#it seems more like passing out but with the ability to resist it until I’m in a safe place to let it happen

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

I expected that some everyday things would get harder with age. The one I did not expect was lying down. I can get to and onto the bed just fine but for some reason, I’m too tired by that point to actually lie down properly and often fall asleep sort of reclining or propped up on pillows in an “I’m reading” position.

[awkward-walking-potato]

I’m not sure if you do Charles Xavier, but if you could, can you write a platonic Charles x mutant!GN!reader where the reader can block out Charles’ telepathic abilities, and it surprises him at first until he somewhat gets used to it by the day? Thank you!

-💟

Silent Minds

When you first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, you knew it was only a matter of time before Charles Xavier would reach out with his telepathy. It wasn’t something he did out of malice, just his way of understanding who he was welcoming into the mansion. For many mutants, their thoughts were often loud, brimming with fear, uncertainty, or confusion. You, however, were different.

The moment Charles tried to enter your mind, there was nothing. It was like running into a brick wall — solid, unyielding, and utterly silent.

"Curious," he had murmured, raising an eyebrow when the usual telepathic connection failed to establish itself. The moment passed quickly, and though his surprise was evident, Charles Xavier was nothing if not composed. He simply greeted you with a warm smile, inviting you into the mansion without a word about the mental barrier.

It wasn’t until later, after you had settled into life at the mansion, that Charles asked to speak with you in private.

"Would you mind coming to my office?" he had asked politely, his voice calm and friendly, as always.

You nodded, curious as to what this was about. Once inside, Charles gestured for you to take a seat across from him.

"I hope you don’t mind me asking," he began, his tone gentle, "but I’ve noticed something rather… unique about you."

You blinked, unsure of where this was going. "Unique? How so?"

Charles steepled his fingers, his gaze thoughtful. "My telepathy doesn’t seem to work on you. I attempted to greet you telepathically when you first arrived, as I often do with new students, but I found myself unable to do so. It’s quite rare."

You shifted in your seat, glancing down at your hands before looking back at him. "I can block out telepathic abilities," you admitted. "It’s part of my mutation. I can create mental barriers — not just for myself, but for others too, if needed."

Charles’ eyes widened slightly in surprise, though there was no alarm in his expression, only fascination. "That’s extraordinary," he said. "I’ve encountered telepathic resistance before, but never quite like this. Your mind is entirely… silent."

You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious under his scrutiny. "I guess I’m used to keeping people out. It’s… instinctive now."

Charles leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips. "I imagine it must be. And quite useful, too, given the nature of some telepathic threats."

There was a moment of silence as Charles studied you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward under his gaze. But then, as if sensing your discomfort, Charles’ expression softened.

"You don’t need to feel uneasy," he assured you. "I’m not offended, if that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, I find your ability quite remarkable. It must give you a sense of control over your own mind that many others don’t have."

You nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. "It does. It’s nice knowing no one can get into my head unless I let them."

Charles smiled warmly. "That’s a gift, indeed."

Over time, Charles grew more accustomed to your mental silence. While he was used to hearing the constant hum of thoughts from those around him, you became a rare, quiet presence in the mansion. It was something he came to appreciate — a kind of reprieve from the usual noise.

Occasionally, when you would join him for conversations, he would catch himself attempting to reach out telepathically, only to be met with that familiar, impenetrable wall. It never frustrated him, though. If anything, it intrigued him more each time.

"You’re a mystery, you know that?" he would say, half-teasing, whenever his telepathy failed him once again.

You’d just laugh and shake your head. "Not much of one, really."

But over time, you and Charles developed a comfortable, platonic bond. He respected your boundaries, both mentally and emotionally, never prying beyond what you offered willingly. And in turn, you came to trust him in a way you hadn’t trusted many people before.

Despite the fact that he could never truly read your thoughts, Charles had a way of understanding you that didn’t require telepathy. He observed the way you moved, the way you spoke, and the way you interacted with others. And in doing so, he gained insight into your mind without needing to delve into it.

One afternoon, after a particularly quiet training session, you found yourself sitting in the study with Charles. He was reading a book, and you were simply enjoying the silence — both the actual and mental kind. After a few moments, Charles closed his book and glanced over at you.

"I’ve been meaning to ask," he began, "does it ever feel lonely? Blocking out everyone’s thoughts like that?"

You considered the question for a moment, watching as a few stray sparks of sunlight danced across the wooden floor. "Sometimes," you admitted. "It’s hard to connect with people when you’re always keeping part of yourself hidden."

Charles nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I can imagine. Though I suppose, in some ways, it’s not too different from my own experience. Even when I hear everyone’s thoughts, there are still things I choose to keep hidden from others. We all have our barriers."

You smiled faintly at that, appreciating the parallel. "Yeah, I guess we do."

Charles’ expression softened, and he placed a hand on your shoulder — a small, comforting gesture. "Just know that you don’t always have to keep those walls up here. You’re among friends."

For the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Charles didn’t need telepathy to understand you, and that, in itself, was enough.

[vermilionsun]

GREETINGS

your writing is so MWAH chefs kiss💗💗 and i recently replayed TS and i would love to have a scenario written by you (no pressure ofc) i think kuras can read souls cause yk angel, and vere literally said that our suffering made it irresistible

how would kuras and vere react to an mc who is very sweet and positive but their soul radiates just pure misery, mc has not lived a single happy moment in their life but still radiating warmth???

Hello hellooo!! Thanks for sending this in (づ ￣ ³￣)づ

Disclaimer! They/Them for MC because we love inclusivity!

Kuras

Holy fuck.

These two words were the only thing replaying in Kuras’ head as he carried them to his clinic, heart ringing in his ears. 

Once he was satisfied with his work, he took a seat beside them, his eyes glued to their motionless figure. 

His fingers tap a restless rhythm against his knee as he studies their face. He waits, anxious eyes flickering from their face to their hands and back again.

Not so much because of the side effects that may occur due to their injuries, no. But because of their soul. The agony and suffering emanating from them were palpable and almost suffocating. Kuras could feel it weighing heavily on his own chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The faint tremors in his hands grow more pronounced as the pressure in his chest intensifies. This is a level of pain he thought long forgotten, a feeling he had hoped to never encounter again. He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, straining to maintain his composure as a wave of memory washes over him—

Their eyes flutter open.

[...]

“I am not easily intimidated.”

“...I’m sorry. Could I please have those?” They nod at the additional bandages in their hands.

Kuras raises an eyebrow, studying them for a moment before nodding. “Of course.”

They start wrapping them around their hands. “And… Thank you. For stitching my arms back and all.”

Kuras found himself surprisingly drawn to their presence. With each passing moment spent together, he grew increasingly intrigued by the gentle person hiding layers of pain and despair beneath them. There was something in the way they moved, the way they spoke, that hinted at a profound kindness, one they had likely never received in return.

He was torn between wanting to distance himself and wanting to lean in closer, drawn in by their presence like a moth to a flame. The dichotomy of their twisted, tortured soul, and the gentle, sweet person they seemed to be...

And their power…

It was a strange combination that he couldn't quite wrap his head around. It was both heartbreaking and captivating, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness towards them, finding himself unraveling the layers of their past and piecing together the puzzle of the pain h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶ o̶h̶ s̶o̶ w̶e̶l̶l̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ that never boiled to the surface.

Vere

Vere smells them the moment they set foot out of the Wet Wick. Above all, though, he has the ability to sense their soul's anguish as though it were his own. It hangs heavy in the air, making him almost drool.

Exquisite.

He knows that their pain is a delicacy, a rare treat that he cannot resist indulging in. It excites him, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He looks around and licks his lips in anticipation, eager to sink his teeth into their suffering and savor every delicious moment of it—

Until he lays eyes on the source, it almost leaves him breathless—a creature so pure and full of light that he is momentarily stunned. The darkness within them dances around them like a shadow, yet they radiate a warmth and purity that he has never encountered before.

As he shamelessly gazes at this… being, he feels a strange mix of fear and awe wash over him. Suddenly, the idea of causing them harm seems unfathomable. He hesitates, unsure of what to do next, as the realization dawns on him that he may have just encountered his own salvation.

[...]

"I saw you drop it [the key]. You really should be more careful. City like this, somebody might take advantage…" He sing-sang with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Uhm, okay. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I'll definitely be more careful in the future and keep a better eye on my belongings,"  they smiled kindly and extended their hand to accept the key back. "I appreciate your honesty," they added.

Their reaction is unexpected, almost painfully sincere, and it takes Vere a moment to recover. It was strange, considering his usual callous nature. He hesitates before returning the key with a faint smirk, his fingers grazing against theirs in the exchange. His eyes remained fixed on them, searching their expression for any sign of fear or hostility. But there are none. They act as though his very presence didn't alarm them at all. He couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at how easily they seemed to radiate kindness and gratitude.

In this world, such pure souls were few and far between…

What was happening to him?

Both? Both! Both is good.

Later that night, when everyone had gathered at the Wick, Vere made a point to give Kuras a long side glance, as if confirming the suspicions that had been brewing all evening.

“You felt that too, didn’t you?”

Kuras, however, seemed unfazed by Vere's silent accusations, his expression remaining stoic and unreadable.

He simply nodded in response, not giving anything away. Vere never learned if Kuras felt what he did in that moment; bone-chilling, heart-stopping terror and hunger unlike anything he ever felt before.

[kermitkrqb]

The Usual || Tyler Galpin x reader

A/N: More of a Xavier girly tbh but I had an idea for Tyler. I literally watched the entirety of Wednesday in one day and now I’m obsessed. Help. Also idk if this idea has been done so don’t come for me 💀

What to expect: Gender neutral reader, reader messing around, flirting, a flustered Tyler, outcast!reader, implied telekinetic abilities, fluff, !!!!NO SPOILERS IN THIS FIC!!!!

Part 2 is up lovelies!

Raging storm clouds rolled over the small town of Jericho, the streets barren as the rain plummeted down. You were never one to be swayed, even in the harshest of weather. You were new in town, and had just finished unpacking your belongings into your dorm room after your enrolment at Nevermore. Principal Weems and Professor Thornhill had already discussed the school rules to you prior to your enrolment, and had emphasised how “a pass to Jericho was a privilege and not a right.” Who were they to stop you from exploring the new environment? After all, it’s not like you were doing anything cynical. You simply craved a hot chocolate and had heard about the cafe in town. Arriving outside the Weathervane, you peered inside through the window and saw the cafe to be completely empty. Although, the sign on the door clearly said the place was open, so you took your chances and walked in. Carefully placing your umbrella near the exit, you scanned the cafe once more to see if any one else occupied the area until your eyes landed on the bell that was placed on the counter.

Pressing lightly the bell rang, and out came a flustered brunette from the back room. His curls bouncing slightly as he sheepishly made his way to the counter, “Sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting long.” You smiled at him, “No worries, I wouldn’t be expecting anyone either in this weather.” The curly headed boy chuckled whilst joking, “Yet here you are. Anyway, what can I get you?” You quickly scanned the menu and a mischievous idea popped into your head. Fighting the grin you asked, “Can I just get a chocolate muffin? Oh and my usual of course.” The brunette started processing your order on the machine, “Yep, a chocolate muffin and…” He paused blinking once, it took every nerve in your body not to laugh at the situation. Tyler scanned your face once more, internally panicking as he tried to remember if he’s ever seen you before. He racked through his mind, surely he wouldn’t forget someone that attractive. But nothing. Nada. His brown eyes looked into yours, an apologetic smile on his face, “I am so sorry my mind has been everywhere these past couple of days, I just can’t seem to place you in my mind and-”

You furrowed your brows in faux sadness, “Am I that forgettable?” The Galpin boy gulped, “Yet again, I am so sor-” Unable to contain yourself any longer you burst out into laughter much to his dismay, “No, I should be the sorry one! I am completely and utterly new to town and the idea just popped into my head and I just couldn’t resist it.” Visible relief flooded his features as he shook his head in disbelief and amusement, “Oh thank god. I thought I was going crazy! I usually remember all of my regulars…” he paused trailing off slightly, “especially the pretty ones.” You became flustered in return and blushed slightly as he smirked at your reaction, “Now what were you really here for?” You snapped out of your daze clearing your throat, “I’ll take a hot chocolate to go, please.” He quirked his brow, “No more chocolate muffin?” A devilish grin spread onto your face, “No thanks, I have my eyes on something much sweeter.” He froze for a moment blushing at your boldness and deciding, “Y’know what? It’s on the house.” You smiled warmly at him leaning on the counter, “Thank you…?” He completed your sentence introducing himself, “Tyler. Tyler Galpin.”

Tyler walked around the back of the counter preparing your hot chocolate with ease, his muscular arms being the focus of your gaze. You almost didn’t realise your order was ready before he interrupted your thoughts, “A hot chocolate just for you, careful it’s hot.” His hand purposely grazed yours as he handed the disposable cup towards you, the warmth greeting your palm. “Nothing I can’t handle.” You winked at the Galpin boy, grabbing your umbrella with your free hand by the exit. You turned your back towards him about to leave when he called out, “Wait! I didn’t catch your name.” You smirked slightly, “Maybe you’ll catch it another day. See you then, Galpin.” With the flick of your head, the door opened on its own with your hands being full. You looked back one more time, smirking at Tyler before opening your umbrella and walking into the pouring rain. The door closed gently on its own, your encounter with him leaving him stunned and eager to see you once more.

[arachnixe]

Execution

(Part 9 of Night’s Longing - Previous: Past Hungers, Past Mistakes)

Carmen seems more withdrawn than before after sharing that story, as though even she was caught by surprise that those memories still have some power over her. A little fun in bed helps distract her for a moment, but I get the feeling she also uses it to distract me from the topic.

I try to get her to open up to me, permit herself to show even an ounce of vulnerability, but she smoothly redirects my efforts with flirtations until we’re fucking again because I simply cannot ever resist her.

At the very least I can offer her my company and my support, even when it’s four in the afternoon and I notice that Carmen’s snuck out of bed to brood in silence. I make her coffee just the way she likes, bringing it to her and sitting in the same room as her.

I wonder, and not for the first time, how much heartbreak someone her age has experienced. I guess it never gets any easier.

The story she told sticks with me for more reasons. She described a collection of vampiric abilities I have heard of but never before witnessed in the possession of any single vampire. I have heard tales, of course, of the “archvampires” slain by my ancestors, the greatest of which commanded a similarly fantastic array of powers. Until recently, I believed them to be exaggerations for the sake of inflating the reputations of those old, revered hunters. Yet Carmen’s abilities are perfectly in line with even the tallest tales.

It terrifies me the first time I watch Carmen pass by her curtains—frankly inadequate ones, letting slip a thin slice of sunlight through the gap during the pre-sundown hours—and I watch, stunned, as the light momentarily passes over her with hardly a sizzle.

“Not sunscreen,” she tells me, laughing, when I confront her with my first, admittedly silly, guess. “It is not the same ultraviolet radiation which gives humans a sunburn that also purges our kind from the world. It is specifically daylight. We are ontologically of night itself at the most fundamental level. A vampire is dispelled by the sun in precisely the same way that night is.”

I can only reply with stammering, half-formed words stumbling over each other, but she takes pity on my confusion and offers me a little more explanation.

“Resistance is not altogether impossible, though I remain a creature of night. You could say I have kissed the moon and may hide in its shadow.” She gestures as if groping for words that don’t come easily to her, at least in English. “In an occult sense, I mean to say.”

It’s clear that I’m not satisfied by such a metaphorical answer, and Carmen sighs. “It works something like your Boltman blessings. Here. One visible element of the work of many years.” She lifts her shirt to direct my attention to a particular cluster of lines tattooed below her ribs. “Before I ever became a vampire, I was something of a mystic. I have always loathed my own weakness, thus I work to diminish what flaws I cannot eliminate.”

Something about Carmen’s body language reads as vulnerable as she confesses this one small detail of her early life, and she seems relieved that I choose to pull her into a hug rather than pry further.

“Sorry.” My words are muffled with my face pressed into her. My heart isn’t done pounding with that initial panic of seeing the sunlight touch her. “I just need a second.”

Her gentle touch on my back is reassuring. “You do not need to worry about me.”

“I do a lot of things I don’t need to. Don’t try to talk me out of this one.”

“As you wish, darling.” She wraps her arms around me too. “I only mean to say that I have offered to help you overcome the circumstances of your birth, which would be an empty promise indeed from someone unable to exert similar influence even on herself. I ask you not to doubt my strength.”

I groan. “Fuck, I hate it when you talk like my dad. Worrying about you isn’t a slight, Carmen! It doesn’t mean I think you’re less cool and smart and powerful! It doesn’t mean I doubt your ability to help and protect me! It means I care about you!”

I feel a tremor in Carmen’s body, at first seeming much like sobbing, but after a moment I realize it’s laughter.

“Even now,” she says quietly, to herself, and I can’t guess what she means, but I only hold her tighter.

We stay like this together for a while longer.

---

The notification sound sends my heart bouncing around my ribcage. I check my phone, and it’s Liz. No greeting, no preamble, just a time and an address.

“Do you need a ride?” Carmen asks without needing any explanation at all.

I nod dumbly, momentarily paralyzed by the unexpected shattering of this peaceful time together before the phantom voice of my father roars in my brain to move.

I move. My gear is propped in the corner, waiting for me, and I make myself ready for battle faster than I ever have in my life.

We scream across the city in her convertible, once again hitting all the green lights—and now I’m wondering which of her tattoos controls the flow of traffic—on our way to where my target is supposed to be. The sunset casts the city in shades of gold which Carmen only requires a pair of shades to endure.

She could probably take on someone like Ylio without breaking a sweat, couldn’t she? Based on what she’s told me of herself and the stories passed down about how far beyond ordinary vampires the archvampires were, it would be no trouble for her even if Ylio brought friends to back them up.

I look to my left at her handsome face and remember how she immediately offered this very ride. How she offered to save me from the doom of my bloodline. Of course she would be willing to help. She might even insist on it.

But asking someone to kill their own is not an easy thing, is it? It’s a terrible burden to place on someone, especially when this is not her fight at all. It’s mine, for the sake of me and my sisters. Bearing the guilt of this assassination should be my burden alone.

I can’t let her come with me.

“Carmen, I don’t want your help with this.”

“As you wish.”

After bracing myself for an argument, I’m caught off guard. “Huh. Just like that?”

“Darling, I understand more than most the importance of vengeance against one’s own killer.” After a moment’s silence, she adds, “I also admit to some curiosity. How does a modern Boltman fight, I wonder? I will enjoy observing from a distance.”

A modern Boltman. In this context, hunting a vampire, I suppose that’s just what I am. It’s a role bolted through my flesh into my bones, and right now, as I wear the uniform of what I am, how can I pretend that I am anything more than Hanna Boltman, Vampire Hunter?

Deep breaths, Hanna. I can endure this the same way I always have. I just need to hold my feelings at arm’s length and let the body do as it was trained to do.

Exiting the car a few blocks early, I leave Carmen to find a place to park and a vantage from which to watch. With wary steps, I approach my destination.

I expect someone as pompous as Ylio to feed at one of the ritzy and exclusive vampire clubs. Sanguine Dreams, for example, feels like their speed; it’s a place that requires reservations in advance, and if you’ve got the connections and ability to pay for the VIP lounge, I hear they bring your food and entertainment to you live, and the presentation is supposed to be something really special. Now that I think about it, I’d bet Carmen could get in. That could make for a nice date night.

This side of town, though? It’s far removed from all Clan Sarthe fronts and infrastructure I’m aware of, and the address turns out to be an old, dilapidated building, four stories tall and from the turn of the last century. I can’t guess what it was once for. Banking? A factory? Moonshine during Prohibition? The windows are boarded up, the roof looks partially collapsed, and even the brick wall looks dark and rotting. The words “no entry” are spray painted on the side of the building.

What, does Ylio go after squatters? How unexpectedly pathetic.

It’s still early. I’m in luck that Carmen’s solar resistance means that we didn’t have to wait till full sundown to head this way. I have just enough time to scout the area, lay my trap, and find a place to hide.

The parking lot is overgrown with weeds, crumbling chunks of concrete filled by a late addition of gravel to smooth it out. Light glints off shards of glass and other assorted garbage among the detritus. Not an ideal place for a fight, all things considered. Keeping my footing here could be a challenge, but I might be able to hide something small in the cracks, cover it with gravel.

And there, adjacent to the parking lot, is another old building. Not quite so large, not quite so condemned, it should make a good place to hide. The alleyway between it and the next building down is just narrow enough for my purposes. I sprint, vault onto a friendly dumpster, leap toward the opposite building to kick off the wall and catch the lip of this building’s roof.

The roof is flat, with enough of a raised ridge around it for me to lay flat and conceal myself from anyone below me. The drop back down is only two stories, which is perfectly doable without a roll—and after seeing all the broken glass down there, I count myself lucky for that.

I prep my crossbow and settle in to wait.

It’s hard to ignore the itch in the back of my mind telling me something is off. My target isn’t just prideful; according to Liz they’re influential. They have allies. This is the sort of place haunted by weak, orphaned vampires, those without connection to their own community.

In a place much like this, back when I was a teenager, my father supervised my first few solo hunts. I remember at the time feeling shocked at how easy those kills were. Back then I didn’t even see vampires as people.

“That’s it?” I asked. “One shot to the heart, and it’s over?”

“Frail, weak, easy pickings for even a novice,” he said. “That’s the fate of anyone, hunter or bloodsucker, who lacks the support of others.”

It was one of many lessons he drilled into me repeatedly over the years.

“Without me, you wouldn’t know how to operate that crossbow. You wouldn’t have practiced your aim. You wouldn’t know where to shoot.” He severed my victim’s head to make absolutely sure they were finished. “Without my mother, I would not have known to teach you those lessons. Without the generations of Boltmans who came before us, without our clan’s hard-won discoveries and the lore of our allies, you and I would be as helpless as babes.

“Each of us is born owing a debt to our clan. Some few of us have the ability and work ethic to pay that debt in full before we die. If you manage to pass the trials, inherit my sword, and continue our family legacy, and if you or one of your descendants manages to rid this world of its vampiric scourge, then perhaps I will have done enough to pay mine off.”

I was 14 years old. “That’s a lot of pressure, dad.”

“It is the appropriate amount of pressure, Hanna. Our bloodline, like few others, is a holy one. It is blessed. We have been gifted the profound privilege to devote our lives in service to others.” He clapped me on the shoulder in a gesture that seemed like camaraderie, the sort of gesture that was as close as he ever got to expressing fatherly affection.

“Yes, sir. We are elevated above others for a reason, and it is our burden to bear that responsibility.”

“Exactly. Remember, none of us matter as individuals; all that matters is how we contribute.” Through repetition, he burned these lessons into my heart. “I do not matter, though I can make myself useful by killing monsters and sculpting you into the family’s next great weapon. You do not matter except through your obedience to me and how well you prove your dedication.”

“Yes, sir. I will make you proud.”

“See that you do. As my only heir, the worth of my life depends on the worth of yours.”

In a way, I’m glad I learned selflessness from my father. Family comes first— remembering that lesson dispels whatever unease creeps up my chest. Killing Ylio is not just a matter of revenge for my own sake; doing so eliminates a threat to my sisters. I cannot fail.

Twilight dims. Voices drift upward from the empty lot. Two figures round the corner of the broken-down building to chat in the ruins of the parking lot. One leans against the wall, looking relaxed, while the other scans in every direction, acting as lookout for threats.

I hear a soft crunch of footsteps far too close to me. I turn and see the silhouette of a third against the sky, standing on the opposite side of the roof from me. Did they leap up here just now? They’re keeping watch too, I realize, but whoever this is, they haven’t noticed me yet, their attention focused on the street below.

Shit, this is a complication I hadn’t planned for. The other person’s head turns in my direction, and I have no time to think before I fire my crossbow to stake the unexpected intruder in the heart. They collapse in near silence, the sound masked effectively by the city’s background noise of car traffic and distant sirens.

I check the body to be sure. Fangs. For the first time in years, I’ve killed a vampire again. Not even my target, just a witness, killed out of panic. Shit. Who were they? No identification, no Sarthe markings—or markings of any other clan I recognize—only a winged ouroboros tattoo on their back.

Did you have a family? Is there someone out there who will stay up wondering why you never came home? Or are you all alone in this world like those first poor, nameless victims of mine were?

I knew I might have to kill more than just Ylio. Liz said they have allies. I knew I might have to do this.

There will be time later to mourn the cost. Already I hear more voices approaching, and I think I recognize the imperious sound of my target’s among them. I reload my crossbow and wait for the right moment to spring the trap.

The three new figures approach the two. I hold my breath, straining to catch their words.

Ylio speaks first. “Look all around, the moon shines bright.”

“We and the dead make swift our flight,” replies the one leaning against the building with an air of ease.

The one on guard seems to relax after this exchange, and the two groups approach one another. Such a tight cluster of them, nearly ideal, but something makes me hesitate. That itch at the back of my mind returns. This isn’t what I expected to find. Something else is going on here.

“What news from Sarthe?”

Ylio makes a dismissive gesture. “The pieces move into place. No new risks. What obstacles remain are on track to be dealt with.”

The wail of a siren masks the reply, and by the time I pick out more words, Ylio is speaking again. “…your recovery efforts?”

“Our associates overseas have delivered his left hand to the courier. We anticipate delivery in a matter of weeks.”

“Should we be expecting you?”

“No. Best to avoid showing our faces. You’ll meet the courier directly.”

“I will set expectations accordingly.”

Shit, one of Ylio’s companions has broken away from the group, and the longer I wait, the more risk I take. It’s now or never. I twist my hand into the trigger sign and leap from my perch as artificial daylight blooms into life inside the parking lot.

Lucky break for me, the wary one was standing right at the center of the blast, and as the brief flash of light fades, all that remains of them is ash. With a twang, the one who stepped away from the blast is staked through the heart. I drop the crossbow and draw my sword.

Three badly charred vampires remain, staring me down with bloody murder in their eyes. It’s the dead of night, and their burns are healing right before my eyes, but right now I have a brief window of weakness to capitalize on. God, they’re still fast, though, dodging every swing of my blade as if I were moving in slow motion.

The one to my left lunges for me, fangs bared, and I nearly fail to raise my silvered bracer in time to defend myself. He screams in pain as the metal brands his skin, giving me an opening to strike that I have to abandon in order to dive away from the swipe of Ylio’s clawed hand.

I roll and leap to my feet, drawing a set of knives to fling in one smooth arc toward my attackers. Ylio bats one out of the air with contemptuous ease, but in a stroke of luck, one pierces the throat of the other vampire, dropping her to the ground as she hisses and claws in vain at the ensorcelled metal. She’s down, at least.

Ylio keeps coming for me, and they’re only getting faster and deadlier as their burns heal. The one who chomped my bracer is back in the fight too, and he’s furious. At the very least his blind outrage is making him a poor collaborator for Ylio, and the two interfere with one another enough for me to keep dancing out of their reach.

Still, all I can do with my sword is buy myself a little breathing room, one swing at a time. I utterly fail to land a single strike.

Then my luck takes a turn for the worse. I slip on loose gravel and tumble backward, and in a blink my assailant has pounced on me.

“You wretched little shit, I’ll make you—“

“Idiot.” I shut him up by ripping my talisman off its chain and shoving it in his mouth. You don’t stop to threaten someone in the middle of a fight, as I quickly demonstrate. When I speak the invocation, he bursts into flames. I kick the burning body at my last remaining opponent, making space to leap back to my feet.

“I know that voice. Elizabeth’s dog.”

Shit. “N-no…?” Good work, Hanna. That ought to throw them off the trail.

“You are.” Somehow they see through my cunning lie. “At last I begin to fit the pieces together. She has been hiding a vampire hunter in our midst this whole time.”

Ugh. I have one last trick up my sleeve, and I won’t be able to make it work unless they get in close. Worst case scenario, Ylio flees, knowing that I am a vampire hunter, and spreads the story of what happened here. No evidence of past heroics could save me from the condemnation that would follow. But more important than me is what would become of my sisters if they were believed to knowingly smuggle a hunter into a Sarthe stronghold.

“As if she knew.” I put as much scorn as I can muster into my voice. “You asked how a low-class vampire like her got a bloodbag of her own? I chose her for her gullibility. The status I could bring her was too good a deal to scrutinize very closely.”

I hope they buy it. Better for my sisters to be seen as fools than traitors.

“How I almost pity her.” Ylio shakes their head, accepting my story. Few things are easier than convincing someone that a person they despise is an idiot. “Ah, but instead I will enjoy using this secret to destroy her reputation.”

“You’ll have to kill me first. Without taking me as proof, nobody will believe the bloodbag you killed just got up and started murdering people back.” I grin and brandish my sword with a flourish. “But as you can see, I’m pretty hard to put down for good.”

“Cocky. But I have stalled for time long enough, and as you can see, I am back at full strength. Now, for the last time, I bid you goodbye, dog.”

Ylio moves in a blur almost too fast to track. In an instant, they are upon me, claws at my neck. My sword falls from my hand. The vampire’s deadly strike is slowed down only for the briefest moment by the gorget I wear.

However, I am ready for them, and that brief moment is all I need. I squeeze the trigger secreted in my palm and spray a fine mist of holy water—really a specially prepared emulsion of salt water and oils enhanced with theurgy—and the fine cloud halts the attack, forcing Ylio to recoil immediately.

Skin sizzles. They choke and gasp, inhaling more into their lungs, inspiring a paroxysm of coughing and hacking up blood. I run my sword through their chest, and the fight is over.

Numbly, moving on autopilot, I behead all four bodies, just the way I was taught, though only the one with the knife through her neck is still twitching and clinging to life.

Six vampires total, dead by my hand. None of them carry any identification on them, though all bear the same mark of the winged ouroboros. Except for one, I’ll never even know their names. Maybe in another life, we could have been friends.

Six more faces that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I drop to my knees and give myself permission to grieve.

Though my hands are stained with death, at least my family is safe.

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt11

First: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

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“A chocolate doughnut with chocolate frosting?” Marvin commented on the treat Anti grabbed for himself. 

“Anti has the worst sweet tooth of us.” Jackie chuckled, grabbing a chocolate eclair and setting it on a napkin before giving it to Marvin. 

“I do not-yeah, no I do.” Anti laughed and took a giant bite out of the doughnut, getting the chocolate all over his face. 

“Thank you,” Marvin said as he stepped aside his with breakfast, taking a much smaller bite as he watched Jackie pass out doughnuts to the others. 

“Thanks!” Robbie giggled as he was handed a doughnut with cereal on top and ran off to sit with Henrik, who was eating a classic glazed doughnut. 

“You must be Marvin.” Marvin blinked as the words appeared in his head, a new voice speaking in there as well. He resisted the urge to scrub at his eyes and looked around, seeing the only Septiceye he’s yet to meet. 

He was a little shorter than Marvin and seemed to enjoy being a bit more dressed up than the other as well. A blue vest was over his button-up with a black bowtie that matched his hat and Marvin could see why Jackie specifically mentioned the mustache since it was a fairly thick one with curled ends. 

“You must be JJ,” Marvin said in return, holding a hand out. 

“You are indeed correct.” The voice chuckled in Marvin’s head as JJ took the hand and gave it a shake with a slight bow. 

“Are you…” Marvin pointed at his head.

“Yes. Sometimes it’s a lot easier to use that ability to speak than to sign. The others are learning but I don’t mind projecting. It is convenient when my hands are busy.” JJ explained. 

“You’re a lot calmer than the others.” Marvin chuckled. 

“I can have my moments, but for the most part, the chaotic nature of the house is from our fellow Septiceyes. I find myself working in the kitchen more often than not. I enjoy baking and cooking and I see that you are also someone who appreciates a good cup of tea.” JJ was eating his doughnut while his voice continued speaking. 

“Best way to get caffeine in my opinion.” Marvin had to wait until his mouth was empty before speaking. 

“You’ll have to argue your case here. Henrik and Chase are coffee fanatics. Anti usually drinks those energy drinks but he’ll have a cup of tea with me every now and again. What Robbie drinks depends on his age, but he does coffee when he’s grown with Henrik.” JJ hummed and took his phone out, reading what was on the screen before putting it away. Marvin watched JJ lean toward Chase.

“What’s up?” Chase said, looking at JJ. There was a pause and then Chase groaned. “I’m going to fight him if he even tries.” He took his own phone out and walked out of the room. 

“What did I just miss?” Marvin asked. 

“Some work stuff, nothing you need to worry yourself with. At least not yet.” JJ smiled at Marvin, finishing the rest of the doughnut. 

“Can I at least ask if you’re able to project your voice to more than one person at a time?”

“You may and I can. I can narrow it to a singular person and I can also project it to everyone in the room quite easily. I can do about the house worth of distance without effort, anything beyond that takes much more energy.” 

“Is it done through magic?” 

“Not that I am aware of. It doesn’t feel like magic to me, but there may be a chance it’s a branch of it. None of us in the House explores that so we don’t know.” 

“Do any of the…Egos explore magic?” Marvin was going to need more time to get used to referring to himself and others as ‘Egos’, it was still so odd. 

“I believe some of them do. Most of us don’t go into details with everyone else about how things work since sometimes it’s too complicated. Doesn’t stop some of us from trying to study and learn, but you get to a point where it’s easier to just…be.” JJ tilted his head when Anti waved to get his attention. Marvin told himself he really needed to start learning sign language since it was clear that Anti was signing at JJ and he had no idea what he was saying. All he knew was that JJ agreed with what Anti said since he nodded with his sign. Anti giggled happily and took a doughnut out of the box and scrambled away with it. “He asked if he could have my second one. I rarely eat more than one of these.” JJ explained, showing he had seen Marvin’s confused face. 

“He really does have a sweet tooth,” Marvin said. 

“He is a very complicated man.”

“And annoying.”

“At times.” JJ chuckled and that got Marvin to do the same. 

“Sorry to suddenly change the topic, but Jackie mentioned a library. One that likely added books associated with me. Where would that be?” Marvin asked. Getting a head start on reading magic books sounded like a good way to begin his long list of questions. 

“It is a very lovely library. If you head back toward your room and go all the way to the end of the hall, you’ll find a set of stairs, head up those and you’ll see a set of double doors on the right a few feet into it and that’s the library.” 

“Thank you. If anyone asks where I am, I’ll be there.” Marvin said. 

“I will be sure to fill them in.” JJ gave a slight wave as Marvin flashed a smile and walked off. 

Following the directions was easy enough and soon Marvin was opening that set of doors and when JJ said it was a lovely library, he meant it. Marvin couldn’t help from whistling in awe, the shelves were tall, a dark wood, and lined up perfectly with each other. The books were unlabeled but hopefully something with this weird stuff Marvin’s been dealing with would allow him to find what he wanted easily. 

“Oh…that works.” Marvin said to himself when he found a computer set up against a wall with a poster above it that read ‘catalog’. “Here’s to finding something helpful in this place.” He continued speaking to himself as he turned the computer on. 

x~x~x

Hours passed and Marvin was sitting on the floor in the center of several pieces of furniture with multiple books opened and surrounding him. After some digging around Marvin had found a stash of notebooks and took one for himself to take notes in. 

From what Marvin’s read so far, magic was even more complicated than what he was used to. So many different variables changed so many aspects of it. Things that were seen as magical technically weren’t even that. There weren’t even names for it. They just… existed.

That was beyond obnoxious to read. 

Everything should have answers and he couldn’t find them.

“You are really taking whatever it is you’re looking into seriously.” Chase’s voice brought Marvin out of his study trance and he looked up to see the other man holding a plate of food. “It’s lunch,” Chase explained as he sat the plate next to Marvin.

“Has it been that long already? I’ve barely even scraped the surface.” Marvin sighed as Chase sat in one of the chairs. 

“Henrik’s the workaholic here, you’re not allowed doing the same.” Chase used his foot to nudge Marvin’s back. 

“Not a workaholic.” Marvin corrected, pushing Chase’s foot away. “I just want answers and all I am getting is more confused.” 

“Sounds about right.” Chase shrugged as he slouched back in the chair. “Shit’s all messy when you first arrive.” 

“Does it ever stop?”

“Not sure. But it does get easier, you accept your new reality and eventually, you find your happiness within it.” Chase clicked his tongue after he rambled that off and then sighed. “That sounded better in my head.” 

“Jackie said he kept breaking things when he first appeared.” Marvin sat the notebook down, giving up at the moment. 

“He did.” Chase chuckled. “I think he actually managed to take down a building. Dude wasn’t trying to be destructive, he just didn’t have any control and was scared.” 

“Didn’t know he could be scared.” Marvin moved back so he leaned against the bottom of the couch, putting the plate of food in his lap and picking at it. “You know, except for needles.” 

“Needles are the big thing. He’s never given a reason beyond ‘I don’t like them’.” Chase shrugged again. “But, yeah, kid was a mess when we finally got to him. Screaming, crying, begging for his…” His voice trailed off. “I probably shouldn’t be telling his business like that. I can share my business that I was numb by the time I realized what was happening. Once the memories started fading so did my emotions for some time.” Chase sat up again, slumping over and resting his cheek on a closed hand, elbow on his knee. 

“Do all the memories fade away?” Marvin asked.

“Kind of? Like…you know facts about yourself. Can recall having parents and what kind they were. What kind of person you were. That’s why Henrik’s the doctor, he remembers being one and still knows all the medical stuff.” 

“What about you? What are-well-were you?” Marvin asked.

“I was a dad.” Chase’s comment got Marvin to thickly swallow. “I can’t remember my kid’s name or my ex-wife’s face. I think her name was Stacy? That’s the name that sounds right. But I don’t remember anything about my kid. Son? Daughter? No idea. I just knew someone used to call me dad and was happy to see me.” He softly laughed as his hand fanned out and covered half his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I came in here to check on you and make sure you ate lunch.” Chase rubbed his face and stood up. “Dinner is usually a free-for-all this time of week. So whenever you’re hungry this evening, feel free to help yourself to whatever.” 

“Um…thanks.” Marvin wanted to ask some questions but that painful thickness in the air had him holding back. Chase looked like he needed to lie down or something. Maybe it doesn’t get easier or at least, thinking about it still hurts no matter how long it’s been.

Great. 

[glassmarcus]

Dragon Quest 4‘s JRPG vibes

So weirdly enough, I had never touched a true Dragon Quest game until this year. Sure I've played the first Dragon Quest Heroes, checked out the Dragon Quest Builders demo, watched like 5 episodes of the Dragon Quest: Adventures of Dai reboot, and played a few matches as The Hero in Super Smash Bros Ultimate, but I never experienced a numbered entry. I’m not sure if you've heard, but Dragon Quest is a bit of a big deal. Even of you don't make full eye contact with the franchise, It's pretty hard to avoid seeing it in your periphery. Dragon Quest was always something that I assumes was up my alley, but I don't want to get sucked in to playing 11 games that aren't all necessarily accessible. So I avoided its gaze. But upon the passing of franchise artist, Akira Toriyama, my attention towards the series became harder to divert.

It was never a question of if I would engage with main line Dragon Quest, but to what degree I would. First of all, its character art is helmed by the GOAT himself, so I was magnetized towards it by default. I'm willing to give everything Toriyama had a hand in a shot. If my Xbox Series S had the ability to play games that aren't Sonic Unleashed, I would have already played Blue Dragon by now. But even beyond wanting to celebrate Toriyama's legacy and appreciating his craft, Dragon Quest was always an inevitability due to its DNA being a part of every Japanese Role Playing Game that came after it. The curiosity is too strong for me to resist.

When the first entry in the series was on sale on the Nintendo Eshop, I pounced at the chance to try it out. My first reaction to this purchase was "Wait, this isn't the NES version". It seemed to be some mobile rerelease of the original game. I didn't research this, I just know in my soul that's what it was. The graphics looked a bit more modern and I assumed there were quality of life additions that would make my journey smoother while still evoking the soul of the original. So I started playing it, and seeing it in motion really caught me off guard. When you combine the constant idle movement of the sprites with the mediocre art, this game becomes profoundly ugly. I was having trouble keeping my dinner down with how ugly it was. I'm talking Greek tragedy where the goddess of beauty gets jealous of someone levels of ugly. My face was scrunched up for the next hour after seeing it. I came to this series because of the art, I wasn't going to subject myself to this much of a downgrade. I had no choice but to accept my lost 3 dollars and drop the playthrough.

I decided to not trust Dragon Quest 2 and 3 on the Wshop a jump straight to Dragon Quest 4: Chapters of the Chosen. Still seeking Quality of Life improvements, I gravitated towards the DS remake. And I was elated to see that this version of the game isn't a hideous chimera of conflicting art directions. It looks good for the most part and the sprite art for Toriyama's designs really shine in the battles. The overworld sprites leave a bit to be desired but I'm sure the original wasn't much better in that regard. Again, not researching this at, it’s just a gut feeling I have.

Going into a popular old school JRPGs such as this, I expected to get closer to the roots of the conventions I've come accustomed to. With Dragon Quest 4, it wasn't just to norms that I saw start to blossom, but the more fringe ideas as well. Dragon Quest 4 has a very odd structure. It's set up like a 5 act saga and it adds such grandeur to the whole journey. And what makes it so different is that the first 4 acts are basically nothing but set up. Each act follows a different group of main characters and their own mini adventures. They're vignettes, but they are also well connected in that they increasing build toward the main scenario in act 5. Each story in Dragon Quest 4: Chapters of the Chosen acts as its own tutorial on how to play a JRPG

Chapter 1 is the base essence of the gameplay loop: Hit creatures that are weaker than you, so that you can get stronger and have more creatures that are weaker than you that you can hit. You play as a knight who can only attack and defend as options. And you won't be defending in this part of the game. It's quite dull, but I will admit there is a satisfaction to just slugging it out with the boss of the chapter after leveling up to the point in which you can do so.

Chapter 2 adds far more to the basics with party management and magic. In this part of the game you follow the adventures of a Tsarevna and her two vassals. I'm not sure how it works in the original, but in this version you have full control over each party member's actions and those actions are far more varied than just attacking. This is where the battles become even slightly interesting as you have to manage party members hp and mp and figure out which roles they will play in fights.

Chapter 3 introduces an important aspect of all RPGs, the economy. This vignette is about a merchant trying to start his own business, and the only way to do that is by completing quest and selling inventory. Gameplay wise, it's similar to chapter 1 as you only control one character without any magic. But the task you do outside of battles are far more complex and require exploration and knowledge of the world.

Chapter 4...doesn't really have a strong identity of its own. You play as 2 sisters who are both magic users so you aren't doing anything particularly new. The only lesson it serves to teach is how vital item use can be mid battle, as that lesson acts as the bouncer for the real game that comes afterwards.

Chapter 5 is where the game opens up for you to fully explore. It takes a hell of a long time to get going, but I respect the structure. It's very similar to how Mother 3 introduces its party members before chapter 4 starts. I have little doubt that Mother 3 derived its structure from Chapters of the Chosen, unless there's some other older RPG that takes this vignette approach. I'm not expert on the roots of RPG history, I really only know the bullet points. Regardless ,I love seeing connections of mechanics and tropes throughout time.

I played this game mainly for research purposes and I walked away with many mixed conclusions on it. It was pretty much exactly the experience I sought out. Dragon Quest 4 has Immaculate JRPG vibes. It feels like an adventure where anything can happen and it can only achieve this by being unhinged. A lot of modern RPGs have a fair level curve where you can usually beat any enemy you encounter and can avoid the ones you can't beat. Dragon Quest plays by different rules. Every area of this game is a potpourri of monsters of varied strength and composition. Some encounters might be cake walks, others might be marathons. You'll be fighting a couple of weak healing slimes in one battle and then pulling up to a hardened gang of shamans who can Insta-kill you in the next. It is frustrating, but the friction the game provides does a lot to sell this dangerous, yet wondrous dungeon delving world.

The disorganized balancing is but a small piece to the Dragon Quest puzzle. This opposition to the player is baked into every mechanic in the game. Dragon Quest 4 is game composed almost exclusively out of monkey paws. There are a lot of really strong spells your party members can use against monsters and it adds a lot to strategies you can build in fights. But the down side of this is that enemies can use any of these spells, so those same ones can be used against you. I know spamming sleep magic is effective because I've seen the results on both the sending and receiving end.

And it's not just the spells being symmetrical in availability that acts as a double edged sword. The effects of those spells follow that same internal logic. Spells can miss you seemingly at random, but your spells can just as easily fail. Even the ability to resurrect party members isn't guaranteed on both sides. My favorite example has to be the bounce spell. It reflects spells back at the caster and can be a great counter to magic attacks. It is not however, a good counter to healing magic, as that is also reflected. Characters with this buff cannot be healed sometimes. When you cast bounce, you need to be sure your character doesn't need anymore buffs afterwards and that you have plenty of healing items to use instead. It adds this risk and reward to the spell and ends up being far more interesting than if the spell only worked with damaging spells.

Keeping up to date with the best equipment available is vital to your success in this game, so it's only natural that the most brutal double edge sword can be a literal double edge sword. Cursed items are an RPG staple. Them being present in Chapters of the Chosen is no surprise, but the commitment to the permanency is still appreciated. You will get a debuff if you have a cursed weapon, and you will not be able to unequip them. There may be some way to cleanse the curse, probably at a church or something, but when I encountered it I didn't know how and just had to adapt and accept that my tank would always go last in turn order.

The adaptation to the brutal old RPG design sensibilities is what makes this game enjoyable. If there was no memorable adversity, I would have just been bored. Modern RPGs, hell, even just slightly later RPGs than this one, have more interesting battle mechanics and satisfying traversal. They don't really need this kind of design to be fun and would probably just get in the way. If Octopath Traveler pulled some of the shit this game pulled, I would have never gotten through it. I know this for certain because the secret final boss feels like some early JRPG bullshit and I never actually beat it because the 60 hours of game prior to that were relatively friction-less. I feel like there's a balance between mechanical smoothness and roughness that I want games to have.

I don't think Dragon Quest 4 comes close to hitting this balance, I still had fun with it. I don’t know if it is good or bad, but it's funny and charming, which I think are all I really require to like a game. its consistency in its mechanics and indifference to the player feels brutal, but that only strengthens the contrast from the surface level coziness of the setting. That dissonance is where I think the essence of classic JPRGs comes from. If this story had a dark and grim tone, but was mechanically the same, I wouldn't fuck with it. But it's a colorful world filled with goofy Akira Toriyama Monsters. So when I get jumped by a gang of Giant Slimes and get party wiped, I can really help but smile along with them.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

SWORDTEMBER '24, DAY 18: STEEPED

Item ID: RE-2418 Item Name: Drenched Alloys Category: D-8 Origin Point: Unknown Owner: Alagorr Winchest (C), Unknown (O) Description: THIS ITEM MUST BE HANDLED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. EMPLOYEES ARE URGED TO WEAR BIOHAZARD PROTECTION GEAR, AND USE THE CLEANSING ROOM WHEN FINISHED. DO NOT REMOVE FROM THE CONTAINMENT UNIT UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. Due to the highly illegal status of Drecaenum and the materials used in its creation, the FPA was unable to do our standard rotation of tests, as the majority of the results would need to be redacted. In lieu of testing details, a brief explanation of Drecaenum will be given. It is a set of metals commonly referred to as Drenched Alloy, and although the base materials may vary, the end result is the same. Solid pieces of Drecaenum, as well as any weapons or projectiles made from it, are infused with a poison of unprecedented potency. This is achieved by allowing the base metal to steep in a toxic concoction for decades. Records of what these concoctions contain are highly restricted in order to discourage the production of it. Acting Supervisor’s Notes: I don’t know how the hell Mr. Winchest got his hands on this stuff, considering how heavily regulated the necessary components are, but I’m beyond glad that we caught it before it went off-world. Things are fragile enough as it is, we don’t need weapons made from Drechaenum getting around. Here’s hoping we can track down the source of it…

-----

Only three days into her stint as the Acting Supervisor, and already Cynthia is having to deal with one hell of a confiscation: A shipment of Drenched Alloys (common name Drecaenum). Blades and bullets made with that material had been used in more assassinations than anyone can count, the sheer lethality of the innate poison being impossible to overstate. No species is known to have a resistance to it. It contaminates almost everything it touches, leaves residue that can stretch and grow if not swiftly dealt with, and is effective regardless of how one comes into contact with it (i.e. ingested, inhaled, injected, etc). Even a tiny prick from a Drenched needle can prove fatal.

The creation process is… extensive, supposedly, and requires decades for the poison to reach maximum potency. Between that, the extensive precautions put in place to prevent creation of Drecaenum, and the difficulty in producing anything with the alloys, the substance is exceedingly rare. Hence why it’s such a big deal that a shipment of this size ended up on a planet like Katal. Had someone managed to get it on world, past the FPA? Or, worse, had someone set up a DSF (Drecaenum Steeping Facility) on Katal?

Technically, those questions aren’t for Cynthia to answer. As Acting Supervisor at this branch of the FPA, her job is to ensure the confiscated material is handled properly, filed successfully, and secured until the next level of authority can retrieve them. All further investigation and punishment will be out of her hands. If there are questions after things are handed off, they’ll go to the Director first, only passed down to her if need be. On one hand, it’s a relief to know that soon she’ll be rid of this Drecaenum. On the other? She’s terrified of the reality it represents, and knows she’ll never know the full truth of the matter.

Taking a deep breath, Cynthia tries to settle her nerves, knowing that she’ll be having another meeting with the Director in half an hour. They’ll start by talking about the Drecaenum shipment, but ultimately they’ll move on to the first check-in regarding Cynthia’s new position. There’s no specific reason for her to be nervous. Thus far, she’s done everything in line with the FPA’s official guidelines, and her coworkers (employees?) have given her no flak. It hasn’t been an easy transition, but they seem to have faith in her ability to settle into the role.

Still, anxiety pulses underneath her skin, lingers in her chest no matter how many soothing rituals she performs, until she glances at her messages and finds an email from Naomi. The subject reads: Because I know you won’t look at your texts right now. Attached are several photos, captioned with plans for after work? ;). The photos contain a kitchen table laid with all the ingredients for one of her favorite dishes, their living room arranged for some cozy movies, and a scene from their bedroom that more than explains why there’s a winky face in the caption.

Well, regardless of how that meeting goes, at least Cynthia knows she’s in for a great night. A long one too, by the looks of things…

[a-random-fan4444]

I've just read through your evil grandpa au and I love it! Has Draxum ever seen Casey fight? Does Draxum ever get attached to Casey? How does he show affection? Does Casey ever genuinely get angry at someone? How does he feel about the situation hes in? Does he ever tell Draxum what type of other weapons he develops in the apocalypse ? Apologies for the barrage of questions, I'm very excited .

Every ask I get is a ray of sunshine, I love the people who send me asks so much. 😭

(For those who need context on the au)

Thank you for the questions @orderdchaosthings2 !!!!! I’m more than happy to answer them all!

Draxum’s caught glimpses of Casey Jr fighting. Mostly just the aftermath of fights tho, like his escape from the prison cell on his first day. Draxum send Casey Jr on errands that involve fighting, with Huginn and Muninn supervising. So the gargoyles have seen him fight and do tell Draxum of the kid’s skill and ruthlessness. Draxum takes it all with a grain of salt tho, the gargoyles are easily impressed, not to mention have a soft spot for the future boy. While Draxum knows Casey Jr can fight he doesn’t realize the extent of his ability.

Draxum slowly gets attached to Casey Jr. At first seeing him as an inconvenience -> henchman -> useful/competent henchmen -> delusion grandson that he loves very much. The “delusion” part is important because while Draxum loves his grandson he doesn’t 100% believe him, this has an impact on the way both parties see their relationship, Draxum does infantilice Casey Jr, much to Casey Jr’s irritation. Draxum’s like really old so Casey does seem quite young to him, but Casey Jr’s seen some shit and knows when someone’s treating him like an idiot (many members of the resistance treated him like such because of his age).

Draxum shows affection through quality time, gift giving and acts of service. He and Casey Jr spend a lot of time together in the lab, discussing both the mutagen and the turtles. Reviewing each other’s research and such. Draxum teaches Casey Jr some very basic alchemy as well, first so Casey Jr could understand what Draxum’s was asking for when on errand but it slowly evolved into learning with the hope that one day Casey Jr could begin to practice using it. Casey Jr’s very excited to learn since F!Draxum always wanted to show Jr but never had the resources to do so. Draxum bandages Casey Jr’s wounds, Casey Jr could do it himself but Draxum insist on doing it. This was one of the first things Draxum did to show he cared about Casey Jr.

Does Casey Jr ever get genuinely mad at someone? Yes, but that’s a spoiler for a post I’ve got planned, I’ll leave this as a hint.

Casey Jr feels content with the situation. He realize Draxum is his best shot. Not only is Draxum a powerful warrior scientist, but after telling Draxum his future Draxum’s been searching for the turtles. They have the same short term goal. This is also his grandfather, sure he’s different from the man he’ll become but he’s also very similar. Casey Jr’s also very driven on his mission, so even if he was upset with Draxum, he’d still stick it out with him until someone who was better help came along. Plus Huginn and Muninn are very fun to have as co-workers. All this being said, there’s a storm building up under it all, Draxum’s shown clear signs that he won’t help stop the apocalypse because of his denial that I’ll happen, and Casey Jr’s getting more antsy every day that passed by without progress on the mission.

Casey Jr tries, but Draxum avoids the whole “Kraang apocalypse future” topic like the plague. Using every excuse in the book to avoid confronting the reality that Casey Jr came from. Casey Jr does tell him about some weapons without Draxum immediately changing the topic. Junior’s found out that the trick is to avoid mentioning any features specifically built for fighting the Kraang.

[wondersandwhispers]

Echoes of My Heart

"Life is a roller-coaster ride", often heard, often felt, but never with the intensity of these past two years! It's strange how we humans start appreciating life and the little things around us mostly when we hit rock bottom. Until then, we grind away, taking life for granted.

In these moments, life teaches you that how sometimes you feel everything all at once and sometimes you feel nothing at all. Some days you possess the strength of a thousand suns while on others you barely want to lift yourself out of bed. This emotional turbulence brings a profound realisation, the battle isn't just personal, it ripples out, touching everyone around you. It's in these times of trial that you come to value the real people in your life—friends, family, even those you might not have considered close before and ohh some most awaited reconnections. Their support, their presence, makes the journey a little more bearable. Their strength becomes yours, helping you navigate the stormy seas of uncertainty.

Quite uncanny how strangers too play their part. The kind words from a coworker, their understanding of your circumstances, the understanding smile from someone in passing, they add value to your days, reminding you that you're not alone in this struggle. These seemingly small gestures become monumental in their impact, each one a reminder that the world is filled with unexpected allies, each contributing a small piece to your puzzle of resilience. The connections we form, often fleeting and spontaneous, become lifelines, anchoring us when we feel adrift.

Acceptance of reality becomes crucial. The more you resist, the harder it becomes to move forward. Accepting doesn't mean giving up, it means acknowledging the truth of your situation and finding ways to navigate through it. This acceptance brings a certain peace, a stillness amid the chaos, allowing you to focus on what truly matters. Alongside acceptance, hope remains a steadfast companion. It’s the flicker of light in the darkest times, the whisper of possibility that keeps you going. Hope fuels your perseverance, reminding you that even in the face of adversity, there is a path forward. Trust me when I say that acceptance and hope is what helps you figure out your normal, when nothing seems normal around !

This journey teaches you to live in the present, to find joy in the simplest moments and to hold on to the people who lift you up. It's a journey of highs and lows, strength and vulnerability, but most importantly, it's a journey of profound human connection. Through it all you learn to cherish life, not just the grand milestones, but the quiet, everyday miracles that make it worth living. You come to understand that life is not just about enduring the storm but also about finding beauty in the raindrops and strength in the struggle.

Grieving and letting out your emotions is an essential part of this journey. It’s important to allow yourself to feel the pain, the sadness, and the frustration. Today I am writing to process these emotions, to give them a voice and a space to exist. On other days the outlet may vary but that outlet is damn vital ! It helps to release the weight you carry, to acknowledge your feelings, and to begin healing.

Reflecting on the past(before these two years), there were days when it felt like nothing was working out and every effort seemed to lead to disappointment. I missed out on certain opportunities and faced setbacks that made it hard to see any progress. Now, I understand that those struggles were actually preparing me for what I’m facing today. Each challenge, every disappointment built up a resilience and strength that I rely on now. Those tough times weren’t for nothing, they were shaping me for the journey I’m on now.What seemed like failures at the time now make sense. They allowed me to be where I needed to be and gave me the ability to handle the current situation. The way things have turned out, with new opportunities and support that fits perfectly into my life, feels like a confirmation that even the hardest moments have a purpose.

The past two years have reshaped my perspective, revealing the extraordinary in the ordinary and the depth of human compassion and how somehow it all just fits. It's a roller-coaster ride, indeed, but one that teaches invaluable lessons about love, acceptance, hope, and the preciousness of each moment. Embracing both the highs and lows and finding ways to express and cope with the emotions that come with them, is what makes this journey uniquely human and profoundly meaningful.

Here, I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone who has supported us in any way. Your words, your efforts, and your love, from the simplest gestures to the most intense acts of kindness mean the world to us. We are truly grateful and deeply touched. You know who you are :)

[lokiprompts]

Your Savior - Chapter 6

Summary: The team talk about the upcoming mission to take down your captors....will Loki let you go? Or will his protectiveness get the best of him?

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: Some violence, brief descriptions of torture + SA.

A/N: There will be one more chapter after this. It was a good way to end this as a chapter, so I am running with it!

“I am going with you!”

You practically tripped out of the bed, sheets wrapped around your still naked body as you stumbled over to Natasha and Loki.

“Absolutely not!” Loki sternly said, his expression screaming ‘are you mad?’ and frankly, you were. You were still drunk on the power that you recently discovered and the chance to end this. The possibility to end a life of living in fear was too tempting to resist.

“Loki, I need to go,” You said just as firmly back, your knuckles turning white from how hard you clutched the silk, emerald sheets in front of your breasts. “I am more than capable of going. I am strong and fast. I can do this!”

The last few words came out more as a plea and it made you turn your head away in shame. But it had no effect on Loki whatsoever.

“No! This is absolute madness. You just discovered these abilities….” He lifted his bare wrist, where a Midgardian watch appeared with a flourish of seidr for dramatic effect. “A mere six hours ago and you plan to storm into an enemy base with no formal training and expect to come out unscathed? No. Absolutely not. No, no, and no.” His hands began flailing wildly with each word that flew from his mouth. Each syllable driving his frustration. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

“The plan does involve her.” Hearing Natasha’s voice made both yours and Loki’s head whip to her. He was so passionately scolding you that both of you forgot that she was even there.

“I beg your pardon?” Now, he was looking at Natasha like she was crazy.

“It’s best if we go to the conference room and talk this over. Everyone is waiting. Put your clothes on.” Natasha nodded to you, and you didn’t need to be told twice, bolting back to the bedroom, and quickly putting on your pants. Loki was hot on your heels, following you and trying to grab the clothes out of your hands that you were trying to put on until you were engaged in a ridiculous game of tug of war over a sweater.

“I am going, Loki! Now, let go!” With your newfound strength and Loki’s godly abilities, the tugging game quickly became fierce.

“I said, no! You aren’t ready!” The fabric began to rip, and tears started to prick in the corner of your eyes with each passing moment. The familiar feeling of being helpless and out of control drowning you and making your lungs burn.

“You can’t control me, Loki! I’m not your prisoner!” You cried out, hot tears now coming down your cheeks. With one final tug the sweater ripped in half, and you fell backwards, straight into the wall behind you, making your skull bounce against the dry wall where a large dent was left in its wake.

Loki was by your side in an instant, “Little Dove!” He yelled, his voice cracking with concern, “Are you okay?”

He reached for you, and you immediately brushed him off with your free hand, your other hand gripping the back of your head that still stung from the impact. Thankfully, you did not feel too terrible. It seems your newfound strength went straight to your bones.

“Don’t touch me, Loki!” You hissed, “And don’t call me that! I am not your ‘Little Dove’, like I am some pet that you can control.”

“But, Dove…” You stared daggers at him, and he was quick to correct himself, “Y/N, I am sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Snatching the remnants of the ripped sweater off the ground, you thrusted it towards Loki. Fire and determination burned in your eyes and power rippled through your veins. You would not allow yourself to be controlled by anyone, ever again. Not even Loki. You knew he loved you, but this wasn’t the way.

“Fix the sweater, Loki.”

“But…Y/N… Please,” He pleaded, but you held your ground.

Slowly, and carefully, you repeated yourself with the soft fabric clutched so tightly, your hands began to shake, “Fix. The. Sweater.”

Silence lingered between you two for what felt like an eternity. How did such a sweet evening filled with romantic confessions and love making turn into this? Loki let out a long exhale, before waving his hand. The fibers of the sweater weaved themselves back together, making the garment good as new. Without another word, you pulled the sweater over your body and made your way to the door where Natasha was still waiting. You appreciated the fact that she did not intervene, that she trusted you to handle this on your own. That she had faith in your strength. You wished Loki had the same faith.

You and the Black Widow made your way down to the conference room in tandem. Each step solidified your resolve to put an end to the tyranny of your former captors.

Behind you, you could hear the heavy footsteps of none other than Loki’s Asgardian boots. He, too, walked with purpose, but much farther and slower behind the two short women in front of him. You assumed it was to give you space, but you couldn’t look at him. There was an unsettling feeling in your gut that told you he was going to let this go without a fight.

There was a heaviness in the conference room so thick you could choke. You followed into the room, right after Natasha, and you saw most of the familiar Avenger’s – Tony, Steve, Bruce, Wanda, Bucky, and a very tired looking Peter. It looked like Thor was still off world. You took a seat next to the youngest hero, grasping his hand that was on the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. There was so much gratitude shinning in your eyes, thankfulness for him keeping you safe and more so for his patience. Peter squeezed your hand back, giving you a small smile.

The screech of the legs of a chair against the hard floor diverted your attention to the corner of the room, where Loki sat by himself. His eyes locked with yours and he looked as stoic as ever, but you have come to know him better than you know yourself. He was cracking. Quickly, you looked away from him and to Tony and Steve who stood at the front of the room.

“This is an all-hands-on deck situation,” Tony started, slowly, deliberately, “These people have shown themselves to be better than the ‘wish version of Hydra’. They have committed atrocities…I can’t even…”

For once the billionaire playboy was at a loss for words and it was enough to silence the room again. This was serious and the whole team knew it.

“Did we ever find out what this group was called?” Bruce suddenly asked, breaking the silence. Even you didn’t know, despite your time in their cells.

Steve stepped up, sliding folders to everyone across the smooth surface of the table, “They call themselves the Tartarus. They specialize in biomedical warfare and medical experimentation, much like Hydra. Their goal was to duplicate the super soldier serum or create something like it. Any sort of mutation or special abilities and they don’t care how they get it, including experimenting on innocent civilians.”

The team started to look through their briefings as the captain spoke. You carefully lifted the corner of your folder, but as soon as you saw the images of the tortured left behind corpses, you closed it.

“They have a routine of setting up a base which might as well be considered a torture chamber since experimentations are their main goal. Mostly in rural areas. They capture people from surrounding towns after stalking them for a few weeks to be sure that no one will come looking.”

You shifted uneasily in your seat and some of the team members eyes shifted to you. They tried to not look obvious about it, as if you weren’t one of those people this organization tortured, starved, and experimented on. But you felt it; their burning stares of pity. It made you sick.  

“If there is any threat of being discovered, they kill any remaining prisoners on base before destroying it, leaving little to no evidence of their whereabouts.”

Bruce let out a shuddered breath, “It seems they live up to their name.”

“What do you mean?” Natasha asked.

“The Tartarus is from Greek Mythology. It is essentially the underworld; some even say below the underworld. It is where the Gods keep their enemies to be judged and tortured for all eternity.”

“So, these people think they are Gods?” Bucky asked, disgust thick in his voice.

“It wouldn’t be the first time we encountered that, Buck.” Steve said sadly, before quickly righting himself and putting his game face on, “Let’s get into the details of the mission.”

The mission was discussed at length. They had received intel of a base that was in the peaks of the Adirondack Mountains,” This information led to collective gasps among the team. The location was less than a five-hour drive from the Tower.

“How have they been flying under the radar? They are so close.” Natasha asked.

“They find existing buildings, usually old residences and factories and create underground facilities. It is all a cover and since most of their work is done underground, it is easier to avoid detection.”

You quickly stole a glance at Loki. His eyes were still locked on you, and it made you shiver in your seat. He was unusually quiet, and you wondered what he was thinking.

“That leads us to you,” Tony said, turning his attention to you, which made the rest of the team look to you as well, “We know they want you. They made that very clear when they tried to grab you. It is likely they know that there may have been changes to you, something that could aid in their creation of a super soldier serum.”

Briefly, the billionaire’s eyes flitted over to Loki before returning to you, “We can use that to our advantage. Essentially lead us to the heart of their base and ensure they don’t blow the place up to smithereens-”

“You intend to use her as bait?” Loki interrupted. The team snapped their attention to the God whose jaw was clenching, his stare burning with rage. There was no answer from Tony and Loki stood up from his place in the corner of the conference room.

“You tell me, that your grand plan is to use Y/N…as…as” He stuttered, looking around the room with wild unbelieving eyes, “AS BAIT?!”

Tony cleared his throat, trying to swallow down his discomfort, “Actually, the complete plan is for Y/N to be captured. She has something they want, and it will draw out their leader, who we need-”.

“WHAT?!” Loki yelled out, both of his hands running through the sides of his hair in shock and disbelief at the situation. Tony slumped down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t going well.

“Loki, she will be perfectly safe,” Steve said in a pathetic attempt to try and soothe the angry god.

“Safe?! SAFE?! How can you ensure her safety when you are essentially sending her into the wolf’s den, the very place that TORTURED her and not only are they clearly looking for her,” Loki huffed out an incredulous laugh, “They are CLEARLY a more advanced organization than you think. Not only were they able to infiltrate your prized security system, but they almost killed Y/N and the Spiderling.”

Loki picked up his copy of the briefing off the table and chucked it unceremoniously into the air, papers and images of dead bodies flying around the conference room like confetti, “They were in your own home, and you did NOTHING. You have been shamed and you would do anything to save face including putting Y/N at risk. Captain, Man of Iron, you are both cowards!”

The God who loved you was seething. His large shoulders raising up and down as he struggled to control his breathing, to not to destroy this conference room and steal you away to safety. The blue hues of his eyes flashed red, and shades of blue crept up his neck as the feral beast inside was itching to break loose and protect its mate, no matter the cost.

“I am going.”

Your voice was small, but it carried.  The room silenced and everyone’s attentions returned to you.

“No, you’re not.” Loki said sternly, without malice – it was just a fact. The ridges from his Jotun heritage still creeping across his face as he tried to subdue his anger for you.

“If I can help stop these people from hurting others like me, I want to do it.” You swallowed thickly, flashes of memories of your time in the cell and the tortures you endured coming to the forefront of your mind, “I can’t continue to live my life in fear anymore. I need to do this.”

Loki studied you for a moment, different emotions quickly flashing over his face. Anger. Disbelief. Concern. Until, finally, he let out a long exhale, both of his palms on the conference room table as if the hunk of wood was the only thing keeping him standing. The blue hues of his skin started to fade away, returning to its normal milky shade.

“Fine…but I am coming with you for as long as I can…and I will follow you the rest of the way. I will be near you at all times to ensure your safety.” His now crystal blue eyes lifted to connect with yours, both of your gazes glassy from the heaviness of the situation.

A throat cleared.

“Ahem, if you recall, Reindeer Games, I did say this is an all-hands-on deck situation and last I checked, you’re a part of this team. So, you’re going.”

Loki gave you a soft smile, before returning to his seat, but as soon as he sat down you got up from yours and promptly joined him on his lap – much like many meetings before.  He wrapped his arms around you, and you snuggled your back against his chest as you both listened to the rest of the meeting. His arms felt like home. They felt safe.

The rest of the meeting went without issue; everyone received their orders and went back to their rooms for a few more hours of sleep before they would leave at first light. You and Loki were the last to leave the conference room, walking out hand in hand wordlessly back to your shared room. The silence was palpable until you heard the soft click of the apartment door closing behind you.

“I need to apologize, Little Dove. How I acted…what I said…” Loki stepped up to you, his eyes on his feet as he tried to choose his words carefully, “It was wrong. I was worried, terrified, of losing you and it turned me into a monster. I am so sorry.”

You cupped his cheeks between the palm of your hands, beckoning for him to look at you. Once he raised his eyes, a small, fragile little boy shining in them, you rewarded him with a smile, “I know monsters, Loki, and you aren’t one of them.”

Loki let out a broken sob and you wrapped him up quickly in his arms, holding him so tight and willing all your love seep into him. His shoulders shook violently as wave after wave of emotion hit him Apologies flew out of his mouth into the crook of your neck over and over again like a prayer.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” You cooed, stroking his back, and trying to ground him. Eventually his sobs turned into whimpers, and he pulled away to look at you.

“I can’t lose you. I just can’t. I know what I did was wrong, but I am – I just-” He stammered through the emotions that constricted his throat. Again, you took his head in his hands and pulled his focus to just you.

“We can do this, Loki. We were brought together for a reason. I just know it and together, we will take these people down.”

There was no way you were going to continue living your life in fear. No longer would you allow their phantom hands to grace your skin. No longer would you step outside of your room, terrified of being captured and stolen away. You were thankful that Loki finally understood your need to face your captors, but he did not know the depth of your determination. Either the Tartarus would be destroyed, or you would die trying. You would rather die than become a prisoner again.  

Loki’s eyes hardened at your words, a new resolve making him clench his jaw, “They will burn for what they did to you.”

Your thumbs stroked the hard lined of his cheekbones, “We are going to do this, Loki. Together.”

Your prince bumped his nose against yours.

“Together.”  

 Unicorns 🦄:

@theawkwardavenger @nonsensicalobsessions @purplekitten30 @lostgreekgod @roguemetalmaster13 @huntress-artemiss @midnights-ramblings @xorpsbane @ravenmailey @vbecker10 @lazulifoster @winterfrostsarmy @ada17h @lokisprettygirl22 @theaudacitytowrite @lokis-little-love @themorningsunshine @strawberry-canyon @howdidurhammergrowchris @michelleleewise @80strashbag @roseeatta @asgardianprincess1050 @jaspearl31 @ozymdias @vickie5446 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @kittiowolf210 @nightshadelm @maeisonline @hikirstenhere @trickster-maiden @jazkidding @fernk21 @lulubelle814 @ilovefanfictions

[quirkwizard]

Hey QuirkWizard. So I have a quirk concept in my head I was hoping you could help me flesh out. The basic idea that I want is weakening others, both physically and by extension their quirks, to the same level as the user. I got the idea from the scene of sun eater being hit by one of the the quirk erasing bullet prototype’s in the overhaul arc, and despite him saying his quirk was deactivated the tips of his fingers where still transformed, so I theorized that because rewind was the basis of the bullet it must have reverted his quirk where the more complicated abilities of the quirk would be harder to do. As quirks grow stronger as the user get older and more experienced using their quirk, they build resistances to their drawbacks as they get stronger. What I want this quirk to do is basically revert people to a much weaker version of themselves and turn any fight into a battle of wills rather than of skill or power. What I’m struggling with is the general limitations, because this seems like a very strong power, so anything such as the activation, range, potential drawbacks on the user, and a cool name would be very helpful. Thank you for your time.

I get what you are going for with this idea, and I do think there is some potential in it. This does work like "Erasure", but at an obviously reduced rate. Still, you are right in that this is an extremely powerful ability and should be handled with a lot of character. First and foremost, you should establish how this ability is delivered since that could help determine how to balance the rest of it. Something based around contact would be a good way to put innate limits on it, but you could have it achieved through some complicated usage, such as having the user fire out a slow moving arrow from their wrist that's difficult to land a hit with, similar to "Chronostasis". After that, you should try to put some defined limit on how long the effect lasts and how much they can do it, either through a time limit or something keeping the user from applying it too much. For example, the user could touch someone, and it would weaken their Quirk for three minutes or so. Another way could be a longer time that gets shorter with each usage, as if their own Quirk is being weakened by applying it too much. Having a hard cap on how many people they can target would be a good possibility, like only being able to apply it to five people at a time. And when you do, you should put in a clause that says they can't apply it to the same person until the effect has passed.

[whentherewerebicycles]

okay IUI cycle goals under the cut

I’ll have two weeks to kill before I test. here’s what I’d like to do or not do in that time:

no forum checking. I spent way too much time reading random internet threads and driving myself crazy last time. it didn’t give me any new or useful info and it just made the time pass slower. every time I feel the itch to google something or look at a forum, I want to instead replace that behavior with adding one sentence to my fic draft OR to my prep document for the campus visit.

I also want to try to avoid nonstop calendar checking or counting days. to some extent that will be inevitable (I can’t suppress my knowledge of where I am in the cycle lol) but I can definitely do a better job of not checking each day off a countdown list or counting how many days are left. my goal is to do the IUI today and then do my best to forget about it until it’s time to test on 4/4 or 4/5.

on a similar note: no early testing. I was still getting false positives from the trigger shot on day 11/12 and it was way more of a bummer to see a positive on the strip and watch it fade than it would’ve been to just get a negative on day 14. so I want to wait it out, which will be tough at times but is something I know I can do. again, when I feel the itch to test, I’ll open my draft or my interview prep doc and add a line. channel that antsy waiting energy into something productive!

the research and advice on exercise during the two week window is mixed—generally it seems like vigorous exercise is discouraged but easy to moderate exercise is strongly encouraged. I’d prefer not to stop running entirely but I may take a few days off after the procedure, then switch back to easy intervals at a slow pace every other day or every two days. I think my main exercise goal for this period will just be to continue walking 60-90 minutes a day. that might mean losing some of the progress I’ve made this month but that’s okay—it’ll be good to remind myself that you can build back up even after a break.

I would like to leave 14 comments on 14 fics! I have been slacking for months in that area and I feel guilty and a little disconnected from fandom activity as a result. I’m going to write a big reminder on my dry erase board so it’s right there in front of me at work every day.

I think that’s it! I don’t think I’m going to set any specific goals around writing this time around because I’m not confident in my ability to achieve them right now… and while I do want to challenge myself I want to first set myself up for success with these two-week goals and build a habit of accomplishing them before I set goals I know I’ll be more resistant to working towards.

[arachnixe]

Execution

(Part 9 of Night’s Longing - Previous: Past Hungers, Past Mistakes)

Carmen seems more withdrawn than before after sharing that story, as though even she was caught by surprise that those memories still have some power over her. A little fun in bed helps distract her for a moment, but I get the feeling she also uses it to distract me from the topic.

I try to get her to open up to me, permit herself to show even an ounce of vulnerability, but she smoothly redirects my efforts with flirtations until we’re fucking again because I simply cannot ever resist her.

At the very least I can offer her my company and my support, even when it’s 4 in the afternoon and I notice that Carmen’s snuck out of bed to brood in silence. I make her coffee just the way she likes, bringing it to her and sitting in the same room as her.

I wonder, and not for the first time, how much heartbreak someone her age has experienced. I guess it never gets any easier.

The story she told sticks with me for more reasons. She described a collection of vampiric abilities I have heard of but never before witnessed in the possession of any single vampire. I have heard tales, of course, of the “archvampires” slain by my ancestors, the greatest of which commanded a similarly fantastic array of powers. Until recently, I believed them to be exaggerations for the sake of inflating the reputations of those old, revered hunters. Yet Carmen’s abilities are perfectly in line with even the tallest tales.

It terrifies me the first time I watch Carmen pass by her curtains—frankly inadequate ones, letting slip a thin slice of sunlight through the gap during the pre-sundown hours—and I watch, stunned, as the light momentarily passes over her with hardly a sizzle.

“Not sunscreen,” she tells me, laughing, when I confront her with my first, admittedly silly, guess. “It is not the same ultraviolet radiation which gives humans a sunburn that also purges our kind from the world. It is specifically daylight. We are ontologically of night itself at the most fundamental level. A vampire is dispelled by the sun in precisely the same way that night is.”

I can only reply with stammering, half-formed words stumbling over each other, but she takes pity on my confusion and offers me a little more explanation.

“Resistance is not altogether impossible, though I remain a creature of night. You could say I have kissed the moon and may hide in its shadow.” She gestures as if groping for words that don’t come easily to her, at least in English. “In an occult sense, I mean to say.”

It’s clear that I’m not satisfied by such a metaphorical answer, and Carmen sighs. “It works something like your Boltman blessings. Here. One visible element of the work of many years.” She lifts her shirt to direct my attention to a particular cluster of lines tattooed below her ribs. “Before I ever became a vampire, I was something of a mystic. I have always loathed my own weakness, thus I work to diminish what flaws I cannot eliminate.”

Something about Carmen’s body language reads as vulnerable as she confesses this one small detail of her early life, and she seems relieved that I choose to pull her into a hug rather than pry further.

“Sorry.” My words are muffled with my face pressed into her. My heart isn’t done pounding with that initial panic of seeing the sunlight touch her. “I just need a second.”

Her gentle touch on my back is reassuring. “You do not need to worry about me.”

“I do a lot of things I don’t need to. Don’t try to talk me out of this one.”

“As you wish, darling.” She wraps her arms around me too. “I only mean to say that I have offered to help you overcome the circumstances of your birth, which would be an empty promise indeed from someone unable to exert similar influence even on herself. I ask you not to doubt my strength.”

I groan. “Fuck, I hate it when you talk like my dad. Worrying about you isn’t a slight, Carmen! It doesn’t mean I think you’re less cool and smart and powerful! It doesn’t mean I doubt your ability to help and protect me! It means I care about you!”

I feel a tremor in Carmen’s body, at first seeming much like sobbing, but after a moment I realize it’s laughter.

“Even now,” she says quietly, to herself, and I can’t guess what she means, but I only hold her tighter.

We stay like this together for a while longer.

---

The notification sound sends my heart bouncing around my ribcage. I check my phone, and it’s Liz. No greeting, no preamble, just a time and an address.

“Do you need a ride?” Carmen asks without needing any explanation at all.

I nod dumbly, momentarily paralyzed by the unexpected shattering of this peaceful time together before the phantom voice of my father roars in my brain to move.

I move. My gear is propped in the corner, waiting for me, and I make myself ready for battle faster than I ever have in my life.

We scream across the city in her convertible, once again hitting all the green lights—and now I’m wondering which of her tattoos controls the flow of traffic—on our way to where my target is supposed to be. The sunset casts the city in shades of gold which Carmen only requires a pair of shades to endure.

She could probably take on someone like Ylio without breaking a sweat, couldn’t she? Based on what she’s told me of herself and the stories passed down about how far beyond ordinary vampires the archvampires were, it would be no trouble for her even if Ylio brought friends to back them up.

I look to my left at her handsome face and remember how she immediately offered this very ride. How she offered to save me from the doom of my bloodline. Of course she would be willing to help. She might even insist on it.

But asking someone to kill their own is not an easy thing, is it? It’s a terrible burden to place on someone, especially when this is not her fight at all. It’s mine, for the sake of me and my sisters. Bearing the guilt of this assassination should be my burden alone.

I can’t let her come with me.

“Carmen, I don’t want your help with this.”

“As you wish.”

After bracing myself for an argument, I’m caught off guard. “Huh. Just like that?”

“Darling, I understand more than most the importance of vengeance against one’s own killer.” After a moment’s silence, she adds, “I also admit to some curiosity. How does a modern Boltman fight, I wonder? I will enjoy observing from a distance.”

A modern Boltman. In this context, hunting a vampire, I suppose that’s just what I am. It’s a role bolted through my flesh into my bones, and right now, as I wear the uniform of what I am, how can I pretend that I am anything more than Hanna Boltman, Vampire Hunter?

Deep breaths, Hanna. I can endure this the same way I always have. I just need to hold my feelings at arm’s length and let the body do as it was trained to do.

Exiting the car a few blocks early, I leave Carmen to find a place to park and a vantage from which to watch. With wary steps, I approach my destination.

I expect someone as pompous as Ylio to feed at one of the ritzy and exclusive vampire clubs. Sanguine Dreams, for example, feels like their speed; it’s a place that requires reservations in advance, and if you’ve got the connections and ability to pay for the VIP lounge, I hear they bring your food and entertainment to you live, and the presentation is supposed to be something really special. Now that I think about it, I’d bet Carmen could get in. That could make for a nice date night.

This side of town, though? It’s far removed from all Clan Sarthe fronts and infrastructure I’m aware of, and the address turns out to be an old, dilapidated building, four stories tall and from the turn of the last century. I can’t guess what it was once for. Banking? A factory? Moonshine during Prohibition? The windows are boarded up, the roof looks partially collapsed, and even the brick wall looks dark and rotting. The words “no entry” are spray painted on the side of the building.

What, does Ylio go after squatters? How unexpectedly pathetic.

It’s still early. I’m in luck that Carmen’s solar resistance means that we didn’t have to wait till full sundown to head this way. I have just enough time to scout the area, lay my trap, and find a place to hide.

The parking lot is overgrown with weeds, crumbling chunks of concrete filled by a late addition of gravel to smooth it out. Light glints off shards of glass and other assorted garbage among the detritus. Not an ideal place for a fight, all things considered. Keeping my footing here could be a challenge, but I might be able to hide something small in the cracks, cover it with gravel.

And there, adjacent to the parking lot, is another old building. Not quite so large, not quite so condemned, it should make a good place to hide. The alleyway between it and the next building down is just narrow enough for my purposes. I sprint, vault onto a friendly dumpster, leap toward the opposite building to kick off the wall and catch the lip of this building’s roof.

The roof is flat, with enough of a raised ridge around it for me to lay flat and conceal myself from anyone below me. The drop back down is only two stories, which is perfectly doable without a roll—and after seeing all the broken glass down there, I count myself lucky for that.

I prep my crossbow and settle in to wait.

It’s hard to ignore the itch in the back of my mind telling me something is off. My target isn’t just prideful; according to Liz they’re influential. They have allies. This is the sort of place haunted by weak, orphaned vampires, those without connection to their own community.

In a place much like this, back when I was a teenager, my father supervised my first few solo hunts. I remember at the time feeling shocked at how easy those kills were. Back then I didn’t even see vampires as people.

“That’s it?” I asked. “One shot to the heart, and it’s over?”

“Frail, weak, easy pickings for even a novice,” he said. “That’s the fate of anyone, hunter or bloodsucker, who lacks the support of others.”

It was one of many lessons he drilled into me repeatedly over the years.

“Without me, you wouldn’t know how to operate that crossbow. You wouldn’t have practiced your aim. You wouldn’t know where to shoot.” He severed my victim’s head to make absolutely sure they were finished. “Without my mother, I would not have known to teach you those lessons. Without the generations of Boltmans who came before us, without our clan’s hard-won discoveries and the lore of our allies, you and I would be as helpless as babes.

“Each of us is born owing a debt to our clan. Some few of us have the ability and work ethic to pay that debt in full before we die. If you manage to pass the trials, inherit my sword, and continue our family legacy, and if you or one of your descendants manages to rid this world of its vampiric scourge, then perhaps I will have done enough to pay mine off.”

I was 14 years old. “That’s a lot of pressure, dad.”

“It is the appropriate amount of pressure, Hanna. Our bloodline, like few others, is a holy one. It is blessed. We have been gifted the profound privilege to devote our lives in service to others.” He clapped me on the shoulder in a gesture that seemed like camaraderie, the sort of gesture that was as close as he ever got to expressing fatherly affection.

“Yes, sir. We are elevated above others for a reason, and it is our burden to bear that responsibility.”

“Exactly. Remember, none of us matter as individuals; all that matters is how we contribute.” Through repetition, he burned these lessons into my heart. “I do not matter, though I can make myself useful by killing monsters and sculpting you into the family’s next great weapon. You do not matter except through your obedience to me and how well you prove your dedication.”

“Yes, sir. I will make you proud.”

“See that you do. As my only heir, the worth of my life depends on the worth of yours.”

In a way, I’m glad I learned selflessness from my father. Family comes first— remembering that lesson dispels whatever unease creeps up my chest. Killing Ylio is not just a matter of revenge for my own sake; doing so eliminates a threat to my sisters. I cannot fail.

Twilight dims. Voices drift upward from the empty lot. Two figures round the corner of the broken-down building to chat in the ruins of the parking lot. One leans against the wall, looking relaxed, while the other scans in every direction, acting as lookout for threats.

I hear a soft crunch of footsteps far too close to me. I turn and see the silhouette of a third against the sky, standing on the opposite side of the roof from me. Did they leap up here just now? They’re keeping watch too, I realize, but whoever this is, they haven’t noticed me yet, their attention focused on the street below.

Shit, this is a complication I hadn’t planned for. The other person’s head turns in my direction, and I have no time to think before I fire my crossbow to stake the unexpected intruder in the heart. They collapse in near silence, the sound masked effectively by the city’s background noise of car traffic and distant sirens.

I check the body to be sure. Fangs. For the first time in years, I’ve killed a vampire again. Not even my target, just a witness, killed out of panic. Shit. Who were they? No identification, no Sarthe markings—or markings of any other clan I recognize—only a winged ouroboros tattoo on their back.

Did you have a family? Is there someone out there who will stay up wondering why you never came home? Or are you all alone in this world like those first poor, nameless victims of mine were?

I knew I might have to kill more than just Ylio. Liz said they have allies. I knew I might have to do this.

There will be time later to mourn the cost. Already I hear more voices approaching, and I think I recognize the imperious sound of my target’s among them. I reload my crossbow and wait for the right moment to spring the trap.

The three new figures approach the two. I hold my breath, straining to catch their words.

Ylio speaks first. “Look all around, the moon shines bright.”

“We and the dead make swift our flight,” replies the one leaning against the building with an air of ease.

The one on guard seems to relax after this exchange, and the two groups approach one another. Such a tight cluster of them, nearly ideal, but something makes me hesitate. That itch at the back of my mind returns. This isn’t what I expected to find. Something else is going on here.

“What news from Sarthe?”

Ylio makes a dismissive gesture. “The pieces move into place. No new risks. What obstacles remain are on track to be dealt with.”

The wail of a siren masks the reply, and by the time I pick out more words, Ylio is speaking again. “…your recovery efforts?”

“Our associates overseas have delivered his left hand to the courier. We anticipate delivery in a matter of weeks.”

“Should we be expecting you?”

“No. Best to avoid showing our faces. You’ll meet the courier directly.”

“I will set expectations accordingly.”

Shit, one of Ylio’s companions has broken away from the group, and the longer I wait, the more risk I take. It’s now or never. I twist my hand into the trigger sign and leap from my perch as artificial daylight blooms into life inside the parking lot.

Lucky break for me, the wary one was standing right at the center of the blast, and as the brief flash of light fades, all that remains of them is ash. With a twang, the one who stepped away from the blast is staked through the heart. I drop the crossbow and draw my sword.

Three badly charred vampires remain, staring me down with bloody murder in their eyes. It’s the dead of night, and their burns are healing right before my eyes, but right now I have a brief window of weakness to capitalize on. God, they’re still fast, though, dodging every swing of my blade as if I were moving in slow motion.

The one to my left lunges for me, fangs bared, and I nearly fail to raise my silvered bracer in time to defend myself. He screams in pain as the metal brands his skin, giving me an opening to strike that I have to abandon in order to dive away from the swipe of Ylio’s clawed hand.

I roll and leap to my feet, drawing a set of knives to fling in one smooth arc toward my attackers. Ylio bats one out of the air with contemptuous ease, but in a stroke of luck, one pierces the throat of the other vampire, dropping her to the ground as she hisses and claws in vain at the ensorcelled metal. She’s down, at least.

Ylio keeps coming for me, and they’re only getting faster and deadlier as their burns heal. The one who chomped my bracer is back in the fight too, and he’s furious. At the very least his blind outrage is making him a poor collaborator for Ylio, and the two interfere with one another enough for me to keep dancing out of their reach.

Still, all I can do with my sword is buy myself a little breathing room, one swing at a time. I utterly fail to land a single strike.

Then my luck takes a turn for the worse. I slip on loose gravel and tumble backward, and in a blink my assailant has pounced on me.

“You wretched little shit, I’ll make you—“

“Idiot.” I shut him up by ripping my talisman off its chain and shoving it in his mouth. You don’t stop to threaten someone in the middle of a fight, as I quickly demonstrate. When I speak the invocation, he bursts into flames. I kick the burning body at my last remaining opponent, making space to leap back to my feet.

“I know that voice. Elizabeth’s dog.”

Shit. “N-no…?” Good work, Hanna. That ought to throw them off the trail.

“You are.” Somehow they see through my cunning lie. “At last I begin to fit the pieces together. She has been hiding a vampire hunter in our midst this whole time.”

Ugh. I have one last trick up my sleeve, and I won’t be able to make it work unless they get in close. Worst case scenario, Ylio flees, knowing that I am a vampire hunter, and spreads the story of what happened here. No evidence of past heroics could save me from the condemnation that would follow. But more important than me is what would become of my sisters if they were believed to knowingly smuggle a hunter into a Sarthe stronghold.

“As if she knew.” I put as much scorn as I can muster into my voice. “You asked how a low-class vampire like her got a bloodbag of her own? I chose her for her gullibility. The status I could bring her was too good a deal to scrutinize very closely.”

I hope they buy it. Better for my sisters to be seen as fools than traitors.

“How I almost pity her.” Ylio shakes their head, accepting my story. Few things are easier than convincing someone that a person they despise is an idiot. “Ah, but instead I will enjoy using this secret to destroy her reputation.”

“You’ll have to kill me first. Without taking me as proof, nobody will believe the bloodbag you killed just got up and started murdering people back.” I grin and brandish my sword with a flourish. “But as you can see, I’m pretty hard to put down for good.”

“Cocky. But I have stalled for time long enough, and as you can see, I am back at full strength. Now, for the last time, I bid you goodbye, dog.”

Ylio moves in a blur almost too fast to track. In an instant, they are upon me, claws at my neck. My sword falls from my hand. The vampire’s deadly strike is slowed down only for the briefest moment by the gorget I wear.

However, I am ready for them, and that brief moment is all I need. I squeeze the trigger secreted in my palm and spray a fine mist of holy water—really a specially prepared emulsion of salt water and oils enhanced with theurgy—and the fine cloud halts the attack, forcing Ylio to recoil immediately.

Skin sizzles. They choke and gasp, inhaling more into their lungs, inspiring a paroxysm of coughing and hacking up blood. I run my sword through their chest, and the fight is over.

Numbly, moving on autopilot, I behead all four bodies, just the way I was taught, though only the one with the knife through her neck is still twitching and clinging to life.

Six vampires total, dead by my hand. None of them carry any identification on them, though all bear the same mark of the winged ouroboros. Except for one, I’ll never even know their names. Maybe in another life, we could have been friends.

Six more faces that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I drop to my knees and give myself permission to grieve.

Though my hands are stained with death, at least my family is safe.

[jonathankatwhatever]

Nothing much on my mind, this 18 Feb 2023. I’m trying to translate abstract ideas like loops and their modalities, which seems to be a version of orbits in groups, and which thus are Pathways running to and from an origin, which means they organize along a pole, which means they attach to a point at depth. Oh, I see: this form of attachment is a pole in the sense that it is an Attachment, and each of those is a 1-0Segment minimum, so the pole can be transformed into a point on a surface. Like a lighthouse.

That feels like an HG to me, that there is a pathway in and out through or over an End, which is that surface point. Take a lighthouse: all that makes it one turns it into a radiating source of light, which carries information. Information in and out over the End of the lighthouse itself. And I haven’t specified whether that’s a fire or a rotating beam. I think I’m trying to say these process are D4-3 because they connect to, they reduce to, they attach efficiently to the Actuality, which we can see more clearly each visit, and which here becomes a way of describing a D3 event, meaning a visible occurrence within actual space, meaning the forms of space commonly in use like Euclidian. I tend to think of these as grid boxes or cubes, which makes them R3, which is why they are Euclidian: the processes allow the location of each point. That seems like an interesting idea, doesn’t it? We have demonstrated how real numbers are Ends that connect, that represent the gs processes which generate those Ends. It can be as simple as by powers of 10 and integer multiples at each level, with all those processes being the usual, because in my head there’s been a pole flip which puts the usual at the transcendent End with the fits appearing ‘away’ from me to rationals. I finally see that. It’s very pretty.

Nottingham Forest just tied Man City. I watch MC and marvel at their ability to almost generate goals without actually generating goals. They remind me of the Red Wings teams who would get 40 or even 60 shots in playoff games without getting the goals. I think the problem is evident in this goal: really bad defense all the way back on an NF counter, even though MC knew NF was bringing their men hard on every break. I think their defense practices against this offense, and that hurts both of them, because it bluntly looks like MC hasn’t practiced sufficiently against a defense that gives possession but not shots, which views its defense as preventing goals by preventing looks with the ball in certain positions, which tempts MC all the more because they can get and keep possession, so they keep trying to break through using the same tactics, which are largely individual plus a move, meaning they don’t chain together plays for sufficient steps. They can do that against a more static zone, but not against this kind of matchup zone where the goal is to prevent the shot, not the pass. I see the influence of K. Navas in goal, because he IMO has always organized the defense in front of him and this is how you handle a top grade possession team like he faced in Spain and France.

————-

I was playing piano, trying to play within a narrow tonal range, sticking around B, because it has such interesting melodies, and I found myself playing a pattern that was developing when I suddenly found myself in another tonal realm and had to unwind and slow down until I could find something in the same vein in B, which turned out to be a play on Chariots of Fire, which I realized just as I was about to hit the completing tone (and went elsewhere). So: why did I bounce to somewhere else in two forms? I didn’t complete the developing theme in two contexts. It was like completion resisted and that spun me, meaning the pole ‘fall’, and the whole umbrella conception, meaning the ribs rise out to protect from rain and come down to protect you from another form of stuff coming at you. And if we imagine a handle with no bias, then these ribs can rise and fall in any angle relative to a fixed setting. How that deflects. Inference.

So I reached an End and there was a little twist rather than complete the End, meaning that I see multiple attachments to the End instead of the one which completes, because I resist completion. That’s the nature of an infinite series, that it resists completion. That’s a resistance within me and a main goal has been to identify areas of resistance and clean them out so they function properly.

———-

I want to try to talk about Identity Spaces. As in, SBE3 is an Identity Space, which attaches in that (1+(SBE3)+1) form in which the 1’s are 1-0Segments. Now we can see all those joining concepts coming together, as ways of counting over Identity Spaces, which of course is the original idea in multi-dimensional identity and SBE.

Here’s an example of how this is fitting together, that fCM and the concept of CM100 now has the meaning we originally discerned because we now generate b10 out of Halving, out of 2 hinged together Things. With that being a quarter turn away from Irreducible, which means if you flip that hinge over a whole lot of existence states in the process of f&b, then you get Irreducibles at each of those states, and thus over the process.

So, the old problem was that fCM is really cool but I could not connect it at the very basic level of b10 generation, as opposed to coincidence. We’ve been hitting that fundamental, and it looks like it’s there now. The words are just forming, but I can see, for example, that the twist embodies the essential nature of the gs process which separates gs from regular, which makes the 1Space and 0Space relationships we’ve described.

I need to put words to these images.

[ikesenwritings]

Wounds

A/N: This was so hard to finish 🥲🥲 but I think I’m pretty proud of this one ! I hope you like it as much as I do <3 (The last bit of dialogue is a quote from a TV show called New Amsterdam according to Google! I saw it online and it just broke my heart 😭) Pairing: Mitsuhide x Reader Category: A little fluff and some angst Warnings: Brief description of injuries to the hands Word Count: 1.5k

Add. Notes: None of Mitsuhide’s route has actually happened but this takes place roughly three months after your arrival (with no looming wormhole and no idea that you’re from the future). Mostly just ramblings and thoughts from our kitsune.

Mitsuhide's POV

Oh, my little one, you wouldn't believe me if I revealed to you the truth of my feelings—that, in this moment, the feather-light touch of your fingers across my bruised and broken skin would be enough to sustain me through this life knowing I could never truly share it with you.

Your hands are quite small and unscathed in comparison to mine, but they are not without their own history of hard work. Callouses kiss the tips of your fingers in a way I wish I could. They leave a lasting impression on your person. I can only assume they were the result of you pricking your fingers with a threaded needle one too many times.

How wonderful and uncommon for someone to pursue their passions so freely in this time. So please, little mouse. Continue allowing your "rough" hands to meet mine. Permit me this one indulgence: your touch. Give me a piece of you that could have been a part of me if I hadn’t grown up in such circumstances.

Would you be so courteous, my love, as to allow me one more revelation? As of late, these meetings of ours have left me questioning my abilities. I wonder: when had this little charade of ours become a routine?

When, after I've fulfilled my duties, I find myself in your chambers?

When, after the sun has stowed itself away, I consider you to be my personal healer?

I learned to be content with loving you from a distance. So when had I become more selfish than I already allowed myself to be when I am in your presence? To have my hidden desire for you dictate my actions rather than my wit and ambition? Have I veered too off-course? Is this what you have done to me? Am I content with such a change?

I never wanted you in my world; one of violence and deception.

But there you were, rooting yourself in my life—asking if I ate my meals, if I slept, why I always poked fun at you, asking for my opinion of castle-goers that "only a kitsune would have."

And there I was, unable to shut you out, incapable of resisting you. My funny, inquisitive, fiery little mouse. If Hideyoshi was the castle charmer, you were the enchantress.

My love, you are addictive. I am seated on your futon but I am evil. You may perceive me as a good man of the Oda forces. I am no such thing, nor am I a kind man. The role of Nobunaga's left-hand—there is no one in Azuchi more suited for this job than I am… though I suppose you are aware of that and chose to ignore it, for I am seated on your futon and I am evil and this is a tender moment I will continue to relive until you refuse me at your doorstep.

I crave this. Your presence, your touch, is my drug. Like a fine herbal remedy. If I were a god, I would command that your presence never escape mine—such a glorious reprieve from my duties.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Your words cut through the silence as easy as ripping parchment.

Oh dear, perhaps my abilities have deteriorated. I certainly wasn't expecting to hear your soft voice. Nights like these usually passed without a word—a surprise at first—I thought you'd have endless questions for me, silly mouse, what with all the regular prying you liked to do in my life.

While I've seemed to lose count of our nightly meetings, I do recall the very first. I recall rising you out of your sleep. Yes, it was quite pleasing to see that sleepy expression of yours. But I knew you could not mistake the smell of blood and sweat mixed together once you came to.

Your tired gaze had shifted from one of confusion to one of shock when your eyes landed on my forearm. Your movements were stilted as you gathered the supplies I held in my hands and started bandaging a large gash that I had sustained from a sword fight with a rebellious daimyo and his militiamen.

I recall having my subordinates spread gossip amongst the maids at the time. I planned for whispers around the castle to let you know all about my role as Nobunaga's left-hand man without much frightening detail. I was sure it would be enough to keep you at arm's length. Clearly, I underestimated you.

You can't keep doing this.

Keep injuring myself? Keep inviting myself into your chambers? These are not easy asks, little one.

But you should not hold concern for someone like me.

To have you patch my shallow wounds would be enough. I believe something as superficial has to be enough.

You can’t keep doing this.

Such simple words yield such complex feelings. Oh, how I wished everything I did was done to please you. And yet, I mustn’t allow myself such fulfillment.

Perhaps I should steer this conversation in another direction before it even starts. I assumed a face one would reserve for a child and spoke in a mock apologetic tone. "I know," I teased. "Azuchi's princess requires a proper amount of rest."

Dearest me… my silly mouse does not seem willing to converse in a light manner this night. I should smooth out the crease in your tightly-knit eyebrows, kiss your frown away. Perhaps I shouldn't.

You surveyed my now bandaged hands that remain cradled in yours. I know what you are thinking, my love. Remembering the degree of my injuries just a moment before—immensely swollen, purple, and covered in blood—you contemplated whether I'd listen to the opinions you'd been forming of me and the manner by which I operate over the past two months.

Everything you say to me holds such meaning. For you, little one, I would carve whatever you wanted to say to me into my being, carry your words with me wherever I ventured.

"Mitsuhide."

A certain urgency in that beautiful voice of yours. Need not. I shall continue to joke for your sake, though maybe it’s really for mine.

I wish to keep these meetings light, just as you are.

“My, what a stern tone. Perhaps Hideyoshi spends too much time following you around when I’m not here.”

Stay there. With Hideyoshi and Masamune and the others. Stay where it is bright, but not too bright for me.

Shall I make one last attempt at quelling your worry?

“I’m okay, little mouse. I see Iesayu has been teaching you. Your touch heals me much faster than before.”

It really does.

Then you say, “People in this castle care about you.”

Your voice comes as a whisper and you sound almost like a child consoling a hurt parent and I feel like pieces of my life could begin chipping away—as if all of the things I’ve endured, the pain and suffering associated, could be erased by your words.

It seems foolish, really.

How did I come to be here? To be in Azuchi? To be alongside Oda Nobunaga himself? To be consumed so wholly as his left hand?

“Whom may that be, pray tell?” I ask.

“Hideyoshi, for starters. And Mitsunari. Nobunaga, Masamune, Ieyasu… me.”

Yes. I now know that I am, indeed, more selfish than I’d been when we first met, for I wouldn’t have strung such a declaration from you. A declaration I was well aware of by now, but my dear, it is much more lovely to have it fall upon my ears.

There are moments where there is truly nothing to be desired, but there are times spent with you, and I come to realize that I desire things for myself much more than I let on.

You. I want you.

These are the words that should flow out of my mouth. A silly but earnest confession.

But instead, I say, “Yes, I suppose the people in this castle serve society well. They have a predisposition to care for others, even me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. Frustration, even?

“No—why are you saying that?! You walk around like you’re waiting for your last day or something. Like you’ve shouldered everyone’s burdens and you’re not sure when you might collapse but you’re willing to carry more and more.” All I hear is your anguish. “You get to be selfish, you know? You deserve a lot more than what people take you for.”

My love…

I gather you in my arms. The burning sensation of my injured hands pressed firmly on your back is an afterthought. I rest my head on your shoulder. My gaze is directed at nothing in particular, but I do catch the peaceful sway of the cherry blossoms outside your window. Such contrast from the tumult of feelings I hold for you. In this moment, I feel as though my heart could not beat any faster. As if all my energy was used to fuel the song my heart sings for you, my words come out in a strained whisper: “You have no idea just how selfish I am... you are my greatest joy and deepest pain."

And a gasp as light as the wind that blows through the cherry blossoms escapes my little one. A lovely sound to mend my wounds.