#oh that would be a terrible offshoot

[yet-another-heathen]

hehehe you KNOW I was scrolling down to add these tags myself when I saw who had put it on my dash in the first place

But yeah, Garcia:

deserves it

cannot fucking believe he cares enough about someone for it to WORK

I mean come on. Him? Him? Still can't believe these two meshed the way they did because I can barely imagine Garcia giving a shit about anyone who isn't his daughter enough to cave to kidnapping demands. I mean, soon enough everyone is gonna see the way that he thinks about and makes a decision over Kyle. He's NOT built for empathy. He knows the position he's in and does not consider the loss of innocent life to be a high cost.

But then there's Jian.

And the fear in Jian's eyes.

And he takes one look and knows he cannot let him go. Not like this.

I just love when a characters been taken hostage as bait for a stronger, more powerful character, no amount of begging or offering for information can ease their suffering because their only purpose is to be hurt, a livestream being done of their torture, broadcast to their powerful lover or family member or friend, and while they desperately don’t want anything to happen to someone they love, they can’t do this anymore. They know they should beg them not to try and rescue them, not to make the deal and trade themself for whumpee, to ignore their pain because whumpee is expendable and this other person isn’t. But they’re not the strong one. Instead they beg to be saved, guilt eating them alive as much as the agony coursing through their body. And when someone comes for them, they know they don’t deserve to be rescued.

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Homestuck Reread: Act 4, Part 3/4 (p. 1669-1864)

Read the previous post here.

The second half of Act 4 starts here. And oh fuck no, it's the introduction of Hussie's self-insert.

Yes, it is a terrible idea. This whole bit should've died right here.

Hussie proceeds to recap the entire first year of Homestuck which really is just a big waste of time to read. If you're really lost about what's going on, you should just read all my reread posts up to this point instead! Which... actually isn't ideal because I'm not really writing a comprehensive plot summary here. This series of posts is mostly aimed toward people who are already familiar with Homestuck and have read it before. If you tried showing these to someone who has never read the comic before, they'll likely be confused. Err, fuck it, let's move on!

John is rightfully reluctant to listen to Terezi again. He typically shows resistance to commands only when they might put him in life-threatening danger. And since he finally decides to believe Dave's warnings, this counts as one of those situations.

I forgot to mention this in the last post, but Davesprite and Terezi's conversation was the first time "jegus" is used. Some people seem to think that this is the name of a troll analogue to Jesus, but really it's an in-joke between Dave and Terezi that gradually disseminates through their respective friend groups.

John's adversity shatters and he decides to start listening to Terezi again. It really didn't take much for her to convince him to do this. This is hardly portraying Terezi as some kind of "master manipulator." It's just another instance of John being a gullible moron.

Also, this will be the last conversation between John and Terezi until Act 6. Her conversations with the humans will be exclusively limited to Dave until that point. I guess she wasn't so serious about being John's "pal" after all.

Bro what do you mean you decide to name him? That's Rose's cat. You can't go into someone's house and rename their pets.

I do like that Davesprite immediately points out how dumb it was that John decided to listen to Terezi again.

John is such a massive fucking cunt. He's really going to disrespect the guy who saved his life like that? Even apart from that, that's his best friend, or at least supposedly.

Davesprite's reaction is entirely justified here. He's supplying John with useful info, only to be met with disinterested responses and being told to fuck off in favor of the other Dave. I really think "ok" is John's catchphrase, even moreso than Aradia's. Pretty much every time someone tries to talk to him about the game is met with him going "oh ok" or "wow ok" like some kind of spongehead.

This conversation is notable because Dave's entire persona is centered on being detached, aloof, and "cool" but here Davesprite sounds genuinely pissed. He doesn't even care about maintaining the facade because his "best friend" just revealed he doesn't even see him as a person worth talking to.

Dave thinks he can speak on Davesprite's behalf, which he's definitely not qualified to do. He spent four months living in a pointless reality offshoot with the full knowledge that everything in it is a mistake that needs to be rectified. Rose, the one person he had for company in that timeline, had to be essentially killed in order to fix the timeline. And even if there's still a Rose that currently exists, that single version of Rose he spent all those months together with was still destroyed by his actions. Her blood is on his hands.

All this is to say he's definitely not the same person as current Dave. They may share the same memories and past experiences, but everything Davesprite experienced past the point of divergence is uniquely his. He's his own individual.

That "yeah" right before signing off cuts deep. He is sick of John's shit. Not that I imagine John would notice at all.

Davesprite might be the most tragic character in this godforsaken story. Having Rose's death weighing on his conscious, being forced to mutate himself into a ghostly half-bird monstrosity, letting another version of himself live out the rest of "his" life. He did it all for the sake of making sure his friends have a future to live in, but said friends don't respect him or even like talking to him. To them, he's an extraneous copy of their existing friend. He isn't "real."

And the sad thing is that it's not just his friends who think that. Hussie didn't give a shit about him either. Wouldn't it have been crazy if this conflict was explored and Davesprite was a bigger presence in the story? If he was actually acknowledged as part of the team and the other kids had to learn to stop treating him as "the other Dave"

Well too bad because for one thing, Hussie cannot write convincing conflict. If two characters don't like each other, they simply ignore each other and don't speak. So instead of Davesprite being a ever-present source of awkward tension within the group, he's downgraded to an impotent background character. Tough shit, Orange Dave.

Oh yeah, the less said about Davesprite's ultimate end, the better. What a fucking travesty.

Dave really wants John to snoop around Rose's belongings. The little freak. At least he stops short of asking John to rummage through her underwear drawer.

Technically one of the journals does contain "important game stuff" but Dave doesn't know that. I bet he just wants to know if she wrote about him in her journal.

Dave is putting more effort into invading Rose's privacy than just about anything else prior to this point. Obsessed much?

My god, that "come hither" expression. Things are about to get steamy on Derse.

"Whipping Bugwinged Fuckall" is an amazing Kanaya quote.

Oh look, Sollux's first appearance. He and Kanaya should've talked more. It almost feels like they're co-workers and he's the guy she bugs for IT support. It's a fun dynamic.

Also, I guess Alternia has sex offender registries, which makes no sense. I feel like you'd get straight up killed by the drones for much less.

No I didn't leave this page open while the entirety of "Derse Dreamers" played. That would be silly. Also when I said things were gonna get "steamy" I obviously meant they'd get all sweaty from dancing. Jeez, what'd you think I meant? 😇

Cal is kicked out of the party for being a cockblock.

What are these "shenanigans" Davesprite engaged in to get the hammer from Hephaestus? Fuck if we'll ever find out.

Even though the two kingdoms are fated to fight each other and yadda yadda, there doesn't seem to be much enmity between them. WV is able to unify everyone with little effort.

[S] WV?: Rise Up is certainly a flash that exists. It serves as a follow-up to [S] Jack: Ascend, which I also wasn't really too enthused about. I didn't spend much time talking about it in the last post because I couldn't think of anything to comment about it. Which is strange, because you'd think the big flash to celebrate the comic's one year anniversary, as well as the one that introduces the story's main antagonist, would be a bigger spectacle.

But there's no action, no cool shots like in previous flashes, and ultimately Jack's "ascension" comes from the stupid bunny shit and not from any action on his part. The only real highlight of that flash is the killer tune that is "Black". Apart from that, it pales in comparison to previous flashes in the comic. Much of the same can be said about this one. At least "Skaian Skirmish" is a cool track.

When does this ever have a use? Just like with John, the only point of this whole alchemizing montage is to create a new outfit, computer, and weapon for Rose. The rest of these creations are useless junk.

I mention a new outfit, but the true irony is that the kids' best outfits (John's Vriska jacket, Rose's black dress, Dave's raglan shirt, and Jade's uhh... God Tier dress?) aren't even a part of these montages. For the first three, they're all acquired off-screen and we don't even know the recipes for them.

Trailing right behind Rose's montage, Dave gets his as well. Again, nothing of true value gets made here. These montages feel like Hussie padding out the page count. Seriously, who actually enjoys these parts of the comic?

The alchemiter can potentially create body parts, albeit at an exorbitant cost. Could you imagine if this was actually implemented? If one of the characters lost a limb or something and they got an alchemized replacement?

They could've done that with Vriska or Tavros so they wouldn't have had to use robotic prosthetics. Man, that would've been cool.

I like how this is essentially a "secret" SBaHJ page because it isn't available alongside the others and only appears in Homestuck.

The "most important thing"? My gosh, he really wants to get in her business.

Yes, Rose's story is overly florid, verbose slop, but it feels so similar to Hussie's usual prose when he's trying to be descriptive that I'm not even sure if this story is written to be intentionally pompous or not.

Has Hussie ever tried submitting something for the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, the contest to write the worst possible opening paragraph for a novel? I'd bet he'd win without trying. (If you've never heard of this before, look it up and go to the website to read the winning entries. They're hilarious.)

It is rather sweet that Dave likes the story enough to want to read more of it later, though.

Dave is able to figure out Mom Lalonde's intentions simply because he knows Rose well enough to tell when she's being dramatic. See, Dave doesn't even need to read Rose's journal to discover her true thoughts. He already sees through her well enough already (and she likewise sees through his act just as clearly).

The fact that Rose remembers "some things" about her previous self's existence sounds like something that should be investigated further, instead of being written off so abruptly.

Or is that "ok cool" a defense mechanism on Davesprite's part? Maybe talking to Rose is too painful for him, because she's not "his" Rose. Even if she retains all the memories from the future, she'll still never be the same Rose he left behind.

I really wish this was explored more. Davesprite and Rose never talk again after this conversation and it drives me insane. What if he actually tried pressing further about what she remembers about the timeline, trying to seek out remnants of "his" Rose? He could be trying in vain to reconnect with her, to apologize about leaving her to die, but all that ever happens is that he gets rebuffed.

And Rose might recall the moments she shared with another Dave in another timeline, but stamps them out as she continues to focus on the present and as she grows closer with Kanaya. Perhaps revisiting those memories of the doomed timeline, reliving the loneliness leading up to her demise, are too painful to recall. And Davesprite is a living reminder of them, so she pushes him away to make herself forget.

If only Hussie could write convincing and earnest tragedy. We were utterly robbed.

Dave makes it seem like Jade is the one who's going to freak out about the body. But somehow I doubt the girl who lives with the corpse of her grandfather, along with other taxidermied creatures, on permanent display is going to be fazed by another dead body. Yeah, I'm thinking Dave is the one who doesn't want to keep looking at his own corpse.

Also, I never noticed DD hanging out on the I-beam before. That's a neat detail.

This part of the Act is admittedly fun. Could it be because a lot of it had a healthy focus on Rose and Dave? It's amazing how much nicer the comic is to read when the focus is put on the stronger characters.

Unfortunately I already know that the next few upcoming pages are going to be one of my least favorite parts of the comic, so I'm not terribly looking forward to wrapping up this Act next week...

Read the next post here.

[tapakah0]

Hi:) I notice that you occasionally write something like "please pretend I don't exist" in your posts. Do...do my reblogs bother you? I can understand if yes, some people can be uncomfortable interacting with big blogs. I'd love to reblog all your beautiful art, but I won't if you don't like it. No pressure, feel free to ignore me if you want

NOOO I'm just worried that I'm bothering YOU!! All the comics and stuff are inspired by YOU, oh my god, even the plot (not designs ;O;) of my comic is made to fit your story and be like a fan offshoot of an even earlier episodes of your story!! I'm worried that you might not like that I'm doing something of my own based on your story! Because almost EVERYTHING I do here is inspired by you and I don’t even send quick sketches and stuff, because it would be terrible tag tag tag, you just can get 10 mentions per day, if I'll go out in my spare time!!! MY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS AND ANIMATICS WERE BORN THANKS TO YOU, I CAN DRAW ALL DAY WITHOUT FEELING TIRED THANKS TO YOU, I RECENTLY STARTED TO THINK WHERE I'D BE HAPPY TO WORK IN THE FUTURE THANKS TO YOU, YOU'RE THE GREATEST INSPIRATION I HAVE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE!!!! YOU JUST HAVE NO IDEA HOW HOW MUCH I WANT TO COMMUNICATE WITH YOU but god I HATE DISTURBING people??! ALL YOUR REBLOGS SEND ME TO THE SEVENTH HEAVEN FROM HAPPINESS!!! GOD DO YOU KNOW WHAT A SMILE I HAD WHEN YOU MADE THE LAST NUCLEAR BOMB REBLOG TO ANIMATIC??? SENSEI, PLEASE DON'T ABANDON ME I'M SORRY I'M REALLY CRYING RIGHT NOW I DIDN'T KNOW THAT YOU'LL UNDERSTAND ME LIKE THIS, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING TO GO!! And if I can disturb you without being worried to be clingy, then you will have to be afraid!!!!!!!

[darkdemeter]

Dem Hi! I'm back with a bit of an unhinged ask here:

Im sure this doodle gives you an idea where this is going. I was just making myself some tea, and I was thinking about Lovers In Eden (i was going to listen to a song called Eastward of Eden by Amelia Day,hence the association). And Since I am a film student, a writer and i took script classes as my subject las trimester, i offer you this unhinged recap of my conspiracy theory. So LIE (Lover in Eden) introduces us to the idea that Strife killed Y/N after a bloodlust outburst,right? Well, at first i didnt think too much of it, but then the chapter ends with the four on earth, which felt a little disembodied from the prologue. Which brings me to the hipothesis which is: Strife's lover is on earth,reborn without their memories. My proof for this theory is this: 1) We know that in the darksiders universe there is such thing as a well of souls, we know they go through the kingdom of the dead to repent and then be reborn through the well. 2) you wouldntve put the line "Love slayer" if it wasnt relevant to the plot. (Writing often times includes phrasing things a certain way to hint at other things). 3) Why would you close the chapter where you did? What relevance does the fact that the four are now on earth have? Simple, Strife will find a reborn,survivor Y/N and will fall in love with them (and have a crisis once he realizes its a whole like soulmates finding eachother again situation) 4) and last (which came to me as i wrote this) if you were to center the story only on Strife and the reader without the reader being reborn, you wouldve just started it from the medieval age/wherever strife met the reader and not end with the four on earth. Of course dont gotta tell me if im right,dont want to spoil the whole fic anyways. But I felt the need to share this with you. (I genuienly felt like the pepe silvia meme). And yeah, one offshoot of all this is that maybe the reader isnt a reborn soulmate, and that the prologue could just set up this inherit guilt and fear towards love that Strife has. Until we get the next chapter, i lay in wait...scheming/lhj/hj Have a nice rest of your day and i hope you've enjoyed my unhinged ramble. -Jer. PD: i feel so silly for sending this whole thing but as a fellow writer i know theres nothing we love more than ppl theorizing about our stuff. So here you go. I hope it doest read as overbearing,i just genuienly love your stuff.

First off, I love your pepe doodle! It’s so perfect. In fact I find it so funny that I made this a little bit ago myself... (As much as I'd love to rant and such about my AUs' lore and headcanons, I made this for shits and gigs)

I absolutely adore hearing theories readers have about my fics. (Sorry this has taken FOR-EV-ER to respond to, I'm terrible with replying at times)

I also fucking LOVE that you're a film student, I think that makes this whole theory situation even better because I do tend to have a very movie-esque thought process when writing. (Blooper reel and BTS footage rent free in my head)

And I think I've got the mind stewing a bit with that recent post, Flowers From My Lover. Without hopefully giving away anything, you do have some valid and interesting points in your theories and has me going, "Oh Jer is good little detective." You get a cookie for your theory skills!

There are indeed certain key details and clues I put in on purpose and it's so interesting to see what readers pick up on. And yes, the well of souls is involved to some extent in this plotline, but not in the way you might think...

I also find your choice of the word "reborn" interesting. Very obviously and right out the gates, I will say that yes, reader is alive in this story. But it's the manner in which reader's alive and again, the reborn theory is interesting and again, possibly not in a way you're expecting. Though it seems rather simple, I will tease that there is... quite a bit more to it than what's at face value.

And I wanna tease this little clue too because it is one of my favourites: It's interesting how the fic's title has a double meaning in plain sight...

[essayofthoughts]

So I had a terrible terrible thought.

Oh Wise Friend of Paleopathology... what do you think you would be able to learn from Percy's tomb, whenever he kicks the bucket and ends up buried? Assuming a language barrier + at least a few thousand years (and Kiki can't just chime in if still alive).

What strains of his life would still be on his bones? What about the teeth? What do you think Whitestone’s burial customs would be like (and how would his status/history be conveyed in that context)? Would any fabrics used in funeral dress be likely to survive, or only his wedding ring + buttons + whatever that shiny thing is in his ascot?

What would you, future archeologist, make of that earring in just one ear???!

I would note that it has been several years since I properly studied the subject, but Palaeopathology and Skeletal Analysis were some of my favourite classes and I do remember a fair bit. But for any currently practicing Archaeologists - forgive my oversights. It has been Too Long.

Now. Before I get to anything else in this scenario, we have to think about the likely context. This word means different things in Archaeology and Anthropology but for our purposes here today the short definition is "What is he found with? Where do we find the body? Is there a tomb, a grave, grave goods? What is there here that is not the body, that can tell us about how the body got here?"

I don't know how to explain to you that this is one of my favourite parts of archaeological thought - everything matters, everything plays a part, everything is context enabling us to better understand a site or an artefact. Every new thing we discover is another datapoint to weave into a greater whole until the web resolves into something greater than the sum of it's parts.

So in this instance we're going to have to start with the following questions:

Where is his body interred?

What kind of inhumation is it? (graveyard, cemetery grave, wooden coffin or vault casket or leaded sealed, mausoleum, crypt, ossuary?)

How well preserved/damaged is it?

What are the burial customs of Whitestone nobility and how will that affect things?

Why am I exhuming it?

Now, we know a few things from canon, most namely that the de Rolos had a family mausoleum beneath their castle. This suggests a formal burial in a family crypt. We do not however know if the bodies were placed in coffins, or niches or even if they were cremated! From the transcript of Reunions Pt2:

MATT All right, so. You progress through the undercroft as quietly as possible. You notice as you get past the first section, you look to your right and left and the inside of these small like cubby offshoots that contain these separate ten by ten stone tombs. The walls have shelves burrowed into it, in which there are urns and small gems and offerings-- things that were buried alongside the family members as part of a remembrance. →

So it seems like some may have been cremated! Being adherents of Pelor, this doesn't actually surprise me - the sun burns, after all. But then again, neither would traditional burial - Pelor is also associated with agriculture and standard decomposition returns you to the earth that fed you.

Though... that would be a bit complicated in a sealed stone tomb.

Given also how I'd equate to modern time periods and technology levels... I'm inclined to say embalming hasn't taken off in Exandria at the time Percy dies. And... even if it was possible, I rather feel it'd be associated with Necromancy more than standard burial, plus Whitestone is predominantly Pelorian and Percy's wife is Champion of Pelor, and Pelor is god of agriculture. Embalming chemicals seep into the soil and are catastrophically bad for the environment - there's a reason American cemeteries expect caskets to be fully sealed and in a concrete vault - to prevent exactly that. I can't see Pelor being down with that kind of embalming, so most likely a body is neatened up, shown for funeral, and buried, with minimal messing about. Even nobles being buried in crypts where they won't immediately return to the soil, I imagine they'd want to stay true to the general idea.

Further, from Matt in that same episode:

#MATT Continuing down, a long set of whitestone-constructed stairs descend for about 45 feet before they level off into the de Rolo mausoleum. A long hallway continues forward that contains two ten-by-ten stone structures that contain the entombed bodies of previous generations of de Rolos, with six passages-- three on each side-- that split off of this main hallway that contain their own stone-encapsulated corpses. → This is a place of silent prayer and showing appreciation for the previous families. Not all of them are full, and there were extensions planned as the family grew, but the first thing you notice is all of the tomb doors are open. →

So the idea is that the graves stay in use! This isn't a case like Sedlec where bodies are periodically disinterred to be reinterred in an ossuary, these are meant to be lasting burials.

So... why am I excavating here?

Given Keyleth's lengthy lifespan I would assume that Whitestone likely survives quite well (yes, even with the Apogee, shush, I've only watched C1 so far). It's also a source of, well, whitestone and residuum, meaning it's likely to remain inhabited. Even given the significant shifts a thousand plus years bring - castles and keeps and forts are pretty good at lasting in some form! We have a lot of remnants of old castles (In Britain alone: Tintagel, Colchester Castle, Tower of London, the Roman Forts at Hadrian's Wall, various Caers throughout Wales), and they frequently get built on or rebuilt over time. In a case like Whitestone, with valuable resources and economic links, even if it were, say, invaded, colonised, etc. - the castle would be a good seat of administration or even just a tourist hotspot. And crypts are well down in the foundations: even if the castle was damaged or destroyed, it actually has good odds of staying intact. The Alabaster Sierras are mountainous, but given the ziggurat survived from the Calamity to when we see it well enough it only took the Briarwoods and Ripley a few years (minus the time excavating down to it) to restore it, it seems that they're not terribly tectonically active.

So... this is likely a very stable site, with good odds of at least 500 or so years of protection (Pike and Scanlan are set to have long lifespans, JB too seems set to live there, all would have reason to see it protected) even before we get to Keyleth's likely thousand-odd year protection. Given that much time to build itself stronger, I see Whitestone as most likely still existing, and the castle a significant historical site and cultural heritage.

I can see some degree of linguistic drift, but if the area has remained inhabited then there's good odds there'd be scholars of the area able to translate Pre-Apogee-Era Tal'Doreian Common. And, likewise, if the area has had so long protected then there's good odds the Chamber is still around, and so there's probably a good library and even recorded genealogy of the founding de Rolos, even if the family itself had died out. (Factual accuracy of these records might be suspect, but I'll get to that.) This kind of persistence of a culture would not be without IRL historical precedent - Ancient Egypt lasted for thousands of years using largely the same Hieroglyphics, even as Dynasties rose and fell. The culture absolutely changed, but good chunks of records were still around.

Given all of this, most likely I can see the reason being some kind of refurbishment of the castle prompting archaeologists to be called in for the safe disinterrment of the tombs and then some kind of funded study by the Chamber of Whitestone of the bodies in those tombs to help inform on who Whitestone's forebears were. This, again, is not without precedent - if I'm recalling my Sixth Form case studies correctly, Christ Church in Spitalfields had a massive crypt of lead caskets that were disinterred, catalogued, studied and, wherever possible, returned to relatives.

Let's return to those questions, yeah?

Where is his body interred?

Most likely in the de Rolo crypt under the castle.

What kind of inhumation is it? (graveyard, cemetery grave, wooden coffin or vault casket or leaded sealed, mausoleum, crypt, ossuary?)

Stone tomb burial - likely dry but not anaerobic. Reasonable odds of non-human disturbances (rats, flies, bugs, etc.)

How well preserved/damaged is it?

Good odds of reasonable preservation. Depending on how well and consistently the crypt is tended it could be best case for the scenario or somewhat less.

What are the burial customs of Whitestone nobility and how will that affect things?

Given Taliesin has said that the de Rolos took a bit from Prussian nobility in etiquette and manners, I'd be inclined to say probably similarly, with an eye towards our 1800s funerary practices simply because that's when the Pepperbox was prominent in our world.

So most likely, Sunday best, plush coffin, but - unless royalty - left to rot. Royals (in the UK at least) have historically been prone to leadlined caskets but that tends to lead to a specific kind of anaerobic putrefaction that results in something called corpse liquor.

Ick.

So let's hope that's not the case. Given Whitestone is primarily Pelorian in devotion, at least in Percy's day, I'd be inclined to say they're not completely sealed - possibly even just interred as bodies, but unlikely - plus the crypt is in the family castle and it seems that the crypts were visited periodically by family prior to the Briarwoods' attack - the odds of someone breaking in to try to steal royal relics is pretty low, unlike the public royal burials in Westminster Abbey.

Why am I exhuming it?

Castle refurbishments prompting a Chamber-sponsored study on the historic remains in the pre-Chamber de Rolo crypt.

OKAY. Now that's all out of the way, let's get into what I might discover, yes?

So most likely I've gone through several other bodies before I get to Percy. During exhumation the details of the tomb would have been recorded - it's placement in the tomb, which tombs it was next to. Now, I would imagine his tomb would be between Cassandra's and Vex's, but while working I likely wouldn't know that! Assuming linguistic drift and font changes, most likely the burials and tombs are labelled in the database something like T6E2 - Tomb 6 of the 2nd East Section. I would then have to find a scholar working on recording and identifying any inscriptions and translating them - so names, dates, quotes, etc.. And, most likely, I would be kept in the dark until I was done! Archaeology is best done without recorded human history to bias one and huge amounts of history have no contemporaneous record to speak of.

Now, if I'm just doing the Palaeopath then likely with a specialist in coffins, caskets and funerary fittings, I would record the state of the coffin and body inside, as well as the positioning of the body inside. Is the body extended (laid out flat as we tend to bury bodies now) or contracted (foetal position, very common prehistorically)? How intact are the remains?

And then, recording everything as I go, I would extract the body from the coffin, bit by bit. I would want to ensure that no bones were left inside the coffin, no tiny tatters of cloth - assuming any remained, cloth disintegrates shockingly quickly and if it wasn't fully sealed it's likely the moths got to it, let alone any rats - and that I didn't misplace any bones as I laid them out per diagram.

Jewellery, buckles - any metal grave goods would also be extracted here and recorded. Also, given Exandria - Detect Magic. Make sure anything enchanted is Identified so we know what it did (hello Earring of Whisper!). Again, I'd probably end up giving them over to someone who knows how to compare them to similar items to properly study them.

Now... Percy's fleshy bits would most likely be gone. Unless he mummified which is not impossible with a dry stone internment but between two thousand years, one's own gut bacteria (remember, modern embalming is unlikely), rats and bugs... yeah I can't see much remaining beyond fragments of cloth and bones.

Oh, and his glasses.

That would have been noted during removing the body from the coffin - this person wore glasses. From my colleague examining them, we'd be able to see if they were prescription (or as historically close as you could get) or if they were a stylistic choice - so we'd know this person had bad eyesight.

Now, the first step after checking every bone is present would be to sex it and to look for damage or signs of wear and tear. Given this is Exandria 1. Gender equality for ages and 2. Magical with options to trans one's gender. This is also a high-status burial so there's good odds this person was living as their chosen gender; and sexing the body could tell us what that was. Even if there's a mismatch - grave goods can also tell us. Is the jewellery more commonly seen on men or women of the era? Percy would likely have a pocket watch (he does make a clocktower! I'd be shocked if he didn't make himself a pocketwatch) which is often a more masculine item, and an ascot pin - ascots are a masculine fashion - and his Earring of Whisper, which is a bit more complicated. Any remnants of clothes could also tell us. And of course - the coffin furniture. Any plaque with inscription, or inscription on the tomb panel. After drawing my own conclusions I would ask my scholarly colleague if their findings lined up with my own.

Given also that this is Exandria, it'd probably also be very important to identify which (DnD) race he was. Elves seem to be more gracile than humans, half-elves likewise albeit to a lesser degree, genasi would likely have magical influences, likewise aasimar, tieflings having horns, tails, hooves, claws, dwarves being short and stocky, while halflings are short and comparatively gracile and gnomes are smaller still. Goblins would be ruled out by size alone, goliaths would be massive and probably have big muscle attachment marks and dragonborn would have very obvious conformation compared to a human.

I don't think identifying Percy as "Most likely human" would be hard - but we can confirm it later.

Now... damage.

Percy's torture would almost certainly show on his bones. Given it was torture, I highly doubt Ripley wasted magical healing on him. It was only a week or two, so likely no broken bones - unless she only wasted enough healing on him to keep him alive, in which case... yeah absolutely some wear and tear. Signs of partial healing, mixed damage. Scarring on the bones, evidence of dislocations, etc.. Likewise, injuries from his time with Vox Machina would show - him leaving his hand in a bulette's mouth probably left marks on those bones, his death at Ripley's hands probably is extremely interesting in the skeletal record - most of his pre-mortem injuries only partially healed if that, while the actual cause of death being healed up completely, a lacuna in the record. Likewise - Percy's cane. If he was buried with it we would probably look for some kind of leg injury. Was the cane an affectation or was there an injury it was compensating for? What injury might that be, what could have caused it? Or even... was he not buried with it? Would we see a leg injury that implies a need for a cane, but no cane to go with it? If so, we could assume that presentation in death had significance, and they were presenting a "perfect" "whole" version of him at death. Again, there's cultural precedent for this! Ancient Egyptians would provide wooden prosthetics and false eyes during mummification because of a belief that how one was interred was how one would arrive to the afterlife - they could be given limbs they had lost or even never had in life.

Just due to all of this I'd probably also take a close look for any evidence of malnutrition - though this might be significantly faded after his many comfortable years retired. That said, Percy was tortured and then washed up on a fishing boat and dissociated for two years. Given this was at the tail end of his puberty, I'd be shocked to find no sign at all of lasting physical trauma at that.

I'd also find he had one arm that was just. Fine. Factory reset perfect. Nothing wrong at all. What the hell. Did someone cast Regenerate on him? (If they did cast Regenerate: did that have an accelaratory effect on any bone remodelling his healing bones were going through after the Vecna fight?

Assuming I've studied some of the other crypt bodies before Percy's this would be very interesting! Most of those would be de Rolos who likely went through little to no hardship - Percy stands out.

I'd also want to check to see his teeth - what kind of teeth care is he getting? Any cavities, calculus build up, abscesses, missing teeth? How worn down are they? Are there any fake teeth? Given Vex would probably chivvy Percy to take care of himself (and wouldn't care for stinky breath) and they have Pike on hand for healing, I imagine he has very good teeth for his age.

This is a good thing.

You see, assuming this is a very thorough study and all of that time between Percy's era and know gives me access to modern technology or some equivalent I would want to a few destructive tests. Namely - carbon dating, isotope analysis and DNA testing.

And these are often best done with Teeth. Teeth are fun! They are growing bones which live in our bones! And we lose our milk teeth and gain our adult teeth on the same reliable time frame as we use to age infant skeletons (sealing of skull sutures in that case) which makes them really useful. Like. Unspeakably useful. Teeth are fantastic. Take care of your damn teeth.

Carbon dating would, obviously, give us a rough idea of how old the body was. This is easier the more recent it is, and much more exact. We can then cross-reference this with the scholar translating inscriptions and checking historical records to see how well the carbon date matches up with the historical record!

DNA testing is the thing that would tell us if he was human, and, depending on how advanced it is, might even be able to tell us a few phenotypic genes! Melanin levels for skin and hair, eye pigmentation - possibly if he was genetically predisposed towards a few diseases. It would also allow us to compare him to other bodies in the data set! We would find out that the female body interred on one side of him was most likely his sister, and while the woman interred on his other side shares no meaningful DNA with him, there are other nearby bodies which share DNA with both of them, being their children! And from those children we'd know that there was a tiefling in the family, which would allow us to infer that somewhere in this family there was some kind of infernal influence.

Isotope analysis - if I'm recalling correctly, you can use isotope analysis to both identify some part of a person's diet in life (carbon and nitrogen analysis, usually) and where they came from (strontium and oxygen analysis).

So we'd have some idea of Percy's general diet, and also know he was local! I imagine given, you know, Exandria, magic - we'd have not just strontium analysis to place him as a Whitestone native, but also likely some lingering magic from the local whitestone rock to further establish that. Now, if I recall rightly, strontium analysis only really works for childhood, but based on the injury and malnutrition pattern, the idea that he either went through hell locally or left in some relation to that is not an unlikely one - just hard to prove.

CONCLUSIONS

We would see from his grave goods and the circumstances of his burial that he was high born and likely associated with the de Rolo family. From DNA analysis we'd know he was related to a good number of people in the crypt and that his apparent spouse was not, meaning he is most likely the de Rolo of the pair. Plus the strontium analysis we'd know he was local and his likely spouse was not, again furthering the idea that he was the de Rolo.

We might also have some idea of how he'd look, and if we decided to try to do a digital or artistic facial reconstruction we'd likely have some pigmentation pointers. Also, we know he wore glasses and that he needed them - that they weren't a stylistic choice.

We'd know he'd been badly injured at various points in his life, and, depending on how severe his various post-Glintshore and post-Raishan injuries were, we might still be able to see the gap of the resurrections in his bones, which would further suggest he was someone of means to have afforded such a resurrection. A lot of his injuries could probably be put down to an adventuring lifestyle, which the resurrections and any evidence of magical healing would probably attest to, and without the kind of surface scarring torture leaves, while we'd know he was injured badly over the course of his life, I don't know if we'd be able to easily conclude it was all at once. Certainly some marks on the bones would seem older than others but bones remodel over time! Some of it might be damn near invisible, while others would remain obvious. He also has a mysteriously perfect arm for Some Fucking Reason.

We'd likely have his wedding ring (I'd be shocked if it didn't have some inscription on the inside; this was very common historically and Percy is a complete sap), an ascot pin, a belt buckle and some buttons or fasteners for his clothing, a pocketwatch and chain (and again, I'd be surprised if the pocketwatch didn't have an inscription or a hidden flap with a miniature of his family or something). We'd have his glasses and possibly even his cane. We'd likely have the Earring of Whisper and based on how well Purvan Suul's two magical items lasted - one of which was not a Vestige! - I'd be inclined to say an Identify would let us know what that was once Detect Magic turned up that it was enchanted.

I imagine someone would also have catalogued any offerings left outside his grave - keepsakes, mementos, inscribed tablets of memorial, etc. which would help to let us know not just who he was but what he meant to the community in which he lived.

After all, the dead do not bury themselves - this is what I meant at the start by context. He was buried by people around him - his community. They chose his grave and his grave goods, they chose the inscription of his tomb (he may have requested it, they chose whether or not to honour that) and they left offerings and markers of what he meant to them.

And... from all of this? Assuming Scanlan really went ham telling the Legend of Vox Machina and bards keep telling it? I'd think an in-world archaeologist could make a good guess as to who this body was even before getting it confirmed by the scholar checking the inscriptions. And with the Cobalt Soul storing information - good odds they'd have a record of Scanlan's version of the tale and their own additions (see also Chronicles of Exandria books, intended as being from the Cobalt Soul). And, also, of course, Tary's version too! There's likely to be several different contemporaneous sources, not to mention later additions from the Voice of the Tempest.

So... I imagine this would probably help to fill out things that weren't covered by Scanlan's tale, refute things in Tary's and generally do as finding Richard III's body did for Britain - give us more information about the person behind all the stories and propaganda. Flesh out their life, give us hints of the hardship they went through - if there's inscriptions on his ring or pocketwatch, give us a hint of the heart he shared with his family.

It certainly wouldn't be everything, but it would be enough to let you touch another's humanity across a thousand years or more.

[emptymanuscript]

One of the essays sitting and percolating in my brain is about how much (and more importantly WHY) I loathe the idea of Hard vs. Soft magic systems and how terribly these concepts are for thinking about magicbuilding.

While also in no way objecting to Sanderson's 3 Laws of Magic which I actually love because they are so clever and usable. I'm all for them.

It's a dialectic. Sue me. I just don't think that the 3 laws actually necessitate the hardness scale of magic. At all. And in some ways the two ideas actively work against each other.

I just know it is a HUGE essay, involving a lot of work and data gathering. And I feel like I can't be bothered to expend that much effort within even the medium term. So... it just kind of sits there and occasionally I'll run into something that reminds me: oh, yeah, I kinda wanna do that. Like, this is pretty good but it would be ten times as brilliant if you weren't hampered by the idea of a hardness scale of magic.

I ran into somebody today trying to talk about a pyramid of magic users that was partly dependent on this idea of a chart of Magic Hardness on the Y axis and Diversity of Magical Expression on the X axis. For four fundamental quadrants of Hard Diverse, Hard Same, Soft Diverse, and Soft Same. The last of which he couldn't think of any examples of and I'm just sitting here thinking: yeah, because one of your axes is wrong and its getting in the way of you saying something brilliant.

Think instead of several diversities: Sources of Magic, Types of Magic, Expressions of Magic, and User Variability as a 4D model. Each converging at 0, no magic. Each going to ∞, meaning each kind is entirely individual to the caster and is measured by the number of casters instead of the number of magics. And useful numbers for fiction falling somewhere in the relatively low range of numbers.

So, for the favorite Hard Magic (grumble) example, AtlA, you would have 1 source of magic: Chi. 5 types of magic: Water, Earth, Fire, Air, and Spirit. Then 2 basic expressions of magic: Elemental Control and Spiritual Control. And finally a relatively low (numbers aren't very useful but expectations are) amount of user variability in that expression. This can be shown to the audience with any level of clarity, without altering the system itself.

For the favorite Soft Magic (still grumbling) example, LotR, you would have an unknown number of sources of magic because it is never really delved into. However, it is possible to count what actually appears, and that is a low number, with some possible overlap: There's magic in the race you belong to, there's magic in the divine plan, there's magic in words and speech, there's magic in things sublimely crafted, there's magic in your intent, there's magic in birthright (not your race but your family lineage), there's magic in herb-lore and nature, there's magic in corruption, and there's magic in knowing/wisdom. It is possible to divide all those into separate categories or to unify all those into the singular Divine Will with many offshoots. The types of magic, again, are not enumerated and delved into but can be counted. There seems to be mostly the use of (un)natural phenomenon, communication/command/seduction, knowing/wisdom/fortune telling/working with fate, crafting things to do magic for you, necromancy/corruption, and oaths. Again there is overlap or not depending on opinion since the story doesn't delve into it. And user variability is fairly high in that it isn't particularly useful to know what one magic user can do in order to predict what another magic user can do. And this is really what makes it a "soft system" that whatever rules underlie the system are not only not communicated to the reader directly but aren't communicated in such a way that the underlying system is deducible. It is entirely possible to make a "Hard Magic System" (just ugh) that would produce exactly what we see in LotR. What makes it soft is the information we get, not the system itself.

And that really is my basic issue with Hard/Soft Magic as an idea. It conflates multiple different bits of information into a single bit that isn't dictated by any one of the original bits.

The Idea of Hard vs. Soft Magic relies on the idea that the perception of the Magic System is the same in the Imagination of the Author, their Expectations of the Audience and that Audience's Reception, their intentions, the Encoded piece of Art - the text itself, the Consensus Audience's Interpretations, the Individual Audience's Interpretations, AND the cultural interpretation of story as applied to this whole mess.

While literally none of that has to be true.

It is (accidentally?) doing the precision opposite of what the Artist Philosophy does at its worst. It is elevating the audience experience of Story over every other factor. It is essentially saying that every other position on the map must accept "my" interpretation and play to it. It's flipping the script - ex: men are good so women are bad but now we've had our glorious revolution so now women are good so men are bad - instead of actually addressing the problem inherent in the script - one gender is portrayed as superior to another.

BUT that's like two examples out of... hundreds? Thousands? Per year! >_<

Two texts aren't a sufficient corpus of material to talk about these sorts of things. Neither is one figure to illustrate the issue out of one textbook. And I just DON'T want to deal with that level of work. Especially since no one will really particularly care. And the minority that would be interested are generally pretty happy with the Hard / Soft divide because they're the readers whose views are being reflected. So...

:/

No point.

And this is why I shouldn't write essays anyway. I just wrote an essay about NOT writing an essay >_< I have issues >_< it's just... so much thought on how to do things on the back end (writing and worldbuilding advice) which is growing excellently right now would be so much better without that Hard-Soft conceit which is just... *sigh* an entire essay on why it is an issue. With half probably devoted to soothing egos and rough reactions of 'but it works for me.' Which is the point. The entire point.

And ugh.

And I'm probably only putting work into this in this way here so I won't feel the need to lash out at my sister quite so intensely. Again >_< I have issues.

And thanks for reading / sorry for writing. You know. Me and essays :/

[sephirthoughts]

EXCERPT FROM THIS THING

inspired by @thecloudstan 's post about an AU where Cloud is a dancer/sex worker at the Honeybee and Rufus Shinra becomes his regular customer and that's what it's about.

Rufus isn't in this part though this is another scene from the story that I am finding very fun. i know i have like 156 WIPs already shut up

VALENTINE CRIME SYNDICATE YOU GUYS

… The Valentine family had to be courted, because there was no one above them on the District Six totem pole, and Andrea needed to stay in their good graces, in order to run his business. That meant if Vincent Valentine was present at the club, he was always the top priority. 

That is, unless something unexpected and terrible happened. Wouldn’t you know it, something unexpected and terrible happened.

While he was high up above the stage, on his aerial hoop, transitioning from a gazelle split to an inverted archer’s pose, Cloud saw Tifa, with her clipboard, talking urgently to the guests at the table beside Vincent Valentine’s, up front in the VIP section. When his spin came around again, he saw her bowing profuse apologies, as the party stormed off, in dudgeon. 

What the hell was going on? Tifa would never disrupt a performance and come to kick people out of VIP, unless Andrea told her to, and he’d never do that unless…oh fuck.

Cloud nearly slipped off his hoop, but managed to make it look intentional, by dropping into a one-leg hox. Tifa, who looked like she was about to burst into tears, was back, and she was showing four men to the table she’d just had vacated. 

They were all tall, pale-skinned, varying degrees of muscular, and dressed head to toe in black leather. Most notably, all four had the same shade of bright silver hair. 

The Remnants. The only criminal element not suppressed by Shinra or the Valentine Syndicate, in Midgar. They were ostensibly a nomadic biker gang, of no fixed abode, and thus difficult to stamp out, entirely. They’d been breezing into town, on and off for years, defying Shinra and openly picking fights with the Valentines, and yet they always emerged unscathed.

Some said they were a secret offshoot of the Shinra family, and were supported by them behind the scenes, as a way to weaken the Valentines, without openly going to war with them. Others said they were connected to the Valentine family, and were used by them to distract Shinra, when they were making moves.

All anyone could confirm for certain was that they were unpredictable, extremely violent, and terrifyingly strong. They also seemed to have sleeper agents lurking everywhere, who would crawl out of the woodwork to do their leader’s bidding, before vanishing into thin air again. 

Their leader was Sephiroth. He was the eldest of the four brothers, as well as the tallest and most muscular. He also had the longest hair and longest coat, as if that was how their gang denoted hierarchy, or something.

Literally everyone who worked at the Honeybee knew who the Remnants were. When they came strolling in like they owned the place, hostesses working the floor froze in terror, waitresses walked into each other, some of the dancers on stage faltered and missed their steps, and even a few in-the-know guests got up and left. 

Cloud kept performing, as if everything was normal, and made some quick calculations. It would probably be ok, but there was no telling what these guys would do. Usually they just watched the show politely, and then Cloud would deal with them in the presidential suite, by himself. 

They’d never actually done anything violent, inside the walls of the Honeybee, but Sephiroth had made clear his intention to engage Cloud’s services, whenever he was in town, and by just being there, he and his brothers were pretty much holding the entirety of the guests and employees hostage, to make Andrea and Cloud comply. 

Cloud swallowed in a dry throat, at the thought of what they’d do to him, and wound up his routine with a hanging half angel, one leg outstretched behind him, the other toes pointed delicately downward, like an angel alighting on the earth (hence the name of the move), free arm reaching out longingly, as the hoop spun down toward the stage. 

Avoiding looking directly at Sephiroth, he dropped into his graceful dismount at the center of the stage, with the glittering dancers surrounding him, and they all struck their final pose. 

As the curtain came down, he quickly told the girls to run backstage and then get the hell out of here, as quietly as possible. Apologetic and grateful, to the sacrificial lamb who was saving them all, the girls thanked him with tears in their eyes, as they retreated in fear, from the wolves outside the curtain.

Cloud took a deep breath, straightened up his costume, and signalled the stage techs, who raised the curtain again. All alone, he took the spotlight bow, to uproarious applause, as usual.

During the standing ovation, Sephiroth walked directly to the stage and stood in the orchestra pit, with his arms spread, and a half-adoring, half-deranged smile on his (admittedly beautiful) face. 

Cloud forced himself to return a big, bright smile, and leaped off the stage, into arms so strong, the man didn’t even wobble from the impact of 150 lbs. of leanly-muscular young man landing directly upon his person. 

Most of the audience had no idea that anything was wrong, and assumed this was Cloud’s lucky client, for the night. There were a lot of whistles and catcalls amongst the applause, as the big, handsome, silver-haired warrior carried away his beautiful, golden-haired dancer, like a princess. 

Cloud glanced over at the VIP section, as he threw an arm around Sephiroth’s shoulder, and saw that Vincent Valentine was no longer there. A wise decision, on his part. He was not even a match for Sephiroth, let alone all four of the brothers.

“Please, don’t hurt anyone,” Cloud whispered in Sephiroth’s ear. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just let everyone else go, ok?”

The man’s laugh vibrated through his chest. “You make me out to be some kind of monster. Careful, or you might hurt my feelings.”

Cloud heard the mako-soaked madness in his voice, and relaxed a bit. So, he’d been shooting up. Believe it or not, that was actually a good thing. Sephiroth was more volatile, when he was high, but he was easier to manipulate, and far less cruel. 

“Sephi, don’t be so mean to me,” Cloud pouted, stroking Sephiroth’s bare chest, between the leather harness straps. “You know how much I care about my friends. You and the boys scared them really badly, last time.”

Sephiroth nuzzled his cheek. “If I leave them be, this time, will that make you happy, my little puppet?”

“Mn,” Cloud nodded, kicking his legs a bit, to further infantilize himself. Sephiroth liked to think of him as a half-brainless doll, so he leaned into it. “Now, promise you’ll be nice, so we can have fun together.”

“I promise, I’ll be nice,” Sephiroth said, with a smile that did not inspire confidence in his little doll. 

“Promise Kadaj and Yazoo and Loz will be nice, too,” Cloud insisted.

Sephiroth laughed outright. “Alright, alright, I promise we’ll all be nice. But you’ve got to be nice to us, in return.”

Cloud caught the hungry gazes of the three following them, as Sephiroth carried him to the elevator, and sighed inwardly. The things he did, for the greater good. They should give him a medal, or something. Or at least a raise. ...

[copperbadge]

Love your “tree of light”! 🎄Have you seen Tumblrite Vince Briggs’ “Christmas Stick”?😊 All of these funky little trees on Tumblr (and there are a surprising amount of them) seem to be a new branching offshoot of the Christmas “tree”. 🎄 The Zen of Tree, as it were. 😆🎄😄

Oh yes, I love @vincentbriggs's Christmas Stick :D And if you're into period costuming his blog is great (he is also the hand behind the Terrible Dinosaur Drawings tumblr).

For years I had a green cutting board with a handle that looked vaguely tree-shaped, and I would adorn it with origami to make my very own...Christmas Tray.

But I had a revelation a few years ago that since you only get to decorate a Christmas tree once a year, I haven't got that many trees left in me, relatively -- forty to fifty if I'm lucky. So for now I've got the weird-ass birch lightbulb tree, which I decorate even when I'm not feeling like I want to because I know I only have so many left, and someday I will steal or inherit my parents' epic artificial tree, which for decades was my job to assemble, although now mostly my stepdad does it.

[alangdorf]

Actually more rambling now. Currently thinking thoughts abt Tsuru and also Yabu (and Tsubakura by extension, obviously, who do you think I am,)

Always extremely funny that Tsubakura isn’t in most of Evanescent Existence just because they ignored the psychic intercom message and got really interested in the weird cave instead. What exactly was Tsurubami’s plan for if they hadn’t done that?? They run into each other and Tsubakura’s like “yeah I guess this might as well happen to me today”

Anyway the whole plot of Evanescent Existence is bizarre but it feels in character with how inscrutable Tsurubami is. Impossible to tell whether he has a convoluted plan or if she’s just having fun and it doesn’t matter cause he’s so all-powerful she’ll just get whatever she wants in the end regardless. Awesome!

Gotta mention one of my favorite fan works and definitely my favorite writing of Tsurubami is Misremembered Memories (fangame by Mugenri) (the person); I once summed up Yabusame’s scenario as “hey girl I didn’t call to talk to you put your dog on the phone” and made myself laugh extremely hard. And the bit where Tsurubami is like “it’s a trade secret!” And Tsubakura’s like “We have the same job? I’m filling in for you at your job?” And Tsubrubami’s like “Oh, I guess you’re right!” *blatantly continues to not tell them what they were drugged with* is LEGENDARY. But aside from the incredible banter I also love how Tsurubami asks Yabu & Tsuba for favors only after they’re already in a position where they can’t reasonably refuse. Feels right (kicking the “frankly I think it’s hot when characters are manipulative” tag from my ‘shall we dance’ pic under the fridge)

Oh yeah speaking of the song I happen to have a very strong link between liking music -> liking the associated character (slightly less so for Len’en than with Tohuhou cause I’m more interested in the story on its own merits for Len’en but it still seems to largely be the case) and I’m still very obsessed with the song. Thoughts on how it connects to the character 1) leading (like in dancing) 2) disorienting 3) silly goofy mischievous. Though I’ll admit I’m even more obsessed with broken eternal dance engine these days and that’s a twofer cause it’s actually Arde but would still presumably apply to a case where Tsurubami was outright trying to kill you! Either way 1) DANGER 2) even more disorienting 3) if you have the sound turned up just enough on that last big beat drop. Insane. The key change. The flip from just piano to full strings and heavy bass and crazy percussion. Kills me every time

(Tangent my friends who only know Len’en because of me talking about it are used to me very ardently insisting that Arde is just, like, pretty normal actually and today I was like “oh yeah I forgot this is her theme btw” *MO-NA-D-1 Memory Pursuit (basically a horror movie soundtrack)* lol)

Also I was thinking about the possibility that Tsurubami was the one who activated Rei (bc of how Rei talks abt him) and that’s got me spiraling. What all is she doing out there? If he was outright pretending to be Tsubakura again wouldn’t Hoojiro (& Haru) know about it? How’d he get access otherwise?

Extreme mental gymnastics offshoot from there: is Tsubakura a nepo baby??? Is it EN like 燕??? I dunno man. Trying to reverse engineer their backstory is such an ordeal; I keep muddling through their confusing relationship dynamics with Arde (it’s more straightforward with Hamal. Weird and bad, but straightforward!) and I’ll just be constantly going like girl (gender neutral) what is wrong with you…. Why are you like this……..

Anyway. My one big thing to share about Yabu is that I used to make the joke that Len’en as a whole feels like “Tsubakura’s terrible horrible no good very bad day, and also Yabusame is there” and then one day I had the epiphany to flip “it’s kinda funny Yabu just doesn’t really have a personal reason to be involved in all this” into “but she is anyway! They didn’t have to be there but she’s there for Tsubakura!” and got extremely soft about it.

Also uhhh I guess it depends on how much everyone knows about how Suzumi and their abilities work (always difficult to sus out) but in theory if Tsubakura knows about Yabusame’s immunity then them living with her would lessen paranoia that Suzumi could show up and then make them forget about it afterwards (though maybe undeservedly considering how BPoHC went lol)? Works as a deterrent either way. Okay so I think what we’ve learned here is I’m definitely not done with trying to make sense of a detailed headcanon version of precanon lol

[mister13eyond]

It's okay that you called me Anon, don't worry. Is one of your assholes also trying to reset every single alternative universe you've created? My yes or rather is trying to cancel a certain event, completely ignoring the butterfly effect it could have. For him, chaos theory is nonsense created by humans.

OH THAT SOUNDS DELIGHTFUL AND TERRIBLE i *love* a metanarrative aware/multiverse-destroying character [chef kiss] NOT TO COMPARE TO UNDERTALE AUS but i always loved the whole back and forth happening with certain undertale aus where some iterations wanted to DESTROY the concept of alternate universes/timeline offshoots and others wanted to INSPIRE artists and lead to the creation of MORE offshoots? it's super fun, that level of self-interaction between yourself as a creator and your character as a narrative element but also a RESPONSE to your creation is SO fun!

NONE OF MINE ARE ON THAT LEVEL but I think the closest would be Zinnia- rambling/oc lore under the cut bc it got long!

SO SOME FRAMEWORK IS NECESSARY in my comic universe, angels are beings connected to the mana that makes up the universe, which they can cast as "miracles", while demons are beings made of mana who cannot draw it from the universe around them and must draw it from individuals to sustain themselves instead

As a result of this, FALLEN angels (which Zinnia is) are angels who have not only been cast out of heaven but also CUT OFF from the flow of universal mana

However, because of this, fallen angels can be something like black holes that can wipe out entire city blocks by draining all the mana and life force from beings around them. They're incredibly dangerous. As a result, not only are fallen angels RARE, but heaven also takes precautions when exiling them by shackling them. These shackles act as sort of power limiters, making it so they can only draw mana on a very small scale (and not from humans- it has to be obtained from mana-based beings like demons.) These shackles cannot be removed by the fallen angel themself, and must be removed by someone else.

Since it's pretty dangerous to create a fallen angel, and even WITH the shackles can still be risky, it is NOT done often. It's much more common for cases like Asphodel to happen- where someone is not-so-subtly encouraged to leave and not come back, but no *official* exile is made. They're still connected to the universal mana flow, but are Heavily Discouraged from using it. Like a kid who hasn't been fully disowned by their parents, but HAS stopped getting financial support in any way.

As a result, an angel has to REALLY fuck up to be exiled. In Zinnia's case, he was doing some Extremely Shady business dealings in the renaissance era- he was caught selling indulgences and making promises to certain religious figures that they'd have a guaranteed spot in heaven if they'd just help him with this particular political move he wanted to see happen, you know.... (I'm not saying he dealt with the Borgias, but i'm not NOT saying he dealt with the Borgias, you know?)

It's been A Long Time since then and Zinnia has mostly been kept from any large-scale scheming by a combination of being shackled and also generally everyone in his circle wising up to his nonsense, but he IS still pretty desperate to get his shackles off, and isn't above lying or deceiving others to do so. He's also relentlessly petty and does things like "sic a demon hunter on a demon because he pissed you off one time."

He's probably the biggest ACTUAL threat in the cast, but because he's got a poor reputation and is shackled so he can't use his power for destructive means, he's kind of undergone This form of characterization:

If he ever manages to actually fool anyone into unshackling him, he could be an Actual Genuine Threat, but since he hasn't had any success, he's just like a mean cat that lives in Damian's house and causes small-scale problems.

[i-hope-youre-hopeful]

I didn’t finish any of my assignments on time this week (March 30 2024)

I’ve mentally checked out a little as of late. I think my stomach situation has made me kind of resent everything that causes me stress. I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to write papers or go to lectures and I’m just not willing to kill myself over things so much lately. I hope that’s okay. I’m so close, if I can just hold on a little longer.

There’s a new girl in our friend group. Lily. I have nothing against a new friend, I’m a girl’s girl. You know me. But I’m scared that this will shift the dynamic negatively and this will be the beginning of the end. But this isn’t like the others. This is an offshoot of my friend group. An offshoot doesn’t kill off the whole plant if it dies. And the whole plant is strong. It’s much stronger than past friend groups have been. And I’m closer to its center, and I trust me. I’m down in its roots. I’ll try to water it. But things will change, they always do. I hope it’s a positive change. And nothing is forever despite our best efforts, so we must not hold too tightly to things. I hope this is okay though. I do love my friends. I’m desperately excited for John. I’m entirely happy for him. My negative feelings have nothing to do with him and everything to do with a new person showing up without my knowledge. It’s exactly like 2019. It’s the same time of year and everything. It was even over a bonfire. Everything circles back around. But nothing new is the same as the old. So this might be good.

Change is coming. Do you feel it?

The world is turning. Are you dizzy?

The lights have gone off in one room and have not just yet turned on in the next one. I stand in the hallway. Here I stand until the light comes on.

I’m okay. Am I crazy?

I’m okay. Is it over?

It’s getting nearly time to go someplace new. I can feel it. I know, because it doesn’t feel impossible anymore. It feels right. It feels time.

I wish it would all be over and never end. I wish I could let go and hold on forever. Change is coming soon. I hope it’s a very good change.

I’ve been able to grieve the past a bit more lately. It sucks. But I think it’s a good thing. I miss you terribly. More and more each day do I miss you.

You know me. You see me. Thank you, Lahai Roi. Im sorry Im far away. Soon we celebrate your resurrection. How blessed to celebrate your resurrection! Thank you.

Lily educated me about you tonight. Or, she wanted to. She tried to. I hope that wasn’t a joke or a reflex and I hope she loves you like I love you. Oh I would love if she loved you like I love you! Oh please let her love you. If she doesn’t now, bring her in and let her love you. Please let her be good for John. Please let him be healed by her and not hurt. Bring him healing like you’ve brought healing to me. Thank you for bringing me healing.

My love is like a bandage to my cuts and bruises, a salve for my soul. My love is like a warm blanket and a cup of tea. My love is like you. Please let him be more and more like you with each passing day.

Please forgive me for my distance, and hold my hand when I wander.

Prone to wander Lord, I feel it.

Draw me close to you, be patient with me.

Here’s my heart Lord, take and seal it.

I love you, O Living One Who Sees Me.

Lahai Roi. You are risen indeed.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Dance, Dance

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: there’s been too much going on ever since you started messing around with your best friend.

Pairings: Colin Shea x Black!Best Friend!Reader

Warnings: minors dni, smut, angst, fluff

(A/N: yaaaay it’s done. This was a fun little series. I loved writing it. Titled after the song Dance, Dance by Fall Out Boy. Thanks everyone that enjoyed. Like, follow, reblog, and comment ☺️)

»»——————————-　♡　—————-————-««

You didn’t even know it was possible for you to fake smile for this long. As much as you enjoyed doing the whole music thing, industry shit was kind of the worse. You’d been overdue for at least a glass of champagne, but now you needed something stronger like whisky.

Things had been hectic lately. Just getting stuff ready and playing ball. The label that signed you was a smaller offshoot of a bigger one and so now you were here watching Colin take one for the team and schmooze it up since he knew the rest of you hated this part.

It wasn’t like you were bad at the whole thing. It’s just there was only so much you could deal with before finally reaching your limit. And all the old men ogling you was definitely something you could live without.

“Hey,” Ryan, your bass player, greeted as he sat beside you. It was kind of funny seeing the rest of them in suits and shit. You didn’t think they could wear anything but jeans and converse.

Hell for Colin clothing was already optional. Now he was there wearing a suit. Playing the part. And doing it well. You couldn’t lie, though. He looked good as hell. Obviously you weren’t the only one to notice. The woman whispering in his ear right no clearly saw it too.

“Hey,” you said with a sigh. This dress was scratchy as hell, but it was cute. It was probably worth more than your rent so you were really trying to not mess it up. Fuck you felt awkward.

So, yeah things had been a little weird since they’d walked in on you on Colin’s lap. Not that they could see that his pants had been undone from how you were but let’s just say the rest of the band had been doing this thing where they’d been trying to figure out your couple name ever since.

Still you didn’t know how to act around them. Especially since you’d left like your ass was on fire. Unlike with the whole girlfriend thing, the two of you didn’t get the chance to talk even a little after that. It felt like life was pulling the both of you in so many directions what were you even supposed to say. Sure the guys managed to squeeze their jokes in but other than that nothing.

You’d had photo shoots and meetings and just all kinds of shit. Sure this was definitely the life you wanted and you kind of appreciated the distraction. Didn’t mean you wanted to keep living in limbo with him. So it’s not like you’d been avoiding him so much as finding the time to have serious conversations was kind of not there.

At the same time it’s like were you even prepared for whatever he had to say. You don’t give a guy head and then make out with him for him to stop and start with ‘I just don’t think-‘ and expect him to say something not terrible. Especially not a guy like Colin. Even if you were holding out hope.

You knew his track record going into it. Which is why those rules had been in place. You’d been around a thousand Colin’s. You knew how it went. It was hit it and quit it every time. What made you different. If he really wanted to talk he would have. Nothing had ever kept him from telling you dumb shit all the time. Suddenly he couldn’t text?

Whatever. You didn’t even want to care. This was about the music. It was your fault anyway. You’d known better than to get tangled up in him but you’d done it anyway. You’d just have to live with that.

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” He asked.

You shrugged with a sigh. “I dunno. Was just thinking about keeping a low profile. I’m not really feeling it right now.”

Ryan frowned. “You know Colin doesn’t care,” he replied with a chuckle. “You know how he gets.”

“That’s fine,” you replied with a small smile with a shrug, bringing your glass of whiskey up to your lips. Thank goddess for an open bar, though, right. At least that would help you through the night.

“Okay so,” Colin said finally coming over to plop down beside you on a barstool,“how we feeling about an after party?”

You shrugged while him and Ryan started talking it over. If anything you’d probably go back to the hotel but whatever.

You rested your chin on your fists as the boys talked. It’s not that you wanted to be sad girl right now. You should be the happiest you’d ever been and you were but fuck this is gonna sound so lame but you missed your best friend. But no you forgot to wear underwear and now apparently neither of you knew how to act around each other.

“What about you?” He asked. “You know we’re no good without our fearless leader.”

“I thought this was a party,” you said setting your glass down. “I didn’t realize I was leading you into battle.”

Colin chuckled. “Oh it’s us against the world, Baby. There’s always a war.” He winked as he grabbed your glass. Not even phased when you protested and made grabby hands for it. “I’ll get you a new one if you say yes.”

“Eat a dick,” you grumbled then tried to get the bartender’s attention.

“Who pissed in your iced coffee?” He asked with a chuckle. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Better than whatever the fuck this is.” Can’t argue with that.

You shrugged. “I’ll see. I’m kinda tired.”

He pouted. “Don’t be a party pooper. Come on. Don’t you wanna hang with us. Keep us out of trouble.”

“Keep him out of trouble,” Ryan corrected making you laugh.

“Yes. Fine. Keep me out of trouble.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Come on. I’ll make it worth it.”

“How?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well,” he started as he thought, “I’m already taking you out for breakfast tomorrow so that’s out.”

“You are?” You asked with a chuckle. This was news to you.

“Um, duh,” he said before poking your side. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not that serious.”

Colin sighed, rolling his eyes. “Come on. I promise it’ll be fun.” He nudged you. Then his face softened. “Do you really not wanna go?”

No, but even though you were irritated with him you still felt like a lovesick puppy. And his eyes had gotten all romantic looking. It was so hard not giving in to him.

That’s how you found yourself out in the New York air. Crossing your arms in front of you. “What’s this?” You asked as you walked up to a limo.

“Our ride,” he said, into your ear.

“Hey, Colin,” the woman greeted him with a smile as she walked passed to get in. “You coming?”

He had the nerve to smile at you all brightly as he grabbed your arm. “Isn’t this cool,” he said as he sat beside her. You on the other side of him. Why didn’t you just go back to the fucking hotel when you had the chance.

The entire way to the party was filled with them laughing and talking. The entire time you were thinking say something, anything, but no you sat there awkward as hell. Ryan and your drummer James were sort of trying to include you while your rhythm guitarist Parker had decided to go to the hotel. You wish you’d just gone with him. You knew that’d be your first mistake.

You hated being in such a sour mood. Especially with so many people around. “You want a drink or something?” Colin asked into your ear, trying to talk over the loud music. You sighed, putting on another smile on as you nodded.

You tried to follow behind him, but this place was crowded. Looking back you saw that Ryan and James were no longer next to you either. Shit. Way to make this situation better, right.

Well Colin was right at least. This was better than that place crawling in suits. You walked along trying to find at least one of the men you came with and you were officially over it. Then you saw the balcony and decided to check out there next.

The fresh air was kind of nice. Maybe you just needed to clear your head for a minute. Hell you were ready to go to bed anyway.

Maybe tomorrow you’ll spend the day in the city. Doing whatever you wandered upon. No thinking about the next few months and how everything’s going to go from zero to one hundred. Not that you weren’t looking forward to it, but for now you wanted to welcome a little bit of peace.

Hopefully there’d be no thoughts about a certain guitar player either. That you doubt, but you could try. You yawned and groaned. Fuck it you’re leaving.

“Of all the people I thought I might see tonight,” a familiar voice said before you could get inside.

That voice made you stiffen. Then you started groaning as you turned to face him. “As if my night couldn’t get any worse. What are you even doing here?”

“What you think you’re the only one that gets invited to parties?” He asked.

When you’d parted from your last band, it wasn’t exactly the nicest situation. You always made your rule clear even if you’d broke it with Colin. Even with him it’s not like he did what Andrew did.

Things had been going okay with them, but it was nothing like now. This time around it felt so real. Like musically you were meant to be. Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to ruin things by blowing up even if Colin was sending you enough mixed signals to write an album about.

Back then though. It wasn’t like this. Yeah you liked your other bandmates back then, but with Colin, Ryan, and James it almost felt like a family. You all meshed. You all got along. Despite everything going on you loved them.

With Andrew’s band there was never a connection. You played. You went home. Over and done with. So the night he corned you, trying to kiss you it came out of nowhere. When you told the rest of them didn’t care. You were replaceable. Then you saw that flyer and decided to say fuck it and quit.

“What are you doing here?” He asked now, taking out a cigarette.

You shrugged. “That’s none of your business.”

He scoffed. “Heard you guys got signed. Who’d you sleep with to manage that?”

“Well, it wasn’t you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Who you here with? The new guys you’re blowing?”

You clenched your jaw before taking a deep breath. He didn’t know. Who the fuck cares. So you started walking away because you really did not give two shits.

“Yeah, my friend Dina was telling me you fucked her ex,” he said.

Your back stiffened as you stopped. Closing your eyes. God you wanted to scream at him, but he wasn’t worth the trouble. Wasn’t worth causing a scene. That’s what you told yourself last time and that’s what you were telling yourself now.

“Yeah said she walked in on you too,” he said coming up behind you.

“Dina doesn’t know what what she’s talking about.” You took a deep breath then bit your tongue, but still didn’t turn to face him.

“Well she sure had a lot to say. About how much of a whore you turned into after being a little tease.”

You closed your eyes suddenly feeling sick. You shouldn’t let it get to you. You knew it but fuck. This is why you didn’t do this. You didn’t need the drama.

“Dude, fuck off,” you finally said wrapping your arms around yourself as tried walking away again, trying to tune out whatever shit was spewing out of his mouth.

Promising yourself that you wouldn’t cry. Eyes finally catching Colin’s as he did a grin spread and then quickly fell from his face. Standing around the same girl from earlier. At least he managed to keep up with her.

He started walking towards you without a word and seeing his way was the only way towards the exit there was no avoiding him. That’s when you felt fingers grabbing at your wrist. Twisting your arm so you had no choice but to face him.

In between the, “you little sl-“ and Colin pushing him away from you, you’d ended knocking into someone. Beer spilling on the front of your dress. Way to make a shitty moment even worse guys. This was a fucking loan. Thanks for that. Fuck tonight just wasn’t your night huh.

“I’m so sorry,” a drunk girl slurred, putting her hands on your shoulders.

“No it’s okay,” you sighed feeling your eyes prickle with tears. Fuck you hated it. Your chest suddenly feeling tight. You had to get the fuck out of here.

As soon as you made it to the elevator you took a deep breath. Closing your eyes and leaning down the wall as the doors closed.

“What the hell was that?” Colin said. You squeezed your eyelids. The little bit of frustration that had left, coming back in an instant. “Did he hurt you?” He asked, grabbing your hand. “What the hell happened?”

“Stop,” you said, snatching it away. “Just… stop.” Your heart felt like it was sinking into your chest. You just wanted to eat and shower snd sleep. Fine fuck it. Shower and sleep. You’ll eat in the morning. You just wanted Colin to stop following you and for him to shut up.

“Hey!” He stopped you as soon as you got off. “What’s wrong? Just tell me what happened.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to care okay.” You shrugged. “You weren’t thinking about me ten minutes ago.”

“What do you mean I was looking all over for you,” he said furrowing his eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes again. Ugh it felt like you couldn’t stop. “Yeah, it sure looked like it.”

“I was. You can ask Ryan and James. Alyssa was helping me.”

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Colin?” You asked raising your eyebrow. “I get it. We messed around and you’re a fuckboy or whatever. It’s not like I was expecting to be different or something. You do this all the time. That’s fine but you don’t have to pretend like you give a shit. And I’m the fucking idiot for thinking you would because I thougt-” your voice broke as you just shook your head and walked away.

Colin stood there looking stunned. Feeling like he was one second away from puking. Finally taking a deep breath when he realized that if he didn’t catch up to you know you’d get into a taxi without him.

“Wait, Y/N,” he called out.

But you didn’t turn around. Heart thumping in your chest. You blew out your cheeks and rested your head against the window. Feeling there was a lump in your throat.

You felt like such a baby. All teary eyed in a cab. Red eyed as you made your way to your room. Crying in the shower. Then not stopping as you settled into bed. And for what. You fucking up the one thing you always told yourself. Listening to your stupid vagina. And your heart as much as you hated to admit it.

Not only was it stressful to think about what this would do for the band, but you and Colin had really built up the best connection. Now what happens. You’re not gonna get that with someone else. And that was the worst part.

Your eyes were so heavy, but you were suddenly so awake. All that complaining about being tired. Now look you can’t even sleep. Your head felt too heavy. Nose too stuffy, too.

You scrolled through your phone. And may or may not have done a small dive into who this Alyssa girl could be. Then message after message started rolling in now that it was a little passed midnight. You’d get to them in the morning. You’d also stole his weed pen so you could relax a little bit.

So. Sucks to be him.

That’s when you heard the door open. Stomach flipping and mouthing, ‘fuck.’ Dropping your phone because if you could pretend you were asleep maybe he’d leave you fuck alone. Ugh he probably got the key from the front desk.

The television was still on and it’s not like he’d never walked in on you sleep in front of the TV before so he’d think nothing of it. Your back was facing the door so it’s not like he could see you. You’ll take your chances.

You heard crinkling and him shuffling a little, but you were mostly trying to be quiet. A few moments later you heard him getting down on his knees beside you. “Hey,” he whispered into your ear before kissing your temple.

Nope. Go away.

“I know you’re awake you little thief.” He chuckled, but then stopped when he realized you clearly weren’t giving in. Turning over away from him. Colin took a deep breath. “Babe, I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrow raised. Okay so maybe you weren’t expecting that.

“I’m sorry I lost you tonight,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for not talking about things sooner. And if I made you think there was anything going on with me and Alyssa. Who does not like me by the way. She’s into Ryan,” he added, with a chuckle.

You snorted out a laugh. “Seriously?” Finally breaking your silence.

“Uh huh.” He laughed. “I know right. They kept dragging me between them once he found out. I felt like I was in fucking middle school.”

Then it got quiet.

“I’m sorry if I made you think you were just a booty call,” he finally said.

Your eyes opened, but you still didn’t turn to face him. You weren’t really sure what you were supposed to say or do if you did.

“You have always been more than a booty call. I get that I’ve done things before, but I’d never treat you like that. Why do you think we haven’t had sex. I couldn’t have our first time be on that gross fucking couch.”

… fair.

Ugh.

UGH.

You wanted to pull his hair. Not even in the sexy way. He was so annoying. Why couldn’t you just have been asleep so you could have been mad at him for a little longer.

Colin didn’t wait for you to respond as he got in behind you. Scooping you into his arms from behind. “You’re my best friend, Baby. I’d never fuck us up. I don’t wanna lose you.” Then he started kissing your cheek softly.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumbled, but still didn’t turn over.

“Maybe,” he said. “But it’s cuz I can’t stand when you’re mad at me.” He sighed wrapping you up in his arms. “Remember that one time? And it was just over lyrics.” He chuckle. Then when he realized you weren’t laughing he sighed again. “I promise I’ll make tomorrow better. Well today. Or whatever. You know what I mean.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t run in here on some I have to be the first shit.” You finally turned to look at him and he was quick to kiss your forehead. Eyes ask puffy. Nosy really stuffy. He didn’t care. Just wanted to have his lips on you.

“I am, but now I can’t stop apologizing.” He chuckled. “I really am sorry.”

“We can work on your road to forgiveness plan.”

“As long as you’re the one paving it I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so corny.”

“Maybe.” He chuckled. “I’m just trying to get you to smile.”

You sniffled. God he was so annoying. “I know.”

He looked at you softly before swiping his lips across yours. “Okay now I’m gonna be the first person. Happy birthday, Baby.”

Another sniffle as you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling softly. “Thank you. How do you know you’re the first?”

“Oh you’re cool because all our little fan girls are wishing you a happy birthday,” he said with a laugh.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Never. You deserve it.”

“Stop being such a fucking sap right now.” You whined pushing him away.

“Nope. I actually have a surprise for you,” he said, letting go so he could get out of bed. “No peeking!” Then he kissed your cheek again.

Of course you weren’t gonna listen, but since he wasn’t made of glass you couldn’t see. His body blocking whatever view you may have had. Just heard the flicker of a lighter.

“So, I was gonna go with the old fashioned flowers and chocolate for an apology,” he started. “But since it’s your birthday,” he said as he turned around with a little cake in his hands, freshly lit numeral candles on top.

As he softly started to sing happy birthday you felt yourself tearing up again. Of course he had to do something like this. Sappy asshole. Just had to make it impossible to stay mad at him.

Now you were sitting with your legs criss crossed applesauce across from him. Not being able to help the smile that spread across your face.

“Make a wish, Baby,” he said. As you blew out the flame he looked at you softly. That same stupid romantic look in his eyes. And it was like you couldn’t help yourself as you started to lean in. Lips connecting and it almost felt relieving. 

Colin pulled away for a minute to set the cake on the night stand. Going back to you he pull you onto his lap. Lips moving against yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck then put your hands in his hair.

He laid you down. Thumb stroking your cheek. Tongues finally meeting. Kisses deep. Now sleep was the farthest thing from your mind. You just wanted to feel him.

All of the thoughts about how that was it had melted away. If he was going to be serious about this than you wanted it. Wanted him. “Colin,” you whimpered. His lips going against your throat.

“What do you want, Baby?” He asked in a whisper.

“You.”

Clothes started to be removed. Hands and lips going to intimate spots. Like between your legs as he made sure your pussy would be ready for him. His mouth touching you just how you needed. Moans and sighs spilling from your lips.

“Y/N, Baby,” he whispered as he wrapped his arm around your leg so he could spread you open for him. Getting snug between your thighs as he lined himself up. “You sure? We don’t have-“

You cut him off with a kiss. He obviously got the message as he started to push into you. The head of his cock already making your head spin.

“Colin,” you whimpered against his lips.

“That’s it,” he said. “It’s okay. I got you.”

You nodded and moaned, foreheads resting against each other. Looking into those soft blue eyes as he inched in. “Ah,” you squeaked.

“You’ve got this,” he whispered into your ear as he finally bottomed out. Staying still for a moment so you could could used to him. Fuck he was big. You don’t think you’d ever felt this full before.

Hips rocking slowly as his lips went back to yours again. “Colin,” you whimpered again.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he looked down at you.

“More?”

“Tell me what you do want, Baby. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Harder. Please.” Fuck you felt desperate. He was just filling you up so good. Just how you needed him.

He pressed his lips to yours as he started getting deeper. Rolling his hips into yours. Then pushing your arm above your head with his hands holding yours down.

“Right there!” You pulled away with a gasp.

“Where?” He asked into your ear not stopping what he was doing before pulling your earlobe between his teeth. Nibbling on it. Making your eyes go blurry.

“Oh,” you let out another little squeak. That wasn’t good enough for Colin, though. He wanted you to scream his name.

He raised up off of you. Getting on his knees and pushing your legs up by your ears. Hands on the back of your thighs.

Every time he went in, your body bounced from the force. Pussy squeezing him tight. He looked between you seeing the way your wetness covered him. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Pussy even prettier with my dick in it.”

Why was he doing this to you. Was it not enough that he was about to turn you inside out? He had to talk to you like that too. Why was he trying to ruin you like this. He was fucking you like he wanted to be the only man to fuck you. Maybe he did. Maybe you wanted him to be.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah!” You cried out

“That’s it. That’s what I like to fucking hear. Doing so good for me, Baby,” he groaned. “Gonna fuck you all night. Keep you full a me. Want that?”

“Uh huh,” was all you could say. Your orgasm was hitting you so hard. “Colin. I’m cumming.” It was like you were weeping. “Oh my god.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned as your pussy tightened around him. Orgasm gushing out of you. “That’s my girl,” he said as he put his hand on your clit. Coaxing it out even more. “Keep cumming for me, Baby. That’s it.”

It happened so quickly. One minute he was fucking into you and then the next his face was between your thighs. If he was trying to make you squirt he got his wish. Your legs shaking, body spasming as he forced you there.

You covered your eyes with your hand just as he pushed back into you. Where he grabbed your arm to push it up so you were no longer covered. “Don’t you ever cover yourself, you hear me,” he said as he started fucking into you again. “I want you to look at me when I make you cum.” He put his lips against your chin.

Fuck. This was gonna be a long night.

You don’t know how many times you’d orgasmed. Just that it felt like once they started they didn’t stop. Just the way he was getting you there and trying to keep you there was almost too much. As soon as he came in you, you were ready to pass out. Your body officially worn out. But forced yourself to use the bathroom before bed even though walking really didn’t seem like a great option at the moment.

Then you got back in his arms. Snuggling into him. Colin holding you tight. It felt like where you were supposed to be.

As the sunlight broke, you were so worn out that you stayed like that for a minute. Him waking up first with your head tucked under his chin. Yawning and checking the time. Not that he cared. He’d stay like this for as long as you wanted him to.

When you started to stir, he nuzzled you with his nose. Kissing your forehead gently. “Morning, Birthday Girl,” he whispered in a raspy voice.

You moaned and stretched. Putting your head in his neck again. “Not yet.”

He chuckled. “We have to get to brunch.”

“There’s always dinner. I’m tired.”

He smacked your butt. “No, no, no. I’m not letting you sleep the day away. I gotta make up for yesterday.”

“Make up for yesterday by being my pillow. And we can have sex in between.”

Colin laughed softly. “As tempting as that is, we gotta get up.”

You took a deep breath out your nose. “Fine, but I get to pick off your plate.”

“When do you not?” He rubbed your back. Colin reached over to grab his phone to check the time. “Wait, what the fuck,” he chuckled.

“What?” You asked, with a yawn.

“James said, ‘I’m happy for you guys really but we’re going to breakfast without you if you don’t hurry up. Happy birthday y/n.”

You laughed. “What?”

“The one before it was stop having sex we’re hungry. Ryan said, ‘Colin stop being the Yoko Ono of this ba-‘I’m the Yoko On- oh now they’re fighting about it.”

You snorted. “They’re gonna argue about this all day, aren’t they?”

“Yeah probably.” Colin laughed.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[sun-lit-roses]

The Enemy Within

Once again my to-do list is daunting, so once again let’s watch some Stargate! Season 1, Episode 3, and here’s hoping we get to see a new alien planet!

YES Already starting out talking about new planets.

I’m very happy Kowalsky has returned.

INTRUDER ALERT

Wow, they’re quick to that autodestruct button.

Wait are they just, throwing people at the door to die?

Okay, yes, apparently that is what they’re doing 😨

Oh no, Kowalsky is experiencing pain with ominous music! NOOO

He and Jack are having too much fun with this 😂

How often have the Goa’uld been doing this?! Aren’t they running out of people??

‘It’ll work or we’ll all be dead and it’ll be someone else’s problem.’ That’s a philosophy I can embrace.

They rejected Teal’c from SG-1 😔 Something tells me that’s not going to last...

‘Subject’?!

Nothing good happens when they start running ‘tests’ on aliens.

Come on General, we can be the nice friendly allies, or the people who dissected the first alien we met. Which do you think will sound better to the *second* aliens we run across???

I already don’t like Colonel Kennedy.

Oh hey, it’s this cell again.

So the Goa’uld are sending weapons through, not people, that’s less horrifying.

Aw, I like Jack and Teal’c’s heart-to-heart.

I know that has to be the possessive of Teal’c, but it doesn’t look right.

Kowalsky!

AH! WHat the hell is in his back?!

Hey, they use the telephone analogy, too! My people 💛

Uh oh, Kowalsky is eyeing the phone receiver.

Memory loss is never a good sign.

Don’t leave him alone with the Doc! You all are going to run out of medical personnel at some point.

Colonel Kennedy in the flesh!

Yay, Jack to the rescue!

Apophis - finally got the name.

Huh, the Goa’uld stole Earth ancestors and seeded them across the universe as livestock, that’s an interesting origin story. And the Jaffa are also humans, just a distant offshoot. So, the only aliens that they’ve really met are the Goa’uld, everyone else is at least human-adjacent. (Bet that makes the costuming budget easier 😂)

Poor Daniel, worrying over his wife.

Well, finding a body in his bunk isn’t going to help!

That is the grossest MRI image.

Oh no, not another doctor! They’re dropping like flies.

Back to the control room. Of course.

Get him Sam!

That didn’t work.

Yay, this doctor survived!

Ick, I would be trying to claw that thing out of my back with my bare hands. Poor Kowalsky ��

I’m with Jack, that is so gross.

So, they can’t be removed, that’s unfortunate.

They are also piss-poor negotiators. I mean, I get that it’s immature, but it sounds like a B-movie villain: ‘Release me or I will destroy you!’ How you planning on managing that if you haven’t been released, bubba? I guess playing along until you can turn the tables and wreck havoc is beneath a Goa’uld.

Oh no, what is Kennedy going to do.

He wants to - keep it? Is he nuts?

You tell him, General!

And back to medical - time to go mano a mano. Or, I guess, scapel a Goa’uld. Doesn’t quite have the same ring.

Clever to try out the anesthetic on the other captive Goa’uld that they have!

Aw, man, come on Kowalsky, don’t start making funeral plans! You’ll come through fine! It’s way too early in the show to start losing people.

“Can I have your stereo?” Definitely a proponent of gallows humor, Jack. I approve 😁

That is a GIANT syringe.

This is more medical than I expected in a space travel show.

Those things do not get more attractive with time.

Somehow I expected there to be drama during the surgery - but no! Kowalsky’s okay!

NO, you can’t take Teal’c away 😔

WHY on Earth would Kowalsky want to see his brain parasite, Daniel??

Is the medical recovery ward the same set as the cell or am I just confused by the dim lighting? Or do they have Kowalsky in the cell?

Something’s going to go terribly wrong with this meeting between Teal’c and Kowalsky, isn’t there.

Yep.

Again, strategy and tactics aren’t big with the Goa’uld are they? ‘I’ve successfully made them think I’ve died. Now let’s go completely ruin that illusion by trying the exact same thing that failed twice before.’

Why did the lackeys obey the orders of a man who they have to know is on medical leave and just injured one of their people? I guess at least someone pressed an emergency alarm.

Hey, Teal’c isn’t dead! Again, the Goa’uld is not doing great at achieving any of his aims here.

Teal’c to the rescue!

Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew. At least it’s out of his head.

Wait, that killed Kowalsky too?! NOOO

At least this gave Daniel some hope that some part of Sha’re survives.

I’m finding it doubtful that the General is on such familiar terms with the President, but sure, I can suspend my disbelief a little here. This universe also has body-stealing alien parasites. Why not.

YAY, all four of them onboard and ready to go! Maybe we’ll get a new planet in the next episode.

Rating: 🔘🔘🔘

3/5 gates Interesting premise and I was onboard for it, but there were no new planets, the Goa’uld was literally too dumb to live, and THEY KILLED KOWALSKY. I feel so betrayed.

[jihyuncompass]

Link to the Other Boys

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Giving: Acts of Service 

“Vyn?”

“Yes?” 

“May I ask you a question?” You asked him. Vyn took a sip from his cup of tea in his hand. His brow gently raised with curiosity. 

“Of course. What’s your question?” 

“I’ve been thinking about trying to get some plants for my apartment. I don’t have the room for a whole garden in my apartment. But I wanted to try and get at least a few little things.” You explained. “Thing is, I don’t really know anything about plants or taking care of them.” 

Vyn set his teacup down on the table. “Well that is something I could surely assist with.” He readjusted in his seat with a familiar spark in his eye. “What kind of plants are you thinking about?” 

You rubbed the back of your neck, averting your gaze. “Well the truth is, I’m not really sure. I don’t exactly have a green thumb like you do.” Vyn’s expression didn’t waver, instead he just picked up his teacup to sip at the tea again. 

“That’s alright.” He started. “I’m sure I can help you find something to suit your needs.” Vyn showed you that reassuring smile that he knew could easily put you at ease. Meeting his smile you sipped from your own cup of tea. 

A few days later Vyn had invited you to his home. Saying that he’d found some plants you might be interested in. You arrived at Vyn’s house on a sunny and warm Saturday afternoon, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun on your skin. 

You met Vyn in his garden. Walking up to him as he was bent over a patch of flowers. Checking for any weeds growing there and checking the soil’s moisture. Hearing your footsteps approaching Vyn glanced over his shoulder. 

“Ah I didn’t hear you drive up.” Vyn removed his gardening gloves and set them to the side, standing up to properly greet you. “Thank you for coming here on your day off.” 

“Of course! I’m more than happy to visit you.” 

“Well I’m grateful nonetheless.” Vyn said. “I picked up a few houseplants for you the other day. I think they’re just what you’re looking for.” 

Vyn led you inside his home, leading you to the small sunroom in the back of his house. On a table you noticed a few assorted potted plants. 

“Most of these plants require little attention. They’re ideal for people with little time to dedicate to upkeep.” You nodded thoughtfully, listening to him as he started his explanations. “This aloe vera plant only needs watering every couple weeks or so. It doesn’t require much and aloe vera can be used to relieve burns or other skin problems.” Vyn’s eyes shifted towards you, noticing your expressions. 

You gave him a reassuring smile and nodded for him to continue. He motioned towards the next one. “This is a spider plant. These plants are well known for being difficult to truly kill. It only needs watering every couple weeks, and even if you forget the plant usually won’t die. They also do well with almost any light conditions.” 

“This is wonderful.” You said with a smile. “You really thought through all of this.” 

“Of course, you asked for my help after all.” He said. Looking back at the plants in front of both of you. 

He continued on explaining each plant. Going into detail about each and every one. You nodded thoughtfully with each one. The more time he explained the more you realized just how much he’d prepared for you. It was almost as if he was an expert on each and every one. 

“Do you think these will do?” Vyn asked you. 

“These are perfect.” You said happily. “Thank you.” 

“I’m glad I could help.” Vyn said. “Now, if you aren’t in too much of a rush. Would you like to stay and have some tea with me?” 

As always, you graciously accepted.

☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙

Receiving: Words of Affirmation

“Ouch!” You cried out, quickly pulling your hand back from the stove. Checking your hand you cringed at the bright red angry mark left on your hand. You hadn’t meant to brush your hand against the hot pan you’d just taken out of the oven, but by the time you had realized how close it was to your hand it was already too late. 

Turning up the cold water you ran the water over the burn. Taking sharp breaths as your hand stung. Looking at the clock you sighed loudly. Vyn was going to be arriving any second. You should have started cooking earlier, and now here you were trying to finish dinner while also managing this burn on your hand. 

After several minutes you turned off the cold water. Looking over the injury, once the water turned off the pain returned. You grimaced at the sight, it likely wouldn’t blister much but it was still unpleasant. Looking around your eyes stopped on the aloe vera plant on your shelf. It’d grown a bit since Vyn had given it to you as you’d be careful to follow his directions. 

Being careful you broke off a small piece of the plant, rubbing the inside gel on your burn like Vyn had told you to do. Bandaging it up after you've finished with the aloe. 

You’d hardly noticed the burn by the time Vyn arrived. Greeting him as you usually would. 

“What happened to your hand?” Vyn asked after taking his shoes off. You glanced back at the bandage. 

“Oh I just burned myself cooking. It’s nothing.” Vyn didn’t seem convinced by your explanation. “It’s really alright Vyn. I ran it under cold water and even used some of that aloe vera plant like you told me.” 

Vyn seemed a bit surprised by your words. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah I just snapped off a little bit of the plant and used the stuff inside.” You pointed towards the plant on the shelf. 

Vyn approached the plant on your shelf, taking note of the other houseplants he’d found for you. “I’m glad it was of good use.” Vyn wandered towards the snake plant you’d put near your window. Admiring how the leaves had grown and started to sprout new offshoots. “You’ve done a really great job of taking care of these.” 

Standing next to him you smiled. “Well it’s all thanks to your guidance.” Vyn met your eyes, you couldn’t quite determine what he was thinking. However he seemed happy with what you were saying. “Truthfully I wouldn't have had any idea of what to do without you. I probably wouldn’t have picked the right plants or killed the ones you gave me.” 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t have been that terrible.” Vyn said. 

“Oh I’m not so sure.” You responded. “But your guidance and help has really meant a lot to me. Thank you.” 

Vyn smiled, his eyes shining. “Well, anytime you need help. With anything, please reach out to me.” You nodded, taking his hand in yours. 

“Always. I promise.” 

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part IV

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

They spent a few days in Oxenfurt, mostly for Jaskier’s benefit. The bard hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t prepared to head out. There was packing to be done, his rooms to see to, appointments to cancel with the university. Geralt was happy enough to wait. It wasn’t strictly a hardship to spend some time lounging in Jaskier’s rooms and wandering the university gardens during the day before following Jaskier to whatever tavern or hall he was to play at for the evening. Jaskier was away for the better part of most days, but Geralt moved his things to Jaskier’s rooms after the first night at the inn. Waking well before Jaskier in the same bed, he was greeted each morning to Jaskier’s arm slung across his chest, warm and comfortable in the predawn silence. His cheeks would be ruddy with sleep and their shared heat under the blankets, his hair flattened awkwardly to his skull where it had been pressed to the pillow.

He’d missed this. After months without Jaskier’s presence, it felt like he was drowning in it, shocked by the strength of his own reaction. With the golden light of the morning sun shining through Jaskier’s one window to fall softly across his brow and pick out the silver strands in his hair, Geralt wondered at how he could have ever misplaced this feeling in his chest. He loved him. He wanted to preserve each moment in fine amber, never to fade.

But finally Jaskier was finished making his arrangements, and they were able to set out from Oxenfurt towards their first destination. It would take them several weeks to collect the components that Ida had mentioned—weeks that Geralt would have to spend dancing around the subject of the ritual and its origins, as well as his traitorous heart. As he caught Jaskier’s bright smile from up ahead as they crossed the Oxenfurt bridge, he hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

*

“So where, exactly, are these mysterious elven ruins?”

Geralt grunted, both in answer and in exertion as he swung his sword through another clump of heavy brush, clearing the path. Roach waited patiently behind him, and Jaskier less so. He turned to look back at them both, finding Jaskier giving him an unimpressed look. Geralt forced down the urge to grumble again. “They’re close,” he said, taking Roach’s reins to lead her through the cleared bushes. The path that they were following was barely a deer trail in places, clearly unused for decades. There had been no sign thus far that the area had once been populated aside from the occasional flash of white brickwork that told Geralt they were on the right track.

“Oh, really,” said Jaskier, who had likely not noticed the brickwork, based on Geralt’s past experience with his observation skills. “You know what I think, Geralt? I think we’re lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, a day away from the nearest hamlet, and we’re just as likely to find a wyvern den as an elven temple out here.”

“Wyverns don’t populate the lowlands,” Geralt said automatically, kicking a large branch out of Roach’s path.

Jaskier made a strangled sound behind him that Geralt might call a growl if it had come from anyone else. “I know that, I was being hyperbolic, you ass. You’re avoiding the issue.”

“We’re on the right path.” Another glint of white stone caught his eye, this time the edge of an arch wrapped nearly over in vines and moss. Only fragments remained, large chunks blending in with the forest floor.

“As if you would admit it if you were lost,” Jaskier griped, shoving a branch out of his own way. “Remember that time near Spikeroog? We were lost in a boat for three days because you wouldn’t just admit that we went west for six hours—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, and pushed aside the last of the foliage.

Jaskier fell silent, and they both looked beyond the treeline into the clearing Geralt had revealed. Before them rose a silent, crumbling stone structure, pale as a ghost against the dark lines of the trees in the afternoon light. Much of its surface had been reclaimed already by the forest, but enough of it poked through to give a general sense of scale. It towered at least two stories above them, though the edges were uneven in a way that suggested it once may have been higher. The front facade rose in a flat wall before them, pierced by a line of arches, their edges decorated in fading but intricate reliefs. Here and there along the line of what had once been the path leading to the central arch, the occasional protrusion of a column could be seen. The path beyond the central arch was shadowed, too dark for even Geralt to see past after so long in the daylight.

Jaskier stepped forward into the narrow clearing, and Geralt followed. Wordlessly, Jaskier raised a hand to trail along the remnants of a low, circular stone wall, perhaps the remnants of an ancient well. When he looked up at Geralt, his eyes shone, two pieces of midday sky in the murky shade of the forest. “I stand corrected,” he said, offering Geralt a giddy grin.

Geralt shook his head with a small smile, drawing Roach further into the clearing. “Let’s set up camp here. You can explore when we have someplace to sleep.”

Jaskier agreed eagerly and they both launched into the process of setting up camp. They fell easily back into old patterns, Jaskier slotting seamlessly into Geralt’s routine. It was always easier to set up and break down camp when the bard was around, though Geralt thought it had very little to do with splitting the work halfway.

Within half an hour they had created a comfortable camp in the clearing and Geralt had Roach tended to, and they both stood before the dark archway into the ruins.

Jaskier hesitated over the threshold, his excitement over the history of the place apparently conceding to nerves. “Well, ah. After you, witcher,” he said, holding out an arm as if holding an imaginary door for Geralt to walk through.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stepped into the small hall beyond the archway, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Come on, bard,” he called over his shoulder, amusement and affection swelling in his chest as he heard Jaskier mutter and quick footsteps follow after him.

The hall ended in a flight of stairs leading down, and they had to pause to light a torch when Jaskier ran directly into Geralt’s back and nearly knocked them both down it. A quick burst of igni had firelight dancing across the smooth white stones as they descended into the ruins.

Elves, Geralt had found, rarely built up. Though their cities had towered in ages past, their true magnificence had always lain below ground. The complex that they made their way down into was labyrinthian, huge open hallways with dozens of rooms and offshoots, archways that looked in on underground courtyards with pierced ceilings that let in the daylight, huge caverns expertly carved into cathedrals. Jaskier quickly brought out a bit of charcoal he often used for taking notes or sketching and began to mark their way with arrows pointing back the way they’d come, so they might not be hopelessly lost in the ruins. Geralt led them mostly by smell, at first; Triss had mentioned that any ritual chambers would likely be on the lower levels, as they were considered private and upper floors were generally public. He followed the cool, chalky scent of wet stone deeper into the ruins, down ramps and stairways until they were all but buried in the earth.

“I never knew the true breadth of them,” Jaskier breathed at one point, as they made their way down a winding spiral staircase that curved along what seemed like a natural cave shaft. “I’ve read, of course, about the scale of the old elven kingdoms, but it’s different to see it all. We’ve been walking for hours already and I feel as if there’s still miles to be seen.”

“Maybe not miles,” Geralt said, keeping one ear out for potential movement and one on Jaskier’s footsteps on the slick stone steps. “One’s I’ve been to before are usually somewhere around five and fifteen levels. We’re getting close to the bottom.”

Jaskier hummed in acknowledgment. “You could take an entire lifetime to study this place. Why hasn’t anyone surveyed it? How do you know the thing you're after for this ritual hasn’t already been taken?”

At that moment Geralt heard a gentle click, and he reached up just in time to pluck the arrow from the air as it hissed past his ear and towards Jaskier’s head. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder, finding Jaskier wide eyed behind him. Looking meaningfully down at Jaskier’s foot, he jerked his chin up.

Jaskier lifted up his foot, and the click of a pressure plate resetting filled the narrow space.

“That’s how,” Geralt said, tossing the arrow to the side.

“Of course,” Jaskier said weakly. “Of course the place is booby trapped.”

“And haunted probably,” Geralt agreed, continuing down the stairs. “Stay close. Wouldn’t want you to die before I can make you immortal.” The words were said as much in jest as he could make them, but he felt a brief strum of anxiety all the same.

Jaskier huffed in annoyance, but Geralt could feel him press even closer. He ignored the way that the air between them seemed to heat, the soothing warmth of Jaskier’s presence pressing back the dark more efficiently than any torch.

*

“Look,” Jaskier’s voice came from behind him. Geralt turned around to see Jaskier rubbing at a patch of the wall in the hall they were currently trekking through, the ancient slabs of stone crumbling a bit at his touch. “There’s writing here.”

Geralt stepped up next to him, feeling Jaskier’s warmth radiating along his side. Forcing himself to ignore the proximity, he leaned in to peer at the wall. “Elder, looks like. Can’t make it out.”

“It looks like one of the early northern dialects, closer to Laith aen Undod.” Jaskier scrambled in his small pack and pulled out his bit of charcoal and his notebook, handing the torch off to Geralt. Accepting the light, Geralt frowned at Jaskier as he made a few quick lines on the paper, referring back to the wall a few times. His tongue poked just barely out between his lips, as it always did when he was concentrating. After a moment he stood up straight, leaning towards the light to examine his own markings.

“Can you read that?” Geralt asked, genuinely surprised. He was fairly well versed in Elder, but his knowledge was more practical, learned from his interactions with the Scoia’tael and learning the Signs. The One Speech was well beyond his understanding, not to mention the various ancient dialects of Elder.

“Mm, I’m better at reading Elder than I am at speaking it, I’m afraid. Academic knowledge. Have to be able to translate the old poems and stories, after all.” He flashed Geralt a grin, the laugh lines deepening around his eyes. They sparkled in the light of the torch, turning the blue silver-gold. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

When Geralt didn’t respond quickly enough, Jaskier turned back to the notes he’d made on the paper. He muttered a few things to himself in Elder, the words sounding oddly musical—as if he’d learned to pronounce the language through song, which he probably had. Finally he scribbled a few notes in Common. “I think it’s a road sign, of sorts,” Jaskier said slowly. His tone took on the particular quality that Geralt had come to recognize as his “professor voice” over the years. He’d always found it rather amusing. “This complex must have been big enough to necessitate passage markers. See the sideways arrowhead under the top line? It says—well, I’m not sure, but I know the root has to do with the evening meal, so I’d guess it’s pointing to some kind of tavern or dining hall. And this one just says ‘sanctuary,’ I think. That’s a weird one, that symbol in more modern Elder just means ‘place’ but there’s a prefix here that adds a sort of defensive quality to it. Maybe ‘protected place’?” Jaskier frowned down at his own work. Already he had somehow managed to smudge charcoal across his cheek.

“Might be right,” Geralt grunted, impressed. “Triss said it would be in a safe place. ‘Ionad chosanta.’”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Could be as good a translation as any.”

“Better than wandering around,” Geralt shrugged, and turned towards the hall the arrow pointed towards. Before stepping into the darkness, he paused, looking back at Jaskier. Without letting himself think too hard about it, he reached up and rubbed away the charcoal on Jaskier’s cheekbone. The sweep of his thumb pushed back the soot and revealed the pale skin underneath, still so soft even after so many years spent traveling out in the elements. That skin care regiment Jaskier was always going on about must be worth something, he thought faintly.

Jaskier was silent, staring at him with an expression that reminded Geralt of a hare staring down the point of an arrow. Clearing his throat briefly, Geralt let his hand fall and said, “Thanks. For the… You did good.”

Even in the dim light, Geralt could see the flush that lit up Jaskier’s face at that, spilling prettily over his cheekbones. He gaped at Geralt for a moment before his mouth snapped closed with a near audible clack. Geralt expected a witty rejoinder of some kind, perhaps a jab at his historical inability to offer praise. He knew he deserved it, even if Jaskier meant it in anger rather than jest. Raising Ciri had taught him the value of voicing his appreciation and affection for others, even if he still struggled for the right words to do so. Yennefer had painstakingly beat it into his head. Ciri hadn’t known that he cared unless he said so, and so he had no other alternatives. Looking at Jaskier gaping at him, he wondered how many times Jaskier had assumed that Geralt cared little for him for lack of a kind word. His chest hurt at the thought.

After long enough that the silence had grown heavy and awkward, Jaskier coughed lightly, ducking to hide his expression. The ribbing Geralt had prepared himself for did not come. “Not a problem,” was all Jaskier said, brushing past him. “Let’s get a move on, yes? Don’t want the torch to run low.”

Geralt stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following.

*

The shrine, when they found it, was hidden behind a thick patch of rubble that Geralt had to blast out of the way with a few precise applications of aard. He slipped inside first, sliding through the small opening in the stone and landing lightly on the other side. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom, to his surprise, and he realized that there were several glowing crystals embedded in the walls around him at even intervals. There came the sound of cascading stones and a low curse from behind him, and he turned in time to catch Jaskier’s elbow before the bard fell flat on his face.

“Ah, thank you, dear witcher,” Jaskier huffed, reaching up to fruitlessly brush the dust from his jacket. Looking up, he halted in his motions, taking in the room around them in its soft, ethereal light. “Oh,” he breathed.

It was indeed beautiful, even in its decaying state. Like everything in the tunnels, the structures were unmistakably elven, but even so they appeared alien to Geralt’s eyes. The walls were covered in delicate mosaic work, in patterns that danced in the flickering light of their torch and that of the crystals. The center of the room was dominated by a blank circle of unmarked stone, with Elder runes engraved along the edge that Geralt could not even begin to decipher. The circle was framed by a delicate canopy of carved white stone, supported on four pillars of the same material. The carvings were so minute that for a moment Geralt thought the entire structure might be built not of stone, but of some sort of webbing or silk. It was delicate enough to be blown glass, but when he set his hand against one of the pillars it was as unforgiving as a mountainside.

Jaskier ran his fingers along one of the walls, tracing a twist in the tiny shards of colored glass. “It’s beautiful,” he said, voice pitched low.

“Triss said these places were sacred to the Aes Sidhe. They mark where the elves first arrived,” Geralt said. He found his own gaze drawn back to the center of the unmarked circle beneath the canopy. “Here.”

Set into the very center of the stone circle was a small depression, no larger than Geralt’s palm. He stepped into the circle and knelt down, peering at it. Within the shallow bowl formed by the carved out floor sat an oval stone, maybe three inches long at its widest point. Drawing out his trophy knife, Geralt set the edge of it against the lip of the facet and twisted it. It popped out surprisingly easily, as if it was meant to be removed by design.

Jaskier hovered behind him as Geralt picked up the gaes carraigh. It was cool against his fingers, made of a translucent white stone that became more opaque at the edges. The center was nearly see-through, and when Geralt held it up the light played oddly in its depths. His medallion hummed faintly against his chest, warning him of the presence of magic. “Is that it?” Jaskier asked, resting one of his hands on Geralt’s shoulder to lean in closer.

“Think so,” Geralt replied, trying to ignore the weight of Jaskier pressed against him.

“What exactly does it do?” Jaskier reached out his free hand to press a finger against the center of the stone, curious as always. Geralt allowed it, and forced himself not to flinch when their fingers brushed incidentally. He could feel his ears warm regardless.

“It… binds the words of the ritual, or something. I didn’t ask.”

“Gaes carraigh… promise rock?” Jaskier tried, dropping to lean his full elbow on Geralt’s shoulder, casually slotting their forms together. His fingers barely brushed against Geralt’s collarbone, and he took a slow breath to maintain control over his heartbeat. Suddenly the proximity was overwhelming. Here they were, in a sacred space where possibly dozens of couples had made their vows to each other, fingers both lingering over the stone that would bind their oaths. In another life, perhaps they could have had something like this—Jaskier resplendent in the light of the blue crystals, eyes shining, looking at Geralt with adoration as they made their promises to each other. He would want to dress up, like he always did for a big event, but this time it would be only for himself and Geralt. Would he dress in blue? Or perhaps black, a witcher’s color, his pale skin like moonlight against the night sky. Would he wear a crown of periwinkle and sage, as was the northern custom? He would lean in close, like he was now, and murmur his vows to Geralt in words that flowed as smooth as a song.

He hadn’t known it was possible to want something so badly it was like a physical ache. Geralt was a witcher; he did not allow himself to think on things he couldn’t have. But here in this place, with Jaskier so close and yet so far away, the force of his desire felt oppressive. Jaskier didn’t know what any of this meant, and Geralt had no right to it, no right to want it. It was just a ritual. The context didn’t mean anything, because Jaskier would never feel that way about him.

After all, Geralt thought, looking down at the oathstone in his palm, who would want to marry a witcher?

Jaskier was still talking, and Geralt wrenched himself out of his thoughts when the arm on his shoulder pulled back and Jaskier patted the empty space once, as if in parting. “—probably get going, don’t you think? I do not relish the idea of being stuck here overnight. Not that I am not entirely confident in your abilities, darling, but I feel it’s best not to tempt fate when it comes to ghosts of ancient elven sages. Do you think they would count this as stealing? Probably. Anyways, I don’t want to find out what angry centuries old spirits do to trespassers.”

Geralt grunted, still gathering himself. He felt sluggish under the weight of his own emotions, pushing himself to his feet laboriously. The oathstone was heavy in his hand, and he slipped it into his potions pouch in the hope that it would feel less burdensome there. Without a word, he stood and exited the chamber the way they’d come, Jaskier fumbling after him.

[akumaalert]

Snippet of “Awake” - First Chapter of “Divergence”

Hey, all! Wanted to share a snippet of the first chapter (”Awake”) of “Divergence” - a fic that will offshoot from “Heavy Metal Lover.” Note that this is basically a whole spoiler for chapter 20 of “Heavy Metal Lover.” If you’re like me and see random stuff saying “Don’t click if you haven’t read...” and click anyway: Hi! Welcome, chaos lover. If you like this and want to know the context, please feel free to check out the full work on AO3.

“Divergence” should be posted within two weeks and will be open to requests for the reader (”Lucky”) to have different experiences than what she has in the original. This can mean the following:

- AUs

- Re-tellings of certain scenes of the original

- Reader-specific details included in old or new/original scenes (i.e., reader is plus sized, skinny, tall, short, etc.)

- Genderbending of any of the characters

Originally made this Tumblr to share snippets of the stories on...so happy that I could finally do that! If you want to skip writing that was in the story, you can start at “Though sleep pulled at your eyelids...”

Story contains mature elements, swearing, and explicit mention of sex. Please be forewarned.

Looking back, it would only be a wonder that it did not occur sooner.

As soon as you were alone in the bedroom, you took off your shoes and eyed the clothes Heisenberg had provided you from the factory...

...before turning to the tub.

Couldn't hurt to bathe. Love to be clean. 

That man is coming back up to this bedroom.

This is the point, self.

The logical side of your brain, for once, remained quiet. 

Though you had clearly lost all sense of sensibility, you at least moved the divider to completely block the tub from any but the most determined of views. 

The water had been scalding when you got in.

By the time you had bathed and decided that your foolishness had reached its limit, it was stark cold.

"This was stupid," you said. "Fucking stupid. What did I want? Him to join me? This is the universe saying 'Wake the fuck up.'"

Though your fingers were pruned, you dried yourself off and pulled a nightgown from the small cupboard beneath the sink.

Sheer as ever. Fuck's sake. The universe had truly saved you.

Until it hadn't.

Heisenberg rushed into the room like a rocket and you jumped as the door slammed close.

"...you here, Luck?"

"Yeah," you called out. "Um...don't come over here...gotta get dressed real quick."

"...k" called Heisenberg.

Wasting no time, you slid the gown over your body and made sure to fan out the edges as far as they would go. 

You needed no mirror to see your nipples proudly displayed through the fabric.

Mouthing a 'fuck' for good measure, you frowned.

"Heisenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you mind looking away for a second?"

"From you?"

"Yes."

"...are...are you coming out naked?"

"No," you snapped.

An awkward silence greeted you.

"Heisenberg?"

"Huh?"

"You looking away?"

"Oh. Yeah. You're good now."

Peeking from behind the divider, you only saw Heisenberg's back. 

With more speed than you were familiar with, you bolted to the bed and ducked under the covers.

Once secure beneath the pillowy softness, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay. It’s safe."

You did not miss how Heisenberg whirled around.

"Oh...fuck...that was fast."

"Yeah," you said absently.

"Trying to set a fucking record?"

"Something like that."

"Mmn. I...gotta get changed."

"Okay."

The two of you stared at the other.

"You trying to get a free show or you gonna cover those peepers?"

"...I figured you would go behind the divider."

"The divider is on your side of the bed."

"Oh," you said dumbly. "Oh. Yeah...wait."

Yanking the pillow from underneath your head, you smashed it onto your face above your mouth and pressed down.

Heisenberg chuckled. "Dramatic as hell."

"Doing what you asked of me."

"...didn't formally ask you to...did I?"

Swallowing found your throat on fire.

"Mmn."

"What was that?"

"Mmn," you repeated.

"Heh...don't go into public speaking, kid."

You frowned at the ceiling and the darkness of your eyes. 

Instead of speaking, Heisenberg decided to tell you he was done by climbing in the bed beside you. It struck you suddenly that lamps had been placed in the room instead of the candles that the castle was so beset with. But when you removed your pillow, you found yourself met by more muted darkness.

"Sure you okay with this?" asked Heisenberg. "I can fuck off and go into another room. I like to bitch like a drama king, but I don't need anything crazy set up for me."

"Bed is pretty big," you said carelessly. "S'okay. We've been closer."

The chuckle Heisenberg gave was absolutely filthy.

"We have...haven't we?"

The fucking lilt would be the death of you. What a relief it was to blink blindly and stupidly at the man in peace without judgment. 

"Hey - last time I'm reminding you...what's your one job?"

"Get you out in the morning," you replied.

"Because?"

"Ah...generators...production line...something about a reset..."

"That's my girl. Nighty night, Luck."

"Night, Heis."

A turn. A breath. A feeling that you would never be able to sleep with the man so close that you could feel his body heat radiating from him like a welcome sign. 

But you awoke.

You awoke often.

You awoke in the middle of the night from a dream you could barely recall and all the images of Alcina at the forefront of your mind. 

You awoke in Heisenberg's arms and sobbed into his chest as he clung you to him just as sweetly as any of your snowy imaginings. 

"Fuck you doing awake? No...shh...it's okay...shh...you're alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Though sleep pulled at your eyelids, you nudged your head up to feel the spikes of Heisenberg's scruff. You had to stay awake. Could not return to sleep and Alcina awaiting you with her long talons and even longer legs.

"Nightmare?"

You nodded into his neck. 

"Mmn. Have those myself...think you can go back to sleep? Don't think it's quite time for me to leave yet if you just wanna yak about it or something."

Swallowing, you exhaled. "Don't wanna go back to sleep."

With a grunt, Heisenberg sat up to leave you curled on the sheets.

"Just checking the time..."

When Heisenberg turned to pull something from the floor, you noticed that your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark. Enough so that you saw the loose movements of his arms and realized that he had gone to bed without a shirt. 

"Fuck...two in the morning..."

"I'm sorry," you said, tensing. But Heisenberg was mumbling and coming back to you with open arms. "Sorry I woke you..."

"S'alright," he said, yawning afterward. "Gotten less sleep and done more stupid things after than make sure the reset doesn't fuck up the factory..."

As he spoke, you could feel one of his hands rubbing up and down your arm a bit too roughly. An awkward and well intended move to comfort you.

"Still...I'm sorry...you need all the sleep you can manage to get. I don't know how much work the whole factory thing will be..."

"Honestly not much as long as I get back in time," he said, hand squeezing your arm for good measure before returning to that same rough rubbing motion. "Could probably even come back here afterwards...heh...that would spook that sixty-foot snake."

You laughed a sleepy laugh and settled further into his grasp.

"Mmn...like a fucking little bunny...cuddling into me and shit..."

"I can stop...pull away..."

Heisenberg's hand stopped rubbing you in favor of clutching you to him.

"Shh...you're talking nonsense. Need some sleep."

"Heis..."

"Shhh..."

"Heis, you can just tell me that you like it when we cuddle."

When he tsked and laid his chin on your head, you smiled. It felt so much like that day at the stronghold.

"Why would I say that? Not in the business of lying to people."

Lying...yes...because what we are doing now is causing you so much distress...

"Well," you said, smiling. "I'll say it then. I like it when we cuddle. Especially in bed. Feels more comfy than cuddling in front of the lycans."

A shiver - as though Heisenberg had been beset by the cold - ran through his body.

"Oof...y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he said absently. "Uh...actually...we might wanna go to sleep after all..."

"Mmn?"

"Yeah...early morning..."

"You mind if I hold onto you for a while? This...this actually helps from the nightmare."

The only way you knew how to describe Heisenberg in that moment was jittery. His movements were fine on their own but were conducted with such awkward quickness as to be alarming.

When he did not answer you, you looked up at him through the dark.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

A beat of silence and then another.

"Nothing's wrong." Quick words to match his quick movement.

"Heisenberg..."

"It's Heis."

"...you...Heis...something isn't right. Just talk to me. In English, preferably."

What you could only assume was a curse in German fell from his lips.

"I...fuck's sake, buttercup...I don't know how to...if you...this was such a bad idea...so fucking STUPID."

"What?" You paused, gathering enough evidence from his huff. "Sleeping together?"

"Yes."

"It was your idea."

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT, OKAY?" he hissed. "Just...I thought...earlier...it made more sense...this made more sense..."

"Glad something did because I am completely and utterly confused," you admitted. 

"You're confused? You started flirting with me." Heisenberg grumbled something low and rough. "Fucking gave me ideas...false hope...so I thought...guh I'm such a fucking idiot..."

Hope began to fuel you too. Fuel you and feed into the most terrible of terrific ideas.

"Are you...whatever you're trying to say...I was flirting with you. That wasn't false. Honestly...I was in the bathtub just moments before you came in hoping you would join me."

"...you what now?"

You could not help but laugh. The fact that you could not see Heisenberg's expressive face only added to the hilarity as you imagined a hundred different emotions running through that scarred skin.

"I took a bath...a long one...hoping that you would come up here in the middle of it and offer to join me...figured one thing could lead into another and the bed was here anyway..."

The pauses in between Heisenberg's voice could only endear you to him. He seemed every bit lost for words. 

"You...are you talking about...what are you talking about?"

"Sleeping with you," you supplied with a shrug. "What are you talking about?"

"Sleeping...you...ah...I wasn't...I wasn't mistaken? Shit...I...I may or may not have a fucking stiffy over here...because the cuddling is...something you enjoy so much."

"Oh?" you purred. The chance of escaping in the delights of Heisenberg’s body made your body positively teem with anticipation. But you could not forget your own actions...the last time you had seen him in such a vulnerable state. Losing some confidence, you glanced at the darkness of the bed instead of his body. "Umm...I want to touch you...want to...would it be okay if I touched you?"

"Yeah...course. You've touched me before."

"No...I mean...is it...fuck...can I jack you off?"

For a long while, Heisenberg said nothing.

The next thing you heard was a rattling spit.

"OUCH GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"Pinched myself."

"You...why are you pinching yourself?"

"Because I'm clearly fucking awake but clearly dreaming at the same time because yes, I would enjoy that very much. Please. And thank you."

"Are...are you sure?"

Heisenberg's hand came down heavy but without malice on your neck.

"OW!"

"Shit...I was trying to grab your hand."

Providing your hand to his, you hitched a breath when he splayed it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against your palm. Wrenching your knees upward, you brushed against that heated length between his legs.

"I...um...we should probably talk about boundaries before I do this."

"Huh?"

"Is this...are you okay with me just jacking you off?"

"Just? This is a goddamn holiday. Marking it on the calendar. Nothing little about it."

"Dumbass. That's not what I'm saying," you said, scratching his chest somewhat affectionately to show him that you meant no harm. "Do you...are you wanting anything more? Because I'm on my period...I'm up for it...but it might get messy and I know that's the last mess I want a certain someone finding."

"We...we can do more? More like..." You heard him take in a shaky inhale. "Can we...is like full blown intercourse on the table?"

"Sure...long as you don't call it that again," you said, shaking your head.

Grumbling and tensing his shoulders, Heisenberg whined when you dropped your touch to round one of his nipples.

"What the fuck else am I supposed to call it?"

"Sex. Fucking. Making love," you added jokingly. "Um...ah...you know...I hadn't thought about it, but maybe you genuinely didn't know. German to English...or...ah...Romanian to English. Might not have those words."

"I like making love," he said with certainty in his voice. "Let's do that. Make love."

You had expected him to laugh at that suggestion if he acknowledged it at all. But there he was giddy and practically giggling over the most flowery option he was given. 

"Okay...are there any places that you don't like being touched?"

"Not that I know of," he admitted. "Are there...is there somewhere I shouldn't touch you?"

"Not necessarily...just...no going down on me this time. Sex is one thing-"

"Making love."

"-us um...us making love is fine, but I don't want to get eaten out while my period is going on. And don't show me your dick after or comment on the blood...just...get rid of it. Please. And...and nothing too crazy to start out with. I'm not a prude, but don't want to be choked or anything harsh like that. Just...vanilla for our first go. Then we can see where things take us."

"Roger that! Heard loud and clear," he said, leaning his face to kiss your forehead. For all the lack of a relationship, Heisenberg was making you feel far much more mushy and cared for than your ex ever had. You let your hand round his stomach slow and soft in response.

"Thank you. We...if you want to, I'll jack you off for a bit before you grab the condom."

"The...I don't have one of those."

That made you freeze. 

"Not even in this room? Your chambers? If you don't feel like getting up, I can grab them from wherever they are."

Heisenberg went uncharacteristically quiet.

"Heis?"

"None in this room," he said plainly.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable by asking...but...is that typical? You having sex without a condom?"

It worried you. Here you were all too willing to have him fuck you into the mattress while he could be having all sorts of unprotected sex with who knows who in the village. He was attractive - a lord. Anyone with a pair of eyes could easily fall in lust if not love with him. 

Anyone with ears too...fucking sexy ringmaster voice...

"Not typical, no."

"No? Has it just...been a while?"

"Never."

"Huh?"

"Never made love before."

That sent you sitting up in bed.

"WHAT?"

"What?"

"HEISEN..." you lowered your voice, realizing he was growing tense. "You've never...I don't believe you. Quit joking. Not the time."

"Not joking," he grumbled. "Why would I joke about that?"

"You're just..."

"I'm what?"

"You're you," you said as if it clarified anything at all. "You're a lord in a small town. You have a face of a model. Not...not trying to open old wounds, but you're absolutely gorgeous underneath all those layers..."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Fatass McGee will be strutting the runways any day now."

"Oh my god...you're serious." Lying back down, you brought your hand to the clothed length between his legs. He had grown noticeably more soft since the brush of your knee, but you could feel his cock twitch when you cupped him. "So...no one? Not even foreplay or...what about kissing?"

"...ahhh...nah...none of that either...you're probably the first person to see me naked since I was a little kid...well...maybe a few folks in Constantinople. Got sloshed one time and woke up naked tied to a lamppost. But...other than that...all you."

There seemed to be no end to the surprises that would fall from Heisenberg's mouth. You stared at him - or the inky shadow that was him - and ran teasing fingers up his shaft.

"I uhh...fuck...I'm pretty sure anyone who saw me then is dead by now though," he supplied.

"Heis...you're so fucking ridiculous."