#lucians new window

[procyonloser]

another mini fic light horror edition with adamsapple hints

Adam knew Lilith's new husband was a freak, he just had to prove it. The little guy showed up out of fuckin' nowhere, and starts making everyone swoon, even though he was all of 5 foot nothing. His job is a mystery, his background is a mystery - he had no social media, nothing nowhere.

Lucian M. Estrella.

He lived in a weirdly huge house on the outskirts of town with Lilith, which was weird on another fucking level, because Adam had grown up in this town his entire life, and he was certain that house had never been here before. He used to come out here, drive out to the quarry, getting drunk, high, and doing whatever the fuck he wanted because there was nothing better to do. He'd been down that road hundreds of times, he didn't remember ever seeing it. Eve told him he was being paranoid, they probably just cut down bushes or repainted, that's why it didn't look familiar.

No fucking way.

Adam pulled up a window on the side of the house and pulled himself inside. It was dark, all dark inside, which was what he'd hoped for. Lilith said she was going on vacation with her new husband, and everyone fawned over the two of them. The whole town had gone fucking mad and stupid, always chatting about how great they were, how amazing Lucian was. No, Adam thought to himself as he lifted his flashlight to look around the kitchen.

There was something here, and he was going to find it.

He walked around cautiously, wood creaking under each of his steps, as though the house was ancient, but there was not a hint of ware on anything and there was still a sharp scent of freshly laid paint. The house barely looked lived in, it looked like a prop, a movie set. Adam could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up as he progressed through the place, noticing there were no pictures on any of the walls. The furniture had no dips in it from where you'd expect folks to have been sitting. There was no dust.

A door creaked behind him, and Adam spun, heart jumping up into his chest, but it didn't seem to be anything, just old joints in the house moaning. Adam let the door fall open more, and realized it was steps into the basement, where it looked like there was a light at the very end of the steps. Adam swallowed hard, having seen one too many horror movies, but he was 6'4 and had muscle and bulk on his side. He'd been in more scraps and fights than he needed to admit to. There's no way Lucian could actually do anything to him.

Adam took the steps, wrinkling his nose as he went further down. Something stunk, like death, soil, and fire - with a hint of something else, sulfur maybe? Adam got to the very bottom of the basement, and his stomach dropped. There were weird markings across the walls, sigils of some sort painted in what looked like blood, across every given surface of the place - and there on the floor, were bodies. Dismembered pieces knit together with pieces of some kind of goat or sheep.

But, Adam knew some of these people, these bodies. He'd seen them before, just today. Before he left to drive out here, he'd past them in town, he knew he had. Adam's hands began to shake looking down upon them, there was no way, they were rotting to the point that they couldn't be the same people he'd seen earlier. Then how were they here? What the fuck was going on

SLAM

Adam spun on his heels and looked upwards, towards the staircase. He heard each step creaks as someone slowly descended down to meet him. Adam balled up his fist, ready to fucking fight his way out of here if it was the last thing he did, he wasn't going to go out like a bitch on his knees.

Lucian stepped down into sight, and appraised Adam coolly. "Adam."

"You're a fucking monster," Adam whispered, before his voice broke into a shout. "What the fuck have you done?!"

Lucian tilted his head, eyebrow raised. "What you wanted."

Adam's eyebrows knit together, and he shook his head. "What the fuck are you talking about-"

"As you left today, Janice Slough and Judy King stepped infront of your car, making you slam on the breaks. You wished they'd disappear." Lucian said slowly, and Adam froze. "You passed Garret Pecking as you turned onto 13th Street, and you remembered he owed you money in highschool he never repaid. You wanted something terrible to happen to him."

Adam's heart slammed in his throat. How did he know all of that? He hadn't even really meant it, he just had been annoyed, it wasn't like that. Wait.

"Where's Lilith?" Adam whispered, horrified by what Lucian was about to say.

"You wanted her to have a good husband, didn't you? You still loved her, you wished her the best. Then, you wished for her to just... Disappear when you realized she'd never love you back." Lucian smiled, and it was sharp. All of his teeth were pointed like a shark. "I'm surprised you haven't caught on by now, Adam. You recognize this house, don't you?"

Adam's lip trembled as he looked around. It wasn't like a horror movie. It was exactly like a horror movie he'd seen as a kid. He always thought the house looked cool, he'd wanted to explore one like the ill fated teens had in the film.

Lucian walked closer and Adam dropped his flashlight, but even as the light went out, the room stayed a reddish glow. He drew closer and closer until Adam was backed up against the wall. Wings spread out from Lucians back as he looked up at Adam, eyes turning a sickly gold bathed in red. Horns curled out of his skull, ripping through the skin like it was just a costume he was wearing.

"Now, Adam, isn't it time you said my true name? You're the one who summoned me here afterall."

Adam had flashes of memories dart through his mind, of drunkenly and jokingly reading off some nonsense he'd seen online, trying to summon a demon to do your bidding. Adam had been down at the quarry, alone, divorced, and just wanting something. Something that wouldn't abandon him, that would love him, that would be loyal to him. And when he went big, he went big. Adam wasn't about to summon some minor demon, no, he'd attempted to summon-

"Lucifer," Adam whispered, and the lights went out.

[redgoldsparks]

September Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Who Was Her Own Work of Art? Frida Kahlo by Terry Blas and Ashanti Fortson A short but sweet glimpse into the period of Frida Kahlo's life when she was beginning to mount solo shows of her paintings in New York and Paris. I loved the bright colors, tender character designs, and the reconstructions of conversations she may have overheard at her gallery openings. In no way a complete biography, but instead a little window into the life of a passionate artist.

Electric Bones volume 1 by Hazel and Bell Lucian is the son of a minor nobleman and the CEO of the galaxy's biggest AI company, but he's not so rich that he can't get in trouble. After being fired as a programmer from Echo Station he joined a startup with a couple friends and is now fishing for funding at an elite tech expo on board an expensive and exclusive space vessel. There he sees someone he thinks he recognizes- Ezra, a grey robot, an fully sentient AI who worked on Echo Station as a researcher and partially cost Lucian his job. So why is Ezra now working on the space vessel as an escort? Unless it's not Ezra, but just a look-alike robot model? These questions drag Lucian into the beginnings of tangled web of intrigue which include kidnapping, AI-hacking, and murder. I've been reading this story online as a webcomic for years; you can still read all of volume one here: https://electricbonescomic.com/index.... But last year I also backed the kickstarter, and just sat down to re-read the whole story in print form, including a sexy little bonus comic. I love these characters, I love the rich colors, the lovely sense of flow and design of the pages. I can't wait for volume two! Re-read in September: Each time I read this volume I see more in... creepy little hints for the futrue!

The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown read by Edward Herrmann I picked this up after watching the film of the same name. It's a very well researched history of the University of Washington men's eight rowing team, a bunch of boys raised during the worst of the Great Depression, working their assess off to represent the US at the 1936 Olympics. The book follows Joe Rantz most closely, in huge part because he was one of the few members of the team still alive and available to interview when the author began the book. However, several of the others kept diaries or wrote letters which the author also had access to. There's a lot of background on the era, both the economic hardships of the Depression and Dust Bowl in the US, and also the way Joseph Goebbels planned the entire Berlin Olympics as a massive propaganda project to fool the West into thinking that Germany wasn't planning war. I thought the book was a little longer than it needed to be, but overall enjoyed it as a good audiobook to keep me company during work hours. As always, the truth of the story is even stranger and more dramatic than the version of this story that made it to film!

A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers read by Emmett Grosland Dex, the traveling tea-monk who befriended a robot in the wilds, now brings their friend Mosscap back down to the human-inhabited parts of the world. Like the first book, this is a gentle story, told more in a series of linked vignettes than an over-arching plot. I enjoyed the exploration of whether essence of self is rooted in the body, and to what extent consciousness and personality transcend the body while still being undeniable linked. However, like the first book in this series, there just isn't quite enough plot to satisfy me. I read this because I've decided I'm a Becky Chambers completest, but I don't personally recommend this series as the best place to start with her work- I point readers instead towards the standalone To Be Taught If Fortunate.

Tove Jansson: Work and Love by Tuula Karjalainen translated by David McDuff A wonderful deep dive into the long, creative life of Tove Jansson, the Finnish-Swedish artist behind the Moomintrolls. Tove was also a painter, a cartoonist, involved in theater, sculpture, and a writer of several prose novels and short story collections. She was born during the period of WW1 and WW2 overshadowed her twenties and early thirties, but she spent those years drawing cutting political cartoons against fascism and violence, as well as developing her gallery career, setting up her first studio, and falling in and out of several impactful love affairs. She seems to have accepted her own queerness or bisexuality without much internal struggle and lived as openly as was possible as the time. She turned down several proposals of marriage but happily in mid-life met an artist who became her life-long partner and sometime inspiration and collaborator. The two of them built a little cabin on a very small and barren island in the Finnish archipelago and spent summers there for nearly thirty years- partly to avoid the fame Tove received because of the global love of the Moomins. This book was translated and I do think at times it wander a bit or retreads some material, but I loved how rich it was in color illustrations. Always a pleasure to read about an artist's path.

No Rules Tonight by Kim Hyun Sook and Ryan Estrada Set in South Korea in the early 1980s, this comic follows up Banned Book Club in which college student Hyun Sook discovered a friend group of students reading books deemed illegal and dangerous by the government. During South Korea's Fifth Republic, a military regime, students could be beaten or jailed for owning banned books. But even under an authoritarian government, college students are still college students: learning, growing, questioning their identities, looking for trouble, romance, and ways to subvert the rules. Set on a camping trip during winter break, this book follows a group of students, including Hyun Sook, with conflicting motivations and interests as they decide who to trust and who they want to become. A timely story about the power of art, literature, theater, and community to resist fascism. Despite the real danger, it's full of humor and deeply human moments. I had the chance to read this book ahead of its release- look for it on shelves in early October!

Tokyo These Days vol 1 by Taiyo Matsumoto Manga editor Shiozawa decides to quit his job after a magazine he founded folds. He plans to find some hobbies and start a new life. But manga won't let go of him so easily. Editor colleagues continue to ask him for help, especially with their more difficult artist clients. He has to pay last visits to artists he worked with in the past, which often turn into emotional conversations. He tries to sell his entire manga collection to a used bookstore, but at the last minute has a change of heart and keeps it. Then he decides he wants to work on one more story. But who to ask to write and draw it? This is an elegant, understated book about how deep the comics industry gets under your skin, and the very wide variety of people who fall for manga and can't let it go, even after it's broken their hearts.

Ash’s Cabin by Jen Wang High schooler Ash feels misunderstood by their family and the world, their need for quiet, their passion for the environment, and their developing identity all overlooked in the loud busyness of life. While the rest of the family plans a summer vacation to Disneyland, Ash plans their own escape: heading up into the hills of the family ranch near Mount Shasta to find the cabin where their late grandfather lived close to the land. This story is so elegantly told and elegantly drawn, with large amounts of white space on the pages balancing the delicate warm-toned watercolor panels. I've been a fan of Jen Wang's comics for over a decade and I'm so impressed how each one is so different from, but equally as rich and wonderful, as the last!

The Deep Dark by Molly Knox Ostertag This was exceptional. Mags, a recent high school graduate, lives a carefully controlled life. She cares for her aging grandmother, she works her restaurant shifts, she doesn't party, she doesn't let anyone get too close, even the girl she's sleeping with, who has a boyfriend. Also, she's feeding a dangerous secret, something fanged and strange that lives in the dark. Then Mags' careful routine is disrupted when a friend from childhood, Nessa, turns to the little town outside Joshua Tree where they both grew up. Nessa is being chased by a darkness of her own, and wants answers about a confusing childhood memory. The storytelling, the page layouts, the mixed use of color and black and white, all combined to build such delicious tension in this queer horror tale. Highly recommend!

The Pale Queen by Ethan M Aldridge A beautifully illustrated original queer fairy tale. Agatha, the daughter of a miner, dreams of a university education but it seems out of reach to a country girl. Then she encounters a pale magical woman from the forest, who tricks Agatha into owing her a favor. This turns into a series of tasks with increasingly dangerous consequences. I loved the watercolors, especially during scenes set at night. The story is aimed at fairly young readers, but still engaging for an adult.

The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean read by Katie Erich Devon is a single mother on the run from an abusive family, living undocumented in England, a borderline alcoholic, searching from town to town for a contact who will lead her to the people who make the medicine her young son needs to be safe. Devon also isn't human; super strong, impervious to cold, she can see in the dark and the species she comes from eat books to survive. She has perfect recall of every text she's ever eaten but none of them help much in her current precarious state. Woven through this tense narrative is a second timeline of Devon's past. Raised as a precious and rare daughter of an old book eater family, she grew up in a manor house on the moors, treated like a princess- one whose marriage and reproductive choices were entirely controlled by the powerful men around her. When Devon rebelled, her first child was taken from her. But her second was born with a complicated and dangerous hunger, and a need to kill in order to survive. This is a dark story, a thriller with fantasy elements, with content warnings for violence, gore, rape, cannibalism, alcohol abuse and physical abuse. I found it a gripping listen on audio, and I enjoyed the narrator's northern English accent, well chosen for the setting of the story. But it's not a light read and at times Devon's depression and despair were hard to sit with. Take care that you are in the right space of mind to enjoy this story before you start it.

Out of Left Field by Jonah Newman This coming of age comic spans Jonah's four years of high school, including crushes, dates, a first sexual experience, and that teen classic, joining a sports team to impress a boy and gain popularity. Jonah is a nerdy, closeted gay freshman with few friends when he joins the team. On the team he gains confidence and a spot in the school cafeteria- but he also fails to stand up to his teammates when they make increasingly sexist and homophobic things about other students. I enjoyed the complexity of Jonah's relationship with a female best friend, and with a boy he wants to date, but isn't comfortable being seen with in public. The book doesn't have a neat ending; the messy way some characters interactions end mirrors of confusion of teen years.

Life Lines by Jason Martin Bay Area Cartoonist Jason Martin collections stories from across his long memoir comics career in this, his second anthology. The stories relate friendships, experience touring with bands, working temp jobs, his life-long love of music, tabling at comic conventions, and the kind of mundane moments which crystalize into perfect gems when held and examined so tenderly. Martin's writing is compassionate and clear, and it holds a kind mirror up to a familiar world.

[space-writes]

find the word tag

tagged by @artdecosupernova-writing, thank you! my words are basic, ground, bed, after, before, during. I’m almost five chapters done with the new Valloroth draft, so these are all from there.

no-pressure tagging @pens-swords-stuff @revenancy @ceph-the-ghost-writer and @ashen-crest with the words sound, might, cost, and scratch.

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

basic simple

“One simple reason, vidaa.” He turned to her, leaned in, and tapped her on the nose. “I’m the boss.”

ground

His thumb brushed his ring once more, and with a twist of slithering shadow he was back in the street, moving even before his feet hit the ground. Darshana’s oasis. One of the less powerful Wives, but not one to take lightly. Quite the coup for her to get her hands on a prize like the witch. He headed north, the shadows of the city welcoming him like old friends. Indira would not greet him so fondly, but that was of little matter. He didn’t need her fondness. He only needed her powers.

bed

Vancis made a sound that wouldn’t have been out of place between the teeth of an ashboar, and tossed the note back to where Devotion had found it, neatly laid out on Prince Lucian’s desk. His whole room was like that; neat. Tidy. A decorative model of a young man’s room, with the finest silks perfectly arranged on his bed, paintings worth a full year of Devotion’s wages hanging on the walls—even the bars on the window were edged with silver and covered in decorative carvings.

after

“Well, Mundy, it appears there’s half a brain in that head after all.”

before

“Lock her up,” he said. “And if either of you breathe a word of anything you think you heard tonight, you’ll be out in Wild Infernus with broken horns before you can blink.”

during endure

[Lucian] poked at the undergrowth with the tip of his sword, looking for anything that might be a ‘track’ of some kind. Heroes didn’t complain about a few aches and pains, or lament leaving behind their libraries. They just got on with it. If he intended to be one of them, he’d have to endure discomfort and fear and frustration of all kinds, and come out the other side standing tall.

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[rahadaddy]

I have private brain rot about Modern!Blood Countess/Real Housewives. Here are some thoughts/images I have to live with that I need to inflict on people:

Ez driving and living in a van. Bonus points for her picking up Theo and the Vallikicule on her way home from dress rehearsals for Rictavio's Carnival of Wonders

Lucian trying to teach Theo to drive his mini van and shoving the responsibility on Listerine when they make fun

Izek Strazni in his cop cruiser and uniform. He looks so stupid, y'all.

Fiona trying to recommend a good divorce lawyer to Lydia. It's a queer-coded af suggestion and very unreciprocated, but Lydia still takes the card and swears she'll consider it

Nikolai Wachter breaking in to the Vallaki hospital or county courthouse to find Elizaveta's medical records, trying to find out what they listed her cause of death. Karl is along for the shits and giggles.

Victor being offered a full ride to Immol University but having to "settle for" Vallaki Community College because his parents don't want him out of their sight after the bullshit that happened with Stella

Tam has hobo vibes. He's not a hobo - he's a homeowner with some land outside of town - but he comes into the city a couple times a month for supplies and people are weird about it. To be fair, Tam's probably also weird about it.

Rictavio has fangirls. No one is happy about it, but especially not Rictavio.

Where do the cars and mass-produced goods come from? Who knows!

The druids are eco-terrorists who are rumored to be part of the Cult of Mother Night. Some of them are more integrated into society, but they're still like... extremist hippies who want you to sign this pamphlet to protect the environment

Krezk is romanticized by sourdough starter tradwife wannabes. Real Krezkites don't know they're being celebrated on TikTok.

Vallaki Pride Events go hard. Vallaki Halloween trunk or treats. Vallaki holiday parties that last for dayyyys. You get what I mean.

God. Just all of modern Vallaki, tbh. I should get back to that fic.

Rahadin with a smartwatch. The only number he has saved in it is Strahd's. He still receives ill-timed calls from the brides, his baby mama, and his boyfriend, who just called to say hi. (Goddammit Cordy.)

Strahd has regular Zoom meetings with her top agents - the brides, Vasili, Rahadin - but someone always has hella lag and Rahadin's choir keeps getting picked up on the mic.

Vasili puts Lysandra up in a gorgeous penthouse apartment with a lot of windows. She wears a lot of designer brands to impress the in-laws, but otherwise lives in lululemon athleisure wear, trying to stay current enough that Vasili doesn't notice that she's slowly (compared to humans. Compared to him? Rapidly) aging.

Marigold facetimes with Cordy, but he's really bad at the camera so she usually ends up staring at the ceiling or the garden while they catch up

Ivan and Escher are rival influencers. Superfans have noticed little things that suggest they may be more than rivals, but Strahd/Escher shippers accuse them of reading too much into things. It's a scandal brewing in a small sphere of Barovia, so Strahd kind of ignores it. What she doesn't ignore is when Escher tries to include too much info about her or her court in his "little videos"

Kehrani is in the army and she kicks ass, but that's not new

Theo's entire bedroom being covered in statues of saints, live-laugh-love signs, and Rictavio fangirl posters.

[jump-wings]

I'm thrilled to share my OC for @mercurygray 's Blind Dates OC Fest 2024! I decided to mix things up and dive into some darker vibe with my new OC. It was a fun challenge to incorporate elements from the Masters of the Air into my writing. It is about 2k word. There is no warning and spoiler from MotA. Hope you dig meeting Ana and Moonshadow! @blind-dates-fest

Near the Thorpe Abbotts Air Base in East Anglia, there is Moonshadow Hall, surrounded by massive dark green trees, where the sun, animals, insects, and even hope rarely visit, and where even the souls of people gather dust from inactivity. If you walk through the wooded area and along the dirt road, you'll come to the moss-covered, slippery, stone staircase of thirty-three steps leading up to Moonshadow. Climbing up the stairs and passing through the heavy wooden doors with the dark hue of walnut, you'll arrive at the vast entrance with its pallid green crying walls. Continuing on, if you follow the pale green corridors that have housed people who have known little of love for generations, you'll find yourself in a wide living room adorned with the same-colored walls as the corridors, filled with ancient, menacing-looking furniture and faded carpets. Despite its large windows, little light

enters this room, and if you look carefully, behind one of the grandiose chairs, leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees, head buried in the space between her arms, you'll see Eliana Holloway. She was one of the middle children of the Holloway Family, who had lived in this ominous place where nobody else ventured for generations. She was mostly known as Ana. She had dark, deep brown eyes devoid of any emotion, inherited by everyone in the Holloway family for generations. She was sad, not caused by anything specific. It was a eternal sadness she thinks she was born with.

Even as new children were born, as they grew up, aged, or even died, Moonshadow, where time seemed to have somehow stopped, was on the verge of joining the great mansions opened for military use since the war began. Yet it still resisted to avoid falling to the army. It could remain as the only big estate in Britain untouched even by the second great war of the century. But somehow, the outside real life had begun to make itself known with windows rattling from the sounds of low-flying bombers. Those passing by were not just RAF planes anymore. Americans had also arrived.

Ana lifted her head. She looked at the windows rattled by the passing plane. Perhaps it was her uncle Robert Lucian Halloway’s plane passing by.

There was a legend in the village. It was said that there was only one Halloway. All born Halloways were a kind of reincarnation of him. Although each baby was born with its unique soul, the darkness of Moonshadow would kill their souls, and then, despite appearing in different forms, different genders, they would always remain the same person.

The first and only person to prove that this wasn't always the case for the village was Robert. He had left for college on a sunny day when the sun shone on Moonshadow, and never returned. Unlike the fate of all other Halloways who left for college or any other reason, the cursed atmosphere of the house couldn't draw him back. He managed to escape from Moonshadow. For the first few years after college, nobody from the family or the village knew where he was living, until a short letter containing information about him being an officer in the RAF was added to the breakfast table discussion like a new condiment.

Since then, he had visited Moonshadow for up to ten days a year.

Until now. Robert’s unit had been assigned to Thorpe Abbotts. It wasn't clear whether he would stay at the base or at home, but it was certain that they would see more of him this year. He was expected to arrive within the week.

The inhabitants of Moonshadow were creatures of the night, open to light. They were whispers confined within their own heads, walking the corridors of Moonshadow, mostly within the limits of its woods, forced to take refuge in the darkness of Moonshadow.

Apart from the postal carriers who brought letters, very rarely did anyone else visit Moonshadow. The news that Robert would bring with him two close friends from the RAF and three newly acquainted American pilots for dinner sent a shroud over the house's nocturnal creatures like a mist. It intensified the usual restlessness of the house.

"How could he do something so thoughtless? Without asking us? We are not ready in any way," Felicity, Ana's mother, was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She paced around the living room, turning around, thinking aloud. The little children imitated their mothers, whispering things like "Yes, exactly," and nodding their heads.

Ana knew from the moment she heard the news that such an event would erupt in the house, and her mother would be dragged into a slow and resolute fit of anger. "Yes, Robert, how could you do something so thoughtless?" she thought to herself. She quickly glanced at the door of the room without her mother noticing. She had to slip away before becoming the target of her mother's anger. Her mother's voice was rising, her gestures becoming more aggressive as she spoke. Time was running out. All her nerves were on edge. Her mother started walking back towards the windows, grumbling. Now was the time. Ana sprang into action. With the speed of a hawk developed over the years, she slid out of the door with perfection. She couldn't go to her room; she would be found there. Without slowing down, she flew to the music room.

The music room was one of the most forgotten rooms in Moonshadow, seldom visited by anyone. In the middle of the room stood a piano from the beginning of the century, but as far as Ana knew, nobody in the house currently knew how to play it. Ana pressed her foot onto the cracked leather seat of the piano, trying not to touch the keys of the untuned piano as she climbed on top of it. She couldn't afford to make a sound and risk being caught. She stretched out on the cold, dusty wood. She began to hum the limited songs she had heard throughout her twenty years of life. The ghosts of the silent, forgotten melodies of the grand music box filled the room.

Leaving her mother in such a situation and fleeing no longer seemed difficult to Ana. In fact, there was a toxic sense of satisfaction deep inside her. Since childhood, she had tasted her mother's dissatisfaction in every way possible. Once her mother got angry, which happened quite often, her anger grew and turned into a bundle of complaints, threats, and a hatred towards everyone and everything, and if someone dared to respond to her or tried to calm her down, it would turn into an endless fight.

It was indifference. It was a trait Ana had secretly developed without noticing. She had been horrified when she first realized that she didn't care about her mother's feelings. She had felt like the worst person in the world. But now, she was indifferent even to that feeling of horror.

Ana's mother and three servants spent a week trying to restore Moonshadow to its former glory. Everything was cleaned and rearranged under Ana's mother's supervision. The rooms have been rearranged to accommodate strangers, with Moonshadow's most unworn-looking furnitures.

The creatures of the night emerged from their shadows, descended the stairs, and awaited the arrival of the strangers, donning their best attire. The whole family was as tense and stern as Ana's grandfather, Victor Halloway, in the photograph taken while he was waiting in the trenches during the Great War. The enemies were approaching.

The heavy walnut doors opened with the reluctance of the creatures of the night, and the strangers entered the house. Their black, polished, Oxford-style low-heeled lace-up shoes echoed on the ancient wooden floors, waking them with a groan.

The strangers were ushered into the room prepared for the reception before dinner. Robert politely introduced the strangers to the family members. As small talk ensued, appetizers were eaten, and drinks were consumed, the pilots began to take on personalities.

Ross and Tristan were young RAF pilots. They had met Robert on the first day of their training, and they had been friends ever since. They were both from Norflok.

Americans Buck and Bucky, didn't resemble each other in appearance or personality as much as their names suggested. Buck was blond, while Bucky was a brunette. Buck didn't drink, but Bucky did. Buck was quiet and serious, whereas Bucky was playful and talkative. Biddick had a sincere smile. His eyes were a blue mixture of determination and the kindness of an angel.

Ana watched her father converse with two of the guests near fireplace. It turned out that Thomas Halloway wasn't as incapable of putting two words together as she had thought. Ana sat silently on the couch with her cousins George and Beatrice, who were a few years older than her. While the adults of the house - her mother, aunt, grandfather, and another uncle - managed to engage in conversation somehow, they seemed invisible.

Ana felt like the most pitiful kind of creature of the night. She was like a transparent creature living in a loneliness unknown to anyone else, dwelling in the depths where nobody knew. She discovered that she didn't know how to adapt to talking to people, didn't even know how to start a conversation with someone, and didn't even have the strength to talk to the guests in her own home.

As she brought the glass to her lips, a new kind of hatred spread within her. This hatred fed on the cruel distinction between family members who could and couldn't converse. Until that moment, Ana hadn't realized how much she and her cousins had been raised behind closed doors. Everyone in the family was disconnected from life outside Moonshadow, but it seemed that some family members had created this loneliness for themselves, while others were born into it.

Ana decided to fight. She wouldn't surrender. She stood up. She thought going to her uncle and his friends, Biddick and Bucky, was the right choice. As she approached them, she suddenly felt all her courage leap out of the window. She changed her course and headed for the table where the drinks were. Why did I do this now? Everyone will think I'm weird. As she filled her glass with something, she glanced around the room without anyone noticing. Nobody seemed to have noticed. I can do this. I can go to near them. I want to do this. I can.

Leaving the drink table with the glass she held onto like a lifeline, she headed to where her uncle and his friends were talking. She stood silently beside them, beginning to listen to their conversation. She couldn't lift her eyes from the ground. She couldn't remember ever feeling so tense in her life. Her knuckles had turned white from gripping the glass tightly, and her teeth had started to ache from clenching them together. She couldn't follow the conversation, couldn't understand anything that was being said until her uncle asked for permission and left. Watching her uncle leave, Ana felt like a child abandoned in the middle of the street. Alone in the midst of dangers.

"Really big house," Biddick said cheerfully to Ana. The two pilots had turned to Ana after Robert left, trying to start a conversation with her.

Ana scanned the room as if seeing her own house for the first time. Her aim was to gain some time. She tried to think of something to say in return. Whatever she said had to be normal. It shouldn't be silly, condescending, or boastful; it shouldn't offend him or make him angry. But the more she tried to think of something to say, the emptier her mind became. She felt she had to say something now. With a forced polite smile, she said the first thing that came to her mind. "Yes, it is," she said, immediately lowering her head towards her glass.

I hope he doesn't ask another question, but I hope he does. She felt both a strong desire to engage in conversation with the pilots and a desire to disappear right then and there. Biddick decided he needed to say something to keep the conversation going.

You bet it is, Ana wanted to silence her inner voice.

"Yes, indeed," she almost whispered. She couldn't bring herself to look into the pilots' eyes again. The young man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He thought the girl didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to bother her any further. Had he said something stupid? He decided not to prolong it.

While Ana wondered if he would say something else, she held her breath without even realizing it. The young man didn't say anything else to her; he said something to his friend. In the meantime, her uncle's return provided her with a few seconds of relief. She was filled with a deep sense of self-pity.

She had really wanted to talk to the pilots. But she had missed her chance; it was over now. That's how she felt. She thought she had bothered him. She had made him feel bad about himself. She cursed herself inwardly. The feeling of self-pity turned into anger directed at herself. What a clumsy person she was. She couldn't put two words together. How stupid she was. Muttering "Excuse me," she walked away from them. She left the sweet light emanating from the lamp in the room. She disappeared into the dark corridors of Moonshadow.

[garbria]

Solitary Confinement

Nyx paced the length of the small, windowless room they tossed him in for the one hundred twenty eighth time. It wasn’t any bigger than a storage room back in the Citadel, just big enough for a tiny commode with sink and still have room to lie down. It made him miss his dingy apartment back in Little Galahd. 

Well, that and it drove home the knowledge that he was a prisoner. The few people he’d seen didn’t have uniforms, but they spoke Niflheimr, so it must be the Niffs. Nothing else made sense. 

He really hoped Pelna had gotten away. He hadn’t seen him in the time he’d been here, so he was choosing to take that as a good sign.

He hadn’t seen anyone since they’d thrown him in here however long ago. 

One minute, Pelna was teasing him about date night with Cor, the next a drop ship and two squads of MTs dropped down on their heads. Nothing the two of them couldn’t handle, generally speaking. Except the sun had gone down faster than expected, and two Iron Giants popped up in the middle of the fight. 

Nyx had pushed Pelna out of the way and yelled at him to go. He saw the flash of a warp and then the Iron Giant threw him into a MT that took that moment to explode. His armor took most of the blast, as he discovered when he woke up and found himself in more or less one piece. Which was great news right up until he realized he was tied to a chair.

They asked the usual questions about who he was and what he was doing in their accented Lucian. He answered back in Galahdan insults, which were always more satisfying than Lucian ones. The expected backhand dazed him, and when he could pay attention again, he heard them dictating terms and realized there was a camera in the room. 

He’d yelled insults again, but they ignored him. Just hauled him up and dragged him to this room, throwing him in before slamming the door shut. He’d caught a few sentences of Niflheimr as the door clanged closed, but not enough to make sense of what they’d said. And that was the last he’d heard of anyone.

He really hoped Cor never saw that video they were making. Lucis couldn’t compromise their security for one glaive, not even one currently dating the Marshal. It would only upset Cor to see Nyx in this situation when he couldn’t do anything about it, and Nyx didn’t want that. He’d always understood and respected Cor’s devotion to Regis and Lucis, and that personal concerns were secondary to duty. 

He’d never wanted to hurt Cor. But it seemed like this time he couldn’t help it. Even if Cor didn’t watch the video himself, someone would tell him of it. 

Just, maybe if they didn’t let Cor see it, see him like it, it wouldn’t be as bad.

If only someone would come in, try to interrogate him. He’d even take the usual ‘friendly getting to know you’ beating. Anything other than this damn nothing. The lack of information was driving him up the wall as much as the situation itself.

With no windows, there was no way to reliably measure time. He’d gotten thirsty enough to drink out of the small sink and use the commode a couple times. He’d laid down and tried to catch a few hours of sleep a few times. Once, he’d woken up to a half dozen packs of rations someone had thrown in while he’d been asleep. 

All he could say is that it had probably been more than a couple of days he’d been stuck here, and he didn’t know why they were ignoring him. He’d think they’d forgotten about him if it hadn’t been for the rations. What was their game?

He wished desperately for an actual enemy to fight, instead just the voices in his head. How much longer could this go on?

[veilxstars]

Prompt One:

In his nightmare, Lucian found himself back in the cramped room where his little brother Javier lay in bed, pale and fragile, his small body barely a whisper beneath the tangled blankets. The room was filled with a dim, sickly light, the air thick with the scent of medicine and stale air, punctuated by the faint rustle of his father’s heavy coat and his mother’s hushed, soothing whispers.

His parents stood beside Javier, faces lined with exhaustion and hope, promising him yet again that they would keep fighting—together they would make him well, they swore, voices breaking with the weight of belief. "We'll do anything we can, Javi," his mother said, her fingers trembling as she smoothed his hair. "You'll get better; we won’t stop until you do."

But Lucian saw Javier's expression, caught the faint quiver of his lips, the exhaustion that hung on him like a shadow. He saw his small hand, barely able to lift itself from the bed, reaching out, and all he wanted was to hold it, to wrap himself around him, to take away his suffering.

Yet his feet would not move. He could only watch, heart breaking as his parents’ voices filled the room with promises he knew they couldn't keep. The darkness outside the small window deepened, creeping into the corners of the room, seeping toward Javier's bedside, hungry and patient.

Desperation flared within him, a frantic urge to save him, to take away his pain, even if it meant abandoning his own strength. But his hands were empty. When he finally managed to take a step forward, reaching toward him, Javier’s face turned toward him, his eyes dark and weary, filled with an understanding far beyond his years.

“Lucian…” he whispered, the words too soft, fading into the shadows as his form grew weaker, slipping from his grasp. He stretched out his hand, desperate to close the distance, but Javier was slipping away, swallowed by the encroaching dark, as though even the memory of him were fading. His parents continued to murmur their promises, as if nothing had changed, as if he hadn’t already begun slipping through their fingers.

His heart ached with the emptiness of the words, the broken promises that lay heavy in the air as the dream unraveled around him, leaving him trapped, helpless as he reached for a little boy who was already too far gone.

With a gasp, Lucian jolted awake, heart racing, his hands gripping the bedsheets as if to anchor himself back in reality. The shadows in his room seemed to recede reluctantly, leaving only the lingering sense that something had followed him back from that dreadful dream, waiting patiently in the dim corners of his room. He had sold his soul, hadn't he?

The devil was coming for his due.

Prompt 2:

Lucian walked briskly down the sidewalk of Cardinal Hill, his thoughts swirling like the autumn leaves skittering across the pavement. The air had taken on an electric charge, a tension building that felt almost tangible, as though the world itself were holding its breath. He had been mulling over a new magic trick, something elaborate he hoped would bring a bit of joy to the children in town, when the wind began to shift—suddenly fierce and unrelenting.

The sky darkened, casting ominous shadows across the street, and the trees bent low, their branches swaying violently. As the gusts intensified, they carried with them whispers—murmurs of regret that intertwined with the howling wind, each one striking deep within his heart.

What if this was the time he would have been cured?

His pace faltered as guilt clawed at him, the voices swirling around him like a storm of doubt.

What if you killed him?

The thought landed like a stone in his chest. He shook his head, desperately trying to banish the dark musings. It was too much. Memories of his last moments with Javier flooded his mind—the way he had smiled through the pain, how he had promised him they would find a way together. He had promised.

The wind howled louder, as if mocking his internal turmoil. What if he is in heaven and he hates you? The question echoed, a specter that loomed larger than any illusion he could ever create on stage. Lucian gritted his teeth, his heart racing as tears threatened to spill.

“Stop it,” he murmured, forcing his feet to move forward. But the whispers only grew louder, relentless in their assault. He could almost see Javier’s frail figure in his mind, the way he had looked at him with trust, with love. The weight of his choice hung heavily on him, suffocating and insistent, leaving him breathless.

He stumbled to a halt in front of Mabbitt’s Magician Supply Store, his sanctuary, but even the familiar sight of the shop couldn’t chase away the shadows that clung to him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, steadying himself against the relentless gusts that sought to tear him apart.

“Javier,” he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the wind. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have saved you.” With each word, the tempest around him seemed to still momentarily, the whispers fading into a heavy silence, as though the world were listening.

Then, as the wind howled again, he began to speak a prayer in the old tongue known only to the Castillos—a language crafted to protect themselves as they traveled the country, words flowing from his lips like a balm against the raging storm.

“Ti síella, síon seyte, ávra séin yuven. Dureyka, llétiya, aivran’te.”

In that moment, he poured all his love, all his guilt, and all his hope into the prayer, the air around him shimmering faintly as the ancient words filled the space. He prayed for forgiveness, for peace, and for the strength to carry on in his memory, the wind finally subsiding into a gentle breeze, leaving him surrounded by a tranquil hush. Lucian stood there, heart still pounding, but resolute, feeling the weight of Javier’s presence as if he were beside him, offering comfort in the depths of his grief.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

"I thought you didn’t like cats?" For Peter & Lucian? (Aka time for dog jokes again?)

Lucian must really love Peter a lot in order to put up with his nonsense.

Part of that new vamp Peter au I've got going on.

Warning: post-vampire hunting, blood drinking

On with the fic!

--

Lucian kept glancing over his shoulder and Peter finally had enough of it because Lucian kept telling him it was nothing. "What is it? Are we being followed? What's your all-powerful nose smellin' that my adorable bat nose can't? Picked up somethin' interestin'?"

He sniffed the air. "Cause all I'm smellin' right now is this nasty ass alley with whatever... festering things are in it. And pizza, but I think that's from some place nearby."

"You need to really develop your sense of smell to find specific scents, Peter." Lucian informed him. "I can't keep being the one doing it."

"Eh. Anyway, what's up? Are we being followed? Did someone survive?" Peter asked, looking down the alley.

"No, they were all taken care of, we didn't leave any of the vampires alive. But we have been followed since we left the building." Lucian then pointed at the end, towards a corner. "By her."

Peter raised an eyebrow, then squinted a bit, and finally noticed what Lucian was talking about. Peeking around the corner was a tiny black head of a cat. Then he heard the little thing meow.

They watched as the little black cat came trotting down the wet, smelly alley before stopping a few feet away. She watched them carefully, little ears flicking. Peter took note that she was one of those cats that had the long fangs, the kind that poked out and you could see the tips.

"Aww, she's like a Halloween decoration." Peter smirked as he watched her stretch, arching her back like those scared cat props you see in people's windows and yards.

"Yes, and she's been trailing us this whole time, for some reason." Lucian sighed.

"Really? Come here, cutie." Peter said, getting down to a squat and removing his backpack, pulling out a water bottle full of blood. He shook it up, hoping it would be a bit more liquid-y that way, then poured a bit into the cap. "Think she'll like a taste of pig's blood?

"I don't know, Peter. I'm not sure if cats even like- oh." They watched as the kitty cat approached, sniffed the cap, and lapped at the blood.

"Aww, like a much more adorable vampire. Could put some fake wings on you, you'd be adorable!"

"No." Lucian said instantly and Peter looked up at him, pouting.

"I didn't even say anythin'!"

"You just... you have this tone in your voice, like when you tell me about something you found online and suddenly it's at the front desk in just a day or two. You're impulsively interested in taking her home."

Peter stuck his tongue out at him and decided to give the kitty attention instead. He grinned when she nuzzled at his hand, purring. Poor thing looked so thin, had she been in that building when the vampires took it over? Had they prevented her from hunting mice or whatever?

He watched as she slipped away from him and moved to rub herself all over Lucian's legs, purring even louder. He could see Lucian looking down at her, and looking very much like he was trying not to smile.

Peter smirked. "I thought you didn’t like cats?"

Whatever hint of a smile that was there was suddenly gone. "It's not that I don't like cats, most animals know to fear- oh, you're making a dog joke again, aren't you?"

"HA! You finally caught one of 'em! I've made at least six this evening!" Peter put the cap back on his bottle and stood up. "What do we do with her?"

"She probably has a home."

"I don't think so, if she followed us from the nest, I think her home used to be that building. And we kinda... set a lot of the inside on fire burnin' bodies."

Lucian looked at him, giving him a hard look and Peter leaned down, picking her up. "Just a few days, okay? Until we can get her to a shelter or somethin'?" Peter asked. "Look at her, she's so cute and sweet, and she looks like a little vampire!"

The lycan looked at the cat, who was currently now nuzzling Peter's face and trying to slip into his hoodie, which made him laugh. Lucian sighed. "Just until you can bring her to a shelter."

"Cool! Thank you, babe!" He gave Lucian a kiss before looking at the cat. "Now, what to name you..."

"No, don't name her, then you'll want to keep her."

"She needs a name!"

"Cats do not always need them, it is their way."

"Meh, you're not fun, she's gettin' one despite your nonsense."

--

I dunno if they'll keep her, but Peter wants to name her after a famous vampire lady.

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 8

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

Three distinct knocks at the door had Ardyn immediately wake up. His eyes shot open while bewilderment lurked in his mind. He could see through the window blinds that the sun was slowly coming up over the mountains. Yawning, he puzzled over last night, not having the ability to recall when he suddenly lost consciousness. 

Did I truly sleep without interruption from the scourge...? The thought troubled Ardyn a great deal. He never slept, not like an average human would. Dare say he had been bound in a dreamless peace akin to what he imagined death would be like. 

The three knocks came again, interrupting his thoughts on the matter. 

As he rose his head, Ardyn did a double take between himself and Y/N, who was cuddled to his body. He had nearly forgotten about Y/N’s flares, and how he had soothed them during the night. Face feeling warm, Ardyn tiredly glared and retreated away from them as he got up from bed. He threw on his white overshirt after picking it off the floor, smoothing the material over his abdomen. The burns and all their agonies were long gone, having healed while he slept. 

While he approached the door, Ardyn briefly looked behind him. He observed Y/N scoot over to where he was laying in a vain attempt to consume whatever was left of his warmth. The tender moment had his gaze soften until the three knocks arrived with urgency this round. He opened the door by a crack and peered through.

“Yes?” He sighed, not bothering to hide his irritation. 

“Forgive me excellency,” The imperial soldier said, followed by a bow as Ardyn stepped out. “The airship is ready for take off. The crew fixed it.” 

“What fortunate timing,” Ardyn muttered while he rubbed his eyes and then the back of his neck. “Speaking of which, pray tell what the time is?” 

“Six in the morning, sir. Would you like to continue to rest here at the inn?” 

Ardyn would’ve loved more than anything to do just that, however, after the fiasco from yesterday he wasn’t going to risk lying in wait. The sooner he wasn’t on Lucian soil, the safer he would be. 

“How strong would you say you are?” 

The question took the soldier by surprise. He nearly stammered. “Fairly, sir.” 

“Would it trouble you to carry my guest to the airship?” Ardyn moved to the side, allowing the man to peek in to see Y/N slumbering. 

“I’m not opposed to assisting with your request, but wouldn’t it be wise to wake them and tell the news?” 

“Under less dire circumstances, yes.” Ardyn nodded. He cast his gaze upon Y/N then continued. “My guest needs uninterrupted sleep, for an ailment of theirs. I don’t have the softest of footing and do not wish to disturb them while we venture forth.” 

“Understood,” The soldier gave a bow, and then proceeded with his orders. 

Ardyn watched with careful eyes while the man picked up Y/N into his arms. They were so utterly exhausted, that their body never once gave any indication they were aware of what was going on. The way Y/N was positioned in the arms of the soldier had Ardyn feel a twinge of resentment that he couldn’t explain. Averting his gaze while walking past the soldier with Y/N in tow, Ardyn began to gather up his belongings and put on the rest of his clothes. 

A long time had passed before Y/N began to wake up. Their eyes fluttered open and shut, registering the soft texture of the blankets surrounding their body. They felt tempted to go back to sleep, not wanting to let go of the peace. Not when the scourge wasn’t ensnaring them with pain beyond compare. It was a futile effort though, and Y/N’s mind began to start up on its own accord. Y/N gasped, seeing that the warm room of the inn was replaced with a cold aesthetic. For a moment, Y/N assumed they had been taken by another faction or worse, MedZin, but the imperial flag overhead what they presumed to be an exit had relief wash over them. 

Rumbling from behind the walls of the airship came and went, creating a soft echo that bounced in what they assumed to be private quarters. Their eyes glanced around, noticing the bed frame and the window nearby. Y/N swung their legs off the bed and to the side, planting their feet on the ground and got up. They cautiously ventured to the glass, and their breath hitched in the back of their throat. There was nothing but clouds and sky, and when their gaze dared to look down, they could see nothing but blue. The ocean and all its might is what awaited everyone at the bottom if the gods saw it fit to deal the airship and its crew a terrible fate. 

“Damn, how far up are we?” Y/N asked themself out loud. They could imagine how falling from this height would be both thrilling and dreadful at the same time. 

“Thirty thousand feet, to be precise.” 

Y/N whipped around, seeing Ardyn in the frame of the doorway leading to the airship hall. He chuckled at their astonishment and approached. 

“I don’t know what scares me more,” Y/N sighed. “Being this high up for the first time in my life, or you creeping up on me.” 

“Oh come now,” Ardyn mused. “A part of you must feel reassured to be within my presence! You slept a long time.” 

Y/N yawned and stretched their arms. “How long?” 

“Four days. We are almost upon Niflheim. I’d say we will be there by twilight.” 

“Four days!?” Y/N exclaimed. They stared at Ardyn in disbelief. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

Ardyn shrugged nonchalantly. “I didn’t feel like it.”

“You didn’t feel like it,” Y/N repeated to themself in a sarcastic utterance.

Although Y/N recalled the painful experience at Galdin Quay trying to say goodbye to their friends, there was a different sort of apprehension that came with knowing they were no longer in Lucis. Y/N didn’t consider themself patriotic by any means, but their stomach twisted knowing that this was it. They’d never set foot in their place of birth again. The permeance of the matter had them swallow back sorrows that wanted to take root.

They stared back out the window, hearing Ardyn’s footsteps draw close until he was right by their side. A long silence arrived, and the tension in the dwelling was thick. Y/N heard Ardyn sigh before he spoke. 

“I didn’t disturb you to spare us both the trouble should you catch a flare,” Ardyn quietly yet firmly stated. “My attention was needed elsewhere, and I couldn’t afford to dote upon you, especially not in the presence of those in the imperial army. I have certain images to uphold now that we are no longer in Lucian lands.” 

“I’m not mad at you,” Y/N shook their head. 

Ardyn made a face. “Why would you presume I’d make an assumption that you’d have an outburst?” 

“It’s how you sound. It’s like you’re waiting for me to yell.” Y/N said and turned their head to face him. “I’m upset, but...I don’t know what to think. I feel conflicted. It’s like I lost out on saying bye to something bigger than myself, the place I was born. I don’t expect you to understand.” 

Ardyn smirked at the latter remark and his eyes carded over Y/N. He watched their tired gaze search him, trying to decipher his intentions. He then held up the two cans of Ebony he had been saving since purchase at the gas station and presented one to Y/N. 

“Consider this an apology,” He watched Y/N carefully take the can from him. 

“Consider me momentarily appeased.” Y/N rebutted in jest. They smiled for a moment when Ardyn chuckled at the response. It wasn’t long before Y/N opened up the can, and took a cautious sip. The strong flavor had them grimace, and the bitterness smoothed out after a time. They watched Ardyn go through the motions as well, but he seemed to not mind the pungency of the caffeinated beverage. Y/N had taken him for someone that enjoyed tea versus coffee. The thought came and went as Ardyn spoke.

“Once upon a time, I shared a similar sentiment about Lucis,” Ardyn paused. He frowned briefly then took another drink, licking his lips before continuing. “You know, I was a Lucian myself long ago.”

“You? ” 

“Yep, little old me!” Ardyn chortled. He turned his head to the side, his smile growing wider at the shock that made its way across Y/N’s face. “To make a sorrowful story short, Lucis left me to rot while Niflheim took me in when I was at my lowest peak. Despite what propaganda you’ve probably been fed over the years with the war and all, Niflheim is quite welcoming. I’m sure you’ll acclimate quite fast.” 

Y/N’s intrigue toward Ardyn’s comment fizzled out faster than a dying star, and they fixated on a singular word. 

Acclimate...? Y/N didn’t like the sound of that. They felt their heart drop in their chest. Fingers trembling over the can of Ebony. Ardyn seemed to have caught onto their trepidation, for he was quick to spin the subject back around, the ball of the conversation once more in his court. 

“While you were sleeping, I’ve come to find out a great deal regarding our mutual adversary.” He paused to only finish his drink then pressed on. “If you happen to recall at the inn, I came across a tracking decoy on my automobile. It's been discovered that the device came from a MedZin base called 79. I theorize someone snuck the tracker onto my car shortly after my private aircraft had been destroyed. Whoever performed the feat took advantage of the chaos you and I underwent before we snuck into outpost 98.”

Y/N furrowed their brows, swallowing back their nerves. “I thought once we took down outpost 98, that would be it. What does this mean for us?” 

Ardyn fiddled with his thumbs against his empty can of Ebony, debating with himself. “It means you and I are not out of the woods yet, in more ways than one.” 

The ominous tone of Ardyn’s voice didn’t inspire confidence as far as Y/N was concerned. If they didn’t know better, he purposefully left them on a cliffhanger to prolong the suspense or bide himself time. As Y/N studied Ardyn, it seemed he was reluctant to share anything else. They took in a deep breath, and nervously stepped toward him. 

“Ardyn, what did you mean by acclimate?” 

Y/N’s gaze fell to the can of Ebony in Ardyn’s grasp as they heard the tin of the outer layer lightly crunch. He turned his head, facing Y/N down with a gaze that would make most men tremble. 

“I cannot keep my part of our bargain intact. I need you alive for now.” 

Y/N watched Ardyn’s features soften, as if he was attempting to cushion the verbal blow he had dealt. His play at candor didn’t score any points in Y/N’s heart. They stared at him in disbelief, shaking their head several times and turned around, not able to face him. 

“You promised me a peaceful death,” Y/N whispered angrily. 

“And a peaceful death, you shall have,” Ardyn raised his voice. He placed the empty can of Ebony down on a little shelf nearby then walked back over to Y/N. “Your frustration is valid, but the threat of our situation outweighs whatever personal desires either of us wish for. I had the device destroyed, but it doesn’t guarantee that a faction of MedZin won’t be in the process of following us back to Niflheim. The world cannot know I am Adagium, Y/N. Not now. Not when I am so weak.” 

“I don’t care about your damn problems, or what you are! It has nothing to do with me! You’re just as inconsequential to me as I am to you!” Y/N yelled. Their arms crossed over their chest, and a terrible sensation of pins and needles began to manifest in their limbs. Scourge veins began to snake down their neck and arms, reacting to the rage that instantaneously swept through Y/N like a flash flood. 

“I can’t live like this, everyday condemned to feeling like my body is being ripped apart and pieced back together. It’s so bad Ardyn--when I woke up that night, when you helped me, I could almost hear the cells in my body screaming for it to stop. I want to die…why can’t you just let me go? I did everything you asked!” 

Ardyn made a fist with his left hand. While he listened to the pleading words of Y/N through their sobs, he reflected on his own fate of being an immortal; condemned to being a vessel of darkness until someone could cut him loose. He had no control, and through the scourge, he detected that familiar resentment dwelling inside of Y/N.

“And I know something terrible happened at outpost 98; besides you getting injected with that serum,” Y/N whimpered. “I can feel it in my body. I know I did something terrible--please, tell me what really happened. I can’t remember past the explosion. Please, Ardyn, tell me what I did!” 

Ardyn closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath before he took a few steps into Y/N's personal space. With hesitance, his right arm reached out and he put his palm upon their shoulder at the right, offering a grip. When Ardyn felt the trembling in Y/N’s body cease, he leaned in close and glared. 

“You’re being unreasonable, and you did nothing. You lost consciousness, that’s it.” Ardyn whispered irritably. 

“You’re not lying to me?” 

“Of course not! I’ve been quite forthcoming with you even when I didn’t have to be! Nothing nefarious happened at outpost 98 concerning you. You can let that nurse your conscience!” Ardyn bitterly said then sighed. “I have a plan to get us through this mess. I need you to trust me.”

Y/N suddenly grabbed a hold of Ardyn’s hand, and flung him off. He jumped back and flinched, being met with eyes that rivaled his daemonic orbs when it came to fury. 

“How can I when you make excuses?! I don’t want to hear you out! I don’t want anything, but for you to do what you promised me! Go on,” Y/N rushed up, shoving Ardyn’s chest not once but several times. “Kill me!” 

Ardyn barely budged as he stared Y/N down with an emotionless gaze. He took blow after blow, until Y/N had tired themself out and the shoves became gradually weaker over time. As they panted, finding it hard to breathe because of their nose being plugged by mucus, Ardyn watched the scourge under Y/N’s skin rise and writhe. The imagery reminded him of maggots burrowing underneath the flesh of a bloated body. He broke out of his thoughts when he caught Y/N’s wrists with his hands. A brief struggle occurred until he coaxed Y/N to lower their arms, while still holding firmly onto them.

“Are you finished with your tantrum?” Ardyn nonchalantly asked. He maneuvered his body when Y/N broke free of his grasp--attempting to punch him--then grabbed Y/N from behind, putting them into a hold while they flailed.

“Now you listen to me,” Ardyn hissed between gritted teeth. He felt Y/N’s body still against his, and felt their chest rise and fall with ragged breath. “Exerting yourself will not win you any favor! When you calm down, then I will tell you how I can protect my hide, and grant you the death you oh so aspire to have!”

“You mock my misery!” Y/N hoarsely shouted, feeling their body become limp against his chest. Their muscles felt trapped in a vice, with no room to breathe while the scourge slithered in and out of tissue and bone. “I can’t live like this for another month or however long I have once you sever this damn bond of ours! It’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, and you need to get used to disappointment.” Ardyn rigidly stated as if he was talking to himself then and not Y/N. “You will become accustomed to the pain. If I could endure, then so can you!” 

“Ardyn,” Y/N’s breath quivered. Their defeated eyes bore straight into his golden hues after they found the strength to turn their head to the side. “How long did it take before your body got used to the scourge?” 

“What kind of inquiry is this?” Ardyn raised a brow, not amused in the slightest as he let their arms go upon sensing they had no more fight left. He watched Y/N shudder as they weakly turned around to face him. 

“Enlighten me,” Y/N said bluntly. “Just answer the question.” 

Ardyn rolled his eyes. “Eight hundred years. Being locked away in Angelgard did a number on--” 

That’s when it hit him. It had taken Ardyn eight hundred years of enduring excruciating pain in darkness to cope with the scourge in full, and here he was, asking a mere mortal with not even a fraction of his infinite lifespan, to share the burden. 

Ardyn’s mouth parted, letting the revelation sink in. A guilt weighed against his eyes. 

“Y/N, I didn’t--”

“Save it,” Y/N sneered, brushing past him to make a beeline out of the quarters and into a main hall of the airship. 

“Where do you think you’re running off too?” Ardyn hollered, watching them disappear before he rolled his eyes and then followed. “You don’t even know your way around the ship!” 

“I need space or I’m going to lose my mind!” 

Y/N didn’t care where the endless corridors led. As soon as they found an open door, they rushed to it and slammed it shut, not wanting to give Ardyn the option of following. He could easily teleport his way in as far as Y/N was concerned, but for the moment, they enjoyed the security as they slouched against the door then fell to the ground. Y/N made themself small by wrapping their body up into a ball. It was the only way to cope with the ferocity of the scourge biting down on every nerve. 

Ardyn could feel his mood growing sour as he marched toward the door and gave a quick rhythmic knock. 

“Y/N, we are not finished. You can be enraged at me, but we need to plan our next steps with--”

Ardyn jumped back when something loud and hard thudded against the door, Y/N having thrown a large item in his direction. After the initial startle went down, the last of his patience reached a threshold and he yelled. 

“Fine, be a cowardly piece of dead weight if that’s what you yearn for! I can’t stand your greed nor your presence! I suggest you think long and hard about playing this game with me before you bite off more than you can chew!” 

Ardyn set his sights back to his personal quarters on the airship, and briskly walked back. He needed to get away, to breathe and think with better clarity. When he realized that’s exactly why Y/N retreated, he stopped midway and growled before pressing on, hating that once again Y/N hit him with another epiphany. He slammed the door behind him, and sat on the bed.

For a long while, Ardyn combed over every insult in the book he imagined himself saying to Y/N. He didn’t like how a mere human could bring this kind of irrationality out of himself. While his mind lingered on his resentment toward Y/N, he winced upon feeling a pressure in his left arm. Carefully, Ardyn rolled back the sleeve of his clothing, and he watched his own scourge patches pulsate. His brows furrowed while peering at the flesh, and his eyes shut.

Somehow through his anger, Ardyn tuned everything out and honed in where the scourge wanted to take him. Then he heard it. One heartbeat, then another, and another, until he could make through a fog and see himself sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his legs, and quietly sobbing. A million thoughts came and left as did voices. Monster, danger, wounded, were some of the words that jumped out at him the most. He felt it in his heart, how Y/N’s experience at Galdin Quay soured what little hope they had for what remained of their life. 

Ardyn didn’t linger too long in Y/N’s psyche, but he shifted through the waves to where he could sense their brain attempting to retrieve the memory of what truly happened at outpost 98. His face grimaced while he used the might and internal power of the scourge to further suppress Y/N’s mind from remembering. It appeared as a ball of light in his peripheral, and he envisioned two hands encircling and snuffing it out. Once extinguished, Ardyn blinked rapidly to pull himself out of the trance he induced. His stomach tumbled over itself, and he nearly threw up. 

Reaching for his neck, Ardyn rubbed at the injection site. His left arm throbbed as nerves twitched like little sparks going off. He was getting worse, and didn’t want to face it, just as he didn’t want to face Y/N with the truth of what he made them do. So Ardyn did what was within his control. He fell back against the mattress with his arms out, legs dangling off the side, and breathed. 

While his eyes glanced up at the ceiling of the airship, feeling a small bout of turbulence, Ardyn made a mental note to order the finest wine in Gralea when the ship docked in Niflheim. He was going to need several pints. 

Hours later, and the sun began to set upon Eos. The skies were full of deep purples and oranges while grey clouds began to roll into the Eastern coast of Niflheim. Thunderstorms were beginning to make their debut as the airship descended lower from the sky. The sun shown itself once more after the ship ducked through the thick blankets of clouds, and the region of Disera came into view. 

Y/N, having eventually left the confines of the room, traveled along the main deck of the airship. They kept their head low when imperial troops walked past, thankful no one paid them any heed. They made sure to double check their body for any signs of the scourge flaring up inside of them, not wanting to send anyone on alert before proceeding further. 

As Y/N descended upon a small flight of stairs, leading into a grand hall with open windows on the airship, their eyes widened. With hesitant steps, Y/N went up toward one of the windows and looked down. They had never seen so much land before. The continent of Niflheim was vast, even with the ship being above the world. There was no beginning and no end, and the thought of how small Lucis was crept into the back of Y/N’s mind while they took in the various climates that came and went. Arid desert seemed to be the most dominant turf, but there were snowfields and ice that contrasted with sand dunes and cactuses. Initially, Y/N was confused at how such an incompatibility of coexistence was surviving, but then they recalled the stories from The Cosmogny; how Niflheim was cursed by the blood of the Glacian: …for she who loved the flame, let the fires of men pierce her heart and her essence froze the fertile lands of the empire. Never to feel the warmth of the sun just as she will never feel the touch of the heart that was hers. 

Y/N shuddered while recollecting their time reading through the novels regarding Eos’s history, and various religions. They had always been skeptical when it came to the Hexatheon--the gods themselves--but after meeting Ardyn, Y/N wondered how much they had dismissed was true. It was hard to be certain of anything anymore. 

The ship descended a bit further, and the mountains leading into Niflheim’s capitol, Gralea, began to make an appearance. Y/N stared in awe at how large the peaks were. Snow blanketed most of the region, but there seemed to be fertile land here and there; vast fields of green and farmland that were shielded from the world by tall hills and rock formations that were caused by war from thousands of years ago. Then the cityscape began to make it’s appearance. 

While not as breathtaking as Lucis’s capital, Insomnia, the skyscrapers and the eerie atmosphere of the crater Gralea was built upon gave the city a commanding presence that outweighed the former. Y/N swallowed while their eyes attempted to count every building and light. Eventually, their eyes traveled upward to a tower that led to a black airship that loomed over the city like a large dragon with it’s wings spread. Y/N’s mouth parted, speechless as to what this thing was that nearly engulfed Gralea's skies. The ship went on for miles, seemingly without borders. 

“Zegnatus Keep, one of Niflheim's greatest treasures. The emperor spends most of his days up there versus his own palace on ground.” The commander cleared his throat, while he approached Y/N’s side from the shadows. “I don’t foresee you visiting that dreary place in the future, so you have nothing to fear.” 

“I see,” Those were the only words Y/N could conjure up. Between the culture shock and the scourge building up another round of pain, they were beside themself. Nonetheless, it felt good to be in the presence of someone familiar who wasn't Ardyn.

“What makes you think I was frightened?” 

“I could see it in your eyes,” The commander pointed out. “It takes some getting used to, but once the initial scare goes down, you’ll find that Gralea is quite prosperous and caring toward it’s people.”

“I’m not so sure I’ll get that acquainted,” Y/N murmured sarcastically to themself. Their eyes fixated on the city below their feet. 

The commander furrowed his brows, but dare not pry further. He offered a small smile while he gazed outward, thankful to be back home. “Should you need help in the city, my son Loqi would be a good resource. He knows these lands better than most citizens, including me. I think you two would get on quite well. He’s working his way up to becoming a general, if you can believe such a thing.” 

As much as Y/N wanted to be dismissive, they didn’t have the energy for an altercation. Not after what went down with Ardyn. “That’s kind of you to offer. I don’t think I ever caught your name?” 

“Commander Pierce Tummelt,” The old man gave a small bow with his head out of respect. “I don’t believe you and I will be seeing much of one another after we land. I will be assigned back to war duties, but please, don’t be afraid to approach my son should you need a favor.”

“But I’m a Lucian--”

“And you’re a guest of the Chancellor,” Commander Pierce interrupted, not giving Y/N the opportunity to talk down about themself. "If Loqi ever gives you trouble should you seek him out, you can tell him his father commands him to assist you, or there will be hell to pay.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but snort, trying to suppress a laugh at the firm sarcasm Commander Pierce held toward his son. They smiled at one another, before Commander Pierce gazed over Y/N with concern. 

“I don’t know what your story is, but I do hope you enjoy your stay here.” 

The sound of another pair of footsteps drew close, and Commander Pierce looked up. He met Ardyn’s eyes, giving a firm nod and a bow with his head when the Chancellor dismissed him with a wave of his hand. 

Y/N was initially confused when the old man began to travel off, until Ardyn ventured down the stairs and walked over to their side. They watched him smile sincerely, as if their argument from before never transpired. 

“Welcome to Niflheim,” Ardyn said gently. 

Sighing, Y/N turned their head away from him. Their resentment from earlier still remained. So caught up in their anger, Y/N didn’t see how Ardyn winced at their reaction. He blinked a few times, unsure of how to proceed. The silence between them both was cumbersome, yet neither had the will to patch things up. 

Another ten minutes passed, and the airship arrived to it's home base. The landing pad was close to a field, and just beyond it were large buildings that housed other air craft. The heart of Gralea, the cityscape, was in the distance. 

After landing, Ardyn and Y/N began to make their journey toward the bridge. As the doors to the dock began to open, it caused the ship to quake. The tremors were strong enough to knock Y/N forward, causing them to fall until Ardyn spun around and caught them before impact. He held them tightly in his arms, looking over them as he laughed. 

“Breaking your skull on your first night in Gralea would be rotten luck!"

“Thanks,” Y/N bitterly muttered, then freed themself from his hold. They dusted themself off and exited the airship. 

Ardyn let out a deep sigh through his nose, and glared in Y/N's direction. He loosened his stern features and increased his walking speed ever so slight to meet up with them. 

“Your stubbornness is becoming rather exhausting,” Ardyn began, keeping his words above a whisper while imperial soldiers descended from the ship and went about their inspection routine. 

“And you lying to me is getting old.” Y/N countered. They stopped in their tracks when Ardyn stood in front of them, blocking them from proceeding any further. 

“In case it wasn’t so painfully obvious, I am trying to make amends.” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. His gaze became more rigid as he glanced around to make sure no one was witnessing a potential spat. “I would suggest you play along.” 

“Are you worried a dead weight will ruin your image?"

Ardyn’s eyes flared with anger. It was enough to make Y/N take a step back while keeping their gaze fixated on his, out of fear if they looked away he would strike. 

“Chancellor Izunia!” 

There was so much Ardyn wanted to say, yet he couldn’t afford to lest he break character. He closed his eyes when he heard his name called again, and turned his head to the right as a woman approached. 

“Ah, Commodore Aranea! What impeccable timing!” Ardyn gestured out with his arms in welcome as he grinned. 

Y/N knitted their brows in confusion, watching how Ardyn instantly changed gears. It was astonishing how he could go from enraged to civil in a matter of milliseconds. Had they not been in a foul disposition, Y/N would’ve been more than impressed by the feat. 

“Are you fairing well after your rest on the coast, Chancellor?” Aranea spoke up, giving a curt bow with her head. 

“Quite,” Ardyn sighed in relief, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose you’ve come to tell me about all the work I have piled up from my long absence.” 

“On the contrary, I’m here on behalf of Chief Besithia. He wants to talk to you, now.” 

“Now?” Ardyn quirked an eyebrow. “Did he say what for?” 

Aranea shook her head. “He told me as soon as you docked I had to come fetch you.”

Ardyn hummed in thought, not noticing the double take Aranea made while she glanced between him and Y/N. Instantly, Aranea was on the alert. Her hand went to the hilt of her blade, more than prepared to draw it from the sheath. 

“Chancellor, who is this?” She asked in a protective manner. 

Ardyn raised a brow, at first not registering the sudden hostility until he saw the startlement on Y/N’s face.

“Oh, now where are my manners!” Ardyn chortled. He took a few steps toward Y/N, standing close to their side and gestured to them. “This is a guest of mine, Y/N. They will be staying in the capitol.”

“Guest?” Aranea’s expression was one of puzzlement. “Forgive me sir, but many were under the impression you were potentially on the throes of death. I wouldn’t expect you to perform any social callings, especially with the coastal storms that happened along Portia.”

Ardyn nearly shot Aranea daggers at the accusation, and his mouth parted to speak until he was interrupted. 

“He was very sick when he found me,” Y/N spoke up. They watched as both the Commodore’s and Ardyn’s eyes fell upon them, observing intently. Gods, they didn’t know why they even said anything, but the words came out before Y/N could stop themself. Y/N nearly lost their nerve given the piercing stare Ardyn held, but they pressed on, feeling confident they could sell this tall tale. 

“Ardyn was taking a walk that day because he needed fresh air. I washed up on the beach after my boat capsized. After we met, he took me back to where he was staying, and invited me to return to Gralea with him." 

“And there you have it!” Ardyn interjected before anything else could be said. He grinned out of amusement and gave a pat to Y/N’s shoulder, turning his attention on Aranea. “Would it be too much trouble to implore your services this evening, Commodore?” 

“Not at all,” Aranea stated. She furrowed her brows while glancing over Y/N, as if trying to fit them against certain criteria she personally had. 

“Grand,” Ardyn cleared his throat. “Since Chief Besithia requires an audience at once, I’d like for you to escort Y/N to my residence within the palace. Once there, Y/N will be assigned to the Imperial Help. I’ll phone the Palace Warden with further instruction. You need not fret about babysitting!” 

Y/N shot a brief glare at Ardyn for the latter remark, watching his eyes peer down at them. A mischievous smirk danced upon his lips. 

“I’ll ensure your guest arrives safely,” Aranea said as a matter of fact, still not taking her eyes off of Y/N. 

“With that settled, a pleasant good night to you both!” Ardyn glanced between the two before he took his hat off, placed it over his chest and gave a partial bow before he spun around, put his hat back on, and began his travel to Verstael’s lab. 

After Ardyn drifted away from both their peripherals, Aranea gestured with her head for Y/N to follow, and they did just that. Eventually, the two came upon the main road where a vehicle was waiting. Y/N couldn't help but feel there was something up with Ardyn and the Commodore. The undertone of both their respective voices suggested a begrudging respect, or perhaps jealously had attempted to breach the surface during the earlier conversation. Y/N's pulse rose at the thought, until Aranea opened up the passenger side of the car and beckoned Y/N to get in. 

“You look like you have something on your mind,” Aranea piped up while venturing to the drivers side. She got in, and started the engine after throwing her sword in the back. 

“I might,” Y/N reluctantly replied, buckling up after shutting the door. 

“Well, we have a long drive. Might as well get it off your chest.” Aranea huffed with a laugh. The change in demeanor took Y/N by surprise. 

“I’m kind of scared to say anything.” Y/N admitted.

“And why’s that?” 

“Well, we just met and quite frankly, I don’t want to piss off a woman that could hack me in two seconds flat.” 

The forwardness of Y/N’s tone had Aranea chuckle. She shook her head and sighed in defeat. “Damn it, I’m already starting to like you.”

Y/N slightly smiled from the compliment, still unsure of what to make of the Commodore minus the fact she was naturally formidable just from how she carried herself. The car launched off. Unlike Ardyn, who was very careful with driving, Y/N made note that Aranea didn’t seem to have a care in the world when it came to speed. Y/N looked out the window, watching the field and buildings disappear in a flash of colors. 

“Look,” Aranea’s voice snapped Y/N out of their thoughts. “I can tell you’re not from around here. The fact you’re with the Chancellor as well is sending off a red flag.” 

“Why’s that?” Y/N raised a brow in scrutiny. “Doesn’t he always have people at his beck and call?”

Aranea smirked for a brief moment, sensing the hostility Y/N held toward Ardyn. “People only hang out with Chancellor Izunia for two reasons: either they want something from him, or he wants something from them. In all my years of serving, he’s never had me escort anybody to his residence, much less give them VIP treatment from Imperial Help. You must be special.”

The revelation had Y/N taken aback. Given his charisma and general demeanor, Y/N assumed Ardyn would’ve had many people in his inner circle among other things. The fact this was strange to someone high ranking, made them uncomfortable as did Aranea’s last comment, which Y/N chose to ignore. 

“So, are you and he...” Y/N made some gestures with their hands, emphasizing the point they wanted to make but dare not say aloud. Y/N watched Aranea’s face go from confusion to flat out disbelief before she laughed hard. 

“By the ass of the Astrals, no!” She said in between fits. “Why did you automatically think that?”

“Well you both seemed rather tense around each other,” Y/N’s voice drifted as they shrugged. “And you were protective so I thought…”

“Hell no! The fact you made such an insinuation makes me want to kick you out of my car!” 

“And this is why I didn’t want to say anything.” Y/N muttered, hiding their face briefly in their palms while Aranea finished her bout. 

“No biggie, I needed a good laugh today, but no, there is nothing between myself and Chancellor Izunia. We respect one another, but at an arms length. Him and I have butted heads many times over policy. I think he's a jackass. There’s only so much of his crap that I can handle." Arenea sighed. Realizing she might’ve said too much, she kept quiet and looked through her rearview before merging into a lane.

“I could ask you the same thing considering the circumstances.” 

“Hm?”

“Are you and the Chancellor in an arrangement?” 

“No!” Y/N shook their head. They sighed through their nose, reminiscing about what had happened during these past few weeks. MedZin, outpost 98, the airship attack, it all flashed before Y/N’s mind, making their stomach churn at the uncertainty of anything. When they realized they had left Aranea hanging, Y/N cleared their throat and spoke. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about Ardyn.” Y/N murmured. 

“That’s fine by me,” Though Aranea's suspicions toward Y/N remained, the long day she had prior to meeting with the Chancellor was at her mind's forefront. She thought about the meetings that transpired in the hours of dawn: how there was little to no hope that the ground troops--the human ones--would be getting fair compensation for the slaughter they committed on behalf of the empire. Her fingers tensed around the steering wheel. The small squeaks coming off the material garnered Y/N’s attention. 

“You alright?” 

Aranea furrowed her brows.  “I assume you know of the war?” 

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, kind of hard to miss it when it’s global.” 

Aranea smirked briefly then went neutral. “Let’s just say I have a lot on my mind regarding that.”

“Is taking me to the palace getting in the way of other duties you have?” 

“Yeah, but whatever the Chancellor says, that takes priority.” 

“I didn’t realize he had that kind of authority,” Y/N murmured to themself. 

“Next to the emperor, Chancellor Izunia is the second in command of everything.” Aranea stated. She then glanced between the road and Y/N, raising a brow while her gaze traveled over Y/N. 

When Y/N caught onto the stare, they couldn’t help but mirror the confused look. “What?” 

“You absolutely have no idea who you threw your lot in with, do you?” 

Y/N sighed, leaning back further into the seat and set their eyes forward on the road. The dull lights of the city began to emerge more as the car rolled into the heart of Gralea. A million thoughts came and went regarding Ardyn and the world he had tossed them into. Their heart weighed heavy as the scourge traveled through them in a static shock. 

“I guess not.” 

[calling4glaives]

Day 5 Recap

Remember, if we missed something, let us know! Tumblr and Twitter can be really finicky about tags sometimes. 

Now, ready to catch up on some Nyx-centric tales? Here we go:

Title: All Days End Author: WhoStarLocked Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Sunset Summary/Excerpt:

Here, he was just Nyx.

Title: Nor Iron Bars a Cage: Chapter 2 Author: whumpwriterforlife Link: Ao3 Prompt(s): Fear Relationships: Pelna & Nyx Summary/Excerpt:

Nyx was drifting. Everything was hazy and he was weightless in the dark.

Title: A Prince and a Princeling: Chapter 5: The Oathbreaker’s Trial Author: Shiary Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): End Relationships: Noctis / Nyx Summary/Excerpt:

The Lucian intruders are brought before Ramuh and the Storm for Trial. There is no doubt on their culpability, only the question of punishment for this new Oathbreaking.

Title: A Coeurl’s Home: Chapter 2 Author: Firechocobros Link: Ao3 Prompt(s): Fear Relationships: Clarus / Regis / Nyx Summary/Excerpt:

Nyx finally meets Regis and Clarus and things are explosive in unexpected ways.

Title: Delta Blues Author: Awlwren Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Fear, Ends Relationships: Cor / Nyx Summary/Excerpt:

He whirled, sole remaining kukri at the ready as the Princess spread her feet and crouched slightly, ready to run or attack. A car pulled up behind them and jerked to a stop. Libertus rolled down the window and beckoned them over. “C’mon, get in! They set up a trap in the square, I heard it on the radio,” Libertus yelled in that tone that he was convinced was quiet. Nyx Lives AU where Libertus finds Nyx & Luna before Luche does, and thus Nyx doesn't put on the Ring.

Title: Sunset! Author: Blossom Adventures Link: Tumblr Prompt(s): Sunset Summary/Excerpt:

Nyx had climbed up onto the roof of the Diner to get away for an hour or two. The death of hundreds - maybe even thousands - of civilians, as well as the King and Lord Shield and the treachery from within the Glaive itself weighed heavily on him.

Title: All Bloody Knuckles, Longing for Home Author: Garbria / Loki_chan Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Galahd, Sunset Summary/Excerpt:

Nyx thinks about how things have changed as he watches the sunset in Galahd.

[huntrcssqueen]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 — BOLD / ITALICIZE what applies

𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳𝚂.

tinkling of piano keys / the click of a lock / an engine starting, stalling / sinful whispers / stifled sobbing / the rattle of death / alarm blaring / a siren call / spanish guitar strumming / loud laughter at midnight / banshee screeching / drunk hiccuping / the giggle of a child / rolling thunder / disdainful chuckling / bones creaking / carefree whistling / singing off key / flesh hitting concrete / white noise / a mirror cracking / laboured breathing / a groan of pain / waves lapping at the shore / the roar of a lion / pages turning / swords clashing / deep humming / birds chirping / dial tone / tongue popping / fingers tapping a surface / crystals breaking / music turned up to the limit / raindrops on a roof / angry yelling / yawning at noon / horns going off / ravens talking / bubblegum bursting / splashing water / teakettle squeal / militia drums / wolves howling / slow, sarcastic clapping / soprano notes / whispering pleas / gregorian chants / mournful cries.

𝚅𝙸𝚂𝚄𝙰𝙻𝚂.

filled notebooks / dogeared books / clean shaves / empty stares / sleeping at a desk / the witching hour / driving all night / restless tides / broken windows / coffee any time / freshly baked goods / bonfires / lounging felines / circles under your eyes / bedhead / tangling in the sheets / leather jackets / paint stains / music sheets / too many tabs to find the music / weary brows / card games / messy ponytails / strained smiles / unsent texts / heart on your sleeve / slow dancing in the rain / star gazing / torn jeans / piles of clothes / filled bookshelves / hurricanes / chapped lips / cliff diving / the lights in venice / stolen kisses / poet shirts / half melted candles / empty coffee mugs / hot tea / unlaced boots / shameless flirting / too young to be so old / laced fingers / eyes in the trees / bloody knuckles / french letters / neon lights / ivy covered balconies

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂.

burnt leaves / turkish coffee / spiced rum / moss / vanilla beans / freshly cut grass / decay / sea salt / strawberries and cream / cinnamon / honey / copper / pineapple / wet dog / pine needles / wood shavings / rainsoaked bark / something sharp, indefinable / Russian tea / dandelions / squeezed limes / Italian wine / freshly laundered clothes / coming rain / hardtack and gruel / roasting flesh / something cloying in the chest / ichor / lillies in spring / pollen / damp clothes / meatpies / greasy coins / curdled milk / leather / bone marrow / wet cement / ricecakes / open paint cans / cocoa leaves / tar / apples / sandlewood cologne / orchids / molded onions / cheap perfume / mistletoe / rubber on fire / grave dirt / old books / new books / melting plastic / roses / poison oak / seacucumbers / peppermint.

tagged by: @myriadxofxmuses

tagging: @jetaiimee (Julie), @lostxones (Alice), @elegancemultimuse (Mia & Mason), @sincityszn (Lindsey & Dean), @cursivebloodlines (Lydia, Aaron & Douglas), @writtenwillow (Amelia & Lucian)

[dexadin]

Do you have any fun stories from your Strahd game? Moments you were proud of? You always have such good advice, and you deserve a chance to brag! Your players are lucky to have such a fun GM. 💗

Hi there! I've been sitting on this ask because it gives me serotonin every time I see it but I finally have a story line that I'm really fucking proud of that I want to talk about :3

So back during the Vallaki arc, Strahd attacked Father Lucian at the stairs of St. Andral, and the only reason that Lucian survived was party intervention (the infamous Vanya crycatting at Strahd scene). However, much to the party's chagrin, Strahd's magic shattered the stained glass windows of the church of St. Andral. The party also lost the favor of Father Lucian because of it, which was devastating to them, as Father Lucian was their first NPC who was truly good to them.

Backstory aside, they have finally gotten to the part of the story where they actually start hunting for the items prophesied in their tarokka reading at the beginning of the campaign and are seeking the sunsword in the 'wagon of someone who is not who they seem.' This quest leads the party (and Rictavio, who is travelling with them) to Vallaki once more in the pursuit of Blinsky, about a year and a half of real-world time down the line. They go to his wagon and get to hear their favorite NPC delighted to see them , and they ask him if he has a sword in his wagon. Blinsky goes, "oh this one?" and everyone goes, "no fucking way." Blinsky pulls out a toy wooden sword with an odd hollow cutout of the blade and everyone hesitantly exhales. Blinsky lets them know that it was commissioned by Father Lucian as a prototype for a project he's working on.

The party then goes to Father Lucian and finds him working in a forge, hammering out a ribbon of foil on his anvil. They learn that he has found a record of a sword that was wielded by a beloved priest, written by Andral himself. The hilt was encrusted in stones and plated in metal that wasn't easily found in Barovia, and so Lucian had only been able to work on the blade. Vanya notes that Rictavio is looking intently at the drawing of the hilt, and sends him a message, to which he responds that he needs Vanya to meet him outside. The party splits, as Vanya and Threnody go outside with Rictavio, Wofl stays in with Lucian, and Corsair goes off to distract the other NPCs.

Outside, Rictavio reveals himself to be Van Richten, swearing Vanya and Threnody to secrecy before going through his wagon full of random treasures to find no other than the sword in question--missing its blade.

Inside, Father Lucian reveals the work-in-progress to Wofl, revealing a stunning silvered blade with an inlay of leaded stained glass, made of the remains of the shattered glass windows of the church.

All in one go, I got to connect the Sunsword to several significant NPCs, reveal Van Richten, give a satisfying conclusion to the church of St. Andral (which had left my players distraught), and provide new speculation about Sergei, all wrapped up in one of the coolest weapons I've ever designed. The players were as hype about it as I was, and I'm just really fucking thrilled about how it all played out.

I hope this was at all coherent and/or fun to read! It was really fun to plan and play.

[league-of-starlight]

Wrote another one. Might be a bit unpolished.

@teeto-peteto Lucian and Gwen this time.

Lucian began reassembling his left gun. Even though Viego was dealt with for the moment, and good riddance about that, the remnants of black mist still permeated through the world, which made constant weapon upkeep a priority.

His guns were firing a little slower than usual, and with a job like his, a second late was a second closer to a fatal mistake. Lucian was pretty sure he had it all pieced together.

I just have to slot in the firing mechanism… he thought to himself, delicately moving the equipment.

The door to the sentinel’s rest quarters burst open, followed by the jubilant form of Gwen calling out.

“Sentinel Lucian, how goes your day?”

In his surprise, Lucian accidentally triggered his weapon to fire. It bounced off Gwen’s giant scissors, then off a nearby mirror, and finally blasting through a window, shattering a hole in it. Lucian hissed between his teeth.

“Oh, Senna’s not going to be happy about that.”

Gwen swayed back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologised, looking guilty.

“No, it’s alright, I’m just a bit jumpy.”

Even though most of the sentinel’s had returned to their old lives, Gwen stuck by Senna and Lucian as a sort of ‘honorary sentinel.’ She’d handle the black must in her own way, and come back to tell the tales. Sometimes they’d meet up during reconnaissance and trade stories.

It was… strangely fulfilling.

“Forgive me, but where is Senna? Is she well?”

“Senna’s out doing reconnaissance, she’ll be reporting back soon.”

When she first returned, Lucian might’ve insisted on coming with her. But he couldn’t just try to protect her from everything. She deserved better than that, she deserved his faith and trust.

“Oh, yes, have you ever heard of the midnight ball? There was this strange large building, there was a chandelier and so many people."

Midnight ball? News to Lucian's ears. He said as much, asking how it was and watched Gwen's eyes dip into fondness.

“It was wonderful, I was the guest of honour. Have you ever been the guest of honour before?”

"Can't say I have."

"Oh, you should consider it, it felt just like one of the games Isolde and I would play. Music that sounds like dreams, delicious delicacies, and a lovely dance partner"

Lucian smiled softly.

“Your maker sounded like a lovely woman.”

Gwen lit up.

“Oh, she was! An excellent storyteller as well, we’d explore all sorts of places-

In the middle of her conversation, Gwen was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Honey, I’m home,” Senna announced with an almost sardonic tone.

“Senna, any news on patrol?”

“Besides the whispers of a new boss on the isles? Not much.”

Senna turned her attention to Gwen.

“What about you? Any news?”

Lucian chuckled.

“Better sit down, Gwen’s been on quite the adventure,”

As Gwen began her story, Lucian felt a light weight off his shoulders. In a line of work like his and Senna’s, a little levity went a long way.

[caparrucia]

AO3 First Lines Tag Game

Tagged by @garbria!

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Decided to only use main fics, rather than any sidestory collection associated with them:

1. no greater evidence of roses than thorns (FFXV)

Regis gets two assassination attempts per month on average. Or rather, two assassination attempts on his person are planned per month on average. Lyra Argentum leads his Saboteur Corp. So it’s more like Regis reads about two assassination attempts on his person that got horrifically and often murderously derailed per month on average.

2. upon a truth well-known (FFXV)

Later, much later - after a scramble for lunch that stretched out into dinner, though by then the entirety of the village had heard the news and had come in to bring their gifts, good wishes and nosy questions - Cor finds himself following Nyx out the window of his room and onto the roof. They sneak on the sturdy beams holding the sprawling, interconnected labyrinth of roofs all the way across the village - technically, it’s all one house, technically, and it strikes Cor as the kind of technicality that Regis would be delighted by - to then make their escape onto the mismatched, broken marble pillars that lead up towards the massive temple that dominates the entire island.

3. in his professional opinion (FFXV)

The boy came recommended by Regis.

This was worse, in Titus’ humble opinion, than no recommendation at all. Regis only recommended capable people he saw as full of potential…

Or Cor.

4. Mutual Understanding (Horizon: Forbidden West)

“And… yeah,” Erend says, awkwardly, staring at whatever expression had settled on Talanah’s face and wouldn’t budge an inch. “That’s about it.”

“I see,” Talanah says, slow and steady and not at all reassuring, given the way Erend flinches in a way eerily reminiscent of his reaction to his sister’s opinions on his latest stupidity, back before… well.

Everything.

5. the nature of the beast (FFXV)

Nyx hadn't exactly volunteered to go to the mainland.

None of them had, really. The mainland was a nebulous, foreign concept none of them really thought about that often. And why would they? Galahd was Lucian in name only, and they liked it that way. The mainland brought idiots every couple years, with grand plans and ideas to “modernize the islands” and “bring them into a new era," and it was funny watching them set out to try, only to be inevitably worn down by the storms.

6. from the dark, will come a light (Pokemon)

It’s a windy, autumn afternoon, standing in line inside a nondescript coffee shop in Goldenrod City, when the greatest field agent in the entirety of the International Police realizes he needs to die.

It’s a very quiet realization, that, nothing dramatic or overblown, and certainly not something that manages to make a dent in his expression: he remains standing where he is, patiently waiting for his turn, apathetic stare fixated on the display trays full of elaborate, sweet confections to contrast with the subtle flavors of the roast this coffee shop favors.

7. i've battled hard with the face in the mirror (Pokemon)

When his mum saw him standing in the doorway, sheepish grin and all, she’d cried.

It was the good kind of cry, though, so Leon didn’t feel too bad for crying a little himself, when he got pulled into a tight, tight hug. There was something fundamentally comforting about his mum, this vast, encompassing warmth that reminded Leon of being small and scared, and then instantly reassured, the moment she was there to hold him and promise it would be alright.

It would be alright.

8. Of Kings, Knights and Knaves (FFXV)

The Emperor has come to Insomnia.

Nyx watches the news broadcast, curled up in a chair in his apartment, trying to desensitize himself to it. It burns deep in his bones, and he must learn to master it, so that he’ll be able to carry out the job he’s been assigned to perform. He must stand guard in yet another of the fancy parties preluding the farce of a peace treaty, even though he’s got Crowe’s unseeing stare burned into the back of his eyes.

Must. It’s always about must, never could or would or want.

Must.

9. Chronicles of the Storm King's Reign (FFXV)

It’s not, Ardyn knows, a matter of morals. It’s not even a matter of loyalty.

He’s neither moral nor loyal and he knows it. If nothing else, two thousand years of nothing but his own emptiness for company has been enough to let him come to grips with who and what he is. He’s petty and bitter and not really nice. He reckons he never was all that nice, deep down, before the Scourge got hold of him and he was reduced to play his part in his brother’s farce of a fate. He did as he was told and tried his best to make it be enough, because it was expected of him. He didn’t care, back then, about the lives he saved. All those lives were just variations on a theme, the same boring story told over and over again; and they’d been so weak and cowed by everything, that they clamored for him, for letting them endure their miserable, empty existences a little longer.

10. for to end yet again (Pokemon/Witcher)

“Ah,” Raihan said, right before the shaelmaar hit him head on, “fuck.”

It wasn’t his proudest moment by far. Every bone on the left side of his body broke on impact and he felt that, somewhere under the murk of adrenaline that gave him enough time to force his limbs loose and try to roll with the impact. He bounced off the rock floor like a rag doll, and then barely managed to cast quen, hoping against all hope that it would be enough to hold off the follow up, even though he knew damn well it wouldn’t.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Tagging: @darkpuck @pegunicent @misstrips @kheradihr @whostarlockeda03 @phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing @thedancingwalrus-blog @wordsandrobots @awlwren @jonphaedrus and anyone else who wants to try! Show off your stuff!

[flandiddlydoo]

hi tumblr 👋 im new here

i made this in the middle of the night after i had a wave of emotions and started reminiscing about the past (idk what happened but i'm okay now.) it was just supposed to be a sketch to get my feelings out, but i ended up liking it so i rendered it.

it's inspired a lot by vaporwave/simpsonswave videos from like 2016 i saw when i was younger, and i love the whole vibe and look of it, so wanted my art to reflect that. actually, simpsonswave was my first ever exposure to the cartoon, and i can't thank those videos enough for that. it wouldn't be until this year that i actually started to watch the show, but the way it was incorporated into those videos felt so special, even if i had no idea who those bulgy eyed yellow creatures were at the time.

now that instagram decided that hashtags don't work anymore to screw over small artists, it's probably the best time for me to draw something more experimental.

not sure why it's bart in this drawing, doesn't really symbolize anything but i wanted to draw him anyway. thanks for "sunday school" by lucian hughes on youtube for making me create this

and thanks to the artist windows 96 for their music. seriously, their music is so airy and spacious and stuff, i love it so much

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

John Cuneo, Mar-a-Lago Sewage :: [Robert Scott Horton]

* * * * *

Trump's spiral staircase: down, down, down he goes, where he stops, nobody knows

LUCIAN K. TRUSCOTT IV

JUN 20, 2023

Who knew that the name of a two-bit spray-tanned Fox News hack would be destined to be mentioned alongside the David Frost interview of Richard Nixon as a classic of the genre, but it appears that is where yesterday’s Bret Baier “Special Report” interview with Donald Trump is headed.  Well known celebrity interviewer Frost asked Nixon whether the president could do something illegal, such as taking action against certain anti-war groups “if he decides it’s in the best interest of the country or something,” to which Nixon infamously responded, “Well, when the president does it, that means it’s not illegal.”  Forty-five million television viewers watched that night, a record for the largest audience for a political interview in history.

A much, much smaller audience was watching Fox last night when Trump claimed, for what must have been at least the thousandth time, “First of all, I won in 2020 by a lot, okay?  Let’s get that straight.”  Baier, holding a sheaf of paper that appeared to have lists not only of questions, but of facts, pushed back by reciting a long list of evidence to the contrary: “There were recounts in all the swing states.  There was not significant evidence of fraud,” to which Trump replied, “We were trying to get recounts, real recounts, not just numbers of votes cast.” 

Baier forged ahead: “There were lawsuits, more than 50 of them, in front of judges you appointed, that came up with no evidence, no evidence, and they looked at every potential case of voter fraud in six battleground states, and they found fewer than 475 cases.”  Trump, babbling over Baier the whole time: “You know why?  They weren’t looking at the right things.  They were counting ballots, not the authenticity of ballots.  The ballots were fake ballots.  This was a very rigged election.” 

But it was when Baier got into the meat of last week’s indictment of Trump for improperly removing and then mishandling top secret government documents, that the interview really went off the rails for Trump.  Baier asked him when he was subpoenaed by the Department of Justice for the documents he held at Mar a Lago, “Why not just hand them over then?” 

I wish you could hear Trump’s tone, which resembled nothing more or less than the voice of a little boy who had been caught with a rock in his hand standing on the lawn of a house with a broken window: “Because I had boxes! I wanted to go through the boxes, and get all my personal things out…(sputters)…I don’t want to hand that over to NARA (National Archives and Records Administration) yet, and I was very busy, as you have sort have seen.”  A B-roll of the indictment appears on the screen as Baier tirelessly presses on: “But according to the indictment, you then tell this aide to move [boxes] to other locations, after telling your lawyers to say that you had fully complied with the subpoena when you hadn’t.”  Trump looks frantic: “Before I send boxes over, I have to take all of my things out.  These boxes were interspersed with all sorts of things…uh…golf shirts, clothing, pants, shoes…there were many things…” 

Baier manages to intersperse a short question, “Iran war plans?” Here's Trump’s face as he hears the question: “Not that I know of!  Not that I know of!”

Baier then turns to the Iran war plan document referred to in the indictment in the transcript of a recording of an interview with ghost writers for Trump’s final chief of staff, Mark Meadows, made at Trump’s Bedminster golf club in 2021.  “The Iran attack plan. You remember that.  You were recorded.”  Baier continues, reading from his typed notes: “The indictment says, the recording and the testimony from people in the room say you showed it to people in the room there, that day.  You say on tape, that you can’t declassify it, so why have it?”

“There was no document,” Trump asserts. “That was a massive amount of papers and everything else talking about Iran and other things. And it may have been held up or may not, but that was not a document. I didn’t have a document per se. There was nothing to declassify. These were newspaper stories, magazine stories, and articles.”

“I’m just saying what the indictment says, there were people in the room, who testified…”

“These people are very dishonest people.  They’re thugs.  They’re thugs.  If you look at what they’ve done to other people…”

Tobias Barrington Wolff, the Jefferson Barnes Fordham Professor of Law at the University of Pennsylvania, Carey School of Law, posted on his Facebook page a primer in the law, describing exactly what happened in Trump’s interview with Baier.  Helpfully referring to Trump as “the grifter,” Wolff explained:  “The only way the grifter's own spoken words could be forcibly used against him at trial is if he chose to do exactly what he is now doing: talk obsessively about the charges against him on camera at rallies and in interviews, hoping that his weaponized narcissistic bluster would once again allow him to escape accountability. Your Fifth Amendment right protects you against being ‘compelled’ to incriminate yourself; it poses no barrier if you want to bull your way in front of a camera and insist on doing so. And one of the main exceptions to the hearsay rule is a statement made by the party himself, which is helpfully referred to as an ‘admission’. The category of admissions is a broad exception to the hearsay rule. It means that other witnesses, like his former lawyers or Walt Nauta, could testify at trial to the things the grifter said to them while executing the conspiracy to obstruct justice. And it means recordings of the grifter's own out-of-court statements can be used to establish the elements of his offenses. It is just that, in a normal criminal trial, the prosecution does not have video of the defendant's own incriminating statements. But the grifter is helpfully providing those video admissions with every campaign speech and every interview he gives to a right-wing news outlet.”

The Florida magistrate in the case against Trump issued an order earlier on the same day of Trump’s interview with Baier forbidding him from disclosing “the Discovery Materials or their contents directly or indirectly to any person or entity other than persons employed to assist in the defense, persons who are interviewed as potential witnesses, counsel for potential witnesses, and other persons to whom the Court may authorize disclosure.”  The magistrate went on to warn that disclosure of discovery material “may result in contempt of court or other civil or criminal sanctions.”

It is unknown at the time of this writing if any of Trump’s interview, particularly the part involving the Iran attack plans, amounted to disclosure of “discovery materials.”  It is known, however, that pretty much the entire interview, from beginning to end, may one day end up as evidence in trials of Donald Trump in the classified documents case as well as any potential case the Special Counsel files against him for attempting to overturn the results of the 2020 election.