#it seems I’ll simply have to perish

[perpetualprocrastinationisme]

I’m a simple person, I don’t ask for much in this life. I really could live without a lot of things if I could just have my basic needs met.

My basic needs: food, shelter, human connection, Ty Blackthorn’s POV.

[gyuswhore]

Shut Up (don't)

anniversary event [closed]

lee seokmin x reader

prompt(s): carrying on the argument between sloppy kisses and heavy make out

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), mean words are thrown at one another while they're fighting, heavy makeouts, fingering (f. rec), breast play, p in v, unprotected sex, soff ending bc im a sap

[a/n]: i have nothing to say. enjoy.

masterlist

Nearly getting rearended, and then breaking the heel of your shoe, to becoming the receiving end of another plethora of snarky remarks from the department weasel; it was all beginning to spill over the rim of your too warm, too full cup. 

All you wanted was to eat a good meal in front of another mindless TV show and nap the weekend away in the arms of your favourite person. Hence why the excitement at your front door was overflowing, creaking the door open to find a darker than usual hallway. You can only slip off your broken shoes and deposit your keys and bag so quickly, barely considering the amount of noise you’re making with all the shuffling and clanging in the doorway. 

“Seok! Babe, are you home?” you raise your voice a little as you enter the kitchen, slamming the grocery bags down on the counter with a loud huff. You peek out the door into the dark halls, brows furrowed. 

Opting to put away the perishables first, you grunt as you stand back up after stuffing all the frozen packages into the freezer, hand supporting your lower back. You were more tired than you’d initally thought.

Shuffling into the living room, your turn on the lights, remaining confused as ever as to why they were off. Even in an empty house, at least one of the lights would remain on. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you register the lump on the now visible couch, taking a moment to realise it was your boyfriend, still in the clothes he had left in this morning. 

He’s shifting, groaning as he comes around to reveal his face, eyes bleary and face slightly red from sleep. 

“Oh,” he grimaces as he realises you were the one to turn the lights back on. “You’re home.”

“Why are you sleeping on the couch? Have you eaten yet?” you ask your boyfriend who’s now attempting rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

“No,” he confirms, voice still scratchy. “I’m gonna change and go to bed.” 

“Wait, I did the groceries before coming home. I can make you your favourite. You can go to bed after you eat,” you insist. 

He doesn’t answer as he simply rises and makes his way towards the hall leading the bedroom. 

“Seok? Honey, I’ll be quick, I promise. Twenty minutes tops and then you can go to bed.”

Catching up to him, you grab his hand in an attempt to get him to look at you, which he does. Except he looks…annoyed? He brushes another hand across his hair and face, looking more exasperated by the second. 

“I’m not hungry,” he says, slower than usual. Like it was taking an effort to get the words out. “Now can you please just—”

“You can’t go to bed empty stomached, you’ll wake up with a headache!”

“You’re giving me a fucking headache right now.”

You freeze. 

On instinct, you drop his hand, letting it ball into fists at his side. He blinks for a long moment, pinching his nose bridge, before turning around entirely to continue his retreat back into the bedroom. 

It’s like you’ve snapped out of a daze when you register his retreating form, zero comment from either of you after the bomb he’d planted in the room. 

“You don’t get to say that to me and then walk away,” you say, and he’s still not stopping. “You aren’t the only one who’s had a shit day, at least I’m not being an ass about it.”

That seems to do it for him, turning around with furrowed brows and an open mouth that’s ready to shoot back. “This is your problem, you can’t leave things alone.” 

“I’m sorry that I care if my boyfriend’s starving himself?” Your voice comes out louder than intended, the heat of the situation creating an emerging buzz in your head. 

“Don’t care then! Your idea of helping is whatever you want done for you, have you considered that I just want to be left alone?” He tries to control his arms movements but they explode into some waving motion anyway, eyes meeting yours in a wide, angry, accusatory hold.

“Seokmin.” His name leaves your mouth in an unbelievable laugh. “Are you listening to yourself?”

“How can I over all that clanging and banging you do the minute you step foot into this house?!” 

“You know what?” you begin.

“God, just shut up, I can’t do this with you right now.”

“This is beginning to sound like you have a problem with me.”

“I just said—”

“No! Just fucking say it. Moving in together was a bad idea and you wish you’d never asked!” You know you sound hysterical, arms thrown over head as you fight the urge to push something over. 

“Stop it.”

“I’m trying to make this work with our schedules but if you’re gonna blow up anytime you don’t get your way—” 

Seokmin tries to shut you up again, only this time he succeeds. 

In the midst of your rampage he’d crossed the distance between the both of you, opting to slam his mouth onto yours instead of using his words. 

Both of his hands have gotten hold of your face, keeping you from moving your mouth in an way except against his own. He’s taken away your power, your hands come up to grasp his forearms. 

“Seok—” you start again, but he only plants his lips on you again, sliding his tongue at the seam of your mouth to intrude even further. 

You’re mad at him. It’s taking alot to remind yourself of that. He’s trying to shut you up. He doesn’t want to listen to you. He…

Even Seokmin, with all his other worldly breath control, can’t keep his mouth on your forever, leaving your swollen lips to let you both breathe for a moment. 

“What the fuck is this supposed to be doing?’ you ask, breathless but angry.

“Shutting you up,” he reponds, gripping your waist so hard it almost hurts, shoving your entire body right into his personal space. 

You aren’t any better than him, bringing your hands up to his hair, tugging at the strands just to have something to grip on to. 

“This isn’t over,” you mumble between wet, sloppy kisses, already half gone. 

“Like hell it isn’t,” Seokmin grunts, letting go only to pull you onto the warm couch, caging you between the armrest and his own overbearing body. He’s taking over you from all sides, the muddle of your mind unbecoming of the anger that coursed through you just minutes prior. 

Pairing that with your existing exhaustion, your mind seems to be skipping over most of the filler scenes that unfold. 

Your top is gone to wind before you can register his fingers working the buttons. His hands have reached underneath your tight skirt, fiddling with the waistband of your stockings. He’s struggling with the overlapping fabrics, the existing difficulty of handling stockings earning a dissatisfied grunt from his throat. 

Opening your eyes, shifting them to focus on Seokmin’s face, you don’t doubt you look just as fucked out as he does. Pupils dilated, hair dishevelled and sticking out from everywhere, clothes barely framing where they belong. He’s growing frustrated as he instead attempts to shuck your skirt off. 

“Just—” He cuts you off again, even as you try to help with the wretched zipper. 

“Not a word out of your mouth,” he says, almost like it’s a plea, shielded under his scratchy growl. “Not until I’m done.”

This is nothing like you’ve ever seen before, your sweet, gentle boyfriend had turned into some deep monster from hell, like the events of tonight unsheathed some unfed entity that only festered on its ignorance. Despite everything, you can’t seem to complain, enjoying every bit of this as every passing moment only stacks the already leaning tower. 

And when you thought he couldn’t get any more unhinged, you hear the distinct sound of a rip! 

He’s ripped your tights. 

“Seok, I just bought those!” you blurt before you can stop yourself. 

He doesn’t answer you this time, opting to let his fingers do the talking. You feel a distinct pressure on your hot core, and you’re immediately putty. Seokmin is rubbing slow circles over the damp crotch of your panties, steady, but just enough to have you bucking your hips uncontrollably every so couple seconds. Your breathing is loud, bordering whimpers as you squeeze your eyes shut. 

It’s criminal the way he pushes into your core, stuffing you with bulk of his finger and the fabric of your underwear. And just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, he removes hands entirely. 

You nearly scream, the ache becoming near unbearable. He’s shuffling around to take his clothes off but you couldn’t care less if he fucked you half dressed. He’s naked before you can do something about it yourself, immediately planting himself back on you. 

“Put that mouth to better use,” he whispers, bringing two of his fingers to your lips, letting them push past and rest on your tongue. You start sucking on them instantly, tongue running over his long, beautiful fingers, letting him shove them as far as you’d let him. 

When he relents, he only slips them somewhere else. You watch between your flushed bodies as his sticky, glistening fingers disappear, sliding inside your ready, coated walls. Hands finding purchase on the bulk of his shoulders, he lets you dig your nails into his pristine tan skin as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Throwing your head back you can only groan into the empty ceiling at the feeling. 

“God, Seok that feels so good.”

He goes faster, deeper, separating his fingers inside you to test your limits. Finding that spongy spot, he shows no signs of relenting, now pistoning into you. 

When he stops, you come round to watch him line his hard member up to your entrance, not giving you a moment to register the emptiness. Except, you stop him. 

“Wait,” you breathe out, pushing yourself on your elbows. 

“What?” he asks, like he’s been snapped out of a trance. You maintain eye contact as you push him into a sitting position on the couch, letting his back hit the plush of the pillows. You take the opportunity to slide out of your torn and tattered tights, feeling the muscle of his thighs as you sit on his lap. 

“Fuck,” he curses when he realises what you’re doing. 

You readjust, grabbing his hard shaft, pumping him slowly as you prepare to line him up to your entrance again. Pushing your chest into his face during the process, he wastes no time in latching his mouth over the lace of your bra, licking over the fabric, pushing the tip of his tongue right where your nipple was. 

It send waves of shocks right into your core, busying the tip of his cock to rub itself on your dropping hole, savouring the feeling. Seokmin’s thrown your bra away, his mouth now in full contact with your breasts, tongue flicking across the nipple as he nips and sucks to his heart’s content. His fingers flick over your other nipple, pinching and stimulating it just the same. The sight of his fingers is doing so much to you, enough to encourage you to sink into his cock with finality. 

It’s a stretch, but nothing you haven’t been practiced to handle. He has a hand low on your hips, guiding your ass to sit on him fully. When you move it’s easier, the pleasure returning in its waves and sparks. 

“Fuck, Seok,” you whimper, as you start moving faster, bouncing on his cock, ass slapping his thighs. 

You find a place holder behind you on his knee, reaching one of your hands back to clasp his skin, the other finds reprieve in his hair, mouth still sucking on your breast. 

His palm rests on your ass, guiding you up and down his shaft in a constant rhythm, moaning into the plump of your breast. Letting go of your nipple, he throws his head back in a guttural moan, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your walls engulfing him whole. He continues to play with the swell of your breasts, fondling and groping. 

Taking advantage of the access, you lean into neck, pressing kisses onto the expanse, suckling on a spot near his ear, savouring the salt of his skin on your tongue. Your hips continue to bounce on him, but inevitably slow as you feel the burn on your thighs and hips. 

One particular landing is felt with a harsh buck of Seokmin’s own hips and you realise with a loud moan that he’s meeting you halfway, finishing what you started. Soon he’s created a pace of his own, thrusting his well oiled hips into you so good it has you blinking away the gleam of stars. 

“Baby,” your voice comes out pleading, and he knows exactly what you’re trying to say. 

“Come, baby, it’s alright. Come all over me.”

Taking his words to your cunt, you oblige, letting yourself come undone. It’s loud, it’s desperate and it’s raw, needing to wrap your arms around him in a latch for support. He smells like him, and it’s making the high continue to wreck your body in waves that won’t end. 

Seokmin cums just as your coming down from your own high, tightening his hold on you as he rams his cock into your overstimulated cunt to get his own fill of pleasure. His thighs stutter beneath you, his sounds deep and loud.

By the time he’s done neither of you have enough air in your lungs to say a word, slumped over one another as you catch your breaths. 

Seokmin is the first to recover, and your fluttering eyelids drift open at the feeling of his lips on your shoulders, leaving butterfly kisses as you remain curled into his chest, head on the crook of his neck. 

You’re uncomfortably warm, but you cuddle into his chest closer, feeling the heat that radiates off of his body. His lips have found your temple, seemingly not caring for your sticky, sweaty skin as he trails his kisses to your cheek, right next to your ear. 

“I’m sorry for blowing up on you like that. I always want you to care, please forget about what I said,” he whispers into your ear, and it’s enough to have you shuffle impossibly closer into his naked chest. It’s like you’ve molded into each other’s skin. 

“I’m sorry too, for not being understand and for blowing up on you as well. I should’ve handled my emotions better.” You lift your head for a moment to plant a kiss on Seokmin’s jaw, and then find his lips. 

He kisses you so softly it hurts, pecks of affirmation between his “sorry”s. 

“I love you,” he mumbles into your lips, and you cup his jaw as he pulls away ever so slightly. 

You can see a stretch at the corner of his lips and you realise he’s smiling; you almost weep at the sight. 

Kissing him again, you whisper right back, “I love you more.”

“Please don’t ever leave.”

“Never.”

“Promise?” 

You let out a little giggle, “Promise. As long as you won’t ever leave me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, nothing but love in his eyes.

“We still have to talk about what happened,” you say, brushing the pad of your finger across his cheek. 

“I know, and we will,” he gulps. “I think we need to sleep on it.”

You agree quietly, but quip anyway. “If I had to take a shot, I’d bet it on all that pent up energy you just unleashed. I think you feel better right now.”

He exhales through his nose, slightly embarrassed at being called out, but replies nonetheless. “It…it probably was. I do feel less tense.”

“Hm,” you hum, bringing you arms to wrap around his neck, tucking your mouth right near his ear. You trace a lone finger down the center of his chest. 

“Since we’ve decided this is a topic for tomorrow, do you think you’ve got a little more frustration in there to let out?” 

He’s still sheathed inside you, and you can feel his length begin to harden. 

You don’t realise what’s happening as you feel yourself being jerked forward, suddenly suspended in his arms as he struts towards the bedroom. Arms tightened, a hint of a squeal escapes you, and you can only giggle as he tickles whispered promises into your neck. 

Promises that you can count on him to fulfill. 

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

5 sentence for you if it sparks anything ^_^

Astarion *mumbles in elvish*

Tav, intrigued “wait what was that??”

A/N: Okay, I did spark something, but slightly different from this set up. I hope that's okay!

Also, this is in keeping with the canon that Evie (Ace!Tav) can't read common. So, any Elvish they've learned is purely through what they've heard and conversational context.

You should have known you'd find trouble the second you saw the look on Astarion's face.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen you perform. However, it was one of the few times you had decided to sing as opposed to simply play. The crowd seemed right for it, and after going through your standard set list you had decided to end to night on an old favorite. It also happened to be the only song you knew in Elvish.

He looked so...delighted. It made you suspicious, not helped by his overly enthusiastic applause as you finished.

“Bravo," he exclaimed as you took your seat beside him. "And here I thought you didn’t speak Elvish."

“Not fluently. Just enough to negotiate a meal really," you admitted.

He nodded, his expression turning just a little too smug. “Ah.”

You narrowed your eyes, your lips turning into an unamused line. “What does “ah” mean?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself my love," he assured, innocently. "So I take it you learned that song by ear.”

“Yes…" you said, frowning. "Seemed to be a crowd favorite.”

“Indeed it is. And you do play it so beautifully.”

You bit back a frustrated growl. If he was going to play coy, so could you. “Oh I don’t know. Something tells me I would play it much better if I knew what it meant. Perhaps if somebody could translate it for me.”

Astarion shook his head, clutching a hand to his chest is dismay. “Perish the thought. I wouldn’t dare jeopardize your performance. No, I believe it would be much better if you keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

You gave a slight huff, realizing your efforts were futile. You then turned your attention to Shadowheart.

"It's all a big metaphor for sex, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "Not much of a metaphor."

send me a sentence + pairing and i’ll write the next five sentences

[svkahug]

once more to see you

[chapter three; ao3 link]

tags: slow burn, injury, forced proximity, quarry!reader, hurt/comfort

summary: On the run with the Empire on your heels, a bounty hunter seems to be your only option and your best bet to getting back home.

a/n: heard someone say tumblr has no fluff well i shall provide

---

Space is so… quiet . So empty. Sometimes there’s not another breathing creature for miles. Then you hit a planet. You’ve tallied all the planets you’ve been on recently as the Mandalorian goes on the search, relentless. Yavin, Geonosis, Lothal. Desolate and lifeless planets. But you never see them. The Mandalorian isn’t exactly a tour guide but he does talk to you more often as you strap yourself onto the co-pilot seat beside him. Him and the kid are gone for days at a time, no longer than a week. 

You eat, you sleep, you dream. You’ve snooped around every nook and cranny of the Razor Crest. It’s not as if he’s going to pop out of nowhere and chastise you. You can probably traverse this ship from memory alone. 

You find what you assume is his bed. But you don’t sleep in it. Not even on the days where he’s gone. It’s just as small and cramped as the ship and you simply can’t believe anyone even uses that thing. 

The worry that he might have perished out there crosses your mind. But you couldn’t let it get to you. He uses the ship's emergency comms to check in at night. Sometimes he doesn’t.  

You shuffle through the supplies, you use the fresher, you stare outside the windows of the cockpit then you sleep on the floor. Until on the nights that you don’t. You think it started when they left for Lothal. They were gone for four days and you barely slept a wink.

It was the nightmares, you think. Twisted and vile things that were a manifestation of your fears. 

You don’t like to think about it. When your ship crashed on Jakku. You lost people. Guardsmen that've been with you since childhood. People died violent deaths to protect you. 

The memories come in flashes, unwanted and painful. They chased you through that rocky and desolate planet. The Empire rained hell. You ought to be flattered seeing as how they would go through all this trouble for you. If not for the night terrors you had of being back in that rubble, of seeing people drop dead like flies, and smelling the stench of gasoline from their flamethrowers. 

You wake up, heaving and choking back sobs, the heat of the flame feeling too real and too close. On the good nights, you’re able to talk to the Mandalorian through the emergency comm on the console of the ship. 

You’re mulling around the cockpit, memorizing the console controls, wondering what each one does when a soft crackle gets your attention. You’re so used to the quiet that the soft sound causes you to perk up immediately. 

“Mando?”

“— Hello ?”

“Took you long enough.” 

“ How’s the ship?”

You look at the blinking communicator as if it’s done you some personal offense. “...I’m fine, thank you very much. Ship’s intact, at least. Old thing.”

“... And you?”

“Are you asking if I’m still intact? Because the answer is no. I’ve lost my mind. I think I can hear colors.”

“ Yeah, isolation will do that to you .”

“What about you? Any sign of her?”

“... No. I'm in a village. No one’s seen anyone matching her description. Fob’s no help either. ” 

“Oh.” It’s nearly been two weeks. Four planets and more parsecs than you can count. “A village?”

“ Yes. Almost a day’s trek from the ship, so I’ll be back there by tomorrow. ”

You hesitate. “Can you stay? Just for a bit?”

“ Have you been sleeping? ”

“Not really.” 

“...I can keep the line open for a bit. Try to rest. ”

—

Two weeks later.

Batuu was green. That was the first thing you noticed. As the ship geared closer to the surface you see that those are actually trees, densely packed together to form a jungle. 

The ramp lowers and you can’t help it, you stand on the mouth of the ship, admiring the life of the planet. They’re gigantic, with bark twice the usual size and vines hanging from their branches, unlike what you had back at home.

The Mandalorian falls into step beside you and you can already sense what he’s about to say so you beat him to it.

“I’m just going to look.” The crest is parked in a clearing in the middle of the forest, flattening the long grass. It smells like damp soil and you can hear birds cawing in the distance. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you as you slowly walk down the ramp, grateful for the fresh air. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s ancient.” He counters, his boots crunching on the ground as he flanks you. “These trees have been here for a thousand years. They’re sacred.”

You turn to him. “Don’t you think I should—”

“ No .” He says firmly. 

“She’s trained. Been in military command for as long as I can remember. She can outsmart you and she can fight….She wouldn’t run if she saw me.”

“Believe me, I can handle it. If she’s even here. I’m not risking you for an intel that could be weeks old.” He says, wading through a field of long grass, the little kid hovering nearby. 

“You’re no use to me dead.”

You make a face, smiling sarcastically. “ Charmed .”

“You’re welcome.” He deadpans. “Now get back on the ship.” 

—

There’s a storm outside when the Mandalorian comes back two days later.  You’ve fallen asleep to the sound of the smattering of rain on the roof of the ship when there’s a loud clang outside and you shoot up almost immediately.  

Suddenly, the ramp creaks awake as it opens, letting the water in. The sound of the rain is deafening now and you’re barely up on your feet before the Mandalorian sprints inside the vessel, the child’s pram zooming shortly behind him. He makes his way up into the cockpit immediately, firing up the engine before you can even hear the ramp shut below. Another crash comes from outside, and what sounded like an animal growling and clawing on the ground. Panic rises inside you as you stumble into the cockpit. 

“ What is that —?”

“Strap in now . We’re leaving.”

You do as you're told. “Did you find her?”

“No.” The ship lifts off the ground, and there’s something clanging on the side of the ship now. 

“ Who is that? ” They found us, you think. They fucking found us. 

“Bandits.”

“Wh– Seriously ?“

You’re in hyperspace when you finally notice it. You couldn’t help the gasp that escapes you, “ Holyfuckingshit , Mando—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He says, voice a little more ragged than usual, as if he didn’t have a knife sticking out of his fucking back.

You shoot up from your seat. “Shit , what— what do we do ? Holy —fuck .” It all comes out in a tumble. He’s facing you now but you can still see the knife sticking out of him. It’s really fucking huge. Especially because it’s halfway stuck inside him.

“Wait, wait here.” You’re practically flying through the ship when you come back with the kit, ripping it open on the floor of the cockpit and rummaging through its contents. “Here, what do you need?”

“The cauterizer.” His voice sounds thinner, even through the modulator, and it only adds a layer of panic to your already worsening state. “Look for the cauterizer— That— Yeah that one. Good.” You hand it to him. “You’re doing good. Now, you’re going to take it out—”

“What? No way .” You step back.

“Listen–”

“I don’t know how to — ”

“Hey, hey, breathe .” He grasps both your hands in his. His gloves are damp, and you see the droplets of water on his armor, his chrome visor staring up at you. “Calm down. It’s going to be alright. As long as I don’t bleed out, it’s fine.” 

“You’re kidding me right? How is that fine ?”

“Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

Trust him? That’s literally something the two of you couldn’t get right for nearly a month now. Now he’s basically putting his life in your hands and asking you to— Fuck . “Fuck, fine. I—I’ll do it.”

“Okay, you’re going to take out the dagger. Then you’re going to cauterize the wound with this.” He flicks some sort of switch and it fucking zaps . He places it in your hands. “Are you ready? You’re going to have to be quick, alright?”

He makes quick work of his chestplate, the armor clanging on the ground just as you come back with the scissors, ripping violently through his undershirt. You don’t think, you just do it and to your horror and surprise, the blade comes out easier than you expected. He lets out a long and loud groan, doubling over and gripping the console just as the bloody weapon joins the rest of his armor on the ground. You place a hand on his back to steady him, his skin warm.

“Maker, I’m sorry.” You say sincerely, gripping the cauterizer in one hand and steadying him with the other. He barks out a shout just as the laser makes contact with his skin. “ Stars , I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry… I’msosorry .” Your apologies turn into a whisper under your breath like a mantra, staying laser focused on the task at hand as he makes pained, broken noises underneath you. His fisted hand comes down onto the edge of the console.

It’s done eventually. The process felt longer than it was and there’s a moment when all you can hear is his heavy breathing mingling with the peaceful hum of hyperspace. It’s a juxtaposition of sounds. You couldn’t possibly imagine the pain he’s in and all he’s got to show for it now is a fresh jagged scar on the back of his shoulder.

You want to sit, but before you can even move an inch, he beats you to it. Suddenly, he’s tipping forward, a little too much and you recognize the fact that he’s going limp. You move just in time to catch him, letting your entire body support his weight as his helmet digs into your stomach while you try to get him back up into the chair without hurting his freshly closed wound. You hear garbling coming from underneath the armor. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hands on his pauldrons to support him, smearing red all over the metal. “It—It’s okay, I have you.” Literally. You don’t see any other option on how to move an injured man twice your size without hurting him right now and you’re too tired to think of a solution. So, you let him rest like that; his head on your stomach. 

You take a deep breath, your dominant hand cramping and your limbs feeling like you just strapped weights on them. You’re also getting colder and colder as the water he brought in earlier mingles with your sweat. Your hands are bloody. He makes another pained sound, a gloved hand coming up to grip your hip. 

“You ok?” You whisper. 

“ Mhm .”

“...Th—That wasn’t them, right?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Relief washes over you and you hardly feel his thumb brush a circle on your hip. 

You stay like that for longer than a moment. At some point, he’s placed his elbow on his knees to relieve some of the weight on you, still keeping his hand on your waist to steady you as you whizz through hyperspace. 

You let out a sigh, trying to focus on anything but how uncomfortable you are. 

It dawns on you you’ve never been this close before and you’ve never touched him, let alone seen his skin. It’s the first time you see him underneath all that metal. 

Suddenly, to you, there’s a lot of him. Weeks of looking at him and seeing nothing but metal and now the large expanse of his back is exposed to the cool air where you cut through his shirt. He’s a little pale from the injury and you also think it’s something to do with not being exposed to the sun that much. Your fingers grip his bare shoulder as you push him up just enough to make sure he doesn’t slip. His skin is damp, and he vaguely smells of rain, and something earthy. He’s a man underneath that armor, you almost forgot.

You watch the steady rise and fall of his torso as his lungs expand, muscles contracting as he tries to take in more air, and you notice the moles on his back. Tiny and completely unnoticeable marks scattered on the expanse of skin unless you stare really hard. You wonder if he knows this. Without thinking, you drag a clean hand, from his pauldron, to the small spot on his back, tracing it. Then to the next, and next, careful of his bad shoulder. It seemed like something you should do naturally and with no hesitation. You’re completely out of it, then, gently running your fingers along his back in a trancelike state, like your action and him feeling anything were two completely separate things. You hear him release a breath underneath you but you don’t feel the shudder that runs up his spine. You don’t see him shut his eyes underneath the helmet, don’t notice him lean back into your touch. Mando tries not to feel the throbbing pain on his shoulder, instead he focuses on the feel of your hand against his skin. He wonders if you were doing it on purpose. Or if you were in shock.

“Are you okay?” comes his question. He sounds more full now. Like he’s back to his usual self.

“Yeah,” you breathe, hand stopping in the middle of his back like you just traced a map and finally settled on a location.

You feel a squeeze on your hip, his head resurfacing from where it rested on your stomach and you’re suddenly faced with the chrome visor of his helmet.

“I’m fine. The kid’s fine. It’s over.” He says, sensing your distress. You nod silently. You can see him, and your reflection on his helmet but you can’t really… see it. Everything feels so cloudy and far away. You don’t want to look at the blood staining your hands, on his back. 

After dropping out of hyperspace, you lock yourself in the fresher and don’t come out half an hour later.

—

You assumed he was passed out from where he sat on the floor of the hull, resting, when you got out of the fresher until he said something. “We’re going back to Nevarro.”

“What for?” you whisper, meticulously laying out a fresh set of blankets on the floor. You were trying not to think much about anything right now. The baby is asleep, the hull is dark and silent, save for your whispers.

“I’m meeting with my employer, and we need supplies.” He’s changed out of his damp clothes now, and didn’t bother with putting the beskar back on yet.

You frown, listening to his attempt to get up. “You’re going to work for him?”

“Yes. I’m not made of credits.” You could argue that, technically, he was. But you feel like that would have been borderline offensive. He finds himself expecting you to say something back, but you’re quiet. He at least expected you to fight him on this, like you usually do. 

“Hey.” Comes the modulated tone of his voice, sounding hesitant. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” You chuck your damp clothes in the corner, not meeting his eyes—or rather, the chrome visor now staring in your direction.

“I think you’re in shock.” He takes hold of your elbow as you make your way across the other end of the hull. “Talk to me.”

You stop in your tracks, feeling oddly vulnerable in your state. “...You just scared me.” You state plainly and just when the words leave your mouth that’s when you’re able to pinpoint what it is you’ve been feeling all alone. Fear. An image flashed through your mind—limp bodies on the ground, eyes wide open but so empty and lifeless. The memories rears its ugly head at you tonight, resurfacing faster than you can help it. 

“ Maker —” You breathe out a puff of air, pressing the palm of your hand to your eyes until you can see stars. “I—I don’t want to do that again. Please don’t—don’t make me do that again. I—I don’t know why I’m—I mean, shit, you were the one with th—the knife in your back.” 

The Mandalorian’s hand drifts down from your elbow to grip your hand in a gloved hand, his filtered voice surprisingly really soft. “I think you’re just tired…. It’s alright.”

A wet sob fights its way out of you. Stars, it’s pathetic. It’s so fucking embarrassing . 

You wipe away your tears angrily with your free hand, a lump forming in your throat as you try to stifle a sob. You just stand there, frustratingly wiping away your tears as they come, sobbing quietly into the palm of your hands. It’s all really caught up to you now. How much the past few weeks—hell, months —really fucked you up. He was right. You were tired. You wanted to go home. You wanted to grieve . 

You suspect he might just leave you there, tell you to at least get some rest before going back up the cockpit to maneuver the ship to Nevarro but he doesn’t. 

The hand that’s holding yours starts to tug you closer, hesitantly and you go willingly, still wiping tears until you’re close enough to wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his good shoulder, letting him soak up your fresh tears. He’s warm without the beskar, and you practically melt into him.

“You haven’t been sleeping?” You shook your head against the soft cloth of his black undershirt running down to cover his arms, now wrapping securely around you, albeit awkwardly like he really didn’t know what to do and was simply improvising. “...It’s okay.” He runs his hand across your back soothingly and you hum softly against his shoulder.

A part of you is surprised at the gentleness in which he handles you, something you only ever see him reserve for the kid, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away. While he never showed any ill intentions towards you, you could never really read him. This was a job. You were a job to him. And he never failed to treat you as such. The things he did, you always assumed, was to benefit him and the kid. Your protection was just a byproduct.  You had no qualms about it, but months on the run, weeks alone, and the uncertainty of it all was getting to you, you admit and you just needed… you needed someone that wasn’t hunting you down or trying to kill you. 

You stay like that until your sobs subside and you’re taking calming breaths against him, his hand lingering . It was nice. This was nice. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, where there’s a spot where a patch of skin is showing. You find yourself wondering what he looked like all of a sudden

Suddenly, a soft cry pierces the silence of the ship and you’re suddenly reminded about where you were.

Slowly, you part. “I’ll get him,” you say with a nod. 

That night, you fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

[starglow-xx]

— Oh Baby!

part 2! - a solution? sure, let’s call it that

heartslabyul & savanaclaw x f! reader

synopsis: when the boys of heartslabyul and savanaclaw get turned to kids, who else is supposed to take of them except their beloved prefect? go figure. damn you crowley. oh, and you too grim.

fandom: twisted wonderland

type of work: part of mini series! : “Oh Baby!” ; written segment, fluff / platonic themes, comedy? ; check out pt. 1 here!

warnings: a stressed prefect pt. 2, unedited

a/n: YALL it’s been a year since i posted the first part to this and obviously since then i’ve completed the books for octavinelle, scarabia, and pomefiore, so maybe they’ll have future appearances later hehe but no promises

“you’re telling me you don’t know how to fix this?!” you whisper yelled.

“that’s what i said was it not?”

you wanted to scream in frustration at the headmaster but refrained yourself from doing so as your newly turned baby friends were oh so peacefully playing in the common room as you and crowley talked in the kitchen, and didn’t want to draw attention.

“loosey duecey! loosey duecey! loosey duecey! loosey duecey!”

“shut up!”

maybe peacefully was too good of a word in this situation.

“WELL THEN! it seems that i am no longer needed so i will take my leave—”

“get the hell back here for seven’s sake! and didn’t i tell you to keep your voice down?!”

“but—”

“shut up! if you won’t help me solve my problem then don’t speak at all!” you continued to whisper yell.

“...”

“seriously?!”

with strength that you usually save for rounding up ace, deuce, and grim (on normal circumstances), you grab the stupid headmaster by the back of his cloak thing as he turns away from you to make his escape.

“oh no you don’t!”

the bird for brains had the audacity to sigh at you like he was the one inconvenienced with 8 children. 8 actual children.

“ms. prefect, you must understand, that despite how gracious i am, i simply do not have time for—”

“i’ll go on strike if you don’t help me!”

“...come again?”

you sweatdrop as you let go of his cloak. you didn’t really think the whole thing through, it kind of just came out of you mouth, but it seemed to get his attention so you’re going to have to role with it dammit.

“t-that’s right!”

you cursed in your head slightly as you stammer. there’s no turning back!

“i’ll for once since i’ve gotten here be an normal student! so that means no cleaning after your messes, doing chores that shouldn’t be my responsibility, fighting stupid overblots blah blah blah, you get the picture?”, you threaten.

crowley is silent as he contemplates your words.

“and no, holding housing or allowance over my head is not going to work, because i will literally get myself adopted by another dorm or so help me.”

at that, crowley sighs once again, but this time in defeat at the teenage girl in front of him.

“all right, i’ll go work with the staff to try and figure something out.”

phew.

“however!”

god dammit you can never win can you.

crowley with a stern voice as he wags one of his fingers shatters your hopes and dreams with a simple, “the children must stay here!”

you couldn’t believe your ears, and started to yell, forgetting about whisper yelling.

“what?! why?! i’m asking for help with them because i can’t handle it!”

he simply raises an eyebrow at you.

“do you think it’ll be beneficial and efficient to have the children running around potions and stacks of books while we try and find their cure?”

you sigh, disappointed but not surprised at his rebuttal.

“...no sir”

“great! i guess we’re on the same page after all! i wish you the best of luck prefect, for i am gracious.”

you deadpan.

“right of course. whatever would i do without your help headmaster”

“oh you’d probably perish!”

“that was sarcasm”

ignoring your retort, the man dramatically swished his coat cape thing nearly whacking you in the face (you’re 98% sure it was on purpose) as you feel a migraine start coming on, and the you 15 minutes ago wouldn’t believe it wasn’t because of the children.

after a deep sigh, you follow after crowley reentering what grim dubbed as the “danger zone” only to catch the evasive headmaster walk out the door and shut it behind them.

from where you’re standing, you hear grim, who’s awake now, but still lying on the floor, mumble something along the lines of “useless” and you couldn’t agree more.

you eye the handful of children running around and yelling at each other.

oh great seven, this is going to be one hell of a migraine.

i love their shenanigans <33

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate on here or any other sites!

[skylarstark4826]

Neytiri does not regret her actions under stress. Her oldest son had just perished, she could not allow her daughter to befall the same fate. 

Using Spider was not a calculated decision, but it was a fair one, she thinks. Slicing his chest was a warning, a good one. And if Quaritch had not released her daughter, she would have driven the knife through his chest. She knows that as clearly as she knows of Eywa's existence.

A son for a son.

But, being an uncalculated decision, she hadn't considered how she would feel after the fight. After giving Netayem back to Eywa, and settling into the Metkayina village for good; after settling Spider into a hut just a minute's walk away from theirs. She hadn't expected to be haunted , to feel the heat of Spider's body under her hands before she falls asleep, to hear the gasp of his breath when no one else is around, or to see the red of his blood on her knife in her dreams.

She hadn't expected to feel angry. 

She hates the way he scurries around her, avoiding eye contact. He hides behind Kiri and Lo’ak and even Jake doesn’t seem to notice, but the way he trails her movements without looking directly at her makes clear the intention of the action. 

And somewhere along the line, she decides she doesn’t deserve this sort of fear.

Is it not clear to him what was at stake? He grew up around her, and for one action to make his fear so palpable -

This can’t be the only reason for it. 

And it isn’t, she realizes, after listening in on a conversation between the human boy and her children.

“She wouldn’t have killed you,” Kiri is saying, matter of factly. “It was a bluff, she’s too good to kill a kid.”

Something sour curls in Neytiri’s gut - guilt. Anger. Kiri does not understand what it is like to lose a child, to fear losing another. Goodness has nothing to do with it. 

“I don’t know,” Spider says. His voice is smaller than Neytiri has ever heard it. Quiet. It’s out of place next to her daughter's strong vocals. “She’s never liked me around. And she’s never…had a problem killing sky people before.”

And there’s an inflection there. Some secret meaning that makes Neytiri’s eyes narrow. 

Who is he referring to?

“Psh. You’re hardly a sky person at all at this point,” Lo’ak comforts.

Neytiri leaves as the conversation shifts, feeling stranger than she had before. 

Angrier.

~   ~   ~

As with all things, it gets worse before it gets better.

“Quaritch is alive,” Jake whispers to her without preamble. Their children are asleep on the floor next to them.

Neytiri’s heart sinks. “No,” she states. It isn’t denial, she simply can’t see any way he’d be alive. “No you killed him.”

Jake shakes his head.

“You let him live,” Neytiri hisses incredulously. 

Jake pauses for a moment, considering. His eyes look off into the distance, somewhere past their hut. Neytiri hopes, for his sake, that he isn’t considering lying to her. 

Eventually he shakes his head. “Not me.”

Neytiri’s face goes hot as she realizes. He’s looking off toward Spider’s hut.

Neytiri growls. “You mean to tell me -”

“Spider saved him,” Jake interrupts before she can wake their children with her volume.

Neytiri reaches toward her bow on reflex. “I’ll kill him. I should have killed him before!”

“No!” Jake snaps, grasping her wrist in an iron grip. His eyes bore into hers. “I agree with you on most things, love. But this one I cannot.”

Neytiri does not release the bow. Instead, she gestures toward her children. “We’re one less because of him!”

Jake shakes his head. “Netayam -” he pauses, voice crackling with emotion. “Netayam died before this, you know that.”

“Because they went back to save him!”

“They were too good to leave him behind…again," he tacks on. 

Neytiri drops her bow, burrowing her face into her hands. She feels as if her anger is justified, and yet, no one else seems to agree. There is something wrong with this situation. With Spider. “Why? ”

Jake pulls her closer, pressing her head against his chest. “Quaritch saved him from some terrible things the RDA was doing to him…and from you.”

Neytiri sobs. 

“Spider said he was returning the favor. If you ask me, I think it’s because he couldn’t watch someone die if he had the chance to save him.”

“He would’ve died in battle. It would’ve been as honorable a death as that demon could get.”

“Most humans don’t see it like that. We don’t have Eywa to return to.”

Neytiri sweeps her eyes across her sleeping children once more, wishing, longing for the chance to go back to how things were. 

“Neytiri, my love,” Jake lifts her face. His eyes meet hers. “Promise me you won’t hurt Spider. Promise me. ”

Neytiri sobs again. “I promise,” she says, only because she can see how much it means to Jake that she agrees to this. 

His forehead bumps hers softly, and his eyes close - in relief, she thinks. 

“I See you.”

“I See you .”

~   ~   ~

Spider senses the shift in attitude. He hides from her even more often, stops coming to their hut to meet with Kiri and Lo’ak. 

Kiri notices.

“I don’t care why you’re angry with him,” she says. Neytiri wishes she hadn’t inherited her father’s bluntness. “But he’s wallowing and he feels guilty about something, and I know he’s too good to have done anything wrong. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Neytiri doesn’t answer. Kiri squints up at her.

“He’s scared of you. Fix it. Please. ”

Neytiri sighs, placing a hand on her daughter's head. "I will do what I can."

She can keep an eye on him, at least. 

~   ~   ~

Spider has trouble in the village, Neytiri notices.

Na’vi stumble out of his way as he passes, or they curiously pull his hair and pinch his skin until he drives them away with his hisses, and there is no in between. Despite this, he manages to befriend both Tsireya and Aonung. A feat even her own children could not do nearly so easily. 

The leaders' children follow Spider, observing him. Much like the scientists at Base Camp observe the Na'vi. The parallel makes Neytiri's eyebrows furrow when she thinks about it. 

Soon enough, they're approaching Lo'ak outside the hut where Neytiri can hear, asking permission to bring Spider on hunts.

"I don't care," Lo'ak answers casually. "Spider does what he wants. He'll follow you if he likes you."

Neytiri frowns. 

Spider used to follow her. 

The acidic feeling in her stomach frustrates her. It isn’t anger, she’s felt anger. Hatred? No…jealousy. Jealousy? Of two Metkayina children? 

Being in the water so often must be confusing her mind. 

And yet, she watches. Even as she supervises Tuk, diving through the water on her Ilu, her eyes stray toward the human and his new Na’vi friends. Waiting, maybe, for something to happen. For some excuse to intervene. Kiri catches her watching, once, and grins in a way that makes Neytiri roll her eyes. 

Soon, she does have to intervene.

Aonung and Kiri are in the water, watching Spider pace on the docks. They’ve teamed up to tame an Ilu for Spider, just outside the Sully’s hut. Unheard of. Impossible. Neytiri is almost disappointed in her child for assuming it could be done, until she remembers that Kiri seems to make anything seem possible. 

They’ve been trying since the morning began.

“Now, get on!” Kiri says, waving Spider over. She has one hand on the Ilu, gesturing toward Spider with the other. Aonung’s braid is connected to the animal, a baby. Small enough that Spider won’t be hurt if the animal lashes out. 

Spider shifts his feet, looking entirely bored. “Can’t we try again tomorrow?”

Aonung huffs. “It’s not that hard!”

“Not for you! You’re literally built for this!”

Kiri glares at him. He sighs, shifting again, and then his feet are moving as he runs into a dive. 

His form is good. He looks, for all intents, as if he’s been riding Ilu since childhood as Aonung guides the Ilu into a gentle swim. Kiri ties his wrist to the saddle, customary for those learning to ride. Everything is going well.

At least, until Aonung’s braid disconnects. 

Suddenly, the baby Ilu is panicking, shooting off into the water. Spider is yanked underwater, and Neytiri wouldn’t care normally. He has his mask to breathe, and Neytiri wouldn’t particularly mind if he didn’t. But Kiri is panicking, and she’ll surely despise herself if anything were to happen to Spider. Stupidly.

So Neytiri dives into the water and unties Spider’s wrist as Aonung tries to subdue the animal. 

He shoves away from her, swimming back to dry land on his own. 

Ungrateful, Neytiri thinks, huffing.

Kiri pulls her into a hug, though, and that makes it worth it. 

She releases her mother to check on the human, apologizing for the mishap. Aonung looks sheepish from where he’s wading in the shallow water.

Spider plops down, kicking his feet in the sea. “Thanks,” he mumbles when Neytiri passes, half hidden behind Kiri.

Useless, Neytiri thinks. Coward.

~   ~   ~

Eventually, Neytiri manages to find Spider where he can’t hide behind someone.

Fishing, alone on an abandoned islet. And failing at it spectacularly.

“Who taught you this?” She asks, blunt, before he’s noticed her presence. He fumbles the crossbow, shooting an arrow off into the water, nowhere near any fish. He fixes his feet, prepared to run.

“Uh. No one. I watched.”

Neytiri yanks the crossbow from his hands, ignoring his grasping fingers. “Who made this,” she asks disdainfully. The mechanism is wrong, and the carving is lopsided.

Spider frowns, shuffling his feet. “I did.”

Neytiri raises her eyebrows incredulously. 

Spider jumps to defend himself. “It’s not like anyone taught me, I watched some of the villagers make one and I thought I could figure it out, but I didn’t realize this wood would be so different from anything I’ve carved with! It’s too soft!”

Neytiri silences him with a look. 

And isn’t that interesting? Spider has never been particularly easy to silence.

The power she holds over this child, now, it’s -

Interesting.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I was trying to help.”

Neytiri sighs angrily, taking pity on the boy. How can he allow himself to live with the Metkayina without being useful? So she reaches behind herself, grasping her own crossbow off her back. It’s a whole lot bigger than the one he’d carved for himself, but if he can figure out how to use it he’ll be better off. “Try this one.”

He takes it warily. His eyes never leave her other hand, maybe expecting something.

She’s half surprised when he manages to hold it the way he’s supposed to, muscles tensing with the strain. It’s hilariously large in his arms, and the kickback skews his shot, but…he wasn’t lying when he said he’d watched. His stance, at least, is correct.

Neytiri slinks behind him, scrutinizing. He startles, turning to keep his eyes on her.

(Brown eyes, peering up at her, knowing she’s about to do something she can’t undo.)

She grips his head in her hand, none too gently turning it back to face the ocean. He doesn’t protest, not physically. “Focus,” she snaps.  

He does, though his hands shake. He’ll never get a fish like that. So she uses one hand to steady his arms, and places the other on his middle back to steady the kickback. His trembling only worsens.

“Calm yourself. Shoot.”

He does, and even through the palpable tension, he manages to get a fish. Neytiri straightens herself, fighting a grin off her face. She has no reason to feel proud of him. She is doing this for Kiri and Jake, and because she may as well keep him where she can reach him. But she feels proud anyway.

He breathes deep; his mask hisses. It is useful, Neytiri thinks as she watches him dive. He has no need to hold his breath underwater with that thing pumping oxygen to him all the time. He won’t slow them down in that sense, at least. She remembers Tuk complaining about their need to breathe more than the Metkayina when they first arrived in the village; she doesn't envy those times.

And it is an easy weakness.

“Good,” she says when the boy resurfaces, trying to keep her voice emotionless. 

Spider averts his gaze to the flopping fish, fiddling with the arrow stuck inside it. “Thank you.”

Neytiri nods, and that’s the end of that.

~   ~   ~

Later, Spider visits their hut to return her crossbow.

He leaves a basketful of fish as well.

~   ~   ~

The next time Neytiri catches him alone, he doesn’t notice she’s there.

He’s fiddling with the condensed oxygen tank connected to his mask. Steeling himself, for something. And then the oxygen canister is no longer connected, and he’s swiftly reaching to the side to grab a new one, one of many provided to him from Base Camp. His cheeks are puffed out and quickly turning red.

Oh, she thinks. He can’t breathe. 

It would be easy. To take the new canister away from him. To let him die the way he should’ve allowed Quaritch to die. To rid herself of this difficulty.

But - he looks small, here. Vulnerable in a way that makes her gut clench. She remembers the feel of his small human body under her hands again, the quick deep breaths of a child about to die.

She sees the light leaving Neteyam’s eyes.

She shakes her head clear of this image, just in time to watch him catch her eye. His strange brown eyes widen, and he fumbles the canister.

It plops into the water. 

Neytiri watches.

He moves to dive in after it, blinking the Pandoran air ferociously out of his eyes. He won't be able to find the canister like this. He wouldn’t even be able to keep his eyes open underwater, probably.

So Neytiri - hesitating only slightly - shoves him away from the edge and dives into the still water herself.

She’s not a good swimmer, not like her children have learned to be. But she can catch the little oxygen tank easily enough. Resurfacing, she clumsily connects it to his breathing machine. The gasp of breath he takes is enough to silence the roaring in her head and the churning in her gut. 

She hates the way she cares for this boy. When had that happened?

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, trembling with fear. "I - that's never happened be-"

"Shut up," Neytiri snaps.

His hand flits up to his chest as he breathes heavily, settling against the healing cut she'd left there. He attempts to pass it off as a scratch. It doesn't work.

Neytiri sighs, glaring at the scarring mark. "I sense…I've made a mistake."

Spider shifts onto his ankles. He's silent for a beat, and then - "You did. You should've done it. Killed me."

Neytiri startles, looking at the boy. His eyes bore into hers, entirely serious.

"You’ve been too nice. Everything is messed up because - because I was too weak to get out of there myself. And 'cause I couldn't - I couldn't let him die. I - I couldn't," his voice breaks off. Tears fall behind the mask. Neytiri itches to wipe them away, but she fears any movement would scare him. "Things will never be okay again," he finishes.

Neytiri drops to her knees. She watches the water as it laps against the shore. "I am angry," she starts. "I thought I was angry at you. What you did - was…but I don't think that's it. I think…" Neytiri pauses, searching for something she doesn't know is there. But there are no words to describe her emptiness, and if there were, she would be saying them to Jake, not to a child she's just learned not to hate. So she places a hand on his where it's clutched against his wound. "I shouldn't have hurt you."

"You should've -"

Neytiri silences him with a glare, grasping his tiny human hand in hers. "I should've protected you. Kiri would've forgiven me for letting her…she wouldn't forgive me if I killed you."

Spider's shoulders shake. He turns away to let the tears fall, and she waits as they pool in the bottom of his mask. "I miss Netayem," he chokes.

Neytiri allows a tear of her own to slide down her cheek. "He is with Eywa," she says. For the first time since the ceremony, she finds, she feels okay with that. 

She leans toward the human boy, pressing her forehead to the top of his head. 

She isn't angry anymore.

[fatuismooches]

Oh. My. GOD. The ending to Puer et monstrum was so devastating I nearly cried..

Reader was and still is as strong as Zandy said, because after everything that would happen afterwards I don’t think I’d be able to manage. I cannot imagine the anguish of losing a child, especially not one of my own, but to learn my own husband was responsible for their death? PHEWWW. Reader is better than me- that’s all I’ll say! 😅

Also the way you depicted the panic for Zandy seriously had me feeling stressed.. I wished Reader had begun hugging him and telling him everything would be okay. I know they were desperate to save Zandy’s life, but it really seemed Dottore wouldn’t have changed his mind. Even when they got to the point of pleading. THATS JUST SO SAD. The impending time of Zandy’s death was so sick :(( </3

This just opened a whole new can of worms of me because imagining Zandy and the segments in their final moments- their feelings of being scared, panicked, just a multitude of emotions- all towards the fact they’re all about to die. Imagine the segments, who too, thought of reader right then- thinking of reader as they perished & not being able to reach reader like Zandy had.. I need a moment- 😭

-🎺

WEWDJWEDOW THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS!! (*obligatory hugs and tissues*) And YEAH!! Reader is HELLA strong in their own way, even if they don't recognize it, because i wouldn't be able to handle that whole situation either. I'd simply disappear 🥰

As much as Reader tried to comfort him, I imagine they were having their own sort of breakdown having just learned that all of the segments they've known for years were literally about to die in mere minutes, so many things rushing through their mind on what they should do and how to stop it and just everything they went through with them. It was hard for them to just believe that after spending so many years with the segments, they'd just go poof. At least Zandy was able to be with the person he loved most.

The segment's last moments are also something that KILLS me inside like- 😭 they did not need to die!! We deserved to see them!! Poor Reader, they probably think about what the segments wanted to say to them before they died. You just wish you could have provided some comfort in their last moments, although it's impossible now... Never forgiving Omega for this 🙄 (my innocent pretty wife)

[yunessa]

Owlcatober 26: Records

“Pathfinder Hilor?” The tall athletic human Yunessa found was lean, with grey hair stood out in the crowd he was speaking to.The monocle he wore gleamed coldly in the torchlight. “I’m Yunessa. I’m glad I could find you.” Hilor studied the hand Yunessa extended before he shook it. 

“Greetings, I am Hilor, Venture-Captain of the pathfinder Society. Commander Tirabade said you were looking for the Pathfinder Society but I’m the superior Officer for Pathfinders in this Region of Mendev and the only Pathfinder in Mendev.” 

“There’s no other Pathfinders here?” The society was so large that Yunessa found it hard to believe there was only one. “Does this area have no support?”

“The Pathfinder Society is running no operations here. I’m only stuck here because of an old feud with a demon worshipper called the Spinner of Nightmares.” Hilor reached up to rub one of his shoulders. “I’m not doing this with the society’s help so I’m working alone.”

“I see.” Yunessa said slowly.  

“If you need help however, I am well acquainted with the local mercenaries and fighters. If any of them are alive and you need them for a good and honest cause I can get you in touch.” Hilor tapped a heavy book at his hip. "There's always a mercenary looking for work if the pay is right."

“Oh, no. I don’t remember meeting a Pathfinder before you and Finnean here. That was all. I’m also not familiar with the Spinner of Nightmares.”  Yunessa admitted. “I tend to earn enough to go to the next town and head off- the life of a bard.”

“That sounds accurate for a travelling bard however, Finnean?” Hilor questioned. "I didn't know more of the society had come here."

“Finnean Dismar. I found him in a merchant’s shop about a half hour walk from here.” Yunessa explained as Hilor’s brow furrowed. 

“Dismar… dismar. I’ve heard the name before- he’s on the lists of the fallen. He went missing in the wound at the end of the Second Crusade. He’s been on the lists of the Fallen for quite a while.” Hilor’s gaze sharpened as he focused on Yunessa. “You said he was here however?  Where is he now?” His eyes moved from Yunessa to glance around them.

“One moment.”  Yunessa reached for Finnean at their belt where he had remained after returning to the form of a sword. He had periods of what seemed to be inertia and the purple eye on the scabbard seemed to be as it appeared. As Yunessa held FInnean however, the purple eye blinked, stirring to life. ”This is Finnean. Finnean Dismar, this is Venture-Captain Hilor.”

Hilor’s eyebrows rose up.  When Finnean spoke, however, he simply blinked once in surprise. “Hello! So you’re the Chief in these lands now? Where did lady Auery go? When I left for the Wound she’d just taken the position.”

To Hilor’s credit, the Venture-Captain simply blinked before examining Finnean. A sad chuckle escaped him when he finished and turned his head away. “I’m afraid Lady Auery perished during the Third Crusade and Finnean Dismar was recorded on the lists of the Fallen at the end of the second crusade.”

“Well, here I am, alive and well! Write in your lists that I’m back and soon i’ll write a detailed report on what happened to me.” Finnean’s voice was full of joy. “I was gone for a while so it’s just a misunderstanding. But now everything will return to normal. I should write to my folks. They probably think I’m dead too.”

Hilor gave Yunessa a sad smile. “Poor Lad….” He trailed off as Finnean excitedly mentioned several people and things he needed to write and go to do now that the Society knew he was ‘alive’. “Such is the fate of a pathfinder. We face the unknown but sometimes the unknown wins and our minds cannot take it. " A heavy sigh escaped Hilor. "Or we don't return as we left. Such is our fate."

“Is there nothing you can do?” It bothered Yunessa to see Finnean so excited. “Someone in the society that might have any experience with this? I know you’re the only one for Mendev but I have gold-I can pay for society's troubles. Surely the Pathfinder Society would take care of their own.”

“I’m sorry, I truly am. But I’m the only one here with no support. None of the local fighters are proficient in the kind of subjects you’d need to start helping.” Hilor’s eyes moved to Finnean. “If you leave here I’d say go to Absalom. But he might be considered an artifact more than a person.”

“He is a person Hilor.” Yunessa gripped Finnean tighter and Finnean’s chatter cut off as the sword exuded a sudden wariness. “Finnean isn’t  just a weapon, he’s still a human.” Yunessa didn’t recall many of their interactions with other elves, but they had generally been pleasant. They always treated me as if I was still an elf, still one of their own. Not once was I ignored if I needed aide.

“Be that as it may, not everyone would see it that way.” Hilor sighed. “It would probably be best if you kept him with you. Maybe a way to help him will appear.” - "I still think you're human Finnean." Yunessa promised once they had returned to the Courtyard. "There has to be one long-lived human who keeps track of time." "Yeah." Finnean said slowly. "Maybe, maybe I was just asleep for to long and people forgot about me. Crossed me off on the lists on accident." His attempt at cheer sounded forced. But there was a despondency to it. "I guess even elves do it to sometimes?" No. Not even a little. There were just to few elves to cruelly ignore the rest. When Yunessa had been hungry, needed a place to rest- it might not have been the best bread or the finest inn to rest in. But their kin had helped. As much as they remembered anyway. "Yeah." Yunessa lied. "Happens more often to us than you'd think Finnean." It was a simple lie. A easy one. One even Ember counter counter if she was there. But it made the eye on Finnean's hilt widen before it changed. "Yeah. Yeah!" The cheer was real now. "if it happens with elves well then, it could happen with anyone! So it's just a mistake. I might need to just... I dunno. Prove myself or something. Have a big fun dramatic story to prove them wrong." "I can't imagine they'd leave the records wrong for to long." Another lie. But this one seemed to brighten Finnean's evening the most. "Who could ignore you when you're standing right there Finnean?"

[verycharismaticdragon]

On Air Island - chapter 1 - part 6

[prev] - [story so far] - [next]

(the transcript is available below the poll, under keep reading)

Whoa, our first timed choice! Click fast! Okay, jkjk, to explain: some of the choices in OAI have a 5-second timer. If you don't pick anything and the timer runs out, the game will either default to one of the options or give you the secret third (or fourth) thing. Thus, letting the timer run out will also be one of the options on the poll! So,

Transcript legend:

In-game text

Character speaking: dialogue line

regular chat message Donation: donation message

available donation messages

{ Alternative translation }

|| 🏅 award (achievement) collected ||

———— ———— ————

Hanse: I'll try harder, and I will avoid the punishment.

[player] donated 50 Ordinary Spade: Why is that place so serious;;

Hanse: That would be... ah.

FactOppa: ??? 123123: Jin and Ezra?

Jin: … … … … …

MyBaby: Wut? MinjunGF: Why's Jin face doesn't seem good? Perish: I am shaking

Jin: … … … … …

Darling: ? lalala99: What's up? DUMMY: Why isn't anyone saying anything?

Hanse: Maybe it was the terrible meal......?

mochimo: Was it that bad? hasebuck: HAHAHAHAH ReadMe: Shaking so hard I_han: Well, even 'so-so' tasted bad

Ezra: Huh? Mr Hanse, I thought you were already gone, but here you are.

mochimo: Uweegh

Ezra: I guess you weren't in a hurry to carry out your punishment.

c'monya: Researcher 'Oppa' ♡♡♡♡ DevilMan: Is he really an 'Oppa'? JoseonRc: Be quiet!

Hanse: Oh...... No! I was just about to leave.

Hanse: How was your meal? You looked very uncomfortable.

donateme: Well soofarrr: Jin eat everything so well tho TAKYO: Well she is a survival expert

Ezra: Haha, I was just about to ask if I could get some digestive medication.

WOLKER: Ugh iamfan: Oh my... Rainbow: How can he say that while laughing? Hihanse: ikr...

Ezra: To thank you for your concern, I'll tell you a story to ease your tension.

MyBank: ?????

Ezra: The staff over there told me that it's a punishment to be a guide's helper.

adam3882: Great hansehan: It's way easier than expected CloseEye: Just give him some food

Ezra: There's a time to get back to base camp, so you'll just have to hold it together until then.

TAKYO: Ezra is so sweet all the way weekend: Ezra. This is aunt. I lost your phone number. please give me your number. MoreNari: lol lol

Hanse: Heck, really......! Thank you!

Hanse: And now......I'll go to Haggai who will give me a punishment!

EatRamen: Let's go! sayaaa: Fighting 1pmhanse: Hanse cheer up

[The sound of Hanse's footsteps walking through the forest]

[Hanse getting short of breath]

outnow: Watch out hanse bbongGgu: Ough han-L: Don't get hurt

[Strange bird chirping]

[Wind] [Wind] [Wind] [Wind]

Hanse: I thought I told you it was this way......

onionin: How far does he need to go? Believe: where does he have to go?

Villager 1: Wait, sir, wait, wait!

artofhan: ? onmang: ????? YDD: What?

Villager 2: I simply won't let you go this way.

Hanse: Eh?

captain: what? ANINEFAN: Eh hanseggg: Look at Hanse shocked expression

Villager 2: In order to be able to stand by Haggai's side, you must cleanse your body and mind. || 🏅 I’ll give you a good wash ||

onehanse: Pardon?? BeMySon: What a nonsense BeSlave: ikr

⏰ Villager 1: Please come with us first.

What’s the problem? Try to follow them!

Do not follow them!

[princesscallyie]

Any Eirenelas character interactions?

Yes! It took me awhile cause I couldn't think of anything at first lol. They are a bit longer than normal.

Eirenelas reclined in a lounge chair of a corrupt excutive’s penthouse apartment. He was currently in his more casual attire instead of his usual Greek armor and conspicuous black wing. He mused at luxurious surroundings as he waited for the man to speak.

“Eirenelas, nice of you to come back. I suppose you’re to discuss our deal.” The man said, his voice carrying a sinister yet shaky tone. His forehead was moist in sweat and his hands just happened to be hidden around his back.

Eirenelas simply nodded, noting the current demeanor of the man. He leaned back, crossed his legs. “Yes, let’s recall the stipulations of our bond. You were in a desperate need of a way to escape being found out that you laundered millions of dollars from your company. You risk being thrown in jail for years and being outed as fraud, ruining your reputation. You had 48 hours to return the laundered money by liquidating your assets-”

Suddenly, the man pulled out a gun and pointed it frantically at Eirenelas. 

“You must be out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to give my fortune! They owe everything to me, that money deserved to be mine! I’m not letting all of that go. If I get rid of you then this bond bullshit is null and void.”

Eirenelas sighed and rolled his eyes. “Why do they always do this…” 

Desperation brought an onslaught of emotions, and insanity seemed to be the major one. He sensed he was going to do something brash, but he didn’t think he would actually go through with something so foolish. Perhaps he misunderstood the human psyche. 

“Mr. Wilson… you are aware that you’re the one who agreed to our bond… the conditions were simple… you succeed, you get away with everything and live your life in blissful ignorance. If you fail, you perish in the endless pits of despair. What about that you do not understand?” 

Eirenelas said as he rose from his seat. As he spoke, feathers swarmed his body as he transformed back into his original godly form.

“G-get away from me you, d-demon! I don’t have to listen to you!” The man gasped at sight, he stepped back and fired his gun missing almost all the shots because of his shaky aim. One lone shot zoomed straight towards Eirenelas’ face. It was deflected by a chain that emerged from his body, an ability granted by his godly nature.

Eirenelas advanced, his green eye glowing ominously as he inched closer.

“So what you’re trying to tell me is… you failed.” 

A barrage of chains shot toward the man, binding him tightly and constricting him with deadly force.

“Wait wait wait! I-I’ll do anything! What do you want?!”

A contract materialized in Eirenelas’s hand. He grinned, knowing that this was the part of the process he particularly enjoyed. The bonds he offered to these desperate but often crooked individuals were nothing more than a high risk gamble. Either all or nothing. Yet if they lost, part of what was forfeited would find its way to him. A fair exchange, all things considered.

“How about this lovely penthouse for starters. Sign it over to me…”

The man hurriedly signed the contract, transferring his penthouse over to the god.

“There it’s yours! A-and I’ll give away everything else too, just like in our deal! A-are you gonna let me free now? W-we had a deal, you know!”

Eirenelas chuckled, his grin devilish. “That isn’t how this works…”

The chains tighten further around the man’s neck and head, muffling his screams of agony. Soon, the life was squeezed out of him, his body vanishing into a wisp of smoke.

As another bond was fulfilled, he looked around his newly acquired abode. “Hmm, this will do quite nicely…”

~~~

It's been a day or two since the eventful day where Eirenelas met with Drake after he freed him from the puzzle box and formed a bond with him. They fled the Alliance’s base and were now at the god of despair penthouse. The first night Drake dropped like a rock and slept for almost a full day. He thought he died if was being frank. Today, he was awake at least, but he was sulking on the sofa staring off into space like a lifeless zombie.

Eirenelas took a sip of his coffee as he partook in the sight. This was his first time interacting with a human in this matter, especially one this young. He wanted to give him some time to rest but this seemed way out of the ordinary from what he knew about humans. Was this what owning a puppy was like?

“How long do you expect to stay like that?” Eirenelas finally spoke. “We do have some work to do if you recall…”

Drake sighed, offering no response. 

Setting down his coffee, Eirenelas approached him and leaned down to his level. He lifted Drake’s head up by his chin gently, meeting his gaze. They were dull and lifeless, his skin pale with bags under his eyes - signs of a young man overwhelmed by his ordeal.

Eirenelas felt a surge of unexpected empathy wash over him as he sensed the despair and dread radiated off of him like hot coals.

“Such a poor, beautiful soul…” he murmured softly, examining his delicate features. “Despair is always temporary, it comes and goes like the wind. Don’t let it consume you…”

Eirelenas placed a finger on Drake’s forehead and he channeled a flow of his godly power through him. The effect was immediate that it made Drake jump back. His mind was clear for the first time in months. All the dark and dreadful thoughts that clouded him just vanished.

“H-how did you do that?” he questioned, his eyes wide with his new found clarity.

Eirenelas straightened and crossed his arms with a grin. “Oh look who can talk now. I thought you were going to end it all on me, little puppy.”

~~

It’s been a while longer and Drake was now beginning to get used to his ordeal. Eirenelas had a plan to get rid of his father by summoning his creator, a god like him, to take him down. He had no choice but to follow his lead on this. There was no way he could take down his father by himself, not even if he had the whole Alliance of his side. He had that much power and influence. He had to save his mother and put a stop to this cycle once and for all. With the bond he had with him and the strange powers that came with it, he could achieve this.

But other than that, he was enjoying his new found freedom. It was nice to be able to wear what he wanted and style his hair without any of his father's restrictions. Surprisingly, he felt more like himself than he has in a long time. And despite Eirenelas being an intimidating god, of an emotion like despair nonetheless, he treated him rather fairly. Even though he can be an annoying tease at times.

“As you know, Drake, in this world, money makes the world go around. We will need to amass a lot of it to continue our plan to find the sources of Earth’s primordial magic,” Eirenelas explained as they rode in a car on their way to a discreet location.

“Yeah, I know, don’t remind me…” Drake mumbled as he recalled the days where his father would berate him about the Alliance’s lack of funds.

“This job should be simple for someone of your abilities. We infiltrate this mafia ring and retrieve the funds and their connections and we’ll leverage that to our advantage.”

Drake slumped deeper into the leather seat, dreading the job. He thought his days of doing petty missions like this were over once he became the leader of the Alliance. “Couldn’t you just create a bond with the leader so he can hand over what we need?”

Eirenelas chuckled. “You misunderstand my powers, Drake. I can’t just impose a bond. They have to seek me under extreme despair. Some of these so-called leaders are just foolish and arrogant, not desperate.”

“You just described the history of humanity…” Drake scoffed.

“Yes, partly,” Eirenelas said with a grin toward Drake. “But then there are those like you - clever and resilient, the best humanity has to offer.”

Drake’s face turned a hint of red after receiving the praise. That was the nicest thing someone has said about him in months. “Sure…” he replied, averting his gaze. 

“But you’re still a god, though. You should be able to knock everyone out with your chains or something…”

“You’re trying your best to wriggle out of this, huh?” Eirenelas remarked, clearly amused.

“How could you tell?” Drake said sarcastically.

Eirenelas pinched his cheek, which made Drake swat his hand away in response. “Oh so sassy, little pup. Come on, the exercise will do you some good.” he chuckled.

[dungeonaspects]

The Keys to Our Love

We find ourselves in a cosy, warmly lit living room. The soft glow of the fireplace casts a gentle light across the room, highlighting the shelves filled with books and the plush blankets draped over the couch. I sit comfortably, glasses perched on my nose, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in my hands. The rich aroma of cocoa fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of vanilla candles.

Beside me, you sit, your eyes sparkling with mischief and warmth. Your playful smile makes my heart race. You reach over, gently nudging me with your shoulder. “You know,” you say with a teasing tone, “you look absolutely adorable when you’re lost in thought.”

I chuckle, a look out the corner of my eye showing my ’annoyance’ and hunger. “And you,” I reply, “make me want to keep you here till you know you can’t escape.”

You laugh, a sound that feels like music to my ears. We both settle into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of us in this perfect, cosy bubble.

We talk about everything and nothing, sharing stories, dreams, and gentle touches. Your hand finds mine, fingers intertwining, and I squeeze gently, feeling the warmth of your love. The room is filled with a serene silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fireplace and the soft rustle of pages as I turn them. The world outside feels distant and unimportant, as if time itself has slowed down just for us.

I pick up the book I’ve been reading and start to read aloud, my voice soft and steady. I attempt to give each character a unique voice, but my efforts are more comical than convincing. You laugh, a sweet, melodic sound that makes my heart swell with joy. Despite my terrible job at the voices, you listen intently, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Between passages, I pause to stroke your head gently, my fingers running through your hair. “And then the brave knight said,” I continue, trying to deepen my voice dramatically, “My lady, with the venom in my veins I’ll perish, please, help me cleanse myself,”

You giggle, shaking your head. “You’re terrible at this,” you tease, but your smile is full of affection.

I lean in and kiss your forehead, my lips lingering for a moment. “I know,” I reply with a grin, “but at least I’m mildly entertaining.”

You snuggle closer, resting your head on my shoulder. The book lies forgotten in my lap as we sit there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. The calm and comfortable love we share is palpable, gentle, and effortless. It’s in the way our hands fit perfectly together, the way your laughter lights up the room, and the way my heart feels full just being near you.

As the evening progresses, the atmosphere shifts slightly. I stand up, a playful glint in my eye. “Come on,” I say, pulling you to your feet. “I have an idea.”

Curious, you follow me to the back of the house, where a door leads to a hidden staircase. I lead you up, and we find ourselves in a secret attic space. There’s a sense of magic in the air, as if we’ve stepped into a different world.

The room is bathed in a soft, warm glow from the fairy lights that drape across the ceiling like a canopy of stars. As you look closer, you notice that each light is encased in a delicate, hand-blown glass orb, each one unique with tiny imperfections that make them all the more beautiful. The walls are adorned with vintage tapestries, their intricate patterns telling stories of far-off lands and ancient times.

In one corner, there’s a small, antique writing desk, its surface cluttered with old maps, quills, and bottles of ink. The wood is worn and polished from years of use, and you can almost imagine the countless letters and stories that have been penned there. A closer look reveals tiny carvings along the edges of the desk, depicting scenes of mythical creatures and enchanted forests.

Scattered around the room are various trinkets and curiosities: a brass telescope mounted on a tripod, its lenses gleaming in the light; a collection of ornate, leather-bound books with titles in languages you can’t quite decipher; and a delicate porcelain music box, its lid painted with a scene of a moonlit garden. When you wind it up, it plays a soft, haunting melody that fills the room with a sense of nostalgia.

The floor is covered with a patchwork of rugs, each one a different colour and texture, creating a cozy, inviting space. As you walk across them, you notice the subtle variations in the weave and the intricate patterns that seem to tell their own stories. There’s a large, overstuffed armchair near the window, draped with a knitted throw blanket that looks like it was made with love and care.

Near the window, there’s a small, round table with a crystal ball resting on a velvet cloth. The ball catches the light from the fairy lights, casting tiny rainbows around the room. You can’t help but feel a sense of wonder as you take in all the details, each one adding to the magical atmosphere of the attic.

I grin, handing you a small, intricately carved box. The box itself is a work of art, made from rich, dark mahogany wood. Its surface is adorned with delicate carvings of swirling vines and blooming flowers, each petal and leaf etched with meticulous precision. The edges are trimmed with a fine gold inlay, catching the light and adding a touch of elegance. The lid is hinged with tiny, ornate brass fittings, and at the centre, there’s a small, polished emerald embedded within the wood, glinting mysteriously.

“Open it,” I say.

Inside is a collection of old-fashioned keys, each one unique. The keys are nestled in a bed of deep blue velvet, their metallic surfaces gleaming softly. As you look closer, a few keys stand out compared to the rest.

One key is made of silver, its bow shaped like a delicate butterfly with intricately detailed wings. The shaft is slender and smooth, ending in a series of tiny, precise notches. Another key is larger, made of aged bronze, with a bow that resembles an ancient Celtic knot, its loops and twists forming an endless pattern. The shaft of this key is thicker, with a series of runes engraved along its length, hinting at some long-forgotten language.

A third key catches your eye, made of a dark, almost black metal. Its bow is shaped like a dragon’s head, with tiny ruby eyes that seem to glow in the dim light. The shaft is textured, resembling scales, and the bit is jagged and complex, as if it’s meant to unlock something truly special.

“What are these for?” you ask, intrigued.

“An adventure,” I reply with a wink that’s so bad it makes you laugh before I can continue. “Each key opens a different door in this attic, leading to something new.”

You look up, seeing me stepping to the side, lifting a tapestry that fell all the way to the floor, concealing a hallway that had every kind of illumination along its walls. Ducking within you see a hallway that continues on in an infinite curve that felt dizzying, me moving closer and steadying you with a gentle kiss on the top of your head as I whisper in your ear.

“Let’s explore.”

We spend the rest of the night unlocking doors, discovering hidden rooms filled with wonders. Each key reveals a new and enchanting space, each more magical than the last.

The first key, the silver one with the butterfly bow, opens a door to a room that feels like stepping into a fairy tale. The walls are lined with shelves filled with delicate glass jars, each containing a different type of butterfly, their wings shimmering in the soft light. The air is filled with the gentle fluttering of wings and the sweet scent of blooming flowers.

As we step further into the room, we notice that the decor subtly shifts to reflect the changing seasons. One corner of the room is dedicated to spring, with cherry blossoms in full bloom, their petals gently falling like pink snow. Tiny fairies, no larger than a thumb, flit among the flowers, their wings iridescent and their laughter like the tinkling of bells. They weave garlands of fresh flowers, leaving trails of sparkling dust in their wake.

In another corner, summer reigns supreme. The walls are adorned with vibrant green vines and clusters of sunflowers that seem to turn their faces towards us as we move. The air is warm and filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and ripe berries. Here, the fairies are slightly larger, their wings resembling those of dragonflies. They playfully chase each other, their laughter mingling with the sound of a gentle summer breeze.

Autumn takes over the next section, with leaves in shades of red, orange, and gold carpeting the floor. The shelves are lined with jars containing butterflies that mimic the colours of the fall foliage. The fairies here are dressed in tiny outfits made of leaves and acorns, their wings patterned like those of moths. They gather around miniature bonfires, their faces glowing in the warm light as they share stories and songs of the harvest season.

The final corner is a winter wonderland. The walls are covered in frost, and delicate snowflakes hang in the air, catching the light and sparkling like diamonds. The butterflies here have wings that look like they’re dusted with snow, and the fairies are dressed in tiny cloaks made of white fur. They skate on a frozen pond in the centre of the room, their movements graceful and fluid. The air is crisp and carries the scent of pine and cinnamon.

In the centre of the room, there’s a small fountain, its water sparkling as it cascades over smooth stones. The fountain is surrounded by a circular bench made of polished wood, inviting us to sit and take in the enchanting scene. We sit on the bench, watching the butterflies dance around us, feeling a sense of peace and wonder. The fairies occasionally pause in their activities to glance our way, their eyes twinkling with curiosity and friendliness.

The room is a perfect blend of magic and nature, each season bringing its own unique charm and atmosphere. The contrast in seasons creates a dynamic and ever-changing environment, making us feel as though we’ve stepped into a living, breathing fairy tale.

The second key, the bronze one with the Celtic knot, unlocks a door to a room that feels ancient and mystical. The walls are covered in tapestries depicting scenes of legendary battles and mythical creatures. Each tapestry is a masterpiece, woven with threads of gold and silver that catch the light, bringing the scenes to life. Dragons soar above knights in shining armour, and enchanted forests teem with magical creatures.

In the middle of the room, there’s a large, round table made of dark wood, its surface etched with intricate patterns and symbols. The table is surrounded by high-backed chairs, each one carved with the image of a different mythical beast. On the table, there’s a collection of old scrolls and maps, their edges frayed with age. The maps are detailed and beautifully illustrated, showing lands that seem both familiar and fantastical.

We spend time examining the maps, tracing the routes of ancient explorers and imagining the adventures they must have had. The room is filled with the scent of aged parchment and the faint sound of distant, echoing chants, as if the walls themselves are whispering the secrets of the past.

As we explore further, we discover a series of objects that help us weave our own tales. There’s an ancient, brass astrolabe, its surface covered in mysterious symbols and constellations. We use it to navigate the stars, grinning as we describe ourselves as intrepid explorers charting unknown territories. We can feel the rush of excitement as we weave our tale together, the sensations of months together in foreign lands brush against our senses

Next to the astrolabe, there’s a beautifully crafted compass, its needle pointing steadily north. The compass is engraved with the image of a phoenix, its wings flickering as the magic within has faded in ages past. We feel each moment as we follow its guidance, embarking on a quest to find hidden treasures and lost civilisations. We hold each other and dance under moons unknown to all but us.

On a nearby shelf, we find a collection of small, intricately carved figurines. Each one represents a different character from the legends that we shape in our stories. Their lives so rich and beautiful as we build whole worlds, tales, legends, myths. To us we make civilisations rise and fall, simply feeling the bliss of endless creation.

The room is filled with the warmth of our laughter and the excitement of our shared adventure. Each object we discover adds a new layer to our stories, deepening the bliss in our words. The ancient and mystical atmosphere of the room enhances our tales, making them feel real and magical.

The third key, the dark metal one with the dragon’s head, opens a door to a room that feels like a hidden treasure trove. The walls are lined with shelves filled with glittering jewels and precious artifacts. Each shelf is a display of opulence, with crowns encrusted with diamonds, necklaces dripping with pearls, and goblets made of pure gold. The light from the fairy lights reflects off the treasures, casting a kaleidoscope of colours around the room.

In the centre of the room, there’s a large chest overflowing with gold coins and sparkling gems. The chest itself is a masterpiece, made of dark wood and reinforced with iron bands, its surface carved with scenes of dragons guarding their hoards. The coins and gems spill out onto the floor, creating a shimmering pool of wealth.

We sit on the floor, sifting through the treasures and marvelling at the beauty and history of each piece. The room is filled with the soft clinking of coins and the warm glow of reflected light. As we explore, we begin to shape new treasures for each other, competing in ostentatiousness and stark beauty.

I pick up a delicate tiara, its silver filigree adorned with tiny sapphires. “This,” I say, placing it gently on your head, “is for the queen that will take my head.” You laugh, adjusting the tiara and standing imperiously as you pull a gilded sword from the pile, holding it to my throat before taking a kiss for yourself.

Not to be outdone, you find a magnificent necklace, its pendant a large, flawless emerald in the shape of a dragons eye set in a frame of intricate goldwork. “And this,” you say, draping it around my neck, “is for the king that I intend to have a scandalous love affair with before conquering his realm.” I chuckle, admiring the way the emerald catches the light, the slitted pupil glinting in grandeur.

We continue our playful competition, each treasure more extravagant than the last. I present you with a golden chalice, its surface engraved with scenes of mythical creatures. I pull close, placing my hand to your throat and press the vessel to your lips, the rich aroma of wine tingling your senses “For you, my love, a cup fit for a goddess.” You smile, biting your lip for a moment before taking the chalice and glance over the top of it as you sip a rich sacrament from the cup.

You then find a jewelled dagger, its hilt encrusted with rubies and its blade etched with ancient runes. “For you, my would be assassin,” you say, handing it to me with a flourish. I take the dagger, pretending to brandish it with a cruel scowl before we both burst out laughing at my poor attempt at looking intimidating..

Despite the grandeur of the treasures we find, none of them come close to feeling as perfect as we do for each other. The room, with all its glittering wealth, pales in comparison to the warmth and love we share. Each treasure we shape for each other is a symbol of our affection, but it’s the moments of laughter and connection that truly take our breath away.

Each room brings us closer, deepening the bond we share. The adventure leaves us both exhilarated and content.

The next room we enter is a magical forest. The walls are covered in lush greenery, with vines and ivy creeping up to meet the ceiling, which expanded into a night sky devoid of stars, a moon so large it leaves us breathless high above. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves. Fireflies dance around us, casting a gentle, golden glow that illuminates our path.

As we walk hand in hand, the ground beneath our feet feels soft and mossy, almost like walking on a plush carpet. The trees are tall and ancient, their branches stretching out like protective arms. The forest is alive with the sounds of nature – the distant hoot of an owl, the gentle babbling of a hidden brook, and the soft chirping of crickets.

We come across a small clearing where a crystal-clear pond reflects the starry sky above. The water is so still and pure that it looks like a mirror. Around the pond, flowers of every colour bloom, their petals glowing softly in the silvery light. You pick a glowing flower, its petals shimmering with an ethereal light, and tuck it behind my ear, making me smile.

In the centre of the clearing, there’s a large, ancient tree with a trunk so wide that it would take several people to encircle it with their arms. The tree’s bark is covered in intricate carvings that tell the stories of the forest’s history. As we approach, the carvings seem to come to life, depicting scenes of mythical creatures and ancient guardians of the forest.

We sit beneath the tree, feeling its gentle presence as we rest side by side. The fireflies gather around us, creating a magical aura. You lean in and kiss my cheek, your breath warm against my ear. I laugh softly, unable to resist a kiss that could have lasted moments or centuries. The forest seems to embrace us, its magic weaving around us like a protective cocoon.

As we sit there, time seems to stand still. The worries of the outside world fade away, leaving just the two of us in this enchanted place.

Next, we find ourselves in a room filled with floating lanterns. The lanterns drift gently in the air, casting a warm, golden light that bathes the room in a soft, ethereal glow. The walls are a shimmering wave of golds, reds, and blues, an eternal sunset. Tiny, twinkling lights dot the distant sky as darkness encroached from behind, mimicking stars as lanterns filled the world around us.

The lanterns themselves are of various shapes and sizes, each one unique. Some are round and plump, while others are elongated and delicate. They are made of thin, translucent paper, and their surfaces are adorned with intricate patterns and designs. As they float, they sway gently, as if moved by an invisible breeze.

We walk through the room, our hands intertwined, marvelling at the beauty around us. The air is filled with a sense of tranquillity and wonder. The lanterns cast dancing shadows on the world, creating a mesmerizing display of light and movement in the air around us. The soft hum of a distant melody fills the air, adding to the ambience.

In the centre of the room, there’s a small, circular pool of water. The surface of the water is perfectly still, reflecting the lanterns above like a mirror. We kneel by the edge of the pool, our reflections mingling with the lanterns in the water. You reach into a nearby basket and pull out a lantern of our own. It’s a beautiful creation, with delicate patterns of flowers and stars etched into its surface.

We light the lantern together, watching as the flame flickers to life. The warm glow illuminates our faces, and for a moment, it feels like the world has stopped. We release the lantern, watching it float up and join the others.

As we stand there, watching the lanterns drift and dance in the air, I feel a deep sense of connection and love. The room, with its magical light and serene atmosphere, feels like a sanctuary, a place where we can dream and imagine together.

We spend some time releasing more lanterns, each one a wish for our future. The room fills with the soft glow of our hopes and dreams, creating a tapestry of light that surrounds us. The moment is perfect, a beautiful blend of magic and love.

Another door leads us to a room of mirrors. The walls are lined with mirrors of all shapes and sizes, each one framed in ornate gold or silver. The room is softly lit, the light reflecting off the mirrors and creating a warm, inviting glow. As we step inside, we notice that each mirror reflects a different memory of us together, from our first meeting to this very moment.

The first mirror shows the day we met. The memory is vivid, and I can almost feel the excitement and nervousness of that moment. We laugh, remembering how awkward and shy we were.

The next mirror reflects our friendship. Built on innocent love, trust that grew as we grew ourselves. You smirk as you wince at my mistakes, yet you still squeeze my hand. The memory is filled with warmth and joy, and we smile at the reflections.

As we move through the room, each mirror shows a different milestone in our relationship. There’s the mirror that reflects our first kiss, the one that shows us talking for hours only to realise we love each other, and another that captures a quiet evening spent cooking dinner together.

One mirror shows a us in ways that we can be and want to be. The reflection captures the emotion and sincerity of each moment, and we both feel a surge of affection as we watch ourselves in the mirror. You catch my eye in the reflection, and I see the same love and tenderness in your gaze.

We continue to explore the room, laughing and sharing stories as we go. The mirrors not only reflect our memories but also the emotions we felt in those moments. The room is filled with the sound of our laughter and the warmth of our love, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and connection.

Finally, we come to a large, full-length mirror at the end of the room. This mirror reflects us as we are now, standing together, hand in hand. The reflection shows the love and joy we share, and the journey we are on. You catch my eye in the mirror and pull me into a tender kiss. The moment is perfect, a beautiful blend of past and present, and a promise of the future we’ll share.

We then step into a room that feels like a cozy cabin. The walls are made of rich, dark wood, giving the space a warm and inviting feel. The scent of pine fills the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cinnamon and cloves. A large stone fireplace dominates one wall, the flames crackling and casting a soft, flickering light that dances across the room.

The floor is covered with a thick, plush rug that feels soft underfoot. In front of the fireplace, there are two overstuffed armchairs, each draped with a knitted throw blanket. A small wooden table sits between them, holding a tray with a steaming pot of hot chocolate, two mugs, and a plate of cookies you know I tried my best to bake. They weren’t good for their taste, but you relished my shyness as you tried one.

We sit on the plush rug, the warmth of the fire enveloping us. The flames cast a golden glow on our faces as we share stories and laugh together. The room is filled with the sound of our voices and the comforting crackle of the fire. You pour us each a mug of hot chocolate as soon as we run out, the rich aroma filling the air. We sip the warm, sweet drink, savouring the moment.

There are shelves lined with old books and trinkets, each one telling a story of its own. A pair of snowshoes hangs on one wall, and a woven basket filled with pinecones sits in the corner. The windows are adorned with heavy, plaid curtains that add to the cozy atmosphere.

You wrap a blanket around us, holding me close as we enjoy the warmth and comfort of the moment. The firelight reflects in your eyes, making them sparkle. We sit in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. The world outside feels distant and unimportant.

As we sit there, the fire crackling and the scent of pine filling the air, I feel a deep sense of peace and contentment.

Finally, we enter a room with a starlit sky. The ceiling is a vast expanse of stars, twinkling brightly against a deep, velvety black sky. The stars are so vivid and numerous that it feels like we’ve stepped into the heart of the cosmos. The floor is covered in soft, lush grass that feels cool and comforting under our feet, adding to the sensation of being outdoors.

The air is crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers. As we walk further into the room, we notice that the constellations above are not just static; they slowly shift and move, creating a mesmerizing dance of celestial bodies. The Milky Way stretches across the ceiling, its countless stars forming a luminous river of light.

In the centre of the room, there’s a small, gentle hill covered in even softer grass. We climb to the top and lie down, looking up at the breathtaking display above us. The grass beneath us is like a plush carpet, cushioning us as we settle in. The gentle hum of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl add to the serene atmosphere.

You point out your favourite stars and constellations, your voice filled with excitement and wonder. I listen intently, feeling a deep sense of connection as you share your knowledge and passion. You trace the shapes of the constellations with your finger, drawing lines between the stars to form mythical figures and ancient stories.

I follow your lead, tracing the constellations with my own finger, feeling a sense of peace and wonder as I do. The stars seem to twinkle more brightly in response, as if acknowledging our presence. We take turns pointing out different constellations, sharing stories and legends associated with each one.

As we lie there, the vastness of the universe above us makes everything else seem small and insignificant. The worries and stresses of the outside world fade away, leaving just the two of us in this magical, starlit sanctuary. The room feels timeless, a place where we can dream and imagine without limits.

The gentle glow of the stars casts a soft light on our faces, highlighting the love and joy in your eyes. We hold hands, our fingers intertwined.

As the night draws to a close, we find ourselves back in the living room, wrapped in each other’s arms. I look into your eyes, feeling a surge of love and gratitude. “I love you,” I whisper, my voice filled with emotion.

You smile, your eyes shining with affection. “I love you too,” you reply, leaning in for a tender kiss.

Not entirely sure what this is. Wrote this for someone I love and found it magical and wanted to share. Hope they know that I love them.

Love is love, platonic, familial, romantic, everything. No matter who, no matter what, as long as everyone involved is consenting, please embrace who you are and who you love.

Sorry this is so random, just felt the urge.

Hope you're doing ok.

[abysswalkersknight]

Here's one of the quick long fics I've been doing the past two weeks while catsitting. This was really just to past the time so I wasn't paying too much attention to it but hopefully you all enjoy.

.............................

One dark rainy season, Lilia became aware of something crawling around his domain in the woods. Judging by the light scuffles, it was surely larger than a dog.

Currently it was one of those nights where all of Briar Valley was enveloped by an endless torrent of hard, harsh rain, and filled Lilia’s cabin with the soothing melody of tinks and trickles and drips, he’d only noticed the creature because his sharp ears had picked up a faint whining sound underneath the rhythmic rain, they probably thought that nobody could hear them. Over the days the rain hailed on, enough so that Lilia could barely take a step outside before either slipping or coming ankle deep in mud. It were times like these where he was glad he was retired from the front lines and can prepare comfortably for this sort of weather, where he had also found the joys of having warm, dry clothing on hand as well as being able to easily slip out of his drenched shirt and boots and rest his aching muscles next to the blazing hearth. Perhaps it was these thoughts which had prompted him to keep an eye outside for the creature. It was starting to get really bad out there, the wind was picking up and he heard that it was beginning to flood in some places. Though it could also simply be the old habit of being mindful of enemies or the like. Seven knows how often Lilia’s had to weasel out a shoddy spy or two, or an assassin if he was lucky.

Whenever the storm had paused in its fury, Lilia would quickly venture out and check the surrounding wood, peering inside tree hollows, in the tree’s canopies, checking for any suspicious looking tracks, looking for signs of anything taking refuge in the area. Unfortunately nothing wielded anything other than the usual wildlife that lived in the area. 

He’d do this for a few days out of simple curiosity, until one day he found something that made him sigh deeply and shake his head.

During one of these breaks in the weather Lilia had left a brilliant attempt at a pie out on the windowsill  to cool off. The charred, blackened crust had been broken, letting the air into the warm, gluey heart of the pie. Yet it was not the massacred pie that had soured Lilia’s spirits. Marked on the edge of the windowsill with the purplish red insides of the pie were prints from the little hands of a small child.

With this newfound information, Lilia puts more effort into his searches, and has even taken to setting out bowls of food and water, and they were always empty by the time he came to collect them. Though soon Lilia grew to be quite restless, when suddenly more and more food were left behind each day and his heart quickened when one day he caught sight of little bits of blood swimming in one of the water bowls.

Alright, now there’s a sick child suffering out there, he pondered, trying to figure out his next course of action.

He contemplated mixing in some medicine with the food but then thought against it, he had no idea what species this child was and hadn’t the foggiest clue as to how much the average child has, I don’t even know if their constitution would allow it.

The best thing I can probably do right now is try to gauge what ails them, and for that I’ll need to catch them. Easier said than done, the child proved to be an elusive one, having discarded the food altogether once they seemed to realise that Lilia was leaving them closer and closer to the cabin. Lilia cursed, since then the only reasons he hadn’t believed that the child had perished were food stolen from the garden and the occasional weak cough he’d hear in the middle of the night. The storm has yet to let up, to the point where Lilia was worried that some of the trees around him might fall, and the water levels in the river next to the cabin were rising rapidly. Of course he could easily teleport to the castle should he need to, but that child was still out there… There was no more time left for stalling, Lilia needed to find that child now. Thankfully, despite remaining hidden from his eyes he knew the child always remained close to their best food source, so wrapping himself in his travelling cloak he dashed out into the pouring rain, mud spraying everywhere as he shot towards the river. 

Just as he suspected the river was rising quickly, having breached the banks and crawling higher. The currents were rampant, forcing the water wheel to spin wildly as it crushed any debris caught under it ‘hey! Is anyone out there!’ he calls out to the raging wind ‘child! Where are you?’ he knew it was likely that the child wouldn’t respond if they had remained as cautious as they have. But he prayed that the storm would have frightened them enough to seek him out ‘answer me! it’s alright child, it’s too dangerous out here,’

‘Ah…hel-mffh!’ ears pricking Lilia urgently flocked to the shrill cry, he called out again but couldn’t hear anything, instead he caught sight of a disturbance in the rapids. Frantic splashing amongst a pile of logs and branches partly submerged in the water, Lilia would have thought nothing of it, had a tiny hand not reached up to scramble desperately along a branch only to fall back down.

He blinked at this pile for several seconds before realising what this meant. Within a few strides he had leapt onto the strongest log, searching until he found it. A small figure trying to cling onto their branch with all their waning strength, only to have their feet slip on the eroded, muddy wall the branches grew from. He lurched forward as the child suddenly lost their grip altogether and splashed into the murky water, Lilia cursed again when he found that their arm was caught on something that had the child being tugged painfully in the current as they struggled to keep their head above the water. As he got to their branch Lilia was stunned to see that it was a little chain that was caught on a broken piece of wood pointing upwards, and connected to that chain was a little shackle fastened to an even smaller wrist, what the- no time for that! Bracing his knees against the log Lilia seized the child’s arm with one hand and grasped the wood with the other, he heaved back on the log like a fisherman hauling up his net, feeling it bent and splinter until finally it snapped right off. With no hesitation he hoisted the child up into his arms and leapt as far away from the wood pile as he could before the whole structure suddenly collapsed and crunched under the water wheel.

Now safely out of the river the child tumbled down, spluttering and coughing a brown, watery spray while Lilia collapsed beside them with a tired huff.

Woo, I’m going to be feeling this for a while, he thinks, placing a hand on his aching back. Oh the frailty of old age! He glances over to his breathless companion, quite young to judge by the height about five or six though skinny as a twig.

‘Where did you come from, little one?’ he murmurs once he’s recovered. They did not answer, but sat curled away from him and staring from under pale eyelashes. They were utterly filthy, the river doing nothing to wash away the mud and grit caked in their hair and clothes. They clutched at their shackled wrist as if preventing it from moving even the slightest inch, Lilia winces in sympathy, that does not look good ‘let’s have a look at you then’ he mutters, they were resting by the shed bit of the wheel so conveniently there was a bucket full of water right next to him, he grabbed it and before the curled figure could do anything he had splashed the water across their face, washing away the worst of the mud, revealing dull white locks. A boy? With his free hand Lilia grabbed the boy’s chin to gently wipe away the stubborn bits of dirt, he managed to clear off around the ear before the seemed to regain himself and made a panicky attempt to bite, showing off a full set of milk teeth. He let them latch on, hardly a sting at all, and stroked his head soothingly, murmuring sweet nothings until the boy let go. Lilia frowned at the tiny smattering of blood on his arm, clearly not his own. Ignoring the boy’s weakening protests he swiftly scooped him up and hurried back into the light and warmth of the cabin.

It was difficult at first to get the child in the tub but eventually they got him relaxed and melting on the edge of it while Lilia massaged soap in his hair and scrubbed to grit off those soft little limbs. It soon came as a shock to Lilia that with every rinse he gave to the boy’s locks, instead of a bone pale white he expected they soon revealed a mane the colour of glistening swords honed to perfection, a luxurious silver many would envy. But the greatest shock came when he swept a wet lock behind the boy’s round ear, such a funny shape it was, it was a shape he hasn’t seen since his time on the battlefield ‘so you are a human, my dear’ he whispers with revered astonishment. And he was so little the only humans Lilia’s seen were either full grown or barely into their adulthood, always swinging a sword or catapult at him. This one though only murmurs in contentment while leaning into his warm touch, judging from the horrible shackle he’s had to carefully snap off the sore wrist and the slight wheezing in his lungs the poor thing must have run away from a horrible place, the boy whimpered and whined as Lilia carefully rinsed off the raw broken skin, had it been left any longer he was sure it would get infected. Thankfully the boy settled once Lilia wrapped a warm wet cloth around his wrist and surprisingly nuzzled into his hand when he petted him, it was no wonder to Lilia that he’d revel in what was possibly the first kind touch he’s ever had ‘you must have been watching me all that time to be this cosy with me so quickly’ he says, drying him off with the fluffiest towel he had, it would explain the feeling of being watched he’s been having for a while he thinks as the boy startles at his own sneeze. Chuckling at such cuteness Lilia dressed him in the smallest clothes he could find, though still they were much too loose on the boy who wiggled his arms and legs around trying to find his hands and feet and for possibly the second time that day Lilia’s breath was cut off. 

Beautiful auroral eyes gaze up at him with an innocent curiosity, eyes that struck fear and longing in his heart. He knew those eyes, those were the eyes of his greatest enemy and rival, the eyes of the one who had slain his dear princess and orphaned the young prince. 

All of his centuries old rage came boiling up at once, this was now clearly a child descended from the cursed knight of dawn, one bearing his exact image. Lilia’s face had not moved at all but the child must have sensed something because his features slowly began to droop and quiver, he looked at his hand, fingers curling dangerously. He could do it, finish it right there, avenge his fallen friends, but…

Loud hiccupping startles him from his thoughts, the child was breathing fearfully, until a coughing fit took over his lungs, his body trembled with every cough working hard to hack out his very lungs, once it was over he wearily glanced to the door and back but made no move. Lilia could tell that he wanted to leave, having frightened him enough but the child was too weak at the moment, quivering with fear and exhaustion he even spied a smear of dark red on the corner of those lips trembling for breath. But there was something else in the boy’s expression that gave him pause, it was one of defeat, of accepting their fate. A look that should not be on the face on any child no matter what their origins. He sighed, all his rage sizzling into nothing, who was he kidding, this child has dealt with enough already, he didn’t need to add a centuries old grudge against his dead parents to the list. It took a little while but once again Lilia was cooing over the sweet little one in his arms, taking him downstairs to soothe his tired throat with a diluted healing potion and hot chocolate. It wasn’t much against whatever mysterious ailment the child has, but hopefully it will help until he could get into contact with his old lieutenant; Baul, whose daughter had married a human, hopefully they would help and then Lilia can decide what to do next, but right now he’s happy to sit languidly on the sofa sipping the greatest hot chocolate he’s ever made, with his semi claimed child resting his weary head against his shoulder.

[invisible-shadow]

im not sure if it needs a blood warning but here it is anyway.

Someone? Anyone? Please…

Cecelia: who was that, this late at night? It’s not safe… I’ll go check on them. ‘It was coming from here…’ Cecelia thought

An injured evoker laid on the grass, Cecelia panicked, “oh my- I’ll try and find someone!”

“No”, the evoker said, ”please stay with me, I am beyond saving. I don’t want to die alone please! I had so much faith in my higher ups I did everything they demanded without question. In return, they left me in the mud to rot. ”

Cecelia kneeled gently on the grass and asked, “what happened?”

“well”, the evoker started, “we needed potion ingredients… then it appeared… everyone abandoned me to save themselves… I escaped with minor withering, when I went to a village for milk, I got attacked. I dragged myself here to die”. He seemed to have great difficulties trying to remember what had happened. The evoker shifted to look at Cecelia, “now you tell me, why haven’t you left me, an Illager, to simply perish?”

almost instantly, Cecelia replied, “because that would be very wrong.”

“You're to good for this world, take my totem”, the evoker stated

“but you’ll die!” Cecelia refused the totem

“I’m not worth saving, it’s not going to work anyway, an emeralds missing”

Cecelia had an idea,”is there a way to mask life with it”

“Yes, it’s very dark magic, what are you willing to sacrifice?”

“Anything”, Cecelia stated.

“First repair the totem with an emerald, then take the blood of everyone you want to protect. Use the blood, and the totem as an offering. Everyone will become ghost like entities; neither dead nor alive”, the evoker seemed like he was trying to remember something, “this all requires a sacrifice who the nether beings will gladly accept.”

(I lost the panel 🥲)

“S-sacrifice?”, Cecelia repeated startled.

“They’ll accept just about anything”, the evoker added calmly.

“what’s your name?”, Cecelia asked

“Edward ”

“I’ll remember you Edward”

“Thank you”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A sacrifice, the totem, the blood.

the nether beings gladly accepted Cecelia’s offerings. But one question remained on Cecelia’s mind. ‘How does one defeat a wither storm?’

———————————————————————

@brimstone-and-cinnabar I did this before the stage update, I tried to make it kinda fit in with your wither sickness (forgetfulness).

this is the first comic I’ve ever done, I’m open for constructive criticism. I know my story telling skills aren’t the best, I’m working on it. I

[ponder-the-orb]

Snippet Sunday!

I actually got tagged last week by @alpydk but had literally nothing to share (plus I was DYING after Comic Con) so I'm starting off today with a snippet from the next chapter of Broken Things:

“I know thy request. And you, my answer.” Withers speaks with the same moth-soft drawl she remembers, like echoes in some infinitely large library, ancient and interminable. And annoying.

Ciri crosses the room until those unsettlingly bloody eyes are just inches away.

“Bring him back.”

“No.”

“That’s it. Just, no?”

“Yes.”

Her fists clench against her cloak. Deep in her gut she’d known this would be his response, it’s the exact reason she hadn’t sought him out herself, even if she had known where to start. It does nothing to stop a fresh anger roiling like hot oil through her. 

“You resurrected us countless times. We perished for so many ridiculous, and frankly, unavoidable reasons and you still did it– easily. You puppeted the corpses of dead absolutists for us, watched as hundreds died at our hands, died for us or alongside us and yet only we were deemed special enough to be brought back. What’s changed?”

“The path of fate required thine allies to live and thwart the plan of the Dead Three. This task is now complete. So too is mine,” he answers flatly. 

“I have gold.”

“The matter of coin is irrelevant. My charge now is to simply remain until once again I am called to rest. This cannot be changed.”

She turns away from him with shaking lips and an acid tongue.

“You once asked me what the value of a single mortal life was. I told you what I truly believed at the time: that none is worth more than any other.” Her voice is quietly even, almost as flat as his. “It seemed like such an obvious answer at the time. With every job I had taken before, I had always tried to avoid killing– so sure there was always another way. And yet barely a day later I was killing without a shred of guilt, burning through people as easily as parchment in my hearth. I was skilled at it. And I told myself it was for the greater good, to save the world and then later, to save the people I cared about. But does that really change what I did? Change the judgement I’ll receive when I finally leave this plane?”

When she turns back, her hands are wreathed in flame, itching to lash out. “So I don’t care what I have to do now to claw back the one life that matters most.” She imagines the withered bark of his skin burning and crumbling, catching faster than summer’s driest wood. It’s always the stench that lingers the longest, that pungent scent of charred skin and bone– then again, she has no idea if there’s even any flesh left to smell.

Withers doesn’t move. “Rend me to ash if thou please. It shall change nothing. No matter the power of the magic or the divine, everything shall become dust and bone eventually. All of Iraxys’ fire in thy blood cannot rewrite the laws of this world.”

Her hand trembles but she closes her fist before the flames can leap.

“Fine,” she whispers, extinguishing the fire in her palm. “If the path of fate is truly set then… then tell me that I can do this. Tell me that I will succeed.”

“That which is yet to come is not one straight road. It branches and splinters each time a new day dawns.” Withers holds out his arms, gesturing around as if painting that road himself. “There is no certainty that I can give for how thou shalt live.”

She slaps her hands to her sides at his non-answer, one step away from pulling him close and shaking him until all those bones rattle and fall apart before her. “But is there a way? Please, tell me.”

Withers stays silent for a long moment. Ciri waits, almost sure he’s simply given up on the conversation before she catches something in his face. She wants to call it a trick of the light or her own eyes adjusting from the brightness of her flame, but she is almost certain that his eyes flash, drawing focus to her for the first time ever.

 “Yes,” he answers. “It would be long and marked with sacrifices perhaps unimaginable to thee now, but yes.”

***

Tagging @alpydk and @mellybaggins!

[obihiro-division]

Jack’s Thoughts on Katsushika Division

Akihisa Mashiro

“Outside of the basic knowledge that most people have about his career in assassination, I don’t know much about him. Rumors circulate him constantly, however, knowing the bare minimum about his history, I don’t think it is wise to get too close to him. Being around someone like Mr. Mashiro can prove to be dangerous in most cases. I wouldn’t like to risk the chance.”

“...And I hope he hasn’t had to target them.”

Touya Kisaragi

“I’m a little too familiar with Mr. Kisaragi. In between working with the detective from Suginami and my young Master, I suppose it was inevitable. I want to say that he has developed an attraction for Mr. Edogawa, but it might be something more twisted. I had to step in when he began to threaten young Master Daiki for following the detective. Nothing drastic was done, I just assured Mr. Kisaragi that my young Master wouldn’t get in the way of their relationship and that young Master Daiki is not competition. Which, isn’t very far from the truth. Young Master simply looks up to Mr. Edogawa as a teacher and nothing more. For extra assurance, I promised that if my young Master were to cross Mr. Kisaragi’s boundaries, I would personally take care of the problem so that he would not get into trouble. What, with that little neck problem this team appears to have. That may be a partial lie… But it’s the only thing I can do to prevent a serial killer let loose to the person in my care.”

“Still, because of that, young Master Daiki can continue his activities peacefully and Mr. Kisaragi seems to be satiated. And as a bonus, the cheeky little thing doesn’t bother me. Not often, at least. I’ll entertain him if he spots me tailing the young Master, yet I try to keep a boundary between us. I know what he does with people who get close to him and I would rather not perish before I finish my mission.” 

Rintaro Himura

“The biggest headache of all… If you heard from young Master Daiki, you would be aware of the fraction of complaints we’ve been hearing from Master Akimi. Yes, a fraction. I am at the mercy of him as well and believe me, the calls from Master Akimi are much, much more emotional. If I were in the position to, I would tell him that we aren’t going to engage in a rap battle with him and we do not need his help to come up with lyrics to ‘diss’ this man. But I’m stuck smiling and nodding along with his suggestions. Still, I can’t say that I support his actions. Spontaneous men like Mr. Himura, who don’t think of the full consequences of their actions are less than respectable.”

Death Row Block

“If this isn’t a proper good display of how Japan’s government is failing their country? Letting death row inmates rap battle their way out of their crimes? Crimes, for killing hundreds, even thousands of innocent people? It’s bugging me that my ahem… Connections are hyper-fixated on other things when this entire country is falling apart at the seams. But why should they care, when they’re sitting all posh in their bloody office chairs?”

“A-Apologies, I shouldn’t lose my temper. I’ve gone on about my displeasure for this team long enough. Excuse me.”

[dbgdbw]

241.Designated Administrator-ssi (1)

전용 관리자 씨 (1)

“So it seems he’s yet to truly perish, after all.”

Golden eyes narrowed into slits. Han Yoohyun’s ki had transformed entirely. That he was exhausted and afflicted with wounds hadn’t changed; but his gaze, which had been wavering like something swept out to sea, had settled into tranquil stillness.

If Alpha had also managed to catch on to the fact Han Yoojin hadn’t died yet–how might he have known, then. Sigma smiled. While pretending to have perished, what might he be up to.

“Surely you’re aware that you stand no odds of winning. I suggest that you surrender quietly.”

His chain, scattering fine tendrils of electricity, wove lazily through the air like a snake, completely blocking off the runway. Despite having recovered some mana, owing to the meager amount that was restored, attempting to flee by breaking through the walls would prove too strenuous a task in Han Yoohyun’s current condition. It wouldn’t have been impossible, but it would require a significant amount of time, and it wasn’t likely that Sigma would sit back and watch while it happened.

With that being said–attempting to fight him head-on would be nothing but a waste of the scant amount of mana he’d been able to recover.

“If you continue wasting time like this, you’ll simply end up chained down by Achates once more, Alpha.”

As Alpha seemed to be oblivious to the current state of affairs in the Achates Defense Administration, Sigma wove into his approach a threat and an invitation both. If possible, he wanted to collect the two in pristine condition. So long as Alpha obediently followed along, he could stage it as an accidental kill that had happened, while trying to subdue him after he’d been released by the Resistance.

If he was able to tie Alpha down with a suitable contract, what would the C-rank’s response be. When he realized that the one he’d been endeavoring so to save, had fallen into Sigma’s hands.

He was certain that, this time as well, things would prove entertaining beyond expectation.

“If you should contract with me, I’ll ensure both of you will be safely protected. I suggest you accept these terms before those handlers who are linked with your Mark return. I can promise treatment far better than the Achates Defense Association, at least.”

One wrong move, and that corpse you’re cradling with such care, too, will be hard-pressed to stay safe. At Sigma’s entreatment to make the wise choice, Han Yoohyun’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was true that the amount of mana he’d managed to recover was small in volume. Just as that man had said, there was no way for him to escape from this place on his own.

That is, if he’d been on his own.

Han Yoohyun concentrated on the tugging sensation he’d felt, ever since his mana had recovered. He had been wondering, where it had gone off to. And then, in lieu of an answer to Sigma’s offer.

“Irin.”

He summoned his elemental spirit. With a flicker of fire-sparks, a small crimson salamander appeared, suspended in the air. As its body expanded in the blink of an eye, it transformed into a small dragon–no, an imugi(1) that had spurned ascension into transcendence. The hornless dragon(2), cobalt blossoms of fire clutched in its four claws, twisted its body around its owner in a long motion, as though in protection–then.

콰앙!

With the end of a tail wreathed in flickering flames, brought it crashing down against the wall. It wasn’t that it had been broken through. It had been melted down. In the blink of an eye, an opening with plenty of room for two people to squeeze through appeared in the wall, which had stood durable beyond comparison.

At nearly the same instant Han Yoohyun pulled his body through the hole.

쿠르르릉!

Alongside the chains that surged forward, golden streaks of lightning flashed. The torrential flow of electricity struck down at the place where Han Yoohyun had stood, and spilled through beyond the wall. As though all of his attacks up to now had merely been child’s play, the floor on both sides was scorched black; a yawning crack split one side of the wall until, finally, 와르르, it crumbled down in a pile.

Though the destructive force of light had relentlessly pushed forward in an effort to pin down Han Yoohyun, seemingly going so far as to stop only just shy of killing him, enough to leave a long trail of devastation in its wake down the corridor.

“Blast.”

All Sigma’s attack had accomplished was the futile destruction of the corridor and wall. He gazed out towards the hole that had appeared in the ceiling, right outside the wall.

He’d assumed that he would immediately follow the corridor down towards the location of the Mana Hole, as a given. However, instead of rushing forward, Han Yoohyun had moved to the floor above. As his battle foresight was limited to instances of direct combat, to an extent, it was ineffectual when it came to predicting the movements of someone who fled, while refusing to engage in combat to begin with. If he’d been capable of anticipating such, then rather than being something related to battle, it would be closer to simple divination.

In any case, it had been a mistake. And an irreversible one, at that.

‘What shall I do.’

Alpha would have already breached the perimeter of the Mana Hole. The results of a fight between a Guard with their Mana Hole right behind them, against a Guard of equal rank, affiliated to an outside Mana Hole, were as good as already decided, but.

Without prolonged deliberation, Sigma began walking. At the very least, he intended to witness the scene of the C-rank’s resurrection with his own two eyes.

터엉, the door that had been sealed closed splintered open, folding outwards, creating a wide opening. In front of the bluish glow of the Hole, stood Han Yoohyun. The hornless dragon had reverted back to a small salamander and perched on top of his shoulder. With his hyung still firmly nestled in his arms, Han Yoohyun met Sigma’s gaze with his own.

“Didn’t think you’d follow me all the way here.”

“I have something I’m still owed from that party, you see.”

As Sigma indicated Han Yoojin, Han Yoohyun’s gaze on him narrowed. Suddenly, the thought occurred to him, that the other seemed to bear a resemblance to Sung Hyunjae.

“You’ll never lay a finger on him, you bastard, so don’t even dream of it.”

As accompaniment to cold words, tongues of flame surged forth. Fire–a combination of charcoal and navy–filled the surroundings in an instant. With the Mana Hole right behind him, freed from the shackles of mana depletion, Han Yoohyun called forth an endless wave of blossoming flames.

Simultaneously–a bolt of thunder came crashing down. Rather than resorting to flimsy defensive or evasive maneuvers, they clashed together in a head-on contest of strength. Sweeping through like a tornado, blue-black flames twisted around golden currents of electricity.

쿠그그그–!

The surroundings trembled, and the ceiling and floor both burst open in tandem. As it was set aflame, melted, and shattered–even the reinforced structure, which held access to the endless power of the Mana Hole, began to warp out of place.

투두둑, the ceiling, located at the furthest point from the Mana Hole in relation to the floor, began to crumble altogether. Immediately afterwards, the twister of flames and lightning surged outwards and above. With the space overhead already punched open, shockwaves began to spread throughout the entire building.

“It seems set to collapse soon.”

Sigma, having stepped onto his chains in order to avoid the melting floor, spoke with a smile. And just as he’d said; the Achates Defense Administration building proved unable to withstand the continual string of destructive impact. The twenty-something floor structure rapidly began to sink. Like this, they would end up being buried alive without any recourse–but.

- I’ll clean that up!

With a chipper cry, Irin took to the form of a crimson hornless dragon once more, and surged heavenwards. As he flew up in a straight path through the center of the building, blue lights(3) flitted into existence before detonating. The upper levels of the building–in what surpassed ‘melting’, into ‘evaporation’–were dispersed into fine rubble, and scattered into the atmosphere like rain.

Outside of the underground levels, the building itself had disappeared altogether. The crowd that had escaped during the initial bomb threats, as well as the ones who had panicked and fled when the building began to shake, stood intermingled and spectated the sight with dumbfounded eyes.

Beneath the exposed night sky, dark blue flames pressed onwards in expansion of its territory without flagging in momentum. Lightning leapt upwards once more, but the limitations of the mana that comprised it was clear. Between Han Yoohyun, who had the Mana Hole behind him, and Sigma, who lacked the same, existed a yawning chasm that could be compared to the difference between the fathomless ocean and a restricted lake.

화르륵!

Finally, Sigma was forced to retreat as the flames began to lick at even his soles. Before such overwhelming firepower(4), none of the Skills he possessed, nor his experience, amounted to anything. It was precisely as he’d envisioned; still, the smile that played on Sigma’s face exuded faint bitterness.

It was at that moment. From the body nestled in Han Yoohyun’s arms, a faint exhale issued, and.

“...Yoohyun-ah.”

“...Hyung?”

- Hyung!

Han Yoojin opened his eyes.

***

When my eyes opened, what came into view was a dark and unfamiliar space. Following the fleeting sense of bemusement that stemmed from being confronted with an empty room, devoid of anything, my heart abruptly dropped in my chest.

“Yoohyun-ah!”

Even before my mind could process the situation, my hands had begun to tremble violently. And shortly thereafter, as though I’d had ice water poured over me, my entire body became wracked by chills as well.

What the hell. While I’d requested for a delay, that had been so that I’d be allowed to choose my respawn time myself. So why didn’t I see anything like an option menu, and why had I ended up isolated in this sort of place.

Perhaps–could it be that, outside, the flow of time was still moving. And Yoohyunie was.

“Goddammit–Newcomer! Volleyball! Willson!”

I’d planned on reviving immediately. As soon as I died, without missing a beat. Quickly enough that, instead of thinking I’d died, Yoohyunie would be able to mistake it as a brief loss of consciousness.

Though I hadn’t planned on dying in front of my dongsaeng in the first place–and, even if Yoohyunie had known about my multiple lives, I would’ve tried to avoid dying right in front of him to the best of my abilities; I’d assumed it would be alright, since even if things went sideways, I’d be able to resurrect myself immediately.

But then, this had, for some reason.

“I’m telling you to revive me! Right now!”

I shouted, my voice hoarse; but there was no reply. Anxiety festered, charcoal black, in my heart. My breath caught. Please–this place had to have its time stopped, or at least significantly slowed. How Yoohyunie might be faring, what kind of emotional condition he might be in–it terrified me to imagine.

But he should still know that this wasn’t a real world, right? …if he happened to be unaware. If, because he’d overloaded as soon as he’d landed here, he hadn’t even been able to receive the System’s message as he should have. Shit, but he needed that info. Newcomer-ah, please.

“Isn’t anyone there?! Someone, come on!”

Whether myself, or my dongsaeng, please. Hoping for anything to appear, I searched my surroundings. Even though there was nothing, I fumbled through the empty air. The longer futile minutes ticked by, the greater my anxiousness grew. I hadn’t realized it, but at one point, tears had begun dripping from my eyes.

I should’ve just asked them to let me revive immediately, instead of wanting something like a delayed timer. No–I should’ve taken greater care to watch my surroundings to begin with, while saving my dongsaeng. The moment the alert window had popped up, I should’ve at least used a defensive Skill to–…the alert window.

‘...Sung Hyunjae.’

I’d briefly forgotten about him. It wasn’t the Newcomer, right now. The person currently managing the System was.

“Sung Hyunjae!”

Immediately following the shout.

탁

A screen blinked on. Inside the glow of the screen, Yoohyunie had appeared. This dongsaeng, who clutched my corpse close. A face streaked with tears, and a wounded shoulder. While wearing an expression that seemed as though he were verging on death himself, struggling to keep me from slipping away till the end–that Han Yoohyun.

My head was devoid of any thoughts. There was only the disconcerting sensation, of blood draining away from me; and as all of my strength fled, simultaneously, someone caught hold of me as my body began to collapse.

[ You must center yourself. ]

“...right, ughk, n, -ow.”

The words, to have him send me back, wouldn’t come out properly. For a moment, all I could do was desperately gasp for breath. I felt the sensation of a hand patting my back.

[ The young master is holding on, still. As I cannot interfere, it’ll be up to you, Han Yoojin, lad, to do something. Come now, hurry. ]

Another window appeared before my eyes. There was even a keyboard, to compose a message. I forced my trembling hands into motion. My dongsaeng, Yoohyun-ah.

- Yoohyun-ah.

The message was sent; inside the screen, my dongsaeng’s eyes grew wide. In dark, tear-stained eyes, light returned. My heart, which had been crushed, finally regained vitality as well.

- Hyung’s here.

My hands’ movements grew a bit faster. The tremors began to subside. He was alright. My dongsaeng was okay. He was going to be fine. After quickly sending another message, right on the heels of the last.

“Quests, how do I send quests?! He needs to be able to recover his mana at least a little bit in order to hold out! A mana potion–no, since he won’t have the time to drink it, if it’s just awarded like that, instant auto-recovery as the reward!”

[ If you opt to send a quest, it’s likely that you’ll be prevented from sending any further messages. It’s akin to a monthly quota, you see. ]

“That’s fine, so quickly, please!”

Even if no more messages came from myself, Yoohyunie would be able to wait. I was certain, having seen the way my dongsaeng’s expression had become reanimated. He was alright, he was okay. It seemed like he was doing better than I was, even. Genuinely, it seemed.

A hand clad a white glove stretched out from behind me. After tapping on something for a moment, a quest window appeared.

[ Write out the quest title–keep the general contents succinct, but quantify the reward in detail. ]

“No time to spare on a lengthy transcription, anyway, sir.”

With the retort, I quickly sent the quest. Inside the screen, a quest window popped up.

[ Please Protect Me

Until Han Yoojin is able to resurrect, let’s try to stay safe and sound! With a formidable foe as your opponent, please guard Han Yoojin’s body for five minutes＾▽＾

Reward: Minimal mana auto-recovery ]

“...what’s with the emoticon, sir. I don’t recall putting down anything of the sort.”

[ It’s a beginner’s setting, you see. ]

The hell was he saying. On top of that, the tone of the contents had changed, too.

[ With greater familiarity, it becomes possible to employ different approaches. It appears the young master has successfully recovered. You have my congratulations. ]

Inside the screen, Yoohyunie had stood up. The flames that bloomed to block Sigma’s way wer… Huh? The color of the flames shifted. What had been black grew clearer in hue, until a cerulean gleam streamed through. …was it because he was in Alpha’s body? Sigma, that bastard, had begun smooth-talking Yoohyunie. Though, considering the situation at hand, it did seem like choosing to cooperate would be the better option.

“But, when will I be able to revive?”

[ You are currently endeavoring to recover your consciousness, first. ]

“My consciousness?”

[ At present, young Han Yoojin has been rendered unconscious from the shock of sustaining a mortal wound. In order to revive, you would have to press the confirmation button–an impossible feat, so long as you remain comatose. ]

“You’ve a very thorough comprehension, sir.”

[ ...I only realized a moment ago as well, after investigation. ]

For some reason, he almost sounded despondent. In the interim, Yoohyunie had summoned Irin. The crimson salamander suddenly grew in size, and… What was that.

“...Rin-ah?”

T-that, too, was that the result of being dropped onto a different world? Had Irin inhabited the body of a dragon, or something… Yoohyunie, that guy, how was he so unfazed. Weren’t you shocked. With Rinie’s help, Yoohyunie managed to safely escape, and arrived at the Mana Hole. Now, I could finally afford to relax. Within proximity of the Mana Hole, there was no way he would lose to Sigma.

“In any case, thank you for your assistance, Sung Hyunjae-ssi sir. That Newcomer, he should’ve mentioned this kind of thing in advance……. But, how did this end up happening, sir? How are you able to use the syste–”

I turned around. A familiar overcoat came into view. And then, a face–.

“Aack!”

Hot pink yarn! In the place where the head should have been, a giant lump of yarn was floating instead. Horrified, I shoved the body away on reflex. As the overcoat and gloves flopped lifelessly down to the floor, the ball of yarn rolled away for a distance before 퉁, bouncing back up.

[ How uncalled for. ]

“W-w-what’s! Up with that appearance, sir!”

[ As it’s not my true body, there’s no need for concern. ]

“I’ll have you know that I’ve zero concern for you, though, sir?”

^^ –the ball of yarn smiled. Was there a rule that the System Administrators needed to take on the shape of a round object, or something. Don’t wave the end of your skein at me. Don’t try to act cute, in your state.

-----

(1) 이무기 (imugi)

https://namu.wiki/w/이무기

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Korean_dragon

https://korean.dict.naver.com/koendict/#/entry/koen/d56db2f35d6b4d2099876f49bb674592

(2) 이룡 (螭龍): 뿔없는 용 이

전설상의 동물로 뿔이 없는 용. 어떤 저주에 의하여 용이 되지 못하고 물속에 산다는, 여러 해 묵은 큰 구렁이를 이른다.

(3) 린(燐): 도깨비불 린 → ignis fatuus, aka ‘wills-’o-the-wisp’

(4) 화력 (火力), lit. ‘fire’+’strength/force/power’; 불이 탈 때에 내는 열의 힘

return of foster dad shj + parallels b/w irin being an imugi ‘that had spurned ascension’, and yh’s ‘but han yoohyun held fast against that last opportunity to return to his original nature’... :’)