#marketplace academy

[qoreupsmarketplace]

Discover Marketplace Academy: Your Resource for Marketplace Success

Explore Marketplace Academy at QoreUps for comprehensive guides and insights on building and managing successful online marketplaces. Perfect for entrepreneurs looking to excel in the marketplace industry.

[anabinpresacademy]

TERBAIK !!! 0856-4863-2193, Biaya Pkl Smk Jurusan TKJ - Teknik Komputer Jaringan di Blitar

[theplotmage]

50 Worldbuilding Setting ideas for your fantasy book

Cities and Settlements

1. Capital City - The central hub of political power and culture in the realm.

2. Harbor Town - A bustling port city crucial for trade and naval activities.

3. Elf Village - A serene settlement hidden within a forest, home to elven inhabitants.

4. Dwarven Mines - An underground city where dwarves mine precious metals and gems.

5. Nomad Camp - A temporary settlement for wandering tribes and traders.

6. Market Square - The commercial heart of any major city, filled with vendors and artisans.

7. Sky City - A floating metropolis held aloft by magic or advanced technology.

Natural and Enchanted Locations

8. Mystic Forest - A dense, magical woodland filled with ancient trees and mythical creatures.

9. Enchanted Lake - A serene body of water with mystical properties.

10. Secret Cave - A hidden cavern that might contain treasure or danger.

11. Dark Swamp - A treacherous wetland often home to dark magic and creatures.

12. Forbidden Desert - A vast, arid expanse known for its harsh conditions and ancient secrets.

13. Floating Island - A landmass suspended in the sky, often home to unique flora and fauna.

14. Hidden Valley - A secluded, fertile valley protected from the outside world.

15. Charmed Meadows - Peaceful fields imbued with protective enchantments.

Magical and Supernatural Places

16. Wizard’s Tower - The abode of powerful sorcerers, filled with arcane knowledge.

17. Sacred Temple - A place of worship and spiritual significance, often protected by divine magic.

18. Haunted Castle - An ancient fortress inhabited by ghosts or malevolent spirits.

19. Necromancer’s Crypt - The lair of a dark sorcerer who practices necromancy.

20. Oracle’s Sanctuary - A holy site where oracles deliver prophecies and visions.

21. Magical Academy - An institution where young sorcerers learn the art of magic.

22. Alchemist’s Workshop - A place where alchemists experiment and create potions and elixirs.

23. Time Portal - A gateway to different eras, allowing travel through time.

Dangerous and Uncharted Areas

24. Ancient Ruins - The remnants of a once-great civilization, often hiding secrets or dangers.

25. Dragon’s Lair - The home of a fearsome dragon, filled with treasure and peril.

26. Cursed Forest - A dark, haunted woodland where malevolent forces dwell.

27. Battlefield - The site of a significant past conflict, often haunted by the spirits of the fallen.

28. Volcanic Wasteland - A desolate, fiery landscape wrought with volcanic activity.

29. Giant’s Keep - A massive fortress built and inhabited by giants.

30. Pirate Cove - A hidden inlet where pirates gather to plan their exploits.

31. Shadow Realm - A dark, parallel dimension filled with malevolent entities.

32. Frosty Tundra - A vast, icy wasteland where few dare to venture.

Cultural and Social Hubs

33. Royal Palace - The lavish residence of the ruling monarch and their court.

34. Thieves’ Guild - A secretive organization of thieves and rogues.

35. Warrior’s Training Grounds - A facility where soldiers and heroes train for battle.

36. Arena of Champions - A grand coliseum where warriors compete in combat.

37. Goblin Market - A chaotic and colorful marketplace run by goblins, offering exotic goods.

38. Hermit’s Hut - The secluded home of a wise hermit, often sought for advice.

39. Secret Hideout - A concealed refuge used by rebels or outlaws.

Mystical and Legendary Sites

40. Ethereal Gardens - Magical gardens with rare plants and enchanting beauty.

41. Celestial Observatory - A tower dedicated to studying the stars and celestial events.

42. Sanctuary of Lost Knowledge - A hidden library containing ancient and forbidden texts.

43. Sunken Ruins - The underwater remnants of a lost civilization.

44. Gryphon Nesting Grounds - A mountainous area where gryphons make their nests.

45. Spiral Staircase - An enigmatic, seemingly endless staircase leading to unknown depths.

46. Giant’s Keep - A colossal fortress built and inhabited by giants.

47. Protean Plains - A region where the landscape constantly changes, reshaped by powerful magic or ancient curses.

Adventurous and Explorative Spots

48. Treasure Hunter’s Camp - A gathering spot for explorers seeking lost relics.

49. Relic Seeker’s Cave - A cave rumored to contain powerful artifacts.

50. Explorer’s Outpost - A base for adventurers preparing for expeditions into unknown territories.

***

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[inkspiredwriting]

Flirt and Fight at the Sparrow Academy – Part 2

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: Many of you wanted a second part and @makanirock05 had this sweet idea. I'm not 100% happy with it, but I tried.

Warnings: none

Five couldn't stop thinking about her—Y/n, the Sparrow Academy's enigmatic fighter who had managed to leave an impression on him even amidst the chaos of their first encounter. It was frustrating. He had more important things to focus on, like finding a way back to their own timeline and figuring out how to prevent another apocalypse, but thoughts of Y/n kept creeping back into his mind.

Days passed, and despite his best efforts to stay focused, he found himself hoping for another encounter. It wasn’t long before his wish was granted.

The next time Five saw Y/n, it was by chance—another unexpected crossing of their paths. He was alone, scouting for clues that might help them fix the timeline, when he spotted her in a crowded marketplace, her Sparrow Academy uniform barely visible under a simple jacket. She seemed out of place, yet completely at ease, blending in with the bustling crowd.

For a moment, Five considered avoiding her altogether, but something pulled him toward her. Before he could think better of it, he started walking in her direction. She noticed him instantly, her eyes widening in surprise before a slow smile spread across her face.

“Small world,” she said, her tone playful.

“Too small,” Five replied, matching her stride as they walked side by side. “What are you doing here?”

“Just needed a break from the chaos,” she said with a shrug. “And you?”

“Same,” he lied, not wanting to reveal too much.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, the tension between them palpable. Finally, Y/n broke the silence.

“You know, my siblings would kill me if they knew I was talking to you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Five smirked. “That makes two of us.”

Despite the serious tone of their conversation, there was an undercurrent of something else—something neither of them wanted to acknowledge yet couldn’t ignore.

Back at the Sparrow Academy, Y/n’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She couldn’t deny that she was drawn to Five, but the tension between their families made everything more complicated. It didn’t help that her siblings, especially Ben, were always on high alert, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

Y/n needed to talk to someone, to get her thoughts straight, so she sought out the only person she could trust with this—Sloane.

She found her sister in the library, flipping through a book with a distant look in her eyes.

“Sloane, can we talk?” Y/n asked, her voice hesitant.

Sloane looked up, concern etched on her face. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain the confusion that had been gnawing at her. “It’s about Five. The one from the Umbrella Academy.”

Sloane’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she nodded for Y/n to continue.

“I keep running into him,” Y/n admitted, her voice soft. “And… I don’t know, Sloane. There’s something about him that I can’t shake. He’s different from the rest of them.”

Sloane’s expression softened as she listened. “And you like him?”

Y/n hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, I think I do. But I’m trying to hide it from everyone, especially Ben. I don’t want to cause more problems.”

Sloane reached out, placing a comforting hand on Y/n’s arm. “It’s okay to feel this way, Y/n. We can’t always control who we’re drawn to. And if it means anything, I understand what you’re going through.”

Y/n looked at her sister, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “You mean with Luther?”

Sloane blushed but nodded. “Yeah. He’s different too, and I can’t help but feel something when I’m around him. But it’s complicated, with everything going on.”

Y/n sighed, feeling a bit of relief at having shared her feelings. “What do I do, Sloane? I can’t just ignore this, but I don’t want to hurt anyone either.”

Sloane smiled gently. “You have to follow your heart, Y/n. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s the truth. And who knows? Maybe Five feels the same way.”

The next time Y/n and Five met, it was in secret, away from prying eyes. They talked more openly, sharing bits of their lives and the burdens they carried. The chemistry between them only grew stronger, but they both knew the risks involved.

One night, after yet another secret meeting, Y/n returned to the Sparrow Academy with her heart racing. She couldn’t keep pretending that she didn’t care about Five, but how could she reconcile her feelings with the loyalty she felt toward her family?

As she lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t help but think about Sloane’s words. Follow your heart. It sounded so simple, but Y/n knew that nothing about their situation was simple.

Still, as she drifted off to sleep, a small smile played on her lips. No matter how complicated things got, there was one thing she couldn’t deny—she wanted to see Five again, and she would do whatever it took to make that happen.

[diiwata]

district 6 headcanons! 🚂

yeah, i'm a d6 fan too!!! sue me! here are my top hcs that i use for worldbuilding. if you've read my fic, "o children", then you'll recognize a lot of these things.

industry things

district 6 has many industries involving transportation. oil rigging companies, vehicle manufacturing factories (that they call 'manu-factories' for short), exporters and importers, etc..

exporters and importers get to travel outside of the district for a few weeks at a time, but their activity is monitored by peacekeepers quite heavily.

exporters and importers have the most access to morphling, and consume it more too. of course, there's rings that trade it and such, but people (and those in different districts) usually get their fixes through them.

i can imagine d6 being a work accident prone district. falling off trains, spilling oil, falling manufactured parts, etc..

as part of my fic, there's also an underground boxing ring ran by the peacekeepers to keep themselves entertained, but also to put money in the pockets of those who might not wanna end up in prison and need an... alternative to jail time. i hc that other districts have it too! maybe in d2?

^ OOH! speaking of which, what if career districts developed it into academies while others had it die down/kept more on the down low?

places

VERY polluted district. like, they have to have air purifiers in their homes and wear "outdoor masks" made out of cloth around their faces type of polluted. i also think districts that manufacture things -- like 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 12 -- also have a smilar problem.

i think the problem is concentrated more on the urban areas or people who live next to the factories/train stations.

apparently their population is larger than the average district, according to the fandom wiki, so i imagine that the poorer section of the district live near the factories in large apartment buildings. a neighborhood that i've created is called "farren heights".

meanwhile, the richer folks lived in townhouses/rowhouses. they have more of their own space, but the houses are still very, very squished together. another neighborhood i've created is called "peregrine court".

between the two is their marketplace/commercial area called "traveler's square". of course, they'll have their own shops in their respective neighborhoods, but it's not as plentiful as traveler's square. they need those spaces to create new apartment units or housing developments for the growing population. TS brings them together as it has all the fun pubs, shops, etc..

i think they travel within the district via a smaller metro/train system!

i also believe that due to their growing population, and because not everyone can afford the rent, they have a group of people they call "vagabonds". they build their own homes, but because of the expenses, they don't have their own purifiers. they are the most affected by the pollution.

cultural influences?!

DISCLAIMER: i don't claim being part of the cultures mentioned, so if anyone wants to drop some info, feel free to comment or send an ask so that i can incorporate it into my d6 lore! <3

german and indigenous algonquin are their dominant cultures. (hugest shout out to @pottershawkinswp and @wxstfulthoughts for helping me with the german stuff TM).

this is b/c there was a big migration of german people in this region some time ago. and the indigenous tribes that occupy these lands are algonquin!

the more minor cultures are black and latino! this is because of the fact that they have a very, very small portion of illinois/chicago according to the fandom wiki 😜

potatoes are their main source of carbs. and they have a lot of german-style foods like cheese soup, cold breakfast, etc..

along with travel/manufacture themed names, i also think some people have german influences in their names or surnames.

as for indigenous influence, i can see the youngsters referring to the older people as "elders". they also definitely pass down cultures through story-telling or word of mouth.

i also think they have a cryptid called the W. nothing else to the name, just the W. it's known today as the w*ndigo, but b/c i'm scared TM of the taboo that saying its name will bring it closer to you, i will not say it 😇 over time, the name was forgotten and just became known as the singular letter!

those of indigenous descent would keep their hair long in braids. i believe beading is implemented into their clothes too :)

these folks definitely line dance, a bit of jazz, bit of freestyling. very lively and very rowdy, free, etc.. they're there for a good time, not a long one!

HEAR ME OUT: district 6 greasers. i'm talking the outsiders, random fights, overly gelled hair, cigarette in mouth, and greaser v. socs battles in very sketchy alleyways.

yeah! that's all i have off the top of my head. this was longer than i thought 😭 feel free to incorporate these into your own d6 lore, but yeah! i 💜 district 6

[twopoppies]

Last week, the Black Keys, a band best known for soundtracking car commercials and occasionally fistfighting fellow Nashville resident Jack White, canceled the entire North American leg of a scheduled arena tour without explanation. Why would a band without a major hit in years think it can sell out arenas in tertiary markets? No one can be sure, but the touring business is in trouble, and part of the reason is ego.

Going on tour used to be a non-negotiable part of a life in music—a way to interact with fans, make money, and see the world. But nowadays, artists either want to play arenas or stadiums or do a residency, playing multiple nights in one city at the same venue, à la Harry Styles and Adele. Every week, another artist goes viral on Twitter for low ticket sales, with a screengrab of a Ticketmaster seat map awash in blue.

[…]

So, who do we blame? Is this the fault of corporate mega-promoters like LiveNation (which produced the Black Keys’ tour) booking artists into the biggest venues possible, then jacking the price of everything from tickets to parking to concessions, all regardless of what the market will bear, while tightening their grip on the marketplace to the point that the Department of Justice is preparing to sue them in federal court for antitrust violations? Is it agents and managers gassing up the artist? Is it just the artist's desire to sell out these giant venues? Maybe all of the above.

If you’re going out on the road and you’re big enough to even consider booking an arena show, why not do three nights in a prestigious venue like Radio City Music Hall or the Beacon Theatre instead? It provides fans with a more intimate experience, and every night will feel full. The Black Keys eventually released a statement. They didn’t blame anyone. They didn’t whine about how hard touring is. They just said they were recalibrating after a successful European run playing venues like Brixton Academy in London and the Zenith in Paris. It was the right approach. We all know it was ticket sales, but no artist should be ashamed of taking your lumps, switching things up, and selling tickets.

Big streaming numbers look great online but don’t necessarily translate to ticket sales. A touring business has to be built, returning to the same cities every year. A career cannot rely solely on the algorithm. Being great live will get people through the door and keep them coming back. These offline collective experiences are few and far between these days; buying tickets and going to shows is essential and valuable. They just don’t all need to be in arenas.

Full article here

[meabh-mcinness]

A Price to Pay

Main Masterlist

When you and Professor Balam decided to take the Misfit class out on a field trip to survey items they were studying up close, you never expected that it would end like this.

I fully blame @acemoj85 for this. They came up with the idea one day and it wouldn't leave my head. Now everyone can experience the pain! Also please for the love of everything holy, unholy and in-between! READ! THE! TAGS! This is not a nice fic for good feels. There is no happy ending here (excluding the alternate ending because even I couldn't leave it there).

The streets of the demon city were a labyrinth of shadow and light, where the twilight hours blurred the line between the real and the fantastical. The marketplace was a living, breathing entity, alive with the hum of bartering voices, the clatter of hooves and claws on cobblestones, and the flicker of enchanted lanterns casting eerie glows across twisted architecture.

Among the bustling crowd, a small group of demons wove their way through the maze of stalls. At their head was a towering figure of a demon, easily twice the size of anyone else in his group. A flow of long white hair followed his massive frame as he lumbered forward, marking a way to go as everyone else dodged out of his way, even if he would never actually trample them. Beside him walked a figure cloaked in the traditional wear of a Babyls teacher, their features obscured by a carefully maintained illusion that made them appear as just another demon in the crowd. In reality, this was a human—a teacher at the esteemed academy of demons, where their true nature was a closely guarded secret by only a number of demons that could be counted on one hand.

Balam had to duck quite a few times to get through the crowd safely, though the way he parted the crowd was as unintentional as it was effective. He kept looking behind himself to make sure the kids were still following, his large form towering over them like a mother duck with her ducklings. He chuckled heartily when he noticed one of the kids had gotten distracted by a vendor selling jewellery.

Seeing the child distracted, he reached a large hand down and gently guided them with a soft and quiet “Come on, try to keep up.” The rest of the kids caught up, with a few giggling quietly at the one in front being ushered further along. He gave a soft smile behind his mask at the kids’ amusement, glad that they seemed to enjoy at least. But he continued through the crowd slowly, making sure the group stayed together to reach their destination

For them, this excursion was more than just an educational outing—it was a rare chance to explore the world beyond the academy's walls, to see the mystical and dangerous side of the demon world that they had only read about in books.

"Remember, we're here to study the different forms of binding crystals," you said, your voice calm yet firm, as you led the students toward a vendor's stall displaying an array of glowing crystals. Each one pulsed with a different kind of energy, from the warm golden hues of healing stones to the icy blues of containment gems. The students clustered around, eager to examine the crystals up close.

Balam nodded in agreement with the statement - though he kept an eye on the students around the gems. Some, though he had to admit not all, he knew were rather impulsive and would have to be watched to prevent them from doing something hasty. Namely, the black-haired one currently eyeing a few of the gems. He placed a hand on the kids’ shoulder, Jazz if he remembered the name correctly, preventing them from going forward before giving a quiet stern, ‘Don’t touch.’ as he did.

As the group moved to the next stall, the air suddenly grew thick with a sense of foreboding, making your hair stand up on its ends. The lively chatter of the marketplace began to dim in your ears despite it being as loud as ever, as your instincts screamed that something was wrong. Vaguely you could hear Alice and Clara asking Iruma what was wrong as you turned quickly, your eyes scanning the crowd, but could see nothing out of place—until a shadow flickered unnaturally against the light down one of the alleyways. You tensed as instinct overtook your muscles, your eyes narrowing as your mind processed the strange flicker of movement, eyes squinting to get a better look at them.

Balam felt a chill go through him, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, his hand tightening on Jazz’s shoulder in an automatic response to the potential threat that both you and Iruma sensed. The other misfits noticed this, feeling the change in their teacher’s demeanour, the cheerful atmosphere of the market feeling suddenly thick and tense as Balam also focused on the alleyway, eyes scanning over it… but found nothing more than shadows and the usual hustle and bustle from the crowd. 

He frowned beneath his mask stroking it thoughtfully, he had long since learned that you and Iruma had almost supernatural senses when it came to danger. An odd thing considering the human world was supposed to be a peaceful place, and yet he had never seen two creatures so attune to when there was danger about. Instead of trusting his eyes, he reached out with Buzzer, stretching it to see if there were any hostile intentions nearby -- and there! Exactly where your eyes were locked was a demon cloaked in mana -- and yet he couldn't see them.

His frown deepened and he started to reach into his mana to call forth his vines and capture this unknown demon, intent on interrogating him when before he could react, a figure cloaked in darkness surged from the shadows, their hands crackling with some form of black lightning. The students barely had time to gasp as the figure hurled a bolt of malevolent energy directly at them, aiming directly for little Iruma.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you made a split-second decision. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of the oncoming bolt, your arms outstretched and a shield forming to block what was surely deadly magic. The dark energy struck with brutal force, bursting the shield into a thousand pieces and knocking the breath from your lungs, sending you crashing to the ground. Pain seared through your body, a deep, burning agony that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Sensei!" one of the students screamed, Iruma you thought, his voice laced with panic as he rushed to your side. The others quickly followed, their faces pale, eyes wide and bodies shaking with fear.

You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as you tried to focus on your students, reassure them that you were alright. But no words came out as blood seeped from a wound that cut deep into your side, staining your clothes and pooling beneath you on the cobblestones.

Balam’s face was a mix of horror and rage, the sight of his student in danger causing his normally controlled nature to flare into a protective rage. His eyes zeroed in on the figure that had attacked, his fist clenching tightly at his side as he stepped forward to rush the mysterious figure. At least, he would’ve, if not for what you did.

He saw you throw yourself in front of the attack, watched as you took the hit but collapsed to the ground in obvious pain, and his heart clenched, a sense of absolute terror crashing through him as the sweet scent of your blood reached his nose. He took an involuntary gulp at the smell before shaking his head, eyes blazing with fury as he took off his mask to bare his fangs at their attacker.

 The marketplace had erupted into chaos, demons scattering in every direction as the Balam snapped his teeth in a warning before giant vines erupted from the ground, giving the assailant no chance to escape. With a speed that belied his massive size, Balam launched himself at the enemy, his large talons crashing into them with the force of a landslide. The dark figure barely had time to react before they were attacked themselves by the enraged gargoyle. It was only the knowledge that you lay there, bleeding out and potentially poisoned, that kept Balam's hand from straight out killing the other demon.

He turned back to the human, dread gripping his heart as he saw them lying motionless on the ground, surrounded by their terrified students.

Balam rushed to your side, his heart pounding as he knelt beside you. "Stay with me," he urged, his voice breaking as he reached out to gently touch your face. Your eyes were half-closed and glazing over, your breathing shallow and laboured and getting slower by the minute. The wound on your side continued to bleed, whatever spell had been cast left a lingering taint that resisted the low-level healing.

"We're trying," Elizabetta sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she looked up at Balam with a mixture of helplessness and fear. "But it's not enough... we don't know how to do more..."

Balam's heart sank at the sight of you. You were so, so pale, and the blood loss was only getting worse. Balam felt tears of frustration and panic forming in his eyes as he watched the life slowly slipping away from the human before him. He had never really noticed until now just how small you were in comparison to him. You were always so full of life, ready to face every challenge that came your way with a grin, and now... 

Balam's heart sank at the sight of you. You were so, so pale, and the blood loss was only getting worse. Balam felt tears of frustration and panic forming in his eyes as he watched the life slowly slipping away from the human before him. He had never really noticed until now just how small you were in comparison to him. You were always so full of life, ready to face every challenge that came your way with a grin, and now... With a frustrated snarl, he placed his hand over yours, channelling his own mana into you, trying to bolster your failing strength, as he muttered healing spell after healing spell. But as the seconds ticked by, it was becoming increasingly clear that it might not be enough.

"You're going to be fine," Balam said, though doubt gnawed at him, threatening to turn his words into a hollow promise. "I won't let you go."

The human's hand reached up, trembling, to brush against Balam’s pale skin. They managed a weak smile, though it was strained, their eyes filled with pain. "Take care... of Iruma," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"No," Balam growled, his voice trembling as he leaned closer, his protective nature overwhelming him. "You're not leaving him. You're not leaving me."

Your eyes fluttered closed, their breath growing shallower by the second. The students huddled around them, their panic growing larger, a profound sense of loss growing in them as they watched their teacher fade before their eyes.

Balam's heart twisted in his chest at your words. With an anguished cry, he pressed his hand to your chest, willing you to live, to hang on. But despite his desperate efforts, your breathing slowed, your skin growing colder and colder...becoming as chilled as white snow.

Tears streamed down the gargoyle's face, mingling with the sweat that clung to his skin. He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't. The thought was unbearable, and for the first time in years, fear clawed at his heart. "No, no, no, no, NO!" he sobbed over your body.

Gritting his teeth together he snapped at the students to stand back. Laying your body out he tore his gloves off, revealing the scaled skin and sharp nails underneath. He tore the top of your shirt open, revealing your bra and skin underneath.

Carefully he dragged his claw in a careful sketch over your chest, drawing sigil after sigil that he could remember from the depths of his mind. Once his drawing was complete, he placed a barrier around the students, ensuring that they couldn't get too close or be harmed by what he was about to do. Ignoring the student's shouts as they banged on the barrier walls, he turned back to you.

Drawing on the last reserves of his strength, Balam placed both hands over the symbols, his runes glowing with an intensity that bathed your body in light, as the last dredges of his mana started flowing. He closed his eyes, focusing all of his energy on healing, willing the wound to close, the foreign magic to leave your body and let you live. The power surged through him and immediately his mouth started moving, chanting out the words to an old spell he had seen in a scroll during one of his many research hauls. The energy flowed into you, knitting your wound with agonizing slowness, but closing regardless.

For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing but the sound of Balam's ragged voice and the faint crackling of energy. Balam's heart pounded in his chest as he watched for any sign of life. His hands trembled as he continued to pour every ounce of his power into the healing spell, ignoring the exhaustion that gnawed at his very being. 'Come on,' he thought, 'Come back to us.'

The world trembled with a sense of anticipation, the air charged with the hope and fear that radiated from everyone. Yet despite Balam's best efforts, despite the raw amount of power that he was pushing into your body… nothing happened. There was no change, no sign of life... nothing.

The spell he had cast was just as hopeless as any other. For all his power and knowledge, for all his raw talent, there was nothing he could do. The realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks. No! It wasn't meant to end like this! He wouldn't allow it! He couldn't! This… This wasn’t the end. It simply just could not be!

So he poured even more into the casting, pushing himself to his limits and beyond. His face twisted with desperation and panic, and his body trembling from the sheer effort. But… it was no more helpful than before. Your body… your body was… dead.

Slowly the light of the spell died, and Balam pulled back, before collapsing over your body sobs racking his own. The students held their breath, hope and fear battling in their eyes, as the barrier flickered before fading, drained of the last remnants of Balam's mana. He had nothing left to give in his struggle to keep you alive. The misfits could only watch in stunned silence, their own eyes widening with terror and horror. The silence was deafening, filled only with the sound of Balam's sobs, his shoulders shaking as he clutched your body to him tightly, tears streaming down his face and onto yours.

Iruma let out a loud wail as he raced to be by your side, his small body burrowing itself in between Balam and you. He clutched the remnants of your ripped shirt and buried his face into your chest, desperate to hear any signs of life, from the faintest pulse to a faulty breath. Instead, only silence greeted him.

"No…" Alice whispered, voice cracking with grief and disbelief. Clara let out a small whimper, burying their face in Alice's shoulder, while several clutched each other in an attempt to find comfort among the turmoil.

Balam's tears fell onto your face, his grief and despair overwhelming him. He felt so lost, so helpless, and so incredibly guilty. He should have sensed the danger, should have been able to protect you, should have... should have done something, anything! But instead… you lay dead in his arms. He gently stroked your cheek, his touch soft and desperate, as if trying to bring you back to life with his touch alone. "Please," he begged, his voice rough and broken, "Please come back...I" 'never got to say I loved you.'

The silence was deafening. The students stood in an almost numb state of shock and grief, their eyes fixed on your lifeless body. Iruma continued to cling to you, his small frame shaking with sobs as he tried to find a breath, to feel a flutter of a heartbeat.

Iruma continued sobbing into your chest, his small body shuddering with each strangled gasp of air. He just couldn’t quite accept that you were… gone. This wasn't supposed to happen. You were too strong, too vital, too alive to just die like this! It wasn't right!

The tears continued to slide down Balam's face, a torrent of grief and despair. If only he had seen the attack… if only he'd been faster, if only he'd been able to stop it! Guilt and rage tore at his heart, but Iruma's wails of despair slowly brought his mind back to the situation at hand beyond only you. You were gone and there was nothing more he could do. Gently he grabbed Iruma and tried to take him away from your body.

The boy flailed, turning to strike at Balam and fighting to leave. Shouts of how you weren't dead, and how he wasn't leaving you leaving the tiny boy.

Finally forcing Iruma away from your cold body, the boy curled up in Balam's arms clutching onto his shirt for dear life as he was overrun with sobs. Balam's arms tightened securely around the child, making sure to keep him safe from the view of your body and from the view of others.

The tiny boy seemed even smaller than usual to Balam, now that he was the last human in the Netherworld.

The other students hovered nearby, their eyes rimmed with red from their own tears. They were shaken and uncertain, their voices quiet as they tried to come to terms with what had happened. Some even looked away, unable to bear the sight of you lying lifeless on the ground.

Balam's heart clenched tightly at the sight of Iruma's struggle. He held the tiny boy tightly, trying to offer what comfort he could despite the heavy weight of his own grief settling over him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. "But I'll be here for you now."

Balam would be damned if he failed to succeed in fulfilling your last words.

Alternate Ending

For a moment, the world held its breath. The students watched with bated breath, hope and fear warring in their eyes, as the barrier flicked before fading from the lack of oncoming mana from Balam. He had no more left to give in his attempts to keep you alive.

Then, your eyes fluttered open, weak but alive. You looked up at Balam confusion in your gaze.

"You're okay," Iruma whispered, tears streaming down his face as he rushed to knee beside you. "You're okay..."

Balam let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, careful not to hurt you further. "Don't you ever do that again," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You chuckled weakly, though the sound was strained. Your hand rested against Balam's chest, feeling the fast but steady, reassuring pulse of his heart beneath his shirt. "No promises," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. But the warmth in your eyes said everything, as you turned to cuddle closer into him.

Balam held you close, the students gathering around the both of you, all of them shaking from the relief flooding their bodies as adrenaline left. A cold breeze flew by and you shivered, as it swept across your bared chest. Confusion swirled through your hazy mind as you tried to figure out why it felt wrong.

Opening your eyes again when you felt you had enough strength to do so, you glanced down to see the bare swell of your breasts and the lace of your bra showing through a shredded top. You blinked once, twice, and then once again before it finally clicked.

"Balam...."You started and he hummed in response. "Why is my shirt ripped, did the spell do this?"

He froze at the question, his own eyes glancing down to see your exposed chest, the exposure that he had caused. His face broke out into a fierce blush before he quickly told Clara to summon a blanket and wrap you in it, being sure to cover you up to your neck. Even then the blush remained as he hefted you up into his arms. Clearing his throat to try and hide his embarrassment, he turned to the students and declared they were leaving.

Luckily they had picked the town not too far away from Babyls.

Unluckily, he now had to deal with Sullivan and Opera about almost letting one of their beloved people die. He could already tell this meeting would not end well for him. 'Better him than you at least' he thought as he shifted his arms to hold you more securely.

[mrsreinhart]

What’s next? You’ve got a TV series? Hal & Harper?

Yeah, during the Screen Actors’ strike. SAG was encouraging actors to go out and make independents so that we could show the studios that it could actually be done. That we could make something and still honour the actors and honour this new contract that the actors were asking for, and it wasn’t going to stop us from working. It was doable.

And I really believed in that and I think we need competition in the marketplace and by making great independent films, it makes the other films better. And it lets other people get involved that normally wouldn’t get a chance. So I did Hal & Harper. We did 10 half-hour episodes for $5million, which is impossible.

Did you sell it?

Not yet. They are still cutting it — but the idea is to sell that. So it’s never been done, there’s never been an independent television show ever made. And then I’m going off to do Brad Inglesby’s next TV show. He did Mare of Easttown with Kate Winslet.

[comfort-questing]

29. "fatigue"

you need to check on Torin, they'd told her, he's not doing well.

nobody was really doing very well these days, with the scouts reporting maybe three more days before the last road was blocked, and the enemy forces drawing close and closer to their walls. nobody was doing well exactly, and so Sir Torin the governor looking bad enough to require a specific report to her was indeed not a good sign. that was why she'd taken the time to leave the placement of tents and the cataloguing of incoming refugees to one of her subordinates for the afternoon and made her way uptown.

she'd had to wait an hour to get an audience along with the rest of the folk in the governor's mansion. when she did get into the room, the dense dimness of it startled her, and she paused on the threshold blinking frantically.

"pardon the curtains," came Torin's voice, from somewhere beyond, oddly hoarse and flat. "I've had an awful headache all day. what do you need, 'Lis?"

her eyes adjusted at last, as she rubbed at them with one hand, and found Torin where he sat behind a cluttered desk with a half-lit lamp at his elbow. maybe it was only the lamp-shadows, but the color seemed to have all gone out of his face except for a brilliant blush along his sharp cheekbones.

"heard on the wind that you were working yourself to death," she said.

"what of it?" he brushed his hair back from his eyes with one clumsy hand. "how's the camp in the south marketplace?"

"fine. it's fine, and do you know how I know it's fine? because I have other people helping me, and they're dealing with the roster and the placement of the three sheep-farmers coming in from the valley without me, while I'm up to check on you."

"don't give me another lecture about - what's it - delegation." he coughed into his elbow, thickly. "what do you think I've been talking to people about since first light?"

"governor things, I'm sure. important ones. but - Torin, you look like a ghost."

he sighed, letting his head rest on one hand, elbow to the desk between two piles of papers. "we're three days out from a siege. it doesn't matter."

the fingers of his free hand were horridly warm in hers, as she reached across the desk. "you're not going to help the city much from a sickbed, you know."

"I'll help the city from wherever I have to. I just - wish my head would stop hurting." there were dark circles etched under his heavy-lidded eyes. "I was up till four o'clock with the captain of the guards."

"and up at first light talking to folk about delegation?"

Torin's shoulders heaved with his next breath. "it's a - a - what - a manner of speaking."

this was how he'd always been, so desperately earnest, ever since they were schoolkids together in the academy; she'd seen him work himself to this point before, and it never ended well. she let go of his hand and stood up. "I'm letting the secretary know you're done for the afternoon."

"no - I can't. the scouts are reporting back in an hour or so - there'll be news of the advance - " he rubbed at his reddened eyes, haphazardly. "I'll go to bed tonight, 'Lis, I promise."

"Torin." she put her hands on the desk, then. "you have to understand - the city needs you, yes, but that means we need you safe and sound, and awake too. and that means you have to rest sometimes."

"don't - don't." he coughed again. "oh - blast."

"can't I listen to the military reports for you instead? I'm on the marketplace council, that's kind of official."

he laughed, shallowly. "I'll delegate that to you, if I have to, I guess."

she had been about to leave, to summon the secretary and a servant or so to see their governor off to bed; but something of the slump of his shoulders then, the ragged fringe of his fallen-loose hair, put her back into the memories of the old days, and so she moved back towards him instead.

Torin stiffened a little at her arms around him, but then relaxed with a sigh, as if they were two kids at the academy again. "oh, 'Lis."

"we're going to be all right," she said, into his hair. "I - I think we'll be all right, Torin, even if it's bad for a while. reinforcements will come and we'll hold out till then. we'll be all right."

and if the secretary, opening the door to ask about scheduling the next audience request, had any questions about why the councilwoman was hugging the governor, he had the sense not to comment.

[sephyathredon-writing]

Whumptober #4: Shock to the System

Summary: After Ambrosius' mess up at the marketplace, the Director decides to take matters into her own hands. He's allowed to keep heading the expedition to arrest Ballister, but now there's a new piece of jewelry around his neck. What seems like a new piece Ambrosius added to his wardrobe turns out to be a shock collar which the Director will not hesitate to detonate, should she feel he's straying too far from Gloreth's light.

An Entry for Whumptober under the prompt "Shock".

____

Ambrosius was nervous to say the least when the Director called him into her office. He fidgeted with his fingers as he walked down the hallway. He had an inkling of an idea what this all was about.

Todd had gone and ran his mouth again. He wouldn’t put it past him to tell the Director about the incident at the market where he failed to put an arrow into Ballister’s back. He’d told just about everyone else about it and how unfair it was that Ambrosius was the only one with a clear shot and he just froze.

Ambrosius’ anxiety kicked in as he faced the large wooden doors that led into the Director’s office. He breathed unevenly as he pushed them open and strode inside. The Director bid him close the door behind him to give them some privacy, he did as he was told.

He approached the Director’s desk, but she held up a hand for him to stop halfway there. He did as he was told. She stood from her desk and approached him.

“Sir Goldenloin, I take it you must have some idea of why I’ve called you here, correct?”

He nodded his head, avoiding her gaze like a child who knows he’s done something bad.

But he didn’t, he was sure of it. He let Ballister live. He refused to injure him.

“Say it,” she demanded.

Ambrosius directed his gaze at his feet as he spoke. “I had an opportunity to capture Ballister and I let it slip through my fingers.”

The Director paced around him as she spoke. “Exactly. Now, I know the academy didn’t train their knights to hesitate like that.”

“But he’s-” Ambrosius started to retort, but bit his tongue.

The Director leveled him with a stare that told him not to interrupt again. “Perhaps I should have you taken off the mission if he means so much to you. After all, you aren’t thinking clearly when it comes to him, your inaction at the market proves that.”

Ambrosius bit his tongue hard this time, fighting the urge to interrupt. He waited a minute and then spoke. “With all due respect, Director. I don’t think that’s necessary,” he responded, showing every courtesy he could, as he had been taught. “Without me leading this investigation, it falls into the hands of Sir Thoddeus Sureblade, and both of us know he won’t do it right.”

Even worse, he’ll hurt Ballister, possibly even kill him to make the Director happy. He wasn’t sure if Todd was capable of that, but he didn’t want to find out.

The Director was silent for a few moments, she stopped her pacing to go over to her desk and pull something from a drawer. Ambrosius watched her, trepidation showing clearly on his face. She approached him with the item behind her back.

“Sir Goldenloin, I am entirely aware of your relationship with Blackheart,” the Director spoke.

Blackheart. The name that Ballister had been rebranded with. Ambrosius refused to call him that.

The Director reached out and placed her fingertips under Ambrosius’ chin, making him look her in the eyes. It was not strong, she was gently guiding him to look at her. Her expression held kindness and understanding

“It is only natural for you to have worries and doubts about this investigation, to still have feelings for him even after he’s been branded a monster. However, you are our beloved descendant of Gloreth. It is your job to lead the people and to make an example of people who make a mockery of our golden order, of Gloreth’s legacy.

“I know it is hard,” she continued, speaking softly, “that is why I have something to ease the burden.”

Ambrosius was so hypnotized by her eyes that he failed to notice the director snapping something around his neck until it was too late.

“I… huh?” Ambrosius asked, confused. He looked down but he couldn’t see the thing around his neck. Instead he removed a glove and reached a hand up, brushing it against what felt like cool metal all the way around except for a gem that was inset into the front. It seemed ornate and detailed.

Ambrosius’ eyes met hers again.

“Director, I’m not sure I understand. What is a new piece of jewelry going to do to help me?” Ambrosius asked.

“It is not just a piece of jewelry, Sir Goldenloin. Sorry to say it but I have been forced to take precautionary measures. What I have just put around your neck is a shock collar.” She revealed a small controller with a dial in the hand that had been holding the collar previously, “Should I see you straying too far from Gloreth’s light, giving into the monster’s temptations, I will rectify that.”

Ambrosius felt panic rising in his chest at the prospect of the collar shocking him, but he kept hiding his true feelings behind the same old mask he was used to.

“I’m not sure I understand, Director. This is such a drastic measure for one little mistake. Why are you doing this to me?” Ambrosius asked, some slight pauses in his breathing being an indication of his panic.

“It’s for your own safety, Ambrosius. I promise.” The gentle tone was laced in her voice once again. “Normally I would let you off with a warning, but with your inaction at the market, I see you walking down a path that will lead you away from us. The call of a loved one is too tempting for even the strongest man to resist. This is for your own good. If Blackheart got his hands on you, the kingdom would be doomed.”

Ambrosius was quiet for a while, taking this all in. He willed himself to calm down. He came away from his thoughts putting on a determined face and nodding. He understood where the director was coming from, that she meant well.

He was the one to blame for the collar, not the Director.

The Director continued, “You mustn’t tell anyone about it, they might think I’m being unfair. Should you slip and tell someone, I will have to punish you with it. To the public you are just wearing a new piece of jewelry. I pray on Gloreth’s name that I never have to use it for its intended purpose.”

“I do too,” Ambrosius responded, his voice strained.

“You are dismissed,” The Director ordered, going to sit back at her desk.

Ambrosius nodded and turned in place, making his way out of the room.

“Oh, and Ambrosius…” The Director’s voice stopped him in his tracks before he could reach the door.

“Yes, Director?” Ambrosius kept his voice even as he replied without looking back at her.

“You may not take it off until I say you can. If I catch you with it off, you will be subjected to a worse punishment than it can give you, understand?”

“Yes Director.”

“Good. You are dismissed.” she said, sitting at her desk and resuming her work.

As soon as Ambrosius was out of the Director’s sight, he ran.

Ambrosius didn’t stop until he was in the safety of his own room. He passed by Todd on the way who didn’t even have time to ask him about the new piece of jewelry around his neck.

Once he closed the door behind him, he curled up on his bed, his emotions finally showing on his face. Tears fell and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop them.

He’d messed up, and now he wouldn’t have the opportunity to mess up again. If he were to go face to face with Ballister again, he couldn’t hesitate, not if he wanted to avoid getting hurt.

Ambrosius tried to slip a few fingers under the collar, but it fit so snugly on him that he couldn’t, almost as if it were made exactly to fit him. As if the institute was worried about their Golden Boy straying from his leash all this time.

Her words about straying from Gloreth’s light echoed in his head. Was she really disappointed in him?

“Gloreth… I’m sorry…”

He waited a few moments.

“Ballister… I’m sorry…”

The last one broke him and he buried his face in his pillow with a sob.

He didn’t know what was going to happen next time he encountered Ballister, but it wasn’t going to be good.

Eventually, he willed himself to get out of bed and prepare for sleep. After brushing his teeth, he got a text.

[The Director of the Institute: Sir Goldenloin, tomorrow you are going to accompany me to the Institute. I have reason to believe that Blackheart may attempt to take my life next.]

The next text had the time and place they would meet up. It was early, even before sunrise. He was used to getting up early, but he didn’t think he could sleep with the collar on, it was too new, too uncomfortable.

The Director had told him not to take it off, though, so he would have to try.

Just as he thought, it took him a while to get to sleep. He was in his own head chasing his thoughts around and around for most of the night. Normally this was when he’d text Ballister and talk it out with him. He knew that Ballister wouldn’t mind being woken up in the middle of the night, if he could ease Ambrosius’ anxiety.

But he didn’t have Ballister around, an unfortunate truth he’d have to live with.

He fell asleep with tears still in his eyes.

His morning routine was the same as usual since he’d lost Ballister. He had to drag himself out of bed, and then he was obligated to spend hours in the bathroom getting his look just right, so he had to wake up before dawn. The biggest difference was the feeling of the shock collar around his neck. Once or twice in the middle of the night he woke up, swearing he was being choked, only to realize it was the collar.

He grabbed a granola bar, eating it on the way to meet up with the Director. He had no time for anything other than a quick breakfast.

He ruminated in his thoughts as he walked, wondering for how long he’d have to keep the collar on for, if he’d be allowed to take it off once Ballister was caught. He tried not to dwell on what would happen if he should come face to face with Ballister again like he had at the marketplace. Hopefully after that incident, he knew to stay away.

And just what had he been doing at the marketplace? He’d been kidnapping the squire that had been there on the day where everything went wrong. This wasn’t the Ballister he knew.

These thoughts continued even as he helped the Director into her carriage, only picking up in volume and internal panic, but he kept them to himself. It wouldn’t do to blow up in front of the Director, she didn’t deserve that.

His fingers traced the gemstone inset into the collar as he sat across from her looking out the window. He caught sight of a billboard as he passed, the faces of Ballister and himself as children staring back at him.

They were painting over Ballister.

They were trying to erase him.

“Something on your mind, Ambrosius?”

He could have said something here, but he didn’t. Like Descendants of Gloreth do, he hid his emotions. Instead he formulated a reply to her in his head.

‘My mind? I’ve lost my mind. I’ve lost everything. The man I love. My best friend. Although now apparently, he’s got a new best friend, what’s that about? What else is he hiding? Who's the real him? Who am I? A direct descendant of Gloreth? I didn’t ask for that.

And now I have this collar on because you can’t even trust me to do this right. Because without it, I’m going to hesitate, like I did at the market. I’m going to fail you, I’m going to fail Gloreth and her legacy.

Everyone expects me to arrest Ballister. If I don’t I’m a traitor to you, and this thing is going to shock me. If I do, I’m a traitor to him.

OH and on top of that, I chopped off his arm. HIS ARM. Who chops off an arm? Because I was trained to? Arm chopping is NOT a love language!’

He would have said all of this directly to the Director if he didn’t fear her response.

“I’m fine, Director,” was what Ambrosius told her instead. A bold faced lie, but it’s not like he hasn’t lied about how he was feeling before.

It wasn’t long before the carriage pulled up to the Institute and the two of them stepped out.

“Stay strong, Ambrosius. The blood of Gloreth runs through your veins.”

----

Ballister wasn’t sure what to expect when he got up to the Institute’s roof. He watched as Ambrosius and the Director stepped out of the carriage. Immediately he noticed an oddity in Ambroisus’ outfit.

Internally, he scoffed. Just a fancy piece of jewelry gifted to him by the Institute..

Except… he knew Ambrosius wasn’t much of a jewelry guy, the man didn’t even wear earrings. There was something almost sinister about the presence of the gold collar around his neck.

Still, he approached Ambrosius and he and Nimona tried to talk things out with him and the Director. All hope was quickly lost when his only evidence was shot out of his hand by Todd Sureblade, who seemed so proud of himself for it.

Their hopes were dwindling as knights filed into the courtyard. They were surrounded on all sides and in the air. The only thing left was to beg for Ambrosius to listen to him.

“It doesn’t matter, you don’t need proof. You know I’m not a murderer,” he tried to reason with Ambrosius.

“What are you waiting for, captain?” There was an edge to the Director’s voice as she spoke and a look of fear flashed across Ambrosius’ face as he glanced over to her before looking back at Bal.

There was a side comment from Todd that Ballister barely heard something about a whale, and then Nimona spoke up, telling Ambrosius to do the right thing.

“Who is she, Bal?” Ambrosius asked as Nimona’s eyes flickered in the bright light, revealing just how different she was. “What is she?”

“This is Nimona, she’s my friend,” Ballister responded, not liking the unsure expression Ambrosius made in response.

“But… aren’t I more than that?” Ambrosius responded, his hand hadn’t moved from the hilt of his sword.

“Of course you are. Ambrosius, I still love you. I just need you to trust me right now. Neither of us are your enemies.”

Ballister knew what a thin line he was walking. One wrong move could dissuade Ambrosius. He had to be careful. He had to get Ambrosius on his side with logic.

He saw Ambrosius’ grip loosen on the hilt, just a little.

“I don’t understand how any of this is relevant, Captain,” the Director responded from beside him. “Did you forget that you’re looking at a monster and his sidekick? She could be a monster too.”

Ballister glanced at Nimona. She didn’t seem to flinch, but he could see it in her eyes, the word ‘monster’ really hurt her.

‘Do NOT call me that.’

Nimona’s words rang in his ears.

“Ambrosius, you know me. You know I am not a murderer. I loved the Queen, and had no reason to kill her.” Ballister locked eyes with him, holding out his prosthetic hand, “You told me you’ve always wanted an escape from this life. Come with me, help me prove that the Director is the one responsible for the Queen’s murder.”

“Ambrosius…” The Director’s tone was clearly a warning. She was facing straight ahead but her gaze was to the side, looking at Ambrosius. Her hands were behind her back.

Ballister saw minor changes in Ambrosius’ posture and expression. His nose scrunched up and he closed his eyes halfway. His jaw clenched too, a sign that he was gritting his teeth. Ballister had known Ambrosius for years, he only ever showed these signs when he was in some kind of physical pain.

Ballister’s eyes went to the collar around Ambrosius’ neck.

“The monster is tempting you, Ambrosius. You are straying from the light, you must resist.” The Director’s tone was commanding.

Ambrosius was frozen in place, his body shaking for a moment before he attempted to hide it by tensing his muscles. He couldn’t hide it from Ballister though.

“Ambrosius, is something wrong? Where did that piece of jewelry around your neck come from?”

Ambrosius opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again, looking at the Director.

“What are you waiting for, captain?” She repeated what she said earlier, “Arrest them.”

Ambrosius closed his eyes, something seemed to hit him hard as he stumbled where he stood. He looked at Ballister and drew his sword. His expression relaxed and all signs of what had affected him previously were gone.

He took a few deep breaths as he stepped toward Ballister.

“Ambrosius, please…” Ballister begged. Despite that, he didn’t step back, he stood his ground. An arm went up in front of Nimona protectively. She didn’t say anything but her eyes were on Ballister, a worried expression on her face.

Ambrosius’ expression was unreadable, just a blank stoic expression. He made eye contact with Ballister and stared so long and hard that it almost felt like the man was staring into his soul.

The look in Ballister’s eye was genuine. He was telling the truth. Ambrosius knew him, so Ambrosius knew the tells that Ballister would inadvertently show when he tried to lie.

“Ambrosius. I am innocent. I am not a murderer.” Ballister made direct eye contact back, holding his ground, a determined look on his face. He wouldn’t flinch, not when Ambrosius was so obviously searching for a reason to believe what he was saying.

Time stopped and the moments where their eyes met seemed to drag on for hours, even though it was likely only a few minutes.

Soon Ambrosius pulled away and nodded his head at Ballister, taking the man’s prosthetic in his hand and standing beside him.

Ballister almost couldn’t believe it, Ambrosius was standing with him.

It made his heart swell with emotion, it made him feel like their love was strong enough to weather even something as disastrous as this. With Ambrosius by his side, he felt like he could do anything.

“I believe him.” The words from Ambrosius, said to the Director, almost brought Ballister to tears. Talking to Ambrosius had actually worked.

The expression on the Director’s face was one of frustration.

“Sir Goldenloin,” Her voice was cold when she spoke to him, eyes not quite staring at Ambrosius, “We talked about this. Should you ever stray from Gloreth’s light, I will rectify it.”

“What does she-” Ballister barely had time to formulate a response.

Ambrosius let go of his hand and crumpled to the ground beside him. He saw the director’s hands, now out from behind her back, in one of them she was holding a little remote control with a dial.

With a dawning sense of dread, Ballister realized what it was.

“It’s a shock-” Ballister started, but was interrupted again, this time by Nimona.

“Really? A shock collar!? Just when I start to think you people can’t sink any lower, you go and do this to one of your own!?” she responded, clearly outraged despite only knowing Ambrosius as an antagonist.

Ambrosius was on the ground, hands grasping at the collar around his neck, hunched over. Cries escaped his lips, one after another in quick succession as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Sparks jumped off his armor.

Ballister was by his side in a second, placing his prosthetic hand to Ambrosius’ back, something he immediately regretted as electricity shot up his arm and burned the flesh of his shoulder where it connected. Ballister let out a cry, reeling back.

“Go!” Ambrosius shouted through the pain, “Get out of here!”

“Not without you,” Ballister responded, gritting his teeth as he realized the knights that had them surrounded were getting closer.

“Knights,” the Director began, “Arrest them all.”

They didn’t have much time. They had to act. First priority was getting that collar off of Ambrosius, but they didn’t have the time.

“Boss… what do we do?” Nimona had her fists out in front of her, prepared to fight her way through these knights.

“We need to get him out of here.” Ballister gestured to Ambrosius who was now fully on the floor, curled up on himself. What had once been shouts, now turned to whimpers and cries for help.

Ballister grabbed him, gritting his teeth against the feeling of the electricity flowing through his body. If it lessened the amount that Ambrosius was affected, he didn’t mind.

“Nimona! I need something that flies. NOW!” Ballister shouted.

“You got it!” she responded, and her form grew. Wings, a snout, claws, a tail, but… soft features, big eyes, and that pink coloration that was so Nimona.

A laugh that Ballister sorely needed escaped his lips. He recognized the form. It was Kwispy the Dragon, from the commercial that had been playing the day before on the train.

Somehow, he felt like this had something to do with her not wanting to be perceived as a monster.

Using her tail, she knocked over several of the knights and the Director, being careful not to send them over the edge of the roof to their deaths. As much as Nimona talked about murder, Ballister picked up quickly that she never actually meant it.

She bent down and placed her head on the ground near Ballister. She didn’t even need to tell him to get on before he scrambled up it as best he could while holding Ambrosius. It was awkward to stay seated on top of her neck, but luckily little spikes jutted out that he could keep a hand on while he held Ambrosius with the other.

Just as Nimona took off, Ballister heard the voice of the Director.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Ambrosius jumped in his hold and grabbed on tightly to any handhold he could find in Ballister’s armor, body shaking from the amount of electricity flowing through it. Ballister assumed that she turned the collar’s dial up to max. If the collar didn’t come off, he could easily die.

Ballister could hear the sounds of Hoverbikes in hot pursuit, Knights shooting bolts at Nimona. While Ballister was worried for her, his focus was entirely on his boyfriend suffering in his arms.

“Bal… Ballister… it hurts… I’m sorry… I couldn’t… I couldn’t go against you… like that…” The mumbling continued like that, it sounded like Ambrosius just said anything that came to mind. Words were often interrupted by little whimpers as he spoke. Tears escaped the corners of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks.

Ballister responded in kind, answering his replies, “I know it hurts… You don’t have to apologize… I can’t believe she’d do something like that…”

The mere act of holding Ambrosius was causing him to share the other’s pain. Something he just had to deal with, for now. He wondered if Nimona could feel it too.

Shock collars hadn’t been used in the Kingdom in a long long time. The general consensus was that they were barbaric and inhumane. For the Director to use one on Ambrosius only proved that she was ruthless enough to have murdered the Queen.

It’s not going to settle well with the Knights, and they will talk. It might be a way for his claim to gain credibility, he just wished it didn’t have to happen like this.

This and many thoughts raced through his mind as he searched for a latch on the collar. There was one, but it seemed like it was designed to lock once the collar was activated. There wasn’t any way to get it off. Ballister made a noise of frustration before addressing Nimona

“We need to land somewhere nearby, preferably in the forest. Not near our hideaway, got it?”

A big pink dragon was a little too easy to follow for Ballister’s liking.

“Got it,” she responded, dipping down into the trees. Once she touched the ground, several trees bending around her, she reached her arms up and swatted at the hover bikes circling her. Ballister noticed that she aimed carefully so that the fall would be minimal by the time she let go and they’d land on the forest floor. It wasn’t so much a swipe as it was that she was batting them down.

When the skies were clear, she shrunk, but changed into a larger version of her human form with big arms, so she could carry them both. She set them down on the forest floor before changing into her teenage girl form. She gently plucked out several bolts stuck in her while watching Ballister and Ambrosius. Ballister let go of Ambrosius and stood, unhooking his arm and placing it on the ground. Smoke emitted from under his pauldron, a clear sign of the scarring that was sure to be there.

Ambrosius had spread out on the forest floor, on his back, the cries starting up again as his hands grasped the shock collar in a death grip. His whole body was shaking and his breathing was labored. Tears turned into full on sobs. He was begging for the pain to end now. His voice was raspy. Whether it was from all the screaming or the electricity, Ballister couldn’t tell.

“Nimona.” Ballister called her to his side, looking at her with a sad expression and teary eyes, “Please. There must be some animal you can turn into that’ll get that off of him. Please… I don’t want to lose him…”

Nimona nodded and turned into a crab, scuttling over to Ambrosius and placing a claw to the collar. She could hear Ambrosius suck in a breath in anticipation.

Nimona let out a pained noise as her claw touched the collar, but she squeezed it with all the strength she had and was happy to hear the sound of the collar breaking off of him.

Ballister acted quickly, grabbing it and tossing it away.

Nimona responded by running toward it and shifting into a rhinoceros, stamping over it with her feet. One or two shocks ran over her, but she hardly felt it. The electric field died down as the machine was sufficiently destroyed. When Nimona turned back to herself, she spit on it before returning to the other two.

Ballister had Ambrosius in his arm, holding him close. Aftershocks wracked the man’s body and there were burn marks on his neck. Ballister’s left hand pressed against the back of the other’s head, pushing it against his shoulder. Ballister’s posture was protective.

Before Nimona could get over to the two of them, there was a rustling in the bushes in front of them. Nimona turned into a wolf, anticipating an upcoming fight.

Sure enough, it was a knight that burst through the foliage. It seemed to be one of the ones that had previously been on a hoverbike, but they just stood there. Their helmet was pointed at Nimona at first, but then it looked at Ballister and Ambrosius. Ballister didn’t doubt that their eyes were focused on the angry red burn marks going up and down Ambrosius’ neck.

“Will… the captain be okay?” he asked, sheathing his sword to show that he wasn’t going to attack.

Ballister pulled Ambrosius back and looked at him, trusting Nimona to have his back. He forced himself to look at the burns before looking back up at the Knight.

“Truthfully, I don’t know,” he responded.

The Knight took a step back, “She shouldn’t have done this… especially not to him. I don’t… understand why she would do this.”

“Good. Question that,” Nimona responded, turning back into her human form, “Question the Institute, get others to question it. If they’re willing to do this to their golden boy, what do you think that makes you in their eyes?”

She approached the Knight and they took another step back. They looked over at Ballister and Ambrosius again.

Ambrosius was looking straight at them. His voice was destroyed, but he still spoke.

“She’s right.”

“I…” The Knight looked between the two of them and Nimona, “I’m sorry.” And with that, they left.

In the next moment, Ambrosius’ head fell back and his body relaxed in Ballister’s grip. It caught the other Knight by surprise, but he quickly reassured himself that Ambrosius had fainted, likely from the pain.

Ballister responded by holding him close again, looking over at Nimona.

“You okay?” he asked, concern clear in his voice.

“Me? Pfft, of course I’m okay. Just got a few bolts from the Knights, no biggie.”

“Nimona, You know I’m going to want to wrap those wounds, right?”

She nodded, “But you should worry about him first.”

“You’re right…” Ballister looked at Ambrosius again, feeling a wave of emotion passing over him, almost making him tear up, when he saw the scars. There was a few moments of silence, and then, “Nimona, could you, um, hand me my arm.”

She nodded, “On it boss.” She picked up Ballister’s arm from the grass and handed it to him.

He braced himself when he put it on, gritting his teeth as residual electricity from it flowed through him. Something was definitely wrong. He was surprised it hadn’t overloaded or short circuited yet. Either way, it would really need repairs.

Ballister stood, Ambrosius in his arms. His breathing was shallow and he clung to Ballister as if his life depended on it. His eyes were still closed, indicating that he was still unconscious.

“Let’s just go home.” Ballister’s voice sounded defeated. It had been a long day.

He could feel Nimona’s eyes on his prosthetic.

“I know you’re worried about that, Nimona, but it can wait until we get home.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

The walk back to the hideaway was quiet. Neither of them really felt like talking after having been through all of that. The only thing that was said was the few times when Nimona offered to carry the both of them, or to take Ambrosius off his hands so that Ballister didn’t have to use the prosthetic that was so clearly hurting him.

His response was usually a stubborn “I’ve got him.”

Once they all got home, Ballister removed each and every piece of Ambrosius’ armor, something he’d practically memorized by now with how many times he’s put it on the other. Then he placed Ambrosius gently on the couch and pulled off his prosthetic arm, placing it on his robotics bench for repairs.

Nimona took the blanket from the back of the couch and placed it over him. It was too small for him so it just covered from his mid chest area to his ankles. Ballister knew it wouldn’t do much, but it was a nice gesture.

And here he thought Nimona hated Ambrosius for the whole arm chopping thing. He wondered if maybe she was being so polite because she knew how much he meant to Ballister, or because she sympathized with the shock collar thing.

That last option had some very dark implications.

Luckily for Ambrosius, Ballister had some salve on hand that he had been using for his arm. He groaned when the other Knight began applying it, with his left hand so that he could be gentle.

He was about to put it away when Nimona cleared her throat to get him to look at her and pointed to his right pauldron.

“Ah, right,” Ballister replied.

It stung a lot, but his worry for Ambrosius encompassed his worry over the burns on top of his already healed arm.

He began to shrug off all his armor, deciding he should be out of it as well. His right pauldron and chestpiece were the last to go. He heard Nimona audibly gasp at the sight of the burns directly over the part that had previously been cut by Ambrosius’ sword.

Quickly, she grabbed the salve and began to apply it to Ballister’s arm.

“Thank you for the sentiment, but I can do it myself, you know.”

Nimona shook her head, “I’m doing it for you.”

That was the end of that conversation.

Hours passed until Ambrosius woke up, and even then he wasn’t awake for long, only long enough to gently reach up and cup Ballister’s face, whispering an apology to him. It ached to hear his voice. It was so hoarse because of his throat scars.

Ballister’s mustache curved into a smile and his hand went up to gently hold Ambrosius’, letting him know that there was no reason for him to apologize.

Ambrosius fell unconscious once again.

----

A day passed, Ballister kept applying the salve. He and Nimona caught the news on Ballister’s computer. Though he hated for it to happen this way, it had worked. Knights were questioning why their Director would use such a barbaric device on one of Gloreth’s sacred descendants. It was a ripple effect that led to everyone questioning the institution, the wall, and painting the Director as the person that really killed the queen, just as they had wanted. Ballister’s name was cleared.

He looked back at Ambrosius, He wished it didn’t have to happen like it did.

“Look at that! They’re finally starting to see!” Nimona gestured at the computer and smiled.

Ballister nodded, “Now we just got to get them to see you, for who you really are. I think it might be difficult after you turned into a dragon on top of the institute, but I think we can do it.”

Nimona nodded, tears in her eyes.

----

That night, in the middle of the night, was when Ambrosius finally woke up, fully coherent for the first time since the collar had been used on him.

“Bal!” he called out into the night air, voice scared.

An arm gently enveloped Ambrosius in a hug, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see Ballister there by the couch. He’d pulled up a rolling chair and clearly had been waiting for him to wake up.

“How are you feeling?” he asked

“Ugh, my throat hurts.” His voice was still hoarse, but that was to be expected. “But I think I’ll be okay… I just… I can’t believe…” he trailed off.

“That she would do that? Me neither.” He could hear Ballister walking away, and moments later the string lights within the hideaway were turned on. He returned to his seat after.

“Bal, she told me that she had to do that, it was punishment for my hesitation at the marketplace. She made me believe I deserved it.”

“How awful… I can’t believe that happened to you…” Ballister replied, finding one of Ambrosius’ hands and holding it tightly. He squeezed back.

“It’s okay. My neck might still hurt, but I am here and I am alive… and I feel like I’m free from the weight of Gloreth’s legacy, from the pressure of everyone expecting me to arrest you. It was… not the preferred way to find freedom, but well… The sting of the shock collar has definitely ensured I won’t be going back to the Director any time soon… As ironic as it seems, this might just be the best thing that happened to me.”

Ballister smiled, “Look at you, always finding the positives.”

Ambrosius laughed, sitting up and grabbing Ballister, much to his surprise. He pulled Ballister into a kiss that lasted as long as he had air for.

“Wow… I uh… I missed that,” Ballister responded.

“Me too.” Ambrosius then grabbed Ballister from the chair and pulled him onto the couch, on top of him. He was careful not to let Ballister’s head touch his neck, instead letting it rest on his chest where he could hear his heartbeat.

“I take it I’m not going anywhere soon, then?”

Ambrosius laughed, “Not a chance, we’ve been apart for too long.”

Nimona found them like that an hour later, fast asleep.

[anabinpresacademy]

TERBAIK !!! 0856-4863-2193, Biaya Pkl Smk Jurusan TKJ - Teknik Komputer Jaringan di Blitar

[egittae]

claw out of your grave

Returning to the depths of the abyss was a happenstance for once. There was something about the decrepit humid air, ominous echoes coming from labyrinthic corridors, filthy corners and streets crawling with critters rushing towards corners where torches wouldn’t light that felt…homey, compared to the nightmare that had been Happyland. With much irony that was, considering how the archipelago was by all means the exact opposite to the hidden town of Garreg Mach- a tropical dream with gentle warm seas and shorelines bathed in sunlight as the breeze brushed against palm trees. The white noise granted by breaking waves on sand and the distant calls of seagulls. 

Supposedly the ideal vacation location, in practice by far the most miserable experience Lambert had under his belt at least considering the present day.

Days went by as the professor eased back into his routine of preparing and conducting classes as well as patrolling the Abyss during downtime, a sequence of activities that by now had been firmly planted into his mind as he acknowledged it as a part of his life. Something that he had grown fine with- ‘fine’ being the key word. Living in Abyss brought consequences that most would claim far too much to bear and that much he understood, but the notion of not having anything else to go for conditioned him to simply accept his life as it was now. 

He had no home to return to- at least none that would claim him as its owner, and his current predicament would make living on the surface among the rest of the Academy a living hell, so before all of that the covenant of the Abyss felt tolerable, even if it was the furthest from what Lambert would claim as a dignified life. 

Yet the return from Happyland planted something else deep in his brain, a resting seed that bid its time to take root and begin to crack out of its shell. One he only grew aware of on a rainy afternoon after concluding his duties and treating himself to some quiet time in the safety of his room. The tin can warmed his hands as he held it up to his lips to sip a mostly tasteless tea- whatever one could afford at the marketplace of the underground and that Lambert found himself accepting of. A warm light bathed the room coming from only three lit candles, the flames performing a graceful dance as there was no wind to speed up their movements. One couldn’t hear the rain from there, but the running water through the few pipes that composed the Abyss’ drainage system was telling enough.

There was nothing to think about, at the same time the foggy mirror across his seat glared holes into his skull.

Lambert often asked himself why keep a mirror- why not, most replied. It was more often than not kept hidden under white cloth, uncovered in the early mornings as the man went with his rather short grooming routine and in the late nights just before sleep, though now the cloth rested against the table at an odd schedule- most likely having slipped off on its own. 

There was something unnerving about meeting his fogged up reflection so casually, a crack on the right corner being almost teasing. The staring match continued for minutes on end as the only ways of measuring time were that of the slowly cooling temperature of the cup in his hands, eventually reaching a stop when between blinks, the air felt cold and Lambert became sure that something, somewhere, was staring at him. Theoretically an impossibility considering how the door was firmly locked and the room didn’t exactly have many spots for someone to hide, but before the professor could pin the blame on a rat he found himself still transfixed to the mirror. 

It was him. Him, indeed. He could use some trimming on the beard, perhaps a dollop of hair gel could aid in making his hair seem less scruffy if he was graced with the possibility of acquiring the product. And if the future allowed, maybe he could even find a way to cover up the scar marking his cheek. Perhaps then he’d-

-look like himself.

It was him, but the eyes that returned the look weren’t his. The same shade of ice, though laced with a silent anger. Frustration. A tinge of disgust. Lips too flat to enact neutral content, rather clearly crossing the line into annoyance, before they parted to allow for voice.

Why do you tolerate this?

He was the only one in the room, though he was sure the voice didn’t come from his own head.

The reflection took a pause, the tip of a tongue brushing against the lower lip before it tightened into a firm line. 

This life that you have, why do you let it continue as it is? Where’s your effort to change?

“...what do you mean? I have nowhere else to go, and I am working hard to find out more about myself. I cannot rush anything because of a mildly uncomfortable living situation.” His defense didn’t seem to quite land however, sympathy flying far from the reflection's gaze- rather there was the pinprick of irritability and the quiet click of a tongue.

You lose a wife to disease and you honor her by crawling on dirt and sewage like a rat, claiming it’s okay and choosing to accept it rather than fight against it?

Blond brows pinched into a frown- though not belonging to the reflection, as he was taken aback by the words quite literally spit at his face. His gaze flickered elsewhere- yet it always found itself back to the reflection like a child trying to avert their eyes away from that of their angry parent, even though they know that in the end they must take the scolding head on.

“...I am doing all that I can.” He reinforced, keeping his own voice leveled and firm. The reflection rolled his eyes, an unheard sigh rather clear despite his attempt to maintain composure.

Excuses.

A short inhale. “Do you not understand? There is nothing else that I can do to accelerate this process! All informations that I have gathered so far, the memories I am slowly retrieving, they-”

Enough.

The tone had remained mostly the same as before, the voice having at most gotten louder- nothing too different from when he needed silence in class to continue a lecture or wished to catch the students’ attention for an important instruction or reminder. The voice, same as his. The face, those eyes, that tip of teeth showing behind pink lips every vowel or so. Those same three or four unruly hairs at his temples that stuck out no matter what he tried.

And yet the mirror wore an intensity Lambert didn’t know he had, that he was supposed to have, at least. He pressed his back further against the wooden chair, suddenly feeling cornered yet still not willing to give in.

“I do not know where you are trying to get with this. Make your demands but at least present them with enough context lest I misunderstand.” The tea in his hands had gone lukewarm by now, forgotten amidst the discussion. “Does the Abyss bother you that much?”

Your mistake is thinking the issue at hand is the Abyss when it is simply one of many factors. I ask once more, why are you okay with this?

“With what?”

The reflection tensed up, teeth gritted. The moment he spotted the corner of the mirror’s lip twitch, Lambert braced himself as his brain knew what could come next.

With being treated like a vagabond, a stray! Why do you allow these people to walk over you, make you into a clown and have the gall to spit venom and belittling words at you while you stand there and take it with nothing to spare but averted gazes and demure defenses? Why? Where’s your dignity? You let teenagers and knights handle you as one would a Baron’s jester!

Or did you already forget what Matthias told you? Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd is your name, have respect- if not for you, for me!

I refuse to be treated like that, and if you’re so keen on finding your true self you should be very damn mindful of what I demand! I demand respect!

Tin clattered against the ground in a muffled sound, spilling its contents as gloved hands remained frozen in place. Words couldn’t find their way out of his throat and the tightness of his jaw ensured none ever would. All he could do in the end was to continue to stare at the mirror, feeling inexplicably trapped in his seat as the reflection seemed to pause to regain breath for a moment, though the fire in its eyes continued to burn bright white.

You claim you wish to reconnect with your son, to become once more the man Matthias once acknowledged as his liege, to retrieve the self you lost, and yet you don’t take a single step towards becoming that man. You have never been so coy, so meek- almost doelike. No wonder why Dimitri doesn’t seem to recognize you, a mere skinwalker of the man he knew as his father.

Do you fear the man that you are, Lambert?

Are you afraid of what you might feel when you figure it all out? Because I’m not. That possibility doesn’t scare me in the slightest. If anything, I will offer you a tip of my own.

When life was ripped from your grasp, you didn’t go out in fear, Lambert.

Its shoulders strained as the reflection seemed to lean closer to the mirror, supporting its weight on its arms, eye contact unwavering. At that moment its voice lowered to a whisper- not to conceal information from anyone that might be in the room, but rather to drive the point home. Precision that would leave no room for misunderstanding.

It was unfiltered rage.

Embrace it.

Tin clattered against the ground with a sharp noise, spilling its contents as gloved hands jolted with a sudden gasp. A shaky hand grabbed the hem of his scarf to rub at a sweat droplet running down his forehead, lungs slowly figuring themselves out from panting to a more stable breathing. As his mind struggled to catch up to reality after being unceremoniously woken up from what felt like an uncanny dream, his eyes couldn’t help but hesitantly lay on the mirror across the room.

It was covered by a white sheet, as it had always been. 

[skrillexberry]

Here’s a list of over 100 buildings to populate your fantasy town, covering everything from essential structures to more whimsical or thematic additions

Essential Buildings:

Town Hall

Guard Tower

Marketplace

Blacksmith

General Store

Tavern

Inn

Apothecary

Bakery

Butcher Shop

Tailor Shop

Stables

Schoolhouse

Library

Carpenter’s Workshop

Cobbler’s Shop

Farmer's Market

Fishmonger

Mill (Windmill/Watermill)

Well

Church/Temple

Chapel

Watchtower

Post Office

Barracks

Armory

Courthouse

Prison

Cemetery

Mortuary

Alchemist’s Shop

Magic Academy

Smithy

Herbalist

Potion Shop

Farrier (for horse shoes)

Brewery

Distillery

Granary

Butcher’s Block

Tailor’s Guild

Weaver’s Hut

Shipwright

Pottery Shop

Fletcher (Arrow Maker)

Tanner’s Yard

Brewery

Spice Merchant

Jeweler’s Workshop

Scribe’s Office

Civic & Public Spaces:

Fountain

Park

Courtyard

Arena

Theatre

Amphitheater

Bathhouse

Gardens

City Gates

Bell Tower

Archives

Magistrate’s Office

Observatory

Town Square

Auction House

Guildhall

Lighthouse

River Dock

Public Forum

Clock Tower

Residential Buildings:

Farmstead

Manor House

Noble’s Mansion

Townhouses

Cottage

Merchant’s House

Apartment Building

Caravanserai

Worker’s Dormitory

Boarding House

Hunter’s Lodge

Shanty House

Fisherman’s Hut

Vineyard Estate

Barracks

Witch’s Cottage

Trade and Craftsmanship:

Glassblower’s Workshop

Painter’s Studio

Sculptor’s Workshop

Clockmaker’s Shop

Musician’s Hall

Candlemaker’s Workshop

Florist

Basket Weaver

Soapmaker’s Shop

Bookbinder’s Shop

Toymaker’s Workshop

Carriage House

Leatherworker’s Shop

Metalworker’s Foundry

Dye House

Taxidermist’s Workshop

Cartographer’s Shop

Engraver’s Workshop

Mystical/Unique Buildings:

Wizard’s Tower

Enchanter’s Hall

Potion Brewery

Astronomer’s Tower

Fairy Grove

Dragon Stable

Rune Reader’s Tent

Crystal Shop

Elementalist Shrine

Oracle’s Hut

Druid’s Circle

Sorcerer’s Guild

Griffin Aviary

Necromancer’s Lair

Portal Room

Seer’s Observatory

Other:

Windmill

Grain Silo

Wine Cellar

Salt House

Ice House

Brewery

Tinkerer’s Workshop

Puppet Theater

Public Bathhouse

Art Gallery

Falconer’s Lodge

Cheese Monger

Guild of Shadows (Thieves’ Guild)

Adventurer’s Guild

Dungeon Entrance

Gambling Den

Spymaster’s Office

Assassin’s Guild

Beast Trainer’s Arena

Exotic Pet Shop

Stablemaster

Forge Temple

Graveyard Keeper’s Hut

Fishermen’s Wharf

Oracle’s Shrine

These structures can shape the town’s story, culture, and atmosphere. You can adapt or add to the list depending on your town's specific fantasy setting and its unique vibe.

[sunstone-smiles]

Can I request Day 9 of Miya and Mia"s TickleTober2023 (mirrors) with Lees!Sylvain and Ashe where their reflections are tickling them? That'd be pretty cool!

-🦋

It's Like Looking Into a Mirror

Author’s note: Hello Butterfly anon! I took some liberties with the idea of “reflections” and instead turned it into look-alikes created by Annette’s magic! I hope you all enjoy Day 9 of Tickletober: Mirrors! (From Miya and Mia’s Tickletober list!)

Series: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Characters: Sylvain, Ashe, and Annette

Word count: 813

Summary: Annette has some new magic to show Sylvain and Ashe, but this magic is intended to be used for the fall-themed festival, so there might be a trick up her sleeve as she shows it off.

—

The academy’s spooky harvest festival is just around the corner, so everyone is busy making preparations for the event. Outside in the academy’s marketplace, Sylvain and Ashe work together to decorate wooden booths and stations with autumn themed materials.

“Hey you two!”

The boys look in the direction of the feminine voice calling in their direction. They see their fellow Blue Lion’s student, Annette, running towards them with a wave of her hand. In her other hand is a magic tome. She stops running and has a twinkle in her eyes. “There’s something I want to show you both!”

“You seem pretty excited,” Sylvain observes. 

“What is it?” Ashe asks with a curious inflection.

“Watch this!” Annette lifts up the tome and waves her hand above it. Purple, sparkling magic swirls around her fingers until it shoots forward on the ground in front of her in two separate beams. From the ground up, the purple magic begins creating an image of a person with legs and an academy uniform, but the real surprise is when Ashe and Sylvain see the faces of these conjured up figures. They share their exact likeness, with their same hair, facial features, and all. 

“Ta-da!” Annette cheers.

“Whoa!” Sylvain exclaims as he looks at the magic form of himself. “Handsome fella. It’s like looking into a mirror.”

“Two mirrors,” Ashe jokes in response. “This is wonderful Annette!”

“Thanks!” Annette smiles. “I thought the magic would be useful for fun entertainment at the harvest festival.” The orange-haired female pauses for a moment to look at her two friends. “But there’s one more thing I forgot to show you with it.”

“What’s that?” Sylvain asks.

“You’ll see.” Annette places her tome under her arm to free her hands. Like a puppet master controlling strings, Annette moves her fingers to control both the Magic-made Ashe and the Magic-made Sylvain. The real Ashe and Sylvain are startled at first when the two forms start moving, but they soon become intrigued the more they watch Annette’s magic.

“Whoa! I didn’t expect them to move too,” Ashe says, keeping his eyes on the approaching figures.

“Me neither,” Sylvain says. Although, his impressed expression soon turns into concern when Annette maneuvers the figures to walk behind them. They didn’t think that their own selves could be so intimidating, but they were in this moment.

“Um, Annette?” Sylvain glances his eyes towards the girl while his focus stays on his magic-made reflection. The only answer he gets is a giggle from Annette. (If Annette of all people isn’t giving him a straight answer, then that can’t be a good sign.) With a flick of Annette’s wrist, the two figures dart out their magic-made hands and, surprisingly, start tickling the real Ashe and Sylvain.

The two male Blue Lions yelp with a jolt at the sudden, silly surprise attack, followed by roaring laughter from the two students. Ashe squeezes his arms to his side and tries to curl himself up, while Sylvain tries to shove the shadowy figure away. 

“Hehehey! Wahahait a mihihihinute!” Sylvain playfully exclaims.

“Ahahahannette!” Ashe squeals through his laughter. He ends his sentence with a squeak as the figure scribbles into his ribs, as if his magical doppelgänger is aware of exactly where he's ticklish.

The girl giggles again as she wiggles both sets of her fingers to control the magic figures tickling her friends. “How do you like the second part of my trick? It’s really just to show how the magic can interact with physical objects, but I thought that it would be more fun to test it this way! Plus, there’s usually monsters at the harvest festival, right? So what better monster to have than a tickle monster!”

“Yehehes, we see thahahat!” Sylvain shoots his arms down to pry the hands of the magic-made figure with his likeness away from squeezing his sides.

“It’s vehehehery impressive Annette,” Ashe giggles from his curled up state, “but I thihihink we're both tickled ohohohout!”

“Hehe! Okay, I hear you,” Annette smiles and throws both of her hands to her sides like a conductor of an orchestra. The magic-made Blue Lions disappear into a breeze of purple dust. Ashe and Sylvain immediately wrap their arms around themselves. Annette walks closer to check up on them.

“You two okay?” the girl asks with concern.

“Yeah,” Sylvain smiles with a breathless chuckle. He takes a moment to breath some more air. “That was a…strange experience. Do I really look that menacing when I’m tickling someone?”

“As someone who’s been on the receiving end of your tickle attacks many times, yes,” Ashe teases beside him.

Sylvain scoffs and gives Ashe a playful shove. The silver-haired boy giggles and so does Annette. The harvest festival might be intended to be scary, but its autumn themed decorations, spooky mazes, and even entertaining magics, are all in the spirit of fun.

[aubins]

Lambert had taken his time to read more into his students’ records and profiles. Of course, the documents were vague and didn’t offer that much information about them- which was expected considering their condition as abyssinians, where anything about one’s self as past are kept well under a veil, an unwritten rule to not pry. But at the very least, he wanted to know their birth dates.

Regardless of what they did or didn’t do, of who their true self is, of how their past developed- Lambert wished to at least celebrate the very fact that they chose to defy fate, persevere and now live.

“It is good to see you, Yuri.” The professor approached slowly, an easy smile on his features. “Not much going on today, I assume?” Which was a blessing. As much as the Wolves tried to function like an academy house, in the end they doubled as the Abyss’ main line of defense. Days where everything was peaceful and attempts to infiltrate the underground’s many tunnels were few to none were incredibly rare. “One must keep their eyes open at all times, but taking a moment to rest both mind and body is also a necessity.”

A wooden box was produced from under his cloak, the cover a deep brown and unassuming as he handed it to the house leader. “For you. To make an already good day even better, or so I hope.”

It was a board game- chess. Lambert had found it in one of his days walking around Garreg Mach’s marketplace, eventually coming across a small store of antiques. It was a chess game like any other, but such resources in the Abyss were difficult to come across and depended solely on the merchant's willingness to bring business underground.

“I thank you for everything you do for Abyss and its inhabitants. And for what you have done for me, as well. You are the best student a teacher could ask for.” He smiled fondly. "We may play a match later if you would like. Enjoy your day, Yuri.” Happy birthday.

It is a quiet day in Abyss, as far as days in Abyss go. Unusual, certainly, but never unwelcome. Yuri counts the minutes of their shift in silence, time ticking even when there is no clock to hear. Even still, despite the quiet, the approaching footsteps do not earn the mockingbird's startle.

No, they come from the wrong side for an intruder.

Lilacs turn toward the professor, lips twisting into a grin in greeting. Where Lambert's is slow and easy, Yuri's is sharp, its pointed edges more familiar upon their features than a warm smile might have been. “Hello, Professor Lambert,” they hum, perfectly at ease. “No, it seems our usual friends haven't been up to it today, but there's never any rest for the wicked. I don't suppose you're here to relieve me of my shift?”

They've memorized the schedules; they already know he is not. Either Constance or Hapi will come around in the next ten minutes or so, and Yuri will be free to wander off to their own business. But until then, they doubt Lambert is only here for some idle chatter. He must have some business.

And he reveals such from beneath his cloak, the box accepted with a curious quirk of their brow as steady hands work to pry it open and see what secrets lay within.

Then, Yuri laughs. Not unkindly— perhaps it is merely innocent surprise.

Ah, chess. They suppose they must have an old set somewhere, stored away in some dusty corner to be forgotten. This one is new and pristine, and they pick a piece— the white king— to twist between their fingers as they glance back at Lambert. He makes no mention of their birthday, but they doubt there's any other reason for it. How thoughtful of their dear professor.

Their smile warms, just a little. Really, if you've been on their good side for long enough, it's not such a strange expression on their face. “Now, now, professor. You flatter me, but don't let anyone else hear you say that. You might be accused of favoritism.” They let the piece drop back amongst the rest of its peers, the box snapping shut. “But thanks. I'll hold you to that game later.”