#muse!nepenthe

[trainerseyes]

♥ it is time for leo and nep

If we kissed?

[] Quickie. [] Tongue. [?] Softly bite your lip. [] We wouldn’t. [] Long and meaningful. [?] Let’s hit up the bedroom. [] You remember last time? [] Awkward… [] Lol no. 

Would I go out with you? [?] Yes, definitely. [] No. [] I want to, but it wouldn’t work. [x] Maybe. [] Nope, you’re like family. [] You’re cute, but probably not. [] Just simply not my type. [] If I knew you better. [] Already did. [] I don’t know. 

If we took a picture together, we’d be… [] Hugging each other. [] Just chilling. [] Holding hands. [] Kissing. [] Acting dumb. [x] Normal picture. [] You holding me from behind. 

You are… [] Cute/Pretty. [x] Good looking. [?] Sexy. [] All of the above 

You + me + room = … [] Movies. [] Cuddling. [x] Hanging out. [?] Kissing. [] Playing games. [] Everything. [] Wouldn’t let you in. 

You should… [?] Hit me up. [] Be mine. [] Marry me. [] Reblog this so I can send you a heart. [x] be studying 

If we got married, I’d… 

[] Divorce you. [] Make kids. [] Take your money and bounce. [] Smash every day. [] I would cheat on you. [] Be faithful. [] Kill you in your sleep [x] We wouldn’t

"Let's just get back to work." He's trying not to think too much on this.

[lively-potter]

— nepenthe ; part three

— genre ; age gap, angst, fluff, smut, sheltered oc, ceo jungkook, mafia/gang vibes ( kinda/sorta )

— warnings ; please note that in the beginning, the oc is in an abusive home — and if this triggers you please do not read. the oc is of age but nothing smutty will be happening for a while — but there WILL be smut. A small bit of SA is in part two and if it tiggers you, don’t read.

— intro, part one, part two

— 2024 © LivelyPotter

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

— word count ; 2.9k

***

SOLARIS January 22nd, 2024 Charleston, SC 

THE CHAIRMAN HAD BEEN BACK FOR TWO DAYS.

From Father's grumblings, I had gathered that everyone had decided to stay inside their houses with the doors locked and blinds closed. Mothers gathered their children and forbade them to leave the house after two pm.

I was also one of those people who made sure the doors were locked and my blinds shut. I didn't even try to go out on the roof to gaze at the stars or even peek outside of my window.

This was the effect Chairman Jeon had on us.

Too afraid to leave our houses, even though he had not done anything directly to us – well, most of us anyway.

None sought him out, apart from those a part of his Inner Circle.

According to the whispers from the women Father would come home most nights and felt enough pity for me to speak nicely to me; they spoke about the Chairman.

Most of the talk was about how intimidating his aura was, and how much he towered even the tallest of men in the area.

They spoke of how handsome he was, but most were too afraid to seek him out first, unless he sought them out on his own.

They gushed over the art inked into his skin, ranting and raving over the scary man.

You could immediately know who he was by looking at his hands, where his surname was inked in bold, intricate curved letters.

It was said that he didn't show much emotion, his face blank – as well as his eyes.

But tonight was different and some of the more courageous people would venture out of their homes. Tonight was the night that the Chairman allowed men and women of age to visit Ataraxia and have a night full of sober-less fun. Tonight would be fun, drinking, dancing, and unbridled pleasure.

I didn't know what that meant, or even what a gentlemen's club was, but I didn't think it would be good. Especially if Father had that look in his eye.

But I was happy.

Father wasn't here and I was alone.

James and Stevie would be going with him, and I was left to my own devices.

I hoped to be able to rid myself of the touches they placed on my body a couple days prior.

My lips pulled down into a sad pout.

Maybe I could watch TV, but I didn't know how to work it.

I could read, but I had read everything inside the house ten times over and it wasn't as fun reading it as before.

I sat down cross-legged on the floor and scratched at my bare legs, itching because of the scratchy carpet. In one movement, I fell back on the floor and stared up at the ceiling – sapphire-colored eyes sparkling at the opportunities I had in front of me.

"So much to do," I softly remarked to myself, "So little time to do it all."

Musing to myself, I allowed a short giggle to leave my lips when I started to roll around on the carpet, resting on my tummy – feet kicking through the air.

The sun was starting to set outside, I gathered, after a swift peek outside. I danced throughout the house, catching up on some last-minute cleaning done before Father inevitably came home.

I sang a lullaby under my breath as I checked the locks on the door once more and carried myself out of the living room – but before I could enter the kitchen, the loud ringing of the landline phone stopped me in my tracks.

A tiny gasp left my lips, while I jumped in place, eyeing the phone sitting on the hook by Father's recliner. I gulped, debating on whether or not I should answer it, but the tugging sensation in my gut told me to just go ahead and answer the phone.

Maybe it's Father.

My feet padded quickly across the carpeted floor in quick strides. I grabbed the phone and eyed it closely – thankfully finding the answer button and pressing on it. Nervously, I held the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Girl~" Father's voice slurred on the other line.

My eyebrows bunched together, "Father?" I asked, anxiety scrunching along my spine and spreading throughout my shoulders.

"I...I need you toooo...uh, to grab me some extra cash and bring to, uh...to the...the bar." he grumbled, the sounds of loud rambunctious laughter and slowed music blaring throughout the speakers. Due to the loud noises all around, it was difficult to understand what he was saying to me.

My mouth popped open, "Umm, w-where is the m-money?" I asked hesitantly, doubt clouding my mind. How would I know where to go? Was he letting me go out? Of course, I had to bring him the money, but why now?

Was he in some sort of trouble?

I could feel Father gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone as I twiddled with my dress anxiously.

"The...money is underneath my bed–" he laughed loudly as the static voice of James entered my ears. A pang of panic ricocheted throughout my body at his voice.

"Oh o-okay, Father. I'll...be there soon." if I could even find the place. I thought to myself when the line went dead. I pressed the off button and placed the phone back on the hook, mind whirling.

"Okay." I said to myself with a swallow, "I can do this." I said to myself, feeling my hands shake.

"I can, couldn't I?" I whispered to myself, beginning to walk to Father's room. I wrinkled my nose at the putrid smell of beer and BO once I hesitantly entered the room. I pinched my nose with a gag and finally located the stack of money hiding beneath a pile of stinky clothes.

I gagged again seeing mold stick onto an old candy bar.

I grabbed one and quickly left the room before I threw up.

I ran to my room, feeling slightly excited at the thought of being able to go outside. I changed into my best dress – a pretty baby pink spring dress with white and pink flowers along the sweetheart neckline and along the hem of the dress.

It was an old dress; one I had gotten years ago, but I only wore it for special occasions. I loved dresses like this – they made me feel so pretty and worth looking at. 

I smiled brightly and wiggled into it; lightly awwing at the soft fabric against my skin. The hem of the dress fell an inch above my knees that were finally scabbing over and healing.

I picked out a pair of cute white shoes that went along the dress, but slid on my white socks, the kind with ruffles on them, and wiggled my feet into the shoes and tied them.

I twirled in front of the mirror after tying the spaghetti straps against my collarbone and around my shoulders, giggling lightly.

Finding my crocheted pink bag the old lady next door made for me when I was five, I placed the money inside it, along with a random map I had saved a couple of years ago.

I didn't know how useful it would be, but I would rather have it than not. 

"Okay," I mumbled to myself, pasting on a happy persona rather than being riddled with nerves, I carefully placed my bag across my shoulders and left my bedroom.

Before I knew it, I was standing at the front door, holding my breath.

Was I really about to go outside? For the first time on my own?

I sucked in a sharp breath and nodded to myself.

I could figure it out.

I grasped the handle on the door knob, a wince leaving me once the bandaid on my wrist pinched my skin, and swung open the door and stepped into the evening air.

I got this.

***

SOLARIS January 22nd, 2024 Charleston, SC

FINALLY.

I breathed a happy sigh at the sight of Ataraxia.

I finally was able to make it here after asking a nice, scantily clad dressed woman stumbling along the sidewalk, drunk.

It took me a little longer to get here but I felt that it was the right thing to do if I helped her to a safe place where she could sober up.

The large building was a beautiful sight to see! I could hardly believe my eyes! It was so beautiful! The large place looked classy and pristine; from the black-bricked building, and the white letters along the long space below the room and just above the huge doors.

I could hear the music – not too loudly, but enough to where I could hear every word the man sang.

I gulped, eyeing the large man standing in front of the building.

I couldn't see him too clearly, but he was big and looked scary.

From my standpoint, no one was standing in front of the building – It was packed, and since it was a free night to the public, you didn't see anyone wasting time to go inside.

I held myself together and sighed lowly.

My toes twitched inside my shoes.

It's okay, Solaris. He won't hurt you.

At least I didn't think so. I hoped.

I meekly, yet hastily walked towards the entrance as the man turned his head and peered down at me with a raised brow.

I gulped and looked at him.

He was a very intimidating man, with dark chocolate-colored skin that gleamed under the bright lights emitting from the glass doors. The man watched with me hard eyes – I even detected specks of green within the dark orbs glaring down at me.

He let out a sigh and ruffled his hand through his tight, pretty curls that were bouncing along with the movement of his hand.

Ohhhhh, I would love for my hair to be like this instead of limp and dead.

His was so pretty!

He raised a double pierced brow and rolled his huge shoulders.

"You look a little young to be here. No entry." He said, voice deep and slurred with a heavy accent I found hard to place.

I shied away from him, and stepped into the light a little ways away from him, slightly cowering.

"I...I'm really sorry, Mister." I said, voice trembling, my reply had his brows furrowing, watching me closely, "I don't want to go inside...I just...my Father needed me to bring him this–" I avoided his eyes and lowered my head to rifle through my bag and waved the stack of bills to him.

"Could...could you please get him for me?" I whispered, eyes peeking into his eyes.

I shivered as a breeze came through and hunched into myself, hugging around my middle.

It was terrifying to think that the Chairman could be here.

I mumbled a prayer under my breath in hopes I could leave this place soon.

The man softened and his tense posture relaxed. His full lips curled up in a small smile and nodded, "Of course, sweetie–" his sentence cut off when his eyes trailed to my arms. Goosebumps erupted on my skin when his stare burned into the handprint bruises on both of my biceps.

I flushed in shame and hid them away from his eyes.

I had forgotten about the bruises that littered my upper arms, and now I had gone and made a mistake.

No one was suppose to see the bruises and I hoped Father wouldn't find out about people seeing them.

"...thank you, Mister."

The man's eyes grew steely while staring at the bruises but forced himself to appear nonchalant when he looked at my face once more.

"Call me Theo." he said with a tight smile, "That 'Mister' shit makes me older than I wanna be," he said thickly, it took me a minute to understand him due to his accent.

I smiled shyly and nodded. "Okay, Mister–I mean Theo!" I cringed at my mishap.

Theo grinned softly and his big hand waved me closer, the golden band on his ring finger glimmering underneath the lights. "Come on, I'll bring you in a private room and find your dad for you." he was careful to not touch my arms as he opened the door and let me in.

I slowly walked inside, feeling out of place as the music grew louder and the sounds of high-pitched giggling and grunting sounded out loudly inside the building.

I felt uncomfortable in this place.

It smelt of strong alcohol and strong smelling perfume.

My nose burned at the strong scent. 

Theo rolled his eyes at the loud noises and carefully smiled down at me, his body coming in front of me to shield my eyes.

From what exactly?

"Right this way," he chuckled, looking over his shoulder, and quickly led me through the loud building, making sure I wasn't looking at what I shouldn't be seeing. Soon, we stood in front of a crimson-painted door, with gold lining. The club's name was spelled out in pretty letters on the door.

"You can stay inside here for a few minutes, okay?" he said kindly, opening the door and letting me inside. A quick flash of what looked like pity flashed inside his eyes as he looked at my hunched frame.

"Make yourself comfortable, and I'll be back," he said, sending me another smile and shutting the door behind him.

I rubbed my lips together and peeked around the room – eyeing the sleek black platform in the center of the room in confusion. I wondered what the tall silver pole in the middle of the platform was for.

Did they climb it for fun like I did back in school?

Around the room – the color scheme was black and crimson red.

Black and red accented couches were throughout the room, along with a small bar.

I toddled about the room and looked around in amazement.

"Woah..." my wide eyes tried to take everything in. I perched on one of the couches and wiggled my bottom to the back of the couch. Taking my bag off and placing it daintily on my lap, my feet hung above the ground once I was comfortably sat – the cons of being very short.

I hummed under my breath and giggled to myself; enthralled by this new experience I had gained.

What would Mama think of this?

Would she like this place, too?

I would stay inside the room forever!

"Who are you?"

The thundering voice had a scream leave my lips as my neck jerked around to find out where the voice was coming from.

A loud whimper of fear left my lips as a dark shadow loomed at the threshold of the room.

I couldn't see his face, but I knew, in my soul, this was not a man to cross.

My heart thudded erratically inside my chest – limbs turning to stone.

I hadn't been this terrified out of my mind in years.

Black spots swam through my vision as the larger-than-life man stepped forward, silver jewelry gleaming as his dark vicious gaze met mine.

Every limb shook as I opened and closed my mouth, feeling a panic attack coming over me.

Tears glistened into my eyes as the huge man, way bigger than Theo, came into the light – eyes glaring down at me.

Another whimper left my lips.

"I asked," he seethed, closing the door behind him with one big hand – the rings on his fingers glinting. "Who the fuck are you?"

"...I..." my chest heaved rapidly, my heart beating way too quickly inside my chest. Tears dribbled down my red chubby cheeks and I sniffled, my nails making bloody crescent marks on my soft palms. "...I...I'm...Solaris, M-mister." I squeaked, woozy.

I think I may pass out.

The man arched his brow, "And why are you inside this room?" he asked slowly as if I was incompetent. Which in this situation, I was. More tears left my eyes at his condescending tone.

I didn't want to cry in front of this scary man, but I just couldn't help it.

"...m-mister Theo told me to wait here...u-until h-he found-d my d-dad," I whispered knees pulled to my chest as if to protect myself if he were to start hitting me like Father would when he found that I needed it.

The scary man watched me, a hand coming up to flick the shiny pretty raven colored hair away from his doe eyes. They softened just slightly.

He didn't say anything, but quietly watched me, huge build broadening as he relaxed. 

It was then I caught the tattoos on his right hand.

And it was as if my worst nightmare had come true.

On each finger, underneath the rings, dark black ink was easily seen. They were letters, and on his index, middle, ring, and pinkie finger; it spelled out JEON.

My breath caught in my chest when I saw it.

Every ounce of blood drained from my face and I tumbled off the sofa, knees banging harshly against the hard marble floor.

My entire body was weak the moment my head banged on the floor and knocked me unconscious.

Before black overtook my vision, I was able to hear Chairman Jeon swear, and huge hands enveloped my twitching body on the floor.

"Fuck."

author's note ; ✨

if you wanna be apart of the taglist, just lemme know! love u 💜✨ have a great day/night/morning/evening wherever you are! 

[zerogate]

Some scholars have written dedicated research on the topic of religious and recreational usage of psychotropic plants in the ancient Greek and Roman World.

Carl Ruck, Albert Hoffmann, and Robert Wasson wrote The Road to Eleusis (1978), which sets the stage for exploring the use of entheogens in Greek and Roman culture. Ruck has additional publications, which focus on recreational and religious intoxication.

D. C. A. Hillman wrote The Chemical Muse (2008), where he covers drug usage in the ancient Greek and Roman world, including recreational, religious, and medical.

Michael Rinella wrote Pharmakon: Plato, Drug Culture, and Identity in Ancient Athens (2011), in which he delves into psychotropic plant usage in the ancient Greek world, the problematization of drugs, and the scandals surrounding Socrates and Alcibiades.

Alan Sumler wrote Cannabis in the Ancient Greek and Roman World (2018), in which recreational intoxication and other settings are explored.

[...]

In the field of ancient Greek and Roman religion and magic, some scholars have covered psychotropic plant usage. John Scarborough’s “The Pharmacology of Sacred Plants, Herbs, and Roots” (1991) covered these plants as used in ancient magic and explained the ancient rationale behind how they worked. He has also covered these plants in ancient medicine.

Christopher Faraone, in Ancient Greek Love Magic (2001), wrote about these plants as they are used in love magic and how they appear in other settings, like law courts.

Georg Luck’s Arcana Mundi (2006) covers these plants as they are found in religion and the personal practice of magic.

Alan Sumler, in “Ingesting Magic” (2017), considers these plants in magic and recreation.

On psychoactive plants found in ancient wine, Patrick McGovern, author of Uncorking the Past (2009), has written the most. His molecular analysis of ancient wine shows that the drink had multiple ingredients, many of them psychotropic. He describes the usage of intoxicating drinks all around Europe, Asia Minor, Egypt, and the Black Sea. McGovern covers recreational usage of drugs in the Greek and Roman world.

In the field of ethnobotany, there is scholarship on psychotropic plants being used in different settings in the Greek and Roman world. The assumption is that these psychoactive plants grow all over the earth and that all cultures use them for mind alteration in some way.

A recent multiauthored volume from Routledge, A Companion to Ecstatic Experience in the Ancient World (2022), covers psychotropic drug usage in the Mediterranean world going back to the Bronze Age.

Philip Wexler edited a two-volume multiauthored, text (2014, 2015), The History of Toxicology and Environmental Health, which covers many instances of recreational intoxication in the Greek and Roman world.

Some articles in scholarly journals are helpful for becoming familiar with psychotropic plant usage in the ancient world. Merlin, “Archaeological Evidence for the Tradition of Psychoactive Plant Use in the Old World” (2003), covers psychotropic plant usage throughout all ancient cultures. Carod-Artal, “Psychoactive Plants in Ancient Greece” (2013), considers substances available in the ancient Greek world. A few articles focus on Classical Greece, for instance Arata, “Nepenthe and Cannabis in Ancient Greece” (2004), and Eleanor, “Flower Power in Medicine and Magic: Theophrastus’ Response to the Rootcutters” (2006). The topic of kykeon at the Eleusinian Mysteries has produced some interesting scholarship, for instance Perrine, “Mixing the Kykeon” (2000), and Rosen “Hipponax fr. 48 Dg. And the Eleusinian Kykeon” (1987).

-- Alan Sumler, Intoxication in the Ancient Greek and Roman World

[miserycorde]

Smash or pass + Rhian standing there menacingly

Nepenthe turns to look at Rhian incredulously, "... Now. I am not sure if this is just a roundabout way to receive 'affection' from me, or if you're actually asking. If it's the latter... I'm sure you already know." She scoots a bit to the right. "But there's plenty of wine, if you feel as though you can behave."

(Send Smash or Pass + a name and my muse will say if they would smash or pass on that person.)

[ryscorp]

Continue.

[* After several more attempts, UNDYNE is hauled out from the room.]

[* The footage speeds up, showing dozens of repeat visits to the ORIENTATION chamber, all with hundreds of injections.]

[* When the fast forward finally stops, UNDYNE is hauled into the room again, glaring at the MALPRACTITIONER.]

[* The doctor simply waves politely.]

"SO GOOD TO SEE YOU FOR ANOTHER APPOINTMENT. HAVE A SEAT! I HAVE SOME THINGS I NEED TO DISCUSS WITH YOU."

[* UNDYNE is strapped into the chair. The MALPRACTITIONER begins flipping through papers and reports.]

"WELL, I HAVE GOOD NEWS, AND I ALSO HAVE NEWS THAT IS NOT GOOD! AHEEHAEHAEH! THE BAD NEWS IS THAT YOUR MAGIC CONCENTRATION TEST CAME BACK TOO LOW FOR MEDIATION. TURNS OUT LONG-TERM USE OF DAMPENER ISN'T GREAT! WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT. I MEAN, I KNEW THAT. BUT THE UPPER MANAGEMENT? OH, WHATEVER. ANYWAYS..."

[* He sets the papers down, folding his hands.]

"THE GOOD NEWS IS, WE CAN STILL WORK WITH YOU! ISN'T THAT NICE? I'M THINKING... HM... WHAT ABOUT... HUMAN RESOURCES? HILARIOUSLY NAMED, ISN'T IT? HAH! LET'S GET COOKING, HERE..."

[* The MALPRACTITIONER begins digging around in a drawer, musing aloud.]

"YOU KNOW, WE JUST REFORMULATED OUR NEPENTHE FORMULAS FOR ADVANCED POTENCY. FOR NASTY LITTLE DEBBIE-DOWNERS LIKE YOU! WHY, I'LL BET IF THIS WORKS... THIRTEEN WILL BE A CINCH!"

[* He finally finds what he was searching for: a more heavy-duty injector, with a much larger barrel of fluid.]

"WE'LL PROBABLY USE SOMETHING SMALLER ON HIM. BUT YOU SIMPLY HAVE TOO MUCH MUSCLE MASS TO USE JUST ONE, AND MY HANDS ARE, QUITE FRANKLY, EXHAUSTED."

[* He primes the device, beaming at UNDYNE.]

"ARE YOU READY? DON'T ANSWER THAT. IT'S HAPPENING REGARDLESS! AHAHEAEHAEHEHAEH!"

[* Continue?]

[abandcned]

slump - for Varré 🥺

Send 'slump' for your muse to fall asleep leaning against my muse

It hadn't been long after his attempts to strike a conversation were responded with a barely audible hum or pure silence. Such reserved sort Nepenthe was, he didn't think much about it. Even he could take silence to a conversation as a possible 'give me some space' request. Gladly, he would grant it. Continuing to go through his pouch - perhaps something to fix the cracks in his mask.

Until,

slump.

Varré felt her weight press against his side, the nudged head against his shoulder. His head turned, greeted by the dark hair, peaceful closed eyes and relaxed expression. Poor thing. So, she couldn't hold it back anymore. While amusement tugged the corner of his mouth, he had no intentions to disturb her rest. A perfect time to let her gather some rest, a rare treat for anyone in the Lands Between. In fact, he could benefit of some, too. Where was the hurry?

He set aside the pouch, moving just a little to wrap an arm around her to further support her against him, to prevent her sliding off and potentially waking upon impact. Carefully, he laid down his back, taking her down with him slow enough to not wake her up. And arm still around, he pulled his shawl over, tucking her comfortably by his side. While she could enjoy the softness of his arm, he moved his other hand behind his head. Not the most comfortable position, but manageable.

[izar-tarazed]

01. The magician and 10. Wheel of Fortune; for Izar, 18. The moon; for Ensha :)

(major arcana inspired headcanon questions | prompt list is here)

🧙‍♀️ the magician : how does your muse feel about fate ? do they believe they can change their own destiny ?

That’s actually something that troubles Izar a lot. She finds herself in a world where the notion of an assigned fate is a certainty, not a belief; as an astrologer, her whole profession—and identity—evolves around the idea of reading fate from the stars; and as a Tarnished, she has her path seemingly laid out for her.

She struggles with all of that, and feels increasingly guilty that she doesn’t really desire to claim the Elden Throne. Also, her understanding of astrology is that the stars—when in movement—hold warnings and promises; inscribed in them are possibilities rather than destinies set in stone. When she gets to know Ranni who is all about forging her own fate, I think Izar is particularly impressed by how unapologetic Ranni is about that. In a way, Izar has always been sure that she can change her destiny, but felt as if she’s not allowed to and should feel guilty about it. So part of her journey is to become more confident about what she desires.

[Edit: I wrote this before the latest update in our RP thread, and Nepenthe’s words there are exactly what Izar needs to hear to become more confident about her own wishes, fitting so well that I almost thought I had already posted this!]

🎡 the wheel of fortune : how well / badly does your muse take setbacks on their goals ?

For the most part, Izar is surprisingly chill about that. She’ll take a deep breath, consider her options, get a clear idea of the damage done or taken, then figure out the next step. She’s persistent and will just try again. That mindset might partially be related to her condition as a Tarnished who knows that, in a worst case scenario, she’ll just be brought back by the grace: Izar has the certainty that in most cases, she’ll always get another shot.

Sometimes, she will need time to deal with whatever happened. (If, for instance, one of her star maps would get destroyed briefly before finishing, she’d basically be grieving before she can move on and start anew.) But it’s also true that sometimes she’ll choose to walk away and come back later not because she really needs to, but simply because it’s the easier path instead of getting back at it right away. (This is where she differs from Ensha, who’s all about putting in the damn work, and starting right now.)

🌘 the moon : what does your muse long for ? is it a realistic desire ?

So Ensha has been stubbornly silent about this, but I keep coming back to the idea that he’s basically longing for freedom while still having purpose (and a place to belong). To an extent, this is what he has when he’s travelling with Izar, but he’s also still in Gideon’s service. And while I’m still not completely sure how I imagine that relationship, it’s sure to be complicated, and not one Ensha could walk away from so easily. After all, serving has given him purpose for a long time; so much so that he’s somehow convinced that they are, in a way, inseparable, and he can’t forfeit one without the other. To him, there is no purpose without commitment, and freedom comes at the expense of both. Every choice that he makes for himself first and foremost does, at the same time, feel like it threatens to sever his commitment, and therefore his purpose. Ensha doesn’t have the guidance of grace, but—not unlike Izar—, he fears what he might lose if he strays off his path.

What he longs for is to have both, a path of his own choosing and purpose, or at least, a sense of belonging—but to him, that doesn’t seem possible, not in the long run.

[ambivalentatmosphere]

"Leo, you're like a Darmanitan, because I'm not sure what unnerves me more, when you're riled up or when you're strangely calm." Nepenthes said with a sigh. "Unovan Darmanitan suits you more than Galarian, though."

Send me what Pokemon you think my muse is like!

"Right, because of that time I set you on fire. That makes sense."

[montcumbry-gaytor]

Nepenthe. chap 10

act two : razbliuto

THIS IS A OC INTEGRATION FOR THE WITCHER, IT IS NOT A X READER FIC.

— mrr... how many chapters have I wrote this week? idk, anyways! enjoy lawl :3

tw for : Canon Typical Violence, Nudity, Canon Typical Language, Burn Scar Mentioning.

(n.) the sentimental feeling about someone you once loved but no longer do.

It's early day, and I find myself relaxing in the nook of a tree as Geralt restlessly tosses a net into murky waters, it's the snap of a branch and a drunken singing that startles me out of my thoughts.

"Geralt! Hello." Says Jaskier, holding a flask of what seems to be ale, and his eyes then flit to me. "And Kael, You're here too, Great." He hums, before exaggerating how long it's been, though it's just been a few weeks.. or months.

"— "How are you doing?" i hear you ask." Jaskier says, making the silence obvious, and Geralt quickly answers. "I didn't." He growls as he gathers the net before moving to toss it out again.

He hadn't slept since the night prior, I understand why, while Geralt was never one for destiny, he was now strung by it with a child. "Well, The countess de Stael, My Muse and beauty of this world.. has.. left me.." Ah, so that's why he's drowning his sorrows.

"Again. Rather coldly and unexpectedly I might add." He adds, and as he rambles on I slip from the divot of the tree, Geralt moving like a silent plea to get away from the noise.

"What are you fishing for exactly?" Jaskier asks, tailing us, in all this time he still hasn't learned how to take a hint.

Jaskier trails on, begging Geralt to answer as he lists off names of fish, and finally Geralt speaks up. "I'm not fishing." He says, reeling the net back in. "I can't sleep."

There's almost a worried tone underneath the slurred words, and Jaskier is quick to speak up. "What's going on, Geralt? Talk to me." Geralt sighs for a moment, his eyebrows knitted with frustration. "A djinn." He states, and Jaskier asks the question that pops into my head.

"A what?" It's not that I don't know, it's that I know full well, but does Geralt really think a djinn will break Destiny? "I'm looking for a djinn." Geralt repeats.

Jaskier laughs softly, pressing more about the Djinn until Geralt finally snaps. "Yes. It'll grant me wishes." Geralt says, rising up again, the tension rising in his voice. "It's in this lake somewhere, and I can't fucking sleep!"

Geralt snarls, and I move to follow him, my hand brushing against his slightly and our gazes meet, it's a silent look between us that speaks a whole sentence.

And yet, Jaskier follows again, and this time he strikes the broken chord, bringing up the night in Cintra, and I step back a moment to bat Jaskier on the shoulder.

"No! it's not that." Geralt barks, and I move entirely away from the two, if Jaskier truly needs an answer he's going to carve away at Geralt, and I personally do not want to face the reprocussions.

"Did you sing to her before she left?" Geralt asks, kneeled at the shore as he bundles up the net. "I did actually, and she.. why? what are you implying?" Jaskier asks, before his jaw drops and he bellows at Geralt's underlying insult.

"Tell me Geralt, Be honest, Hows.. My.. Singing?" Jaskier asks, hands on his hips as if he could make Geralt regret any words that left his mouth.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling."

Geralt answers, and I let out a soft chortle, and I cough with my fist over my mouth as I catch myself, watching as Jaskier stammers in shock.

"You need a nap!" Jaskier proclaims, and rambles on and on as per usual, and as Geralt gathers the net, a clay bottle sealed with a magical stamp rests inside.

"-Wow. Wow. What is- What is that?" Jaskier asks, and Geralt goes to explain before Jaskier tries to jerk it from his hands. "Take it back about my fillingless pie."

They bicker back and forth like children, and with a swift tug from Jaskier, the seal and the pot separate. "Oh.. Shit." I hiss, and push myself up as the wind picks up.

Jaskier goes on in theatrics about he's freed the Djinn, before Geralt tugs him back before he can use the last wish, and the two once again bicker and yell.

"Knock it the fuck off!" I hiss, and Geralt growls as he kneels, grasping the broken pieces of the pot, and as Jaskier goes to retort, he begins to choke, and wheezes out breaths as Geralt sends a pulse of energy through his fingers and the Djinn flees.

"Geralt—" He wheezes, and I watch as he coughs blood, and his eyes are filled with terror.

There's little time, Geralt and I lift Jaskier onto Roach and I mount Emir as we set off near the closest camp, Jaskier limply resting against Roach's back.

It all happens quickly, The next thing we know we're carrying Jaskier into a white canvas tent, an elvish man inside surrounded by bottles and smells strongly of herbs.

"A Djinn in a bottle? It's like a fairy tale." the man says, trying to observe the persistent swelling in Jaskier's throat. "Without the happy ending. Can you help him?" Geralt asks, his hand on Jaskier's shoulder.

"Oh Dear.." The medic murmurs "—What?" Geralt asks. "I assure you I have received the best medical education right here in Rinde, but.." The man begins to speak, and he sits back as he sighs.

"These injuries are of magical nature. I can help with the pain, but it's a bit like.." He trails off, and Geralt finishes the sentence for him. "Putting salve on a tumor?"

Jaskier let's out a weak "No!" And I'm quick to hush him, holding him upright as he sways limply, if it was bad enough, he had no reason to be speaking lest it destroy his throat more.

"His throat was attacked. If the spell's action isn't halted as soon as possible, that damage might be irreversible."

Jaskier's lips spewed blood into the grassy floor, I can't help but feel an inkling of pity, but as the elf speaks again, I can hear the fear in his voice.

"And the longer he goes untreated, the more likely it is to spread.. He could die."

Chireadan added, and Jaskier gasps a weak breath. "Oh, Fuck-" Jaskier fumbles for a bit, one of his hands landing into mine and squeezing, his knuckles are white but it's a weak grip at best.

"Yeah, We.. won't let that happen." Geralt states, patting Jaskier's back as Chireadan guides a small bowl of a opaque purple-ish liquid to Jaskier's lips, and he drinks almost like a child would.

"The medicine should buy him a few hours but he needs a magical remedy." The elf says, taking the bowl away from Jaskier as it's now empty. "You'll have to take him to another town."

"There isn't a mage here?"

Geralt asks, and the medic looks up at him for a moment. "The mayor says they are dangerous." There's obviously more to it, and Jaskier clings weakly to me to keep upright as they speak.

"What aren't you saying?" Geralt asks, and Chireadan's lips hang open for a moment as if having no words. "Tell me."

"Well.." He begins to speak, but he's wasting time. "There.. There is one mage.. I was tasked with bringing this mage to justice." The elf says, and his lips curl up into a smile as he speaks.

"But I was unable to penetrate certain defenses.. The mayor himself has made the catch and has imprisoned the mage in his house." Chireadan states.

But what sane man who deems a mage unsafe keeps them in the same structure he sleeps in?

"That wasn't so fucking hard was it?" Geralt retorts, and stands and basically drags Jaskier upright, and the elf warns him in a tone that almost sounds like he's fond of the mage.

We quickly set off in the direction of the mayor's residence, our horses hooves beat against dirt and mud, the thudding sound and it's dark when we approach, almost like a horror story.

"Woah! A fee for entrance." Says a man, waiting outside of the residence's doors. "A fee to see the mayor? this is urgent." Geralt huffs, but as the man persists, he huffs and goes to reach into a saddle pouch.

He's quick, but he uses the sack he pulls out to strike the man in the head, knocking him out cold, and we ride to the gates and leave our horses just barely outside of them.

Geralt carries Jaskier over his shoulder, which is a little absurd given his condition. "Do you really have to carry him like that?" I ask, and Geralt lets out a low grunt and carries on, ignoring the comment.

We walk through cobblestone halls, and we enter a kitchen of sorts, where Geralt eases Jaskier onto a table, and as I scan the room i regret having my other eye.

"Holy Shit." Geralt turns to look, and when his eyes meet the same sight he speaks up. "Woah-"

A nude and blubbery man stands in front of a fireplace holding a clay pitcher, but he drops it in shock as his eyes land on us.

"Welcome.. to my home." Usually the habit of not letting your eyes off of a stranger would be a good thing, but not in this case. "You're the Mayor of Rinde?.. not exactly what I was expecting."

Jaskier stammers as he tries to get Geralt's attention, but it's for not, his voice fails him in cause of his ailment, and Geralt excuses him before inquiring on the mage, to which the Mayor says nothing and speaks as if the question was never spoken.

"Ah.. the apple juice, she wants some.." He speaks, looking like he'll collapse at any minute as he does. "And she always gets.. what she wants." The mayor states, and Geralt and I look at each other in confusion, and I can't exactly rid the expression of distaste from my face.

"I don't understand, Does he want me to get him the apple juice?" Geralt asked, and I stare at the pitcher for a moment before shrugging in turn. "Fuck if I know."

Geralt reaches for the pitcher for a moment, and I grasp it and pass it to him, but by the time he turns to hand it to the mayor, he's sound asleep on a chair.

"If only sleep naturally came that easy." I remark, and Geralt raises Jaskier by his collar and guides him out, and I'm quick to follow, and as we push through the doors smoke fogs at our feet.

"The fuck?" Geralt retorts, looking around but finds nothing that could be producing it. "Ah.. shit, rich people and their fucking ambience." I murmur, waving away a puff of smoke that clouds my vision.

We push forth, and as we round a corner it's like an amalgamation of flesh and.. other bodily fluids, shared in every way possible, and while typically this would be a fantasy, I think the mayor left a sour opinion on such brash nudity.

"Geralt, is it too soon to get my other eye clawed out?" I ask, and Geralt lets out a hum as we push through the nude peoples, I feel uncomfortable even being close to touching them, while I never thought about it before, I want anything but to think of it now.

The smoke clears, and a noirette woman sitting alone, a masquerade mask does little to hide her purple eyes, and something makes my stomach churn in distrust as she looks at us.

"Stay." Geralt commands as he sits Jaskier aside, and as he walks forward I go to follow, but he halts again. "Both of you." He says strictly.

"Geralt, You already left me behind for a witch before, need I say anything else?" I retort, my brows furrowed as he looks back at me with the signature Stare, his lips pursed in a straight line.

"Fine."

I huff, and turn on my heels, skirting around hands that reach out, the slick sounds are akin to the noise of chewing with your mouth open, and in such an open space it forces a frown upon my lips.

I press my back to the hallway wall, parallel to the witch across the room, and while she gazes at Geralt with a hungry gaze, when she looks upon me it's.. curious, like she'd rather play with my corpse than eat me.

But, as she and Geralt converse, she stands and circles around him, her fingers grazing over Geralt's shoulders and back, he isn't mine in the way he was, but there's that lingering irk of jealousy or.. envy.

Her eyes flit to mine as that thought reaches my mind, and I let out a small scoff and avert my gaze, envy is for those that think they need more than what they are.

Still, She makes me uneasy, or perhaps it's this building as a whole, I'd prefer it'd collapse on my head than stay here for much longer.

Every time I switch my gaze to the foggy room, it makes me more uncomfortable than the last, they're too close for my comfort even though I'm far from her.

"Ragamuffin."

Her voice booms, and the alluring music halts with the people inside the room, and they all quickly jolt and flush out of the room, pulling clothes over their head and fleeing.

I'm wary of her more and more as time passes, and I stay by Jaskier's side as she heals him, and puts him to rest, even if she's away from Geralt my skin crawls being in the same room as her.

"You don't have to be that wary of me, you know." She remarks, and I turn my gaze out the window, my arms crossed over my chest. "There's always a concern for safety, no matter where I am." I retort, and she hums as if the idea fascinates her.

"It's safe to assume you're a Witcher as well? That scarring gives it away." She hums, her focus on Jaskier and yet she still can speak so leisurely.

My eye is like a dagger as it peers at her, I can't tell if she's playing games or otherwise, and she lets out an amused chuckle. "You're more aggressive than your.." She trails off, and waits for me to finish off the sentence, teasing the idea.

"It's none of your concern what he is to me."

I retort, and she hums once more, the magical glow of her hands fading away as she raises up, standing to her full height. "Well, That's all I can do for now." She states, and approaches the door.

"Care for a bath?" She asks in a sickly sweet tone, and I huff out a response. "If I trusted you not to drown me." I hiss, and she takes that as her answer and leaves.

It's quiet when her footsteps recede, and I move a chair from the corner of the room next to the bed and sit down, peering over Jaskier with concern, the lump on his neck is grotesque, as of growing a second person from your own self.

The night grows late and I can't find it in myself to rest in any other way than staying still, hardly even blinking in concern I might miss something that could end the bards life.

I haven't felt this worrisome since the accident of Gorthur Gvaed, it's exhausting.

It feels like hours before the door to the room cracks open and Geralt steps inside, the mage in tow, and I push myself to my feet as they walk inside. "This is a little tight." Geralt seethes, and as I get a good look at them they've changed clothes, it makes my skin crawl.

"I believe I sized you up quite right." She hums, peeking around the door, her eyes lay on me for a moment before going back to Geralt, and I skirt away from my fellow Witcher, as if he were one of the nude people in the room from before as he approaches the bed.

"Do you doubt my capabilities?" The witch asks, and Geralt pauses for a moment as he looks over Jaskier. "No, Just your intentions." He replies, and she looks almost.. sad by that remark.

"I said some things to him.. he's a.." Geralt trails off, he's never been amazing with words, not even when he confessed his love for me all those years ago did he do it verbally.

I should really keep my mind off that.

"A friend?" the witch speaks up, and Geralt turns to her. "I'd like it to not be the last thing he remembers." If it weren't for the circumstances, I'd smile.

"He won't remember much if he's dead." She remarks, hanging on the lip of the door, watching Geralt attentively, and she lets out a chuckle as if it's a funny idea that some aren't as corrupted to know care for another.

"It's a joke." She says, and I cock my head to her. "A shitty one." I hiss, glaring at her as she moves into the room.

"He will recover, and regain his vocal talents." She states, moving across the room with an uneasy glide. "Does that satisfy you?" She asks, her eyes flickering between Geralt and I.

"Not in the slightest, But don't reproach yourself for it, Yennefer." He says the name with a vile tone, and approaches her with a heavy gaze to return her own. "I'm not easily satisfied." Geralt says, and I watch warily as Yennefer gets uncomfortably close to him.

But, Geralt's gaze slips by, and then to the candles by the edge of the bed, and he makes the conclusion I was too caught up to make. "It's the sign from the seal.."

He hums, and Yennefer's face drops as she realizes she's been had. "I'll be taking Jaskier now." Geralt says, and moves towards Jaskier, ready to scoop him up and get the hell out.

"If you wake him before he is healed, the spell won't take." She states, a sinister expression taking over her face. "That's no way to treat a friend, Geralt." She purrs, and moves over to the Djinns seal, which was placed upon a nightstand.

"You want the djinn, but the amphora's broken." Geralt says. "The Djinn's already long gone." Geralt states, and a gust of wind surges through the room, and the candles by the edge of the bed light on their own.

"Do go on, Tell me how stuff works, The djinn is tied to this plane and it's master." Yennefer retorts, and I stay close to Jaskier, but my eyes never leave her, not even as they feel dry and desperate for me to blink.

"How many wishes did the bard express before he lost his voice?" She asks, and Geralt's head lifts as he realizes just what is going on. "You need Jaskier to make his last wish so you can capture it." And Yennefer rolls her eyes as he speaks.

"So that's.. two.. then." She hums, and steps forward slowly. "The djinn will fight you, if you try and bend it-" Geralt's head twitches, and he clears his throat. "That scent.. Lilac and-" "Gooseberries."

Yennefer hums, and as I move with my hand wrapped around the hilt of my sword she holds a hand out, like a threat now that she's in Geralt's head.

"He has a strong will.. but he can't contend with me." She hums, a smirk on her lips and as her eyes flit to mine it's like a head splitting ache, sickening like the churn of your stomach after smelling a rotting corpse.

"Sorry I couldn't be direct, I knew you and your.. friend here would fight it." Yennefer says, and leans up and presses her lips to Geralt's, it makes me sick, because in the end I'm still not over him yet.

"I do love a good old fashioned trap." She hums as she pulls away, and Geralt sways as his eyes open again. "Good old fashioned.. Nap." and his eyes flutter closed again, as if sleeping standing up.

"Now.. for you." Yennefer hums as she turns to me, leaving Geralt standing as she approaches, and as I go to move it's like I'm stuck. "Just when I thought Witch's could be okay I find that's just a one time thing." I hiss, and she lets out a low chuckle.

"How cute." She coos, trailing around me before grasping my shoulders. "It was hard getting into you, but the way you reacted to the candles told me all I needed to know."

Her fingers slide up, and peel at the collar of my shirt, and I feel where her fingers glide across my skin until I don't, the nerves scalded off all those years ago. "You know.. you're a real firestarter yourself."

She hums, and my head feels heavy, my ears filled with the crackling of fire and as much as I was trying to fight it, it's like standing in shallow water and somehow being dragged beneath it.

— AHHHH I FINALLY GOT TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER OH MY GOD.

[trainerseyes]

"Who cares if I drink something highly caffeinated at this hour? I've had a hard enough time sleeping this past week anyway."

[shaelashaela]

The King's Curse, ch. 18

[cw] physical violence, blood, death [reading time] 5½ mins.

Queen Morrigan towered above me, barely concealed disdain dripping down her nose. I needed a plan, but the pain in my shoulder wouldn’t let me focus. My fingers slipped into my pocket, remembering one thing: and there they found the black flower retrieved from the mountain. That gave me a few ideas, and I prayed at least one of them would work.

I held the blossom aloft for Morrigan to see. Beside me, Rayna gasped, “What’re you doing with that? I thought you dropped it!”

“Just trust me,” I whispered in her ear. “I’ll need your help, though. Can you do that?”

Her eyes darted to mine, alarm evident, but she responded with a hesitant nod. I smiled back at her and pushed myself up to my feet as best I could, though the Queen still towered over my head.

“Your Majesty,” I addressed her. “With all due respect, I ask you to uphold our contract. I went to the mountain and fetched a black crocus, as requested.”

Surprising me, Rayna matched my stride. “Right! And now she’s leaving the Wintervale with me, which fulfills our contract.”

Nepenthe scowled from behind his Queen. “Is this true, Your Majesty? They accuse you of taking an oath in vain.”

Morrigan’s nostrils flared. “Silence! Our contracts were void the moment you violated the sanctity of Our court!” She took a breath and composed herself, conjuring one of her cat-like grins. “Were you to return without further outbursts, We might forgive your transgressions.”

She extended her hand, palm toward the sky. I watched the motion cautiously.

“Come,” she purred. “You are wounded. Let Us tend to you.”

My eyes fell to the crossbow bolt lodged in my shoulder. The wound wept blood down my arm, but honestly, it didn’t pain me that much anymore. I twirled the black crocus between my fingers, admiring it.

“These little flowers hold immense power,” I mused.

The Queen narrowed her eyes. “You crave power, do you? We offer it freely.”

My ice-green eyes fixed on the midnight hues of hers. “It’s not the power itself, Your Majesty. It’s where it comes from that fascinates me.”

She flipped her outstretched hand around, bringing her thumb and forefinger close together. The gesture was not lost on me, nor was the warning tone in her voice. “Speak carefully, alchemist…”

No more words. With a flick of my wrist, I conjured a bright blue barrier with the crocus at its centre, drawing power from the bloom itself. Despite my preparation, the strength contained within it still shocked me. A long bolt of lightning erupted from the Queen’s fingers and struck the shield, but my gambit worked—the spell held.

“Rayna!” I shouted. “I need your help now!”

My girlfriend stepped forward and made a sigil in the air, layering a second barrier with my own to help deflect the attack. A second later, a barrage of crossbow bolts plinked off the shimmering surface of our combined defence.

“This is intense!” gasped Rayna. “She’s still going to win…”

“Just hold on,” I assured her. “You’ve got the strength, I know it! Hold on while I get things ready.”

She nodded back at me, her face scrunched more with focus than strain. “I feel it. This land… it does something to my magic.”

“That’s the spirit!”

I released the crocus, and it remained suspended in the radiant disc of light, small sparkles of magic drifting through the surrounding air. The channel of pure power intensified the shield and blinded my eyes. It would help, but the flower was finite. Frantically, I rummaged through my belt pouch, grabbing several vials of alchemical reagents.

The Queen’s soldiers drew swords and approached. To my relief, Mal leapt forward, swinging his enormous fists like hammers at the closest dark elves. The Queen concentrated on Rayna and me, and she released Lacuna from her grasp to bring more power to bear upon us. This only secured the spriggan’s position as our dark elf companion came to his aid, using sheets of ice to block sword and bolt. All the while, Nepenthe was like a statue upon his horse, unmoving, unreadable. I wondered momentarily what thoughts entered his mind, but I couldn’t let that distract me.

My face burned with the intense heat of Morrigan’s spell. No time for measurements, I just cycled through the necessary vials: a pinch of silver powder for strength, pure quicksilver to bond the connections, and a draught of aqua regia as a catalyst. I tossed them wildly toward the crocus, and it sparkled with even more intensity than before. The lines I suspected all along revealed themselves, finely woven like a spider’s web. The thread-thin lines criss-crossed the ground, draped across the Queen like a silk cloak, and led all the way back toward the mountain where the other flowers bloomed.

Rayna dropped to one knee, struggling to hold back the fey royal’s onslaught of crackling electricity, and I kneeled beside her.

“I don’t think I can hold this much longer,” she said through gritted teeth. “What’re you doing?”

“You see them?” I asked. “The things that look like ley lines?”

She clenched her jaw and nodded.

“Okay, then get ready,” I instructed. “You’ll need to move fast, but I want you to follow those lines and do just what you did on top of the mountain yesterday.”

The Queen’s voice bellowed over the cacophony of wild magic, her power intensifying with her anger. “Insolent children! We will reduce you to ash!”

In that instant, Nepenthe moved.

His hand was as lightning, drawing the whip from his hip and swinging it behind himself in one fluid motion. The column of flexible vertebrae sliced through the air toward the Queen, and the tailbone tip snapped against her wrist.

Her hand fell, severed. She screamed, more out of rage than pain.

A dozen quarrels pierced Nepenthe’s armour, his own soldiers’ response to his treason. There was no time to worry about him, though. It was the opening we needed. I opened my mouth to give Rayna the word, but then a thunderclap broke through the air. Morrigan raised her other hand and shot another bolt of lightning in our direction, pinning us down.

“I have an idea,” Rayna yelled.

Before I could object, she swung the barrier upward and over her head. She deflected the angle of the Queen’s attack, scattering sparks of magic in every direction. Then, to my utter surprise, she sent it flying towards the fey royal like a discus. I’d never seen such a novel use of the spell! Morrigan had no choice but to redirect her attack at the spell itself before it severed her head from her neck.

The minor victory was short-lived, however. The Queen’s electrical onslaught not only shattered the flying barrier, but continued through it to strike both of us. We were so close… was this the end? It was painless, thankfully, though I couldn’t say why. As we fell backwards to the ground, I prayed for Rayna’s forgiveness for getting us both killed.

Rayna jerked her hand one last time, grasping the crocus out of the air. Another crack broke through the din of battle, but it was not a physical whip this time. Lines of light extended from the flower, tightened, and closed around Queen Morrigan, constricting her both physically and magically. Her scream echoed like the howl of a wolf, anger and frustration bathing every surface of the landscape around us.

And yet she stood. It was not enough. The movement of the sorcery connecting her to the flowers and the mountain itself drew her backwards centimetre by centimetre, but she struggled against it. Sweat beaded on her brow as every fibre of her being strove to remain in place.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “How dare you? How dare you? We are the Queen of the Winter Court! We will not be bested by some human!”

Lacuna suddenly appeared from behind her, inspecting her situation with mock curiosity. “Oh my. Looks like Rayna did best you. Well then, toodeloo, Mother!”

A blade of ice formed around their right hand, and they plunged it into their own mother’s flesh. A final shriek of anguish shook the very land around us, but her form dissipated and flew toward the mountain at unimaginable speed, fading from sight.

With the Queen gone, her soldiers’ morale broke like common reeds. They all dropped their weapons and fled back into the forest, never looking back. All… save for Nepenthe. Despite the bolts piercing his armour, he held fast to his steed and breathed heavily, sweat dripping down his porcelain face.

His grey eyes met mine, their expression softer than I’d ever seen. “Thou art both wise and cunning, m’lady. I will no longer be party to these… depravations.”

Before I could thank him, he gathered shadow around himself and disappeared. I hoped he might be okay, but part of me worried he merely wanted to die somewhere out of sight.

Rayna still laid on top of me where we fell, and I wrapped my arms around her. “Rayna! We did it! Can you believe it? That actually worked!”

There was no response. Lacuna and Mal both closed the distance to us.

“Is she okay?” asked the spriggan.

She was heavy upon me, but I pushed up to a sitting position, still cradling her in my arms. Her head lolled to one side, and I gripped her even tighter when I felt she wasn’t breathing.

“Rayna? Rayna? Talk to me!”

[theemdash]

o l i v i a   k e n s i n g t o n || 1 / ? characters of nepenthe

Olivia has grown up with all the luxuries that come as a daughter of a Governor and all the freedoms that come as secondborn. She spends mornings riding her mare Muscatine and afternoons reading in the library or sneaking food from the kitchen. During the evening, she studies and practices, drawing melodies with the brush of her bow. Her brother Elliott joins her on occasion, a duet of guitar and violin. On the rarest nights, they play in secret, learning the songs of the Werenight by ear and by heart.

For as long as she’s grown to love listening to the Werenight, she doesn’t know the Werenight listens, too. She doesn’t know the Werenight at all, but as long as she has her friends, her family, and her freedoms, what is there in the forest to tempt her?

[idanwyn-et-al]

State of the Idan~

After all the Moving Madness has finally (mostly...) settled down, I started wanting to write stories for my characters all the time...only to end up RPing a bunch of them all the time! I only have a handful of my crappy screenshots, but it’s been a ton of fun building some stories big and small with friends old and new. I got to start a new chapter in Anne-Sophie’s story (she’s returned from the First Shard a little heartbroken after Oberic didn’t make it back with her, but is now adventuring with two other Ishgardian knights, one of which is who Oberic’s player fantasia’d Oberic into). I got to play Sonorous River, my big boy Hellsguard bard that I haven’t played in several months, during an introductory event for a new member of my FC that was well-received. The Nixie’s crew is enjoying the Moonfire Faire before the ship weighs anchor in the early autumn for new adventures. Idanwyn even got to bake a wedding cake and (last-minute) officiate a handfasting for two fun cattes! I’ve decided to fantasia Nepenthe, my Allagan/Meracydian heritage summoner, because she was just too difficult for me to PC the way I wanted to. She was definitely the character that lived most fully in my head, I think; my long, deep obsession with what life would have been like on the religious side of the Allagan empire, the first summoners tempered a little bit by the gods they sought to conquer is a lot of fun for me to play with in my head, but not so much with other people. That said, I’m going to be writing her a little closing chapter, making her an NPC (because I hate killing my characters if I can avoid it), and rolling the Allagan/Meracydian thing into a couple other old idea-tendrils that that seek being together into one character. Nepenthe and her crazy family are definitely in my book that I’m always poking at writing, though, so I’m grateful for my time in FF to allow me to develop them.

Rambly, rambly, berry brambly. Hopefully I’ll have some stories here soon, although I’m certainly not lamenting writing many of them with others! Either way, I’m very much looking forward to FFxivWrite2021; there’ll be stories then, for sure.

[miserycorde]

In a fight my muse...

Bold the applicable, italicize if more situational or nuanced for what fits your muse tries in battle.

closes distance / makes distance.

uses overwhelming force / whittles down an opponent.

can endure a long fight. / cannot.

is quick to start a fight. / is rarely the instigator.

tries to dodge. / tries to block.

uses psychological tactics. / focuses on martial approach.

is a graceless fighter. / elegant fighter.

values honor. / uses dirty tactics.

accepts defeat. / begs for mercy. / cuts and runs.

And some elaboration, of course!

While Nepenthe can in some ways be described as a persistence hunter, she is built for quick battles that benefit from the surgical precision of her miséricorde. When she's lucid, she waits for the perfect moment to strike and will stop at nothing to try and get a clean kill - even if this involves dishonorable methods. Everything she does is about mercy and survival.

That said, Nepenthe is still occasionally prone to the bloodlust that overtakes the minds of the other bloody fingers. Try as she might to keep it under control, she still slips under, and this version of herself prioritizes bloodletting over mercy. Methods that would've otherwise been calculated and clean become brutal and messy, without poise and without thought.

In especially dire situations, she utilizes her own blood as a weapon. It's one of the very few perks of having Mohg's accursed blood within her, though utilizing it in such a way often leaves her feeling unclean and far too hot.

If she starts a fight, it's because she has to. She dislikes unnecessary conflict.

... But she does like sparring, as loathed as she is to admit that. It feels like a safer way to offset the bloodlust and it's good practice -- though matches between herself and members of her cohort can and do go too far from time to time.

Canon build is a miséricorde with bloody slash & either a second dagger or the dragon communion seal.

Tagged by: @rotten-pest and @fishermcn! Thank you both! >:) Tagging: YOU!!

Bonus little screenshots below the cut!

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Missy’s 3.5K Challenge

Missy’s 3500 Challenge!!

WOW! How did I reach 3500 followers? What a crazy ride this continues to be. I want to thank every single one of my followers on my blog. Whether you follow me for my work or for my weekly reading lists I thank you. Without your support, I wouldn’t be here.

(Thank you @fictional-affairs for the header!!)

Rules:

You don’t have to follow me to participate, but if you want to you will make my day.

Reblog this post so others can join in.

You must be over 18 years old to participate

Send me an ASK with the Character, Troupe, AU or Prompt you want.

Mark all stories appropriately. (Fluff, Smut, Dark, Non/Con, etc) 

It must be a one-shot or new fic

Two people per prompt

Can be either reader insert or OFC

No incest, No underage, No pedo, No toilet/bathroom fics, No DDLG.

Minimum words 500, No max, Please use the keep reading feature if it’s longer than 500 words

Due date:  open

All stories will be reblogged. I will add all stories to a Masterlist for easy access. Tag your fic as #Missys3500challenge and tag me in your notes. If I haven’t reblogged your work for a week Tumblr might have eaten the notification so please send me a message.

Marvel Characters:

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Wanda

Natasha

Tony

Loki

Thor

Pietro

Billy Russo

Brock Rumlow

Helmut Zemo

Non-Marvel Characters:

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Frank Adler

Andy Barber

Curtis (Snowpiercer)

Lloyd Hansen

Nick Fowler

Frank (endings/beginnings)

Chris (Destroyer)

Charles Blackwood

Dean Winchester

Lt. Bradley “Rooster Bradshaw (Maverick)

AU’s:

Mob

Biker

A/B/O

Cop/Detective

Firefighter 

Bartender

Royalty

Vikings

Tropes:

Enemies (to friends) to lovers

Sex pollen

First Time

Annoying Neighbor (Tony - @mostly-marvel-musings )

Love at first sight

Evil Twin (Steve - @ironlady1993 )

Hate Sex

Opposites Attract

Prompts:

"They invited us for the family brunch, am I slashing the tires, or are you?"

"I can't believe you made plans, I thought we were on the same side," (Brock - @nekoannie-chan )

"no one else gets to hurt you, you're mine!" (Mob AU/Andy is prosecuting Steve/trope 1/ - @adulting-sucks )

"I'm 90% certain I lost my sanity because of you," (Stark/Mob au/trope 4 @pigwidgeonxo ) & (Trope 5/Lloyd- @nepenthe-raes-affairs )

"You think your life is worth more than mine? Think again sweetheart," (Ransom & Lloyd AU 7, Tropes 5 and 6, - @sarah-in-disguise )

“Of course, they'll fall in love, I planned it," (Stark/Mob au/Trope 4 @pigwidgeonxo )

"Her boyfriend showed up? Oh no, this isn't good," (SamxBlack ReaderxBucky/trope 5 - @awesomerextyphoon )

"You're single, they're single, I'm a great third-wheel. It's a perfect match," 

"So I mean nothing to you now?" After everything we've done!"

"Hey, hey, It's okay, I'm here now,” (Dean/Bartender/Sex pollen - @tarithenurse ) & (Dark Steve - @kitkatd7 )

"Remind me to take a vacation after this,"

"I was never good enough, you always hurt me, so why? why do I miss you?" (Steve or Brock - @nekoannie-chan )

"I can't stop staring at her picture," (Ari/AU 7/trope 8 - @ladyfallonavenger )

"The image of you pops into my head and I just lose my breath,"

“You had me at hello.” (Dean/royalty- @spnexploration )

"Ah, my friend looks like he's about to kill you, you best leave," (Steve/Mob - @captainapple )

"I’ll always be here for you,”

"This is why I love you,"

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" (Ransom/bartender au - @fluffycutecevans )

"you're so beautiful,"

"I would burn the whole city down for you," (Loki/Vikings/Enemies to lovers - @floatinginadreamofhim )

"I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me?" (Enemies to lovers/BillyorThor - @lokislastlove )

“Just kiss already!” (Trope 4, w/Sam or Steve @ghostofskywalker )

“I miss your warmth,” (Steve - @americasass81 )

“Do you regret letting us end?” (Trope 7, w/ Sam - @fluffyprettykitty )

[in3ptbean]

“Nepenthe,”

Leon S. Kenney x  Reader 

Warning: Dead by Daylight is a warning all in itself bros... 

As much as you loved the survivor camp, you longed to return home; whatever that may be.

It was hard to keep track of time in the Entity’s realm, but not impossible. There was a lack of setting sun and the sky seemed stuck in a comatose orange haze. It reminded you of the Grove you had gone to moments before you were consumed by the estranged Deity.

The memories were scrambled; as if someone, or rather something had physically torn them away from your temple. Bits and pieces were remained, but nothing more than a passing thought.

The hope of returning home, or surviving a trial without a single cut or maim, fed the Entity’s everlasting hunger. You were it’s most prominent survivor; a puppet in its coy games.

You awoke on the Eyre, the bland beige and harsh mustard yellows causing you to grimace at your rather lack luster choice of wardrobe. An ugly Christmas sweater made of thick wool, and a rather itchy Santa hat that no matter how far you threw, always returned to its place on your head. Needless to say, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

There was a hum in the air. Soothing yet I’ll-inducing. A shiver ran down your spine as a scream rippled through the stale air; making ears fall deaf to the cries of the crows.

Iron Maiden.

“Hey-OW!”

Your hand stung, but nothing like the blonde’s cheek. Had you just decked Leon Kennedy a new one? Yes. Was it on purpose? Maybe.

“Don’t sneak up on me, dickhead!” You hissed, unwillingly leading him towards a generator near the dips of the Sahara like earth.

“I didn’t mean too,” you rolled your eyes. The lovesick rookie would be nothing but a hassle during his first few trials, and from what you knew, this was barely his third one.

You didn’t have a problem with the man; just his rather obsessive jumps from one survivor to the other. You could only assume he had grown bored of Meg and Laurie. You didn’t blame him though. Those two were a handle full and were too stubborn for their own good.

“You’ve worked on these before right?” You asked.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Uh, no,” Leon muttered, sheepishly frowning before kneeling beside the generator. You rolled your eyes before following, “but I am a quick learner!” The blonde’s optimistic attitude was rather refreshing.

“For your sake, I hope so,”

True to his word, Leon learned how to repair a generator rather quickly. It was near completion when he walked away and hopped into a locker.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused on why he suddenly hid. You didn’t feel anyone's eyes on you, or even felt your heart pick up it’s rather rhythmic thudding against your chest.

The generator popped and Leon was right back at your side again, this time holding what looked like a-

“Here. It’s like a flashlight,”

“Where did you get this from? I swear those lockers only have hatchets and throwing knives…” you looked up at Leon, cocking an eyebrow l as you hesitantly took the flash bang. “You didn’t pull this out of your ass-“

“NO!” Leon was panicked, eyes wide and a harsh blush covering his cheeks and nose. He scratched the back of his head before shaking his head. “It’s a flash bang,” He muttered, scratching the back  of his neck as you led him away towards the center of the  Eyre. 

“Relax, Kennedy,” You mused, “It was a joke,” But at the same time, you were kind of curious. 

You knelt, and began shoving your hands into the generator. Leon followed to your right, a calm silence enveloping the pair as  they worked diligently. 

Seeing him flustered made you laugh; you thought it was cute, but at the same time, there was a deep pit at the bottom of your stomach; one warning you that the cutesy cop could just be another David. 

The two were obviously different, but something in you was choosing to ignore the burning pair of eyes practically glaring holes into your back, and succumb to the slight change of weight being lifted off your shoulders.