you studying in college?”

“Oh… Uhhh… I am still undecided. I started college late and am only starting my second year.” Jungkook said, lowering her eyes in an almost sad way.

“You took a gap year?” He nodded, still not making eye contact with you, “Smart. I honestly wish I did. If I did, I might not have had to take out a loan. Two of my roommates took a gap year as well and they were the ones who really helped us furnish the apartment.”

“I’m also only doing college part time. My job is a priority.” He said, this time looking back at you and smiling. You tried to brush off the rapid beating of your heart you felt when he looked at you this time. You were really starting to like Jungkook.

“That is so cool. Do you have any idea of what you’d want to do after college?”

“Probably the same as what I am doing now in all honesty.” Jungkook responded, finishing off his salad, “Hey… uhhh… Y/n-sshi, can… can I have you number? I’d love to climb with you again.” Jungkook went shy again as he asked you and you really wanted to giggle at how cute he was acting.

“Of course.” You said, a large smile on your face as you pulled out a pen and wrote down your phone number, looking forwards to getting to know Jungkook more… and if things work out in your favor, maybe ask him out on a date.

Annoyingly enough, you stayed up later than you wanted just waiting for Jungkook to text you, something that your roommates took much joy out of making fun of. What was worse was that it took a whole other week before you saw the shy man again. You had been in the gym for two hours before you noticed the workers stop accepting new people coming in and another hour later you were one of the few climbers left in the building. It was strange as the gym was going to be open for another four hours but you guessed that the gym’s owner just didn’t want to let people in or was maybe trying to get some climbing team in for more hard training. Almost half an hour later you saw ten people come into the building, most of which were carrying camera gear or bags. It was strange to say the least.

What was stranger was seeing Jungkook and six other men who looked almost as good as Jungkook walk in almost five minutes later. It was jarring to see so many handsome men in the same setting but here they were. You stood there, staring at the seven men dumbfoundedly until you made eye contact with one of them. Their eyes widened and he seemed to talk to the others before pointing towards you. You quickly looked away, determined to finish off your climbing for the night without looking at them again.

Of course it didn’t work that way. You were trying your hand at a V5 when one of them started to furiously yell at the others in the group of seven. It shocked you out of your focused state and you looked over. All of the seven men were wearing make-up and trying to do some V3 you had managed to do earlier that week. The one who was yelling seemed to just be cut off by Jungkook, and the man’s face seemed to get redder by the minute as he continued to yell. It was funny to a degree but all you could focus on was that Jungkook and you were in the same gym at the same time and he never texted you.

The few other people who were in the gym before the seven started filming had left almost as soon as the camera crew told them that you might be on TV but you didn’t care. You were here to get your climbing fill in, even with your trigger-pull-syndrome and callous riddled hands and even with the possibility of getting filmed. Sure you were annoyed at Jungkook’s lack of messaging but you were honestly there to get a good climbing session in. You weren’t trying to obviously avoid Jungkook by leaving as soon as he went to get water near you when they took a break from filming. Nor when he tried to do a climb on the wall next to the wall you were climbing on.

Really.

You had no reason to avoid him.

You just also happened to have a somewhat long climbing endurance which lead to you calling it a day after almost six hours of climbing in total, the camera crew leaving around the time that you were as well. Jungkook and the other men who were being filmed had left ten minutes ago and the gym would be closing soon. You had felt bad for staying so late but you didn’t want to run into Jungkook at all. The man had to know that what he did was hurtful and rude and overall insensitive to you. He had to know! Why wouldn’t he know?

He has to know.

Really he has to.

Even if he was younger than you by four years and you were being somewhat immature.

As it turns out, Jungkook really didn’t get the message from you that day. It wasn’t until you saw the man a whole two months later that you finally talked again. You were starting to project some new V7 that a climbing friend of yours suggested and for what felt like the fifteenth time, you fell.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Jungkook asked and when you looked back at him, he was in a spotter’s position.

You rolled your eyes, “I am mad at you mister. Why didn’t you ever text me?”

“I… I was shy. I didn’t know what to say.” Jungkook was looking down, his neck and ears turning red.

You sighed, he was still young, “I understand, Jungkook-sshi. Please don’t be too shy with me tho. I really am not here to scare you.” You got up, not wanting to have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“I know… I just. Do you know who I am, Y/n-sshi?”

“What? You’re Jungkook? You work as a dancer? Should I know who you are?” You almost wanted to scoff. Was he prideful of who he was? Just because he was going to be in some random show?

“I am Jeon Jungkook.”

“A common name. Get on with it.”

“I am part of a band… BTS? Do you know them?” He said this quietly, almost as if he was worried that one of the few other climbers in the gym would hear him.

“I think I’ve heard of them. What’s your point?” You were utterly confused at this point. What was he trying to say? He was part of some random band, but why is that important?

“I’ve been in the idol industry since I was, like, thirteen, Y/n-sshi. I have almost no experience with girls. I mean, I have gotten better but still…” He said, voice was quieter now and he leaned closer to you as if this was some sort of large secret.

“But you have interacted with other people, right?” You asked, raising your eyebrow at him as the two of you walked towards your stuff in the far corner of the gym.

“Yeah but it’s harder with you… because you’re cute and you are a girl.”

You laughed at this, “Yeah? Well you’re cute and you’re a boy.”

He stopped and looked at you with his mouth open, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Why yes I am and I was planning on asking you on a date after we talked more but you never texted me.” You said, crossing your arms and laughing at his shocked expression.

“I… What?”

“Are you really that shocked by me being attracted to you, Jungkook-sshi?”

“You really don’t know why I am?”

“You’re Jeon Jungkook. A guy in a band whose been climbing at my gym lately. I am sure I’d learn more if you actually texted me so we could hang out when I am not in the gym.” You said, a small smile on your face. Jungkook smiled back before running over to get his phone, leaving you slightly confused until:

Xxx-xxx-xxxx: You said you wanted to go on a date if I texted you? You looked up and met eyes with Jungkook, a laugh leaving your mouth as you walked over to him. You: Yeah. Xxx-xxx-xxxx: How about we go on one now? You: Sure.

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serenhyunjinity · 5 years

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apénanti [bang chan]

“i hear you’re into greek mythology”

SKZ BANG CHAN || CHRIS BANG

warnings: probably inaccurate descriptions

a day. finally i would be visiting greece, athens precisely, was near. greece was probably the most interesting country to me at least, and i couldn’t contain my excitement once the professor announced that twenty students had been selected to go on this whirlwind of a trip. how typical, out of the 2000 students that signed up to it, i was chosen.

meanwhile here i was, sat on my bed staring at the mounds of clothes which i was about to attempt, and most likely fail, to put into my large suitcase. the only bad thing about this certain trip was the fact my best friend and roommate, hayoung, did not get selected, meaning i was bound to be alone during a majority of my stay.

“i heard jinyoung is going” the short haired girl wiggled her eyebrows teasingly as she sat on the bed opposite mine, plugging in her charger to the wall behind.

“that’s nice to know” i mumbled as i squeezed the case together, just about zipping it up fully. “i’m not going there just to form relationships, i want to widen my knowledge on greek mythology not the science of romance”. saying this, hayoung let out a groan of annoyance as she stared directly at me.

“y/n you’re going to be there for four days, i’m sure you will have time to socialise too” i mean she was correct, but truthfully i just wanted to discover more about the culture, not eat someone’s face off in a drunken makeout session. “seriously though, it’s jinyoung, you’ve liked him since forever” she chuckled as i sighed deeply.

jinyoung was and has been my crush since i was the mere age of twelve, ever since he helped me with some math question which was probably easier than anything i’ve ever studied in university. he’s smart and handsome to say the least, but it’s obvious that he isn’t looking for a relationship any time soon. i mean he just broke up with a girl who he had been dating for around two years, all because she dissed the harry potter series.

“i don’t even want to date him” now that, was a blatant lie. “i barely have time for myself, let alone a relationship” a loud sigh was heard from the other side of the room. it was true though, 99% of the time i’m either studying or writing up presentations in a small café nearby, it would just be unfair on the partner if i did end up dating.

“you can’t be single forever y/n, who knows maybe you’ll find a cute greek boy” the shorter girl winked as she moved out of her spot, grabbing a magazine. “oh crap i need to go to class” i chuckled as she ran out of the room, sliding on shoes and dashing out of the door.

only sixteen hours, hopefully it would be at least a bit eventful.

time had passed by extremely quickly, i now sat on the airplane seat, beside a girl with headphones larger than her actual head and the dance major seulgi, who was reading some kind of romance book. from the corner of my eye i could see jinyoung, who had his eyes focused on a book which looked way too complicated for a casual reader.

the journey passed by after many hours, mainly consisting of me sleeping or reading about the gods within greece. although aphrodite always caught my eye, dare i say that she was indeed my personal favourite goddess. being the mother of cupid was truly something, although i’m not totally into romance, somehow i just couldn’t help but feel invested in the story of aphrodite and her family.

one by one, we stepped off the now landed airplane, the heat immediately hitting me in the face like fire. it definitely was a contrast to the slightly colder weather of where my university resided, but i was not complaining in the slightest. to put it lightly, it felt like pure bliss.

going through the city of athens on the coach was a long but interesting journey. seulgi still sat beside me but i could spot the old fashioned buildings which were a white tone, matching the whole typical aesthetic of the city. never in my life had i seen a place as beautiful as one like this.

it was now the next day, which meant i could finally explore the culture without anyone holding me back. that was possibly the best thing about this trip, the professors wanted to explore too, so you were allowed to wonder around as long as you didn’t stray out of the general area.

so that’s how i ended up here, standing outside of a large building covered in vines. the stone was either a chalk or a marble, but it looked stunning to say the least. it actually surprised me how it was able to hold itself up despite being thousands of years old.

i grabbed my camera and captured photos that would end up in my notebook, documenting the information that i would have gathered from my stay here. strangely enough though i didn’t find too much about the mythology that i expected. i knew everything that i had researched here, which was kind of disappointing but i should have expected it.

“they’re beautiful aren’t they?” a manly voice made it’s way towards my ears, causing my head to immediately turn to the one who was attempting to make conversation with me. little did i expect to see a boy who probably was only slightly taller than me, with white hair looking in my direction. he wore a white shirt which was not fully done up and black jeans which complimented his body well.

“y-yeah they are” i gave him a small smile before turning back to the building, capturing a few more photos before placing the camera back into its case.

“i hear you’re into greek mythology” i stopped what i was doing and looked up at him, confused. do i know him? he must’ve sensed my confusion as he chuckled, causing my heart to speed up in its pace. “i suggest going to olympus, you’ll find out more there” intriguing, maybe i should go there.

“oh thanks, are you from here or are you visiting?” i attempted to keep the small talk flowing as i moved to another white building which looked almost exactly like the one before.

“i guess you could say that i was from here” he nodded slightly and this gave me enough of a chance to look at his features carefully. he was beautiful. somehow i felt a sense of attachment to him, it was odd but i could get used to it, seeing as it’s much better than being uncomfortable at least. “do you want me to come with you?” he spoke and i hesitated, i don’t know whether or not the professor would actually allow you to travel so far.

“sure i’ll ask my professor” he smiled back and handed me a piece of paper. “call me if you are allowed then” the dimples on the side of his cheeks peeked out as he began to walk off.

eventually professor lee agreed, but that didn’t stop him from hesitating slightly when i mentioned i would be going with a boy that i had met just hours before. the first day here had been a success, although i was desperate to find out more about the gods and goddesses that once roamed greece, at least in ancient tales.

so now here i was, sitting on a bus with the white haired boy sat beside me, with his earphones in his ears. i gazed out of the window, we made sure to leave as early as possible so that we could explore for longer in the daylight. the sunrise illuminated the area below, causing an orange blanket to cover the buildings and fields. with a click of my camera, it was the beginning of a long journey.

three hours later, the bus stopped, we were here. masses of tourists hopped off the vehicle and disappeared from sight, wanting to explore immediately. i learned that the boy who i came with was named chan, but also went by the name chris. talking to him was interesting, he just sounded so invested in the mythology, particularly ares, the god of war.

the mountains sorrounded the area around us, seemingly going on for miles, i’m just glad that they had installed a lift to reach the peak, so that we could view the architecture. mine and chris’ conversations mainly consisted of our favourite foods and our lives back at home. i learnt that he was working to become a producer but he would give tours around athens as a side job.

now here we were, standing in front of a large building which had a red border sorrounding it, preventing anyone from actually touching and damaging the piece of history. chris went silent, his eyes focused on the architecture, as if he was looking back at a part of his own background. “isnt it ironic that ares married aphrodite, they were complete opposites” he chuckled and i nodded slightly.

it was true, the god of the unpleasant aspects of war married the goddess of love and beauty. it kind of was like a ying and yang type of scenario. it felt like we had been in the same area for hours, gazing at the white walls that were surprisingly not too cracked. most of the tourists had left the mountain, as it began to get colder as time went by, but neither chris or i were affected what so ever.

“i’ve always wondered how ares felt about zeus and hera despising their own son” as soon as i had mentioned that, the boy standing before me froze in his spot, before looking down at the lack of grass underneath our feet.

“he hated it” he chuckled but it didn’t sound sincere, almost as though he was finding the two gods pathetic. and with that, we kept walking. that was until a bolt of lightning erupted out of nowhere, with dark grey clouds smothering the previous blue skies.

“what the fuck” i muttered as i stopped in my steps, but chris wasn’t fazed, as if this was a daily occurrence for him. was i dreaming? no maybe it’s just a very random storm. another thunderbolt hit the ground and i jumped in shock, i’m gonna get fucking hit.

“father not now...please” chris looked up and sighed deeply. did he just say father? i’m so confused. that was when the sky glowed and a boom sounded, but it sounded like a voice in the faintest. “please don’t” he was now pleading, begging on his knees. is this some sort of joke?

suddenly i felt dizzy, my body feeling light as i glanced up at the sky once more. my ears vibrated and a high pitched noise took over, until a voice caused me to stop in my steps. “aphrodite” i looked around, nobody but chris and i stood. the voice was manly, like the typical movies where they have an extremely deep voice of a god. my eyes closed and before i knew it, i was casted into a deep sleep.

my eyes fluttered open, i was in a place which was a bright shade of white, the bright sky lit up the area. it felt unfamiliar yet so familiar, maybe i was still dreaming. i gazed down at my clothing, the strips of gold covering the white robe caught my eye immediately, diamond and gold jewellery covered my arms.

soon enough i lifted my body off the extremely comfortable bedding and looked around properly. expensive furniture covered the room, until i saw myself in the reflection of the mirror, a glow sorrounded my form and i gasped at the sight. i’m dreaming wake up y/n. although despite the many times i pinched my skin, it was clear, i was not dreaming.

there was not a door covering the way into the room, so i stepped out and was met with a figure standing near the living area which surprisingly wasn’t too far away. it was chris. he was dressed so differently from the last time i saw him. he now adorned a long, robe which showed a large portion of his muscles which looked too good to be true.

“chris what the fuck is going on” he jumped at the sudden voice, before turning to face me. a small smile placed itself on his lips as he got up.

“i finally found you aphrodite” excuse me, what the hell did he just call me? i laughed out loud but he didn’t budge. “finally i found you in your human form after all of these years, i thought i lost you” he unexpectedly wrapped me in his embrace, but i couldn’t help but hold myself back and insisted on doing the same to him too.

“chris-” i couldn’t finish my sentence, still too shocked to say anything.

“my love, you must’ve lost your memory, have you ever wondered where your love for mythology came from?” to be honest, i just remember suddenly having a love for it and it kind of just stuck.

“am i dreaming?” he laughed and shook his head, oh god even his laugh was perfect.

“i’m so glad i found you again aphrodite, but let me introduce myself as you may have forgotten” he trailed off before coming closer towards me. “i’m your husband, ares, and i fought so much battles to find you”.

masterlist

i’m crying this is so bad

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queenhelenblackthorn · 5 years

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Chain of Gold Extra Content, July: Days Past

LONDON 1901

“Is hunting demons scary?” He asked.

Gabriel sighed, and drew Christopher closer. “It can be scary, but a world overrun by demons is much scarier.”

That made sense, but Christopher continued his line of questioning. “Fighting them with swords and daggers, that is scary. But what if there are other ways to fight them?”

His father looked puzzled. “Like with ranged weapons? Bows and arrows?”

Christopher thought, But the Silent Brothers only hold certain kinds of wisdom. What if there was a different kind that could have saved Jesse? But he held his tongue.

You never forget your first explosion.

“Oh, well done, most well thought out,” said uncle Henry, but then aunt Charlotte had ‘a word’ with him. It was actually many words. Christopher didn’t see why people were so inaccurate.

“No,” said Christopher after a moment’s thought. “I would say my Uncle Henry.”

The Inquisitor appeared thunderstruck.

“Does it ever bother you?” Christopher asked Henry tentatively, a few hours later. “The way our people are? What they value, and what they… don’t?”

Henry laughed. “Does it matter if it bothers me? It doesn’t change the fact there is work to be done.”

It was a sensible and practical answer, but for once Christopher found himself wanting more. Henry understood him, the way Henry always seemed to.

“So I should join you in all your experiments, then,” Christopher said triumphantly.

#chain of gold #the last hours #christopher lightwood #henry fairchild #the shadowhunter chronicles

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gastricpierrot · 5 years

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Title: Heartbeat

Series: Promare

Pairing: GaloLio

Rating: T

Summary:

Lio turns himself in after the final battle, the start of a new life he must get used to.

This is a story of how Lio Fotia navigates through the days that follow, learns that support comes in more forms than he’s ever familiar with, and deals with his alarmingly developing feelings for Galo Thymos.

Warning: there are hints of sexual harassment at the end of the chapter

Also on AO3

[Prologue]

[Chapter 1]

Galo’s there almost every evening, always ready to greet him a good day’s work with a grin and a wave from afar.

Lio’s understandably confused at first. The heck is that idiot even doing? He’s sure the Burning Rescue headquarters are on the other side of town. And doesn’t he have his own work to attend to? Why does he bother showing up every day without fail just to let Lio catch a glance of him before he has to go back to the detention center?

“I’m just worried you’d be lonely or something,” Galo admits when Lio asks him during his first actual authorized visit. “Y’know, with you suddenly having to be locked up and kept away from your pals like that.”

“I was prepared for all this when I turned myself in, Galo,” Lio assures, though he can’t deny feeling an ember of warmth in his chest from Galo’s concern. It's pleasant; it isn’t something he gets to experience often lately.

It’s been...dull, in more ways than one. Lio’s days are monotonous, following the same sequence of events each day with only variations in the tasks he’s assigned to in between. He's slowly getting used to hearing only his own voice in his head, to the unrelenting cold that’s settled in his being in place of his flames. On some days he’d still miss the companionship of the Burnish, the sense of belonging he’d unintentionally grown so attached to. He misses the freedom most of all, the sense of independence that came with being able to do virtually anything he wanted.

He’s resolved to bear these invisible shackles. He knows. It is his decision and he’s resolved to go through with it until the very end. It's not easy and he’d been fully aware of that.

“But still.” Galo frowns, crossing his arms as he leans back against the chair that seems almost comically too small for him. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“How sweet,” Lio teases, prompting Galo to stutter some other excuse about Gueira and the kids always pestering him to go check on their dear Boss and some other nonsense. He smiles, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm. “And? Mind telling me how you’re doing? Though I suppose we don’t really have much time left for a lot of details.”

“Well it’s—huh?” Galo blinks. “You’re asking about me?”

“I’ve seen enough on the news to get an idea on what’s going on with the former Burnish.” Lio shrugs. “Professor Ardebit and her team are about to get that equality bill passed, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yeah. I heard they’ve been working super hard at it, too.” Galo’s eyes brighten as he goes on. “Did’ya also hear? They’ve found a way to stop those decay-like symptoms that some of the Burnish were left with from the generator! They just need do some final tests and soon those who had it bad could just get some prosthetics and be good as new!”

“That’s... amazing,” Lio marvels, genuinely awed by how much attention and support is given to his people. It's a comforting reminder that not everyone shares the same, frigid mindset of Burnish being monsters. It makes his isolation from the rest a little easier to bear. “That really is amazing.”

“Ain’t it!!” Galo’s quickly shushed when he accidentally raises his voice in his excitement. “Man, smart people who do good sure deserve all the respect.”

“They do,” Lio agrees, wholeheartedly. Those are all feats he knows he’d never be able to achieve all by himself. “But enough about that. I’m still curious to know how you’re finding the time to keep coming all the way here every evening, Galo Thymos.”

“I mean, Burning Rescue was formed to contain Burnish activity in the city,” Galo looks away and drags his syllables, in his own attempt for delicacy. “With the Promare gone...”

“Even the young hero of Promepolis can take it easy for a bit,” Lio finishes for him, only belatedly hoping he didn’t sound bitter because really, he isn’t. He doesn’t regret what he’s done as part of Mad Burnish, nor does he deny having deliberately carried out his actions in the past. These are simply the consequences he must now face.

His statement doesn’t sit well with Galo, though for a reason that doesn’t have to do with how he’d come across while uttering it. Galo stares at him, eyebrows knitted with...disapproval? Lio isn’t quite certain.

“You’re one too, Lio.”

Galo's words are quiet. Weighty.

“I don’t care what everyone thinks—Earth wouldn’t have been saved without you. You’re just as much of a hero as I am, Lio.”

“You don’t know the extent of what I've done as Mad Burnish, Galo” Lio says calmly, though he finds trouble in holding Galo’s gaze. “I don’t deserve to be called that.”

“You fought for the sake of your kind who were badly oppressed. That sounds noble enough to me,” Galo insists. “And if anyone tries to mess with you for that, they’ll have to face me and my blazing fury!”

It’s truly such a Galo thing to say. Lio can’t help letting out a little laugh. “You really can be naïve at times, Galo Thymos. You know damn well what kind of place this is.”

It instantly gets him all worked up. “Why!! Who's messing with you!! Who do I meet in the pit!!”

“You don’t have to know.” Lio waves dismissively. “Hell, I don’t need you punching idiots on my behalf.”

It's strange. Lio doesn’t think they’re even close enough to be considered proper friends yet; sure they piloted the Deus Ex Machina together and stopped the end of the world—but there’s still so much they don’t know about each other. Sure, they’d saved each other’s lives multiple times while they were at it—but they’d still became partners at random and have properly spoken to each other for maybe only two hours in total. Does that really qualify Lio to this much attention and concern from Galo? Lio has never actually understood how it works.

“Then why haven’t you done it yourself!!”

Lio understands that half of what Galo’s saying at this point is driven mostly by his agitation. Gueira can sometimes be a bit like that too, getting all worked up and not thinking his thoughts through before he speaks. He breathes, trying not to take his oversimplification to heart. Galo doesn’t mean it. He just doesn’t really understand.

“I was Mad Burnish’s leader, Galo. Every single thing I do here is observed and recorded, and it could all reflect on my people in the end.” Lio rolls his ankle, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the tracker implanted within his flesh. “Even one small mistake could be blown up to serve a point. I do not wish to waste the effort that’s been made for our sake.”

His explanation dampens Galo quickly enough. “So you’re saying you’ll bear it. All alone.”

“I will.” Lio watches as the guard walks in to tell Galo his time is up. “This is what I can do for them right now.”

Galo lingers despite the guard’s orders, jaw set while he tries to process everything Lio has just said. The fire doesn’t leave his eyes even as he gives up on the argument Lio’s sure he’s thought about voicing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lio,” is all he says before he leaves. Lio remains seated for a minute or two longer, ears aching from the silence or the plunge of adrenaline, he isn’t sure.

He really hadn't expected Galo to leave such a huge sense of absence behind him.

xXx

On weekends, Lio attends classes.

They’re mostly basic education, at least in Lio’s case. He hasn’t properly received any since he awakened as a Burnish when he was a kid, after all. He’d learnt enough to read and write to a decent extent, and during more peaceful times he’d sometimes join the little sessions Burnish teachers and professors would hold for everyone who’s interested. He mostly breezes through his language classes and finds an unexpected interest in math and science. Many other inmates seem to often bemoan the latter two, claiming it’s too complicated and it isn’t like they’d have to use most of it in daily life. Lio can’t completely disagree, but he finds that he simply enjoys seeing the flow of logic in things. It's a bit like coming up with strategies for missions, he thinks.

History, though. Lio really hates studying history. He takes to solving math questions at the back of the room in every class.

Life gets mundane once he settles into a routine. Lio eventually gets used to more of it: waking up early in the morning, the cold showers, the way his muscles would be screaming in pain by the time he’s back from construction work. The voices of the nighttime newscasters and his tutors, the uncomfortable hardness of the mattress he sleeps on, the rough callouses that’s formed across his fingers and palms. Even Galo’s presence at the end of his shifts and the comfort he can’t help but find from it. Lio gets used to them all.

And it’s when he’s waiting for sleep while picking at his callouses one night, around half a year since he first arrived, that he realizes he’s somewhat starting to enjoy himself.

Which, is absolutely ironic, considering he’s pretty much in just a slightly more lenient version of jail. But it’s true. Because despite how hard Lio always tries to convince others and himself that he’s strong enough to protect everyone, he’d lived a life of constant fear. The Freeze Force could show up any moment and they could be outnumbered, someone could grow desperate and betray them to the government. Lio has always yearned this sort of peace deep down, this sort of moments where he doesn’t have to be constantly on his toes.

But it’s also because he’s lived the life he had for so long that he’s sometimes so restless he’s tempted to just start. Screaming.

It doesn’t help that the same bastard who’s been taunting him from day one is still constantly trying to get on his nerves. He doesn’t even remember his inmate number; just remembering how he sounds like is the most he can be bothered with. Lio can easily ignore the bullshit he spouts on the daily even if it’s the first goddamn thing he has to hear in the morning, but it’s when things get physical that he feels tested.

He could still bear the childish tripping, the supposedly “friendly” pats against his back that leave bruises on his skin. He can even overlook pettier things that the guards easily dismiss like water deliberately spilled over him and the “accidental” bumps that send his food tray clattering across the floor. All these, Lio could clench his teeth, take a deep breath, and just walk away.

And then the groping begins.

It's a slip on Lio’s part as well. He shouldn’t have given him the reaction he sought, shouldn’t have wheeled around and glared at him with so much hatred that if he was still hosting Promare flames the bastard wouldn’t even have ashes left of him to burn. It's just touching; it isn’t a big deal. Lio has handled so many of the same kind of scum over the years. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

“What? Not gonna set me on fire, filthy Burnish?”

But he had never been this constrained. The frustration and annoyance had slowly built up. The fire within Lio had never belonged solely to the Promare. He feels it burning now, boiling in the pit of his stomach as every nerve in his body demands for any sort of physical retaliation.

The willpower it takes to refuse answering to them is nothing short of insane.

“Do not. Touch me,” Lio seethes, voice cold as ice and tone sharp as a razor. The bastard takes a step back, seemingly unnerved by his reaction after getting used to his passiveness. He quickly gathers himself, though, and manages to muster a pathetic smirk.

“You don’t have your flames anymore, Fotia,” he attempts to taunt. “Don’t bother acting high and mighty when you’re just as powerless as the rest of us here.”

“Flames?” Lio scoffs, grabbing him by the collar and gripping so hard that the fabric burns against his knuckles. “I don’t need them to break your fingers if you dare lay hands on me ever again.”

Bastard’s eyes widen, scanning frantically around the hallway at the inmates who are simply staring in silence. “Y-You wouldn’t dare!”

“And you wouldn’t want to try me,” Lio promises, releasing him with a shove that sends him falling on his butt. He doesn’t wait for him to get back up, storming off before he loses even more control of his temper.

Lio keeps his eyes on the floor as he navigates his way back to his cell, adrenaline still roaring in his ears. The tiny room offers little comfort besides the lock clicking in place for curfew when the sensors detect his presence. Lio’s hands are still shaking, disgust crawling across his skin like a swarm of persistent insects. He wets a piece of cloth at the sink and proceeds to scrub his legs and thighs raw.

Until all that’s left is a sting that doesn’t feel like a bastard’s touch.

His time in detention is a punishment. Lio isn’t allowed to forget that.

#promare #lio fotia #galo thymos #galolio #liogalo #soooo i mightve gotten a bit too whipped to keep writing hh #also ill be starting a new job soon so id like to do as much as i can before that ahahah #welp #but yeh its gonna be a pretty slice of life-ish fic so um?? try not to expect mecha fights??? faksdhfajsdh #or even deep plot oof how did i even manage with ify #fanfiction

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imdoingthismspaintadventure · 5 years

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Worm 2.2 - In which we browse a superhero forum

The run had helped to wake me up, as did the hot shower and a cup of the coffee my dad had left in the pot. Even so, the fatigue didn’t help the feeling of disorientation over just how normal the day seemed as I made my way to school. Just a matter of hours ago, I had been in a life and death fight, I had even met Armsmaster. Now it was a day like any other.

Yeah, I’d be suprised if you pay any attention to anything they teach at school today. The feeling of coming back to normality and routine after that must be something else

I felt a bit nervous as I got to homeroom. Having basically skipped two classes the previous Friday, failing to turn in a major assignment, I figured that Mrs. Knott probably knew already. I didn’t feel relieved when Mrs. Knott glanced up at me and gave a tight smile before turning her attention back to her computer. That just meant the humiliation would be redoubled if and when class was interrupted by someone coming down from the office. A part of me just wanted to miss this class too, just to avoid the potential humiliation and avoid drawing attention.

Ugh, falling out of schedule and/or failing classes because of the bullying is rough as hell. Keeping your grades acceptable can be used as escapism from your own thoughts in these kinds of situations and if that starts falling apart too... what’s keeping you in school at all?

If you start missing classes it can quickly slowball into full-on not attending class at all.

All in all, I felt anxious as I made my way to my computer, which kind of sucked because Computer class was one of the few parts of the school day I didn’t usually dread. For one thing, it was the one class in which I was doing well. More to the point, neither Madison, Sophia nor Emma were in this class, though some of their friends were. Those girls didn’t usually feel the need to harass me without the trio around, and I was further removed from them because I was in the advanced stream of the class. A good three quarters of the people in the room were computer illiterate, being from families that didn’t have the money for computers or families that didn’t have much interest in the things, so they practiced typing without looking at the keyboard and had lessons in using search engines. By contrast, I was in the group that was learning some basic programming and spreadsheets. It didn’t do a lot for my already geeky reputation, but I could deal.

Oh interesting that Taylor’s favourite class is Computer Science! I am studying to be a Software Engineer myself! Nice!

It’s good that those three aren’t in every class, so you at least get some moments of respite from their bullshit. That’s good.

We never had the basic kind of keyboard-training classes and all that. Is computer science taught early in America? Here we basically don’t learn anything until we are like 16 or 17 at the very least.

Mrs. Knott was an alright teacher, if not the most hands on; she was usually content to give us advanced students an in-class assignment and then focus on the more rambunctious majority for the rest of the class. This suited me just fine – I usually wrapped up the assignment in a half hour, leaving me an hour to use as I saw fit. I had been recalling and going over the events of the previous night during my morning run, and the first thing that I did when the ancient desktop finished its agonizing load process was to start digging for information.

Lucky you! Assignments stress me out a lot, generally. I wish I could just do them easy-peasy like that. Although I suspect Taylor’s are much simpler, just because of her age and school education vs college.

The go-to place for news and discussion on capes was Parahumans Online. The front page had constant updates on recent, international news featuring capes. From there, I could go to the wiki, where there was information on individual capes, groups and events, or to the message boards, which broke down into nearly a hundred sub-boards, for specific cities and capes. I opened the wiki in one tab, then found and opened the message board for Brockton Bay in another.

Ok I love this. I love this a lot.

This is one of the most realistic things the serial has done so far. Also one of the most fun. If superheroes were real, you bet your ass there would be forums about them, probably more than one. With hourly threads and a lot of speculation and debate.

I imagine there would be like a serious one with strict rules for talking about world events relating to capes, like if it was the news. Cause they aren’t just a tv show or a videogame, they have a real impact in the daily lives of people everywhere.

There would also be whole fanclubs or communities for each super-group and for each city/country, where they talk about the popularity, newcomers, fights, etc...

I can also see entire pages dedicated to romantic relationships or rumors, fanarts, conspiracies, versus battles (who would win?) etc....

Basically, supers being real would absolutely reshape the whole internet forever.

I had the sense that either Tattletale or Grue were the leader of the group I had run into. Turning my attention to Tattletale, I searched the wiki. The result I got was disappointingly short, starting with a header reading “This article is a stub. Be a hero and help us expand it.” There was a one sentence blurb on how she was a alleged villain active in Brockton Bay, with a single blurry picture. The only new information for me was that her costume was lavender. A search of the message boards turned up absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even a hint as to what her power was.

Grue seemed the one calling the shots, but I could also see Tattletale as a short of “shadow leader” type, yeah...

Tattletale has almost nothing about her in her page! That’s very interesting. So she’s very secretive or at least good at hiding information about herself...

Heh, ironic that the Tattletale is the one who keeps secrets. I like the name she picked.

I looked up Grue. There was actually information about him, but nothing detailed or definitive. The wiki stated he had been active for nearly three years, dealing in petty crimes such as robbing small stores and doing some work as an enforcer for those who wanted a little superpowered muscle along for a job. Recently, he had turned to higher scale crime, including corporate theft and robbing a casino, together with his new team. His power was listed as darkness generation in the sidebar under his picture. The picture seemed crisp enough, but the focus of it, Grue, was just a blurry black silhouette in the center.

So Grue is an experienced criminal! Somewhat at least. Three years of experience is certainly better than one night!

He was doing low-level crimes until recently, when he adquired his new team, and they seem to be doing big heists now! How did Grue find the others? Seems like a pretty big increase in notoriety and strength in a short time!

Darkness generation....that could potentially be very cool. I wonder if it can be used offensively, like fire with Lung. I always imagine the darkness element (when used as blasts the same way they use fire, in some media) to feel like being devoured by some parasite, like if darkness ravages and devours you. Light on the other hand just scours and obliterates everything it touches. At least those are my headcanons for the more esoteric elements.

I searched for Bitch, next. No results. I did another search for her more official title, Hellhound, and got a wealth of information. Rachel Lindt had never made any real attempt to hide her identity. She had apparently been homeless through most of her criminal career, just living on the streets and moving on whenever police or a cape came after her. The sightings and encounters with the homeless girl ended around a year ago – I figured that was when she joined forces with Grue, Tattletale and Regent. The picture in the sidebar was taken from surveillance camera footage – an unmasked, dark haired girl who I wouldn’t have called pretty. She had a squarish, blunt-featured face with thick eyebrows. She was riding atop one of her monstrous ‘dogs’ like a jockey rides a horse, down the middle lane of a street.

Huh, so Bitch, or Rachel, had never had a secret identity or a secret life! Seems like her cape and normal life are one and the same! She was homeless and running from one place to another, along with her giant eldritch dogs.

I assume they took her into the group and she prefers it to being alone and without a place to be.

According to the wiki entry, her powers manifested when she was fourteen, followed almost immediately by her demolishing the foster home she had been living in, injuring her foster mother and two other foster children in the process. This was followed by a two year series of skirmishes and retreats across Maine as various heroes and teams tried to apprehend her, and she either defeated them or successfully evaded capture. She had no powers that would have made her any stronger or faster than the average Jane, but she was apparently able to turn ordinary dogs into the creatures I had seen on the rooftop. Monsters the size of a car, all muscle, bone, fang and claw. A red box near the bottom of the page read, “Rachel Lindt has a public identity, but is known to be particularly hostile, antisocial and violent. If recognized, do not approach or provoke. Leave the area and notify authorities as to her last known location.” At the very bottom of the page was a list of links that were related to her: two fansites and a news article relating to her early activities. A search of the message boards turned up too many results, leaving me unable to sift through the crap, the arguments, the speculation and the villain worship to find any genuine morsels of information. If nothing else, she was notorious. I sighed and moved on, making a mental note to do more investigation when I had the time.

Damn, can she control her powers all that well? Or at least, at that time? Cause that sounds to me like the type of situation where her newly-found powers go out of control and cause problems.

She had a foster-home, but then had to run away from the people she hurt ,the authorities, heroes and everyone! And she lived two years like that! No wonder she is antisocial now, jesus.

Also she can apparently turn any dog into those boney creatures of death. Wow. Depending on where she is, she could be incredibly powerful in a fight!

She also seems to be the most famous one so far, having even online admirers and fansites about her exploits. Interesting. She seems to be dangerous though, as she is said to be violent to everyone she meets.

The last member of the group was Regent. Given what Armsmaster had said about the guy being low profile, I didn’t expect to find much. I was surprised to find less than that. Nothing. My search on the wiki turned up only a default response, “There are no results matching this query. 32 unique IP addresses have searched the Parahumans.net Wiki for ‘Regent’ in 2011. Would you like to create the page?” The message board didn’t turn up anything else. I even did a search for alternate spellings of his name, such as Regence and Recant, in case I had heard it wrong. Nothing turned up.

Woah, if Tattletale had little to no information, this guy is straight-up a nonentity! Absolutely hidden from the public eye!

We don’t even know his powers, story or place within the group. How fascinating.

If my mood had been on the sour side as I got to homeroom, the dead ends only made it worse. I turned my attention to the in-class assignment, making a working calculator in Visual Basic, but it was too trivial to distract me. The work from Thursday and Friday had already given us the tools to do the job, so it was really just busywork. I didn’t mind learning stuff, but work for the sake of doing work was annoying. I did the bare minimum, checked it for any bugs, moved the file to the ‘completed work’ folder and returned to surfing the web. All in all, the work barely took fifteen minutes.

You at least get experience and speed in doing these kinds of things! And calculators can be fun to program!

Also yeah, having nothing to do and being able to use the internet the rest of the class is pretty sweet!

I looked up Lung on the wiki, which I had done often enough before, as part of my research and preparation for being a superhero. I’d wanted to be sure I knew who prominent local villains were and what they could do. The search for ‘Lung’ redirected to a catch-all page on his gang, the ABB, with quite a bit of detailed information. The information on Lung’s powers was pretty in line with my own experience, though there was no mention of the super-hearing or him being fireproof. I debated adding it, but decided against it. There were security concerns with my submission being tracked back to Winslow High, and then to me. I figured it would probably be deleted as unsupported speculation, anyways.

They are really underselling Lung huh. No wonder Taylor was suprised about how OP he could be! And yeah better not to edit anything in a trackable device, or without any solid source for that matter.

The section beneath the description of Lung and his powers covered his subordinates. He was estimated to have forty or fifty thugs working for him across Brockton Bay, largely drawn from the ranks of Asian youth. It was pretty unconventional for a gang to include members of the variety of nationalities that the ABB did, but Lung had made it a mission to conquer and absorb every gang with Asian members and many without. Once he had the manpower he needed, the non-Asian gangs were cannibalized for assets, their members discarded. Even though there were no more major gangs in the east end of town to absorb, he was still recruiting zealously. His method, now, was to go after anyone older than twelve and younger than sixty. It didn’t matter if you were a gang member or not. If you were Asian and you lived in Brockton Bay, Lung and his people expected you to either join or to pay tribute one way or another. There had been local news reports on it, newspaper articles, and I could remember seeing signs in the guidance counselor’s office detailing where people who were targeted in this way could go for help.

He seemed to want to grow quickly by recruiting every asian person in Brockton Bay, cape or not! And if you were Asian, you would have heard of his band and their threats or extortion.

You are partly responsible for the capture of one mayor threat to the safety of the citizens of Brockton Bay. You did great last night, Taylor!

Lung’s lieutenants were listed as Oni Lee and Bakuda. I already had some general knowledge about Oni Lee, but I was intrigued to see there were recent updates to his wiki entry. There were specific details on his powers: He could teleport, but when he did so, he didn’t disappear. As he teleported, his original self, for lack of a better term, would stay where it was and remain active for five to ten seconds before disintegrating into a cloud of carbon ash. Essentially, he could create another version of himself anywhere nearby, while the old version could stick around long enough to distract or attack you. If that wasn’t scary enough, there was an report of him holding a grenade in his hand as he repeatedly duplicated himself, with his short lived duplicates acting as suicide bombers. Topping it all off, Oni Lee’s wiki page had a similar red warning box to the one that Bitch/Hellhound had on hers, minus the bit about his public identity. From what they knew about him, authorities had seen fit to note him a sociopath. The warning covered the same essential elements: exceedingly violent, dangerous to approach, should not be provoked, and so on. I glanced at his picture. His costume consisted of a black bodysuit with a black bandoleer and belt for his knives, guns and grenades. The only color on him was an ornate Japanese-style demon mask, crimson with two green stripes down either side. Except for the mask, his costume gave off the distinct impression of a ninja, which just added weight to the notion that this was a guy who could and would slide a knife between your ribs.

Oni Lee sounds like a mayor fucking threat! The ability to teleport-shadow clone yourself multiple times to get to a thousand places quickly AND leave behind copies who could stab, shoot you or even blow themselves up seems really really dangerous.

And he’s a sociopath to boot! You were lucky he wasn’t there last night, he could have probably just teleported to the roof and knifed you.

Bakuda was a new entry, added to the ABB wiki page just ten days ago. The picture only showed her from the shoulders up, a girl with straight black hair, large opaque goggles over her eyes and a metal mask with a gas mask styled filter covering the lower half of her face. A braided cord of black, yellow and green wires looped over one of her shoulders. I couldn’t pinpoint her ethnicity with the mask and goggles, and her age wasn’t any easier to figure out.

This was the bomb expert, right?

She looks menacing with that setup, which is probably true! Her powers also sounds really worrying!

The wiki had a lot of the same details Armsmaster had mentioned to me. Bakuda had essentially held a university ransom and she did it with her superhuman ability to design and fabricate high tech bombs. There was a link to a video titled ‘Bomb Threat @ Cornell’, but I didn’t think it wise to play it in school, especially without headphones. I made a mental note to check it out when I got home.

Damn, she was basically a domestic terrorist back then!

It’s probably not a good idea to play a bomb threat at a school IN a school, you’re right.

The next thing that caught my eye was the section heading titled ‘Defeats and Captures’. I scrolled down to read it. According to the wiki, Lung had apparently suffered a number of minor defeats at the hands of various teams, ranging from the Guild to the local teams of New Wave, the Wards and the Protectorate, but consistently managed to evade capture until last night. A blurb read, ‘ Armsmaster successfully ambushed and defeated the leader of the ABB, who was weakened from a recent encounter with a rival gang. Lung was taken to the PHQ for holding until the villain’s trial by teleconference. Given Lung’s extensive and well documented criminal history, it is expected he will face imprisonment in the Birdcage should he be found guilty at trial.’

Huh, so he WAS bested before! Just not captured! He always evaded prison, until now thanks to Taylor and co.!

Or thanks only to Armsmaster, according to the official story, which to be fair, is what they agreed upon.

The birdcage? What is that, some sort of super-prison like The Raft, Blackgate, Impel Down in One Piece...

Is that place safe? Cause prisons and jail breaks are pretty synonymous in comics

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I wasn’t sure what to think. By all rights, I should have been angry that Armsmaster took the credit for the fight that could have cost me my life. Instead, I felt a building excitement. I felt like shaking the shoulder of the guy sitting next to me and point to the screen, saying, “Me, I made that possible! Me!”

Hehe. Excited and happy Taylor is just the best.

With a renewed enthusiasm, I switched tabs to the message board and began looking to see what people were saying about it. A post by a fan or minion of Lung threatened violence against Armsmaster. There was a request by someone asking for more information on the fight. I was given pause by one post that asked whether Bakuda could or would use a large scale bomb and the threat of potentially thousands or hundreds of thousands dead, to ransom Lung back.

Eeash, seems Arms was right about the consequences of this!

That Bakuda threat is really scary

I tried to put that out of my mind. If it happened, it would be the responsibility of heroes better and more experienced than I.

True, you can’t carry everything on your shoulders.

It struck me that there was one person I hadn’t looked for. Myself. I opened up the advanced search page for the Parahumans.net message board and did a search for multiple terms. I included insect, spider, swarm, bug, plague, and a mess of other terms that had struck me when I had been trying to brainstorm a good hero name. I narrowed the timeframe of posts to search for posts made within the past 12 hours and hit Search.

Huh, I don’t think you would find that much honestly. I mean, fight aside, you were pretty stealthy on your way in, and the only people who directly met you are the fire dragon currently going to jail, a couple of mooks without their boss, a group of very cryptic teenage villains and the superhero who was going to keep you hidden sooo yeah.

Also kinda hard to search for yourself without having decided on a name yet!

My efforts turned up two posts. One referred to a villain called Pestilence, active in the UK. Apparently Pestilence was one of the people who could use ‘magic’. That is, he was if you believed magic was real, and not just some convoluted or deluded interpretation of a given set of powers.

Pestilence sounds awesome as an insect-power name. One of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse!

Huh, so there are powers that seem more “magical” and others that are more “technological”. Nice.

The second post was in the ‘Connections’ section of the message board, where rescued damsels left their contact information for their dashing heroes, where conventions and fan gatherings were organized and where people posted job offers for capes and the cape-obsessed. Most were cryptic or vague, referring to stuff only the people in question would know.

That is a nice system to have, to contact people anonymously.

The message was titled, simply, “Bug”

Well damn, seems someone did notice you

I clicked it and waited impatiently for the outdated system and overloaded school modem to load up the page. What I got was brief.

Subject: Bug

Owe you one. Would like to repay the favor. Meet?

Send a message,

Tt.

IT’S TATTLETALE.

IT’S THE TEENAGE VILLAINS REACHING OUT TO HER AFTER THE LAST FIGHT.

This opens up so many possibilites oh my god

The post was followed by two pages of people commenting. Three people suggested it was something important, while a half dozen more people decried them as tinfoil hats, Parahumans.net’s term for conspiracy theorists.

Hah! I imagine a message like that would cause speculation even in OUR reality! Considering Taylor’s the protag, those tinfoil hats may be on to something there...

It was meaningful, though. I couldn’t interpret it any other way; Tattletale had found a way to get in contact with me.

She sure has!

So now both Arms and Tattletale have contacted her, both with offers maybe! Damn, she sure got popular after that one night!

Oh, oooh

What if they offer her to join them?

And what if she accepts?

Oh god the story could go in a wildly different direction now. I hadn’t even considered that in my list of possibilities!

It seems at odd with her desire to be a hero, so maybe not.... But what if?

I’m liking where this is going.

#Worm #worm liveblog #worm parahumans #parahumans liveblog #wildbow #Worm 2.2 #arc 2

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