#rendering this was fun but also placed a curse upon me and the land

[kalofi]

groupchat did a secret santa art exchange and ofc i got my dearest friend diego @diionysan and thus shuggy was born!

[haztory]

hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today! 

 warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option. 

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size. 

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

 You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable. 

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid— 

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love. 

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation. 

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness. 

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it— 

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you. 

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you. 

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out. 

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face. 

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath. 

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap. 

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before. 

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

 “Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?�� He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”

[boop-le-snoot]

If life gives you melons...

Ship: Loki x F!alt! reader

Rating: Explicit / word count 5,5k

Summary: You've heard about meet-cute, how about meet-ugly? Reader has tattoos and a tongue split. There's this joke that "bisexual alt girls go looking for a girlfriend and end up with sad, tall and skinny white bois" and boy did that hit home. Inspired by this cringy video of Hiddles [youtube link].

During a panel at a comic con, Loki notices reader and they go on a date, reader gets railed: top!Loki, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, all the good stuff. Open ending, with a bonus of reader and Loki pranking Clint.

x. I usually fancy they/them pronouns for Loki but seeing as it's a smut-shot, I decided to go along with he/him for the sake of simplicity. Loki's at least 6'4 tall and you can fight me on that. Also, I write like a Tony stan - I feel the need to apologize to Loki stans for that. I love you guys! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

The long line of people appeared to be neverending. Loki was an enhanced, as the government recently had adopted a politically correct term for Earth's non-human inhabitants, but even his enhanced endurance had begun waning due to sheer amount of people wanting a piece of memorabilia signed by The God of Mischief. Loki had gained a considerable amount of fans after doing his part in killing the mad titan Thanos and by extension, saving the world. It turned out, humankind was a sucker for a good redemption arc.

Loki's hands ached where they wrapped around the pen that he'd been using for nearly 4 hours to neatly place his name, written in neat runescript, on various pieces of merchandise that his fans (and wasn't that a strange thing!) presented to him. He used to think that he would have actually succeeded conquering the earth if he had a grasp on how to use social media and his charm; now, he just wanted the torture to end. An involuntary sigh left his mouth when he saw another print of himself in full battle gear being placed in front of him by a reasonably attractive young woman.

"Um, thank you," She stammered, giggling softly, and Loki spared her a painstaking smile, scribbling his name once again. The woman briefly caught his eyes. "Um, you're the reason- the inspiration for me. I became a stripper."

Loki blanked, feeling his eyes widen and blink on their own accord a few times. He wasn't sure if he heard the woman correctly, as the unusual statement made his brain freeze.

Loud snickering from behind the blushing woman interrupted the system error that he was experiencing in his head. It wasn't often that somebody managed to render him speechless. It looked like whoever was in line behind the stripper woman had taken advantage of that. Loki's eyes snapped to the short-haired person, who looked torn between cringing and breaking into embarrassed laughter.

The stripper left without a word, and as Loki picked up the cursed writing instrument once again, the short-haired person smiled at him kindly. "That was a little weird," They snorted, "And thanks, have a nice day Mr. Loki."

"When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic," Another woman, that appeared to be the short haired person's friend, deadpanned and gave a cynical side-eye to the departing stripper. Loki heard snickering coming from the short-haired person and quietly joined himself. The woman noticed it, winking at him as she collected the newly signed t-shirt. "Bye," She smiled kindly.

It was a split second decision, really. Something about the cheeky way she addressed the situation sparked Loki's interest. "Wait, you forgot something, darling," His baritone called out to the departing woman. She turned around, confused, and hastily grabbed the standard issue photo that he was holding out to her. With a final grateful nod, she smiled and left.

If Loki's smile had returned for the time being, none of his teammates made any remarks on it. Only his brother, Thor, gave a couple of knowing looks to the Asgardian sorcerer.

The woman in question didn't think twice about the photo that she stashed in her backpack along with the signed t-shirt. The Comic-Con had been full of people and the lines were unfairly long. The sheer exhaustion after attending a 3-day long convention had set in and she was eager to simply come home back to her apartment and crash on the nearest soft flat surface. Upon arrival, she did exactly that, flopping down gracelessly on the couch, her backpack landing next to her with a careless thud.

Unloading her trophies was a short time affair: a single white tee with a dozen signatures on it, written in what she hoped was waterproof Sharpie; one mug, shaped like an Iron Man helmet; one poster, showing Spider-Man on a picturesque NYC horizon and a signed photo of one Loki. Strangely enough, she did not remember requesting it - not that she was complaining. Free merch was free merch.

The front side wasn't signed whatsoever. Overcome by curiousity, she turned it around. A phone number was written on the back of it, the handwriting neat and the letters obviously being inked out by a thinner, more sophisticated pen than the one Loki had used for scribbling on the tee. The woman gaped silently, not believing her eyes. Did Loki himself had given her his phone number?

One margarita and a hefty helping of Chinese takeout later, the numbers persisted staring back at her mutely, the neat cursive being almost mocking in its quiet. The woman's smartphone had found a comfortable place right next to the photo, equally mum regarding the unusual situation.

An additional margarita was needed to gather the courage required to actually type out the number in the receiver box. Fruity alcoholic concoction in one hand and phone clutched in the other, the woman's eyes squeezed shut tightly as soon as the dreaded "Hey, got your number today! :)" read delivered. She'd typed and erased the message several times, groaning in embarrassment. How the hell does one approach an alien god?

"Hello! May I ask your name?" The response came after a brief moment - a moment the woman had suffered through by taking too haste sips of her drink, her common since screaming her to not overdo it and wait at least a full minute before replying. Everything felt awkward and misplaced.

In no time, she was sending the screenshots of the conversation to her girl-advice group chat that consisted of her closest friends. Chatting with Loki turned out to be surprisingly easy and he was great at upholding conversation, something that couldn't be said about all those Tinder matches she had had back in the day.

Even if using proper grammar during a text message conversation was something she had to reacquaint herself with, she was glad he wasn't just another boring, shalllow, condescending-ass white boy. Despite the cultural differences and his lack of knowledge of things like pop culture and music - something he said he was working on since New Asgard became a sovereign state on Earth - they bonded over music and tattoos and generally being rebellious against society's standarts.

The invitation to dinner didn't come as a surprise for the woman. She agreed happily, looking forward to continue their conversation outside of the internet - if Loki's part of the chat was anything to go by, not only was he charming, but also quite intelligent. And easy on the the eyes, too. They had traded selfies at some point and the Asgardian didn't look any worse in a hoodie and sweatpants than he did in his battle leathers. Loki had appeared to truly have had integrated into Earth's society.

The night of the date, the continuous text exchange did very little to calm her nerves. Loki texted as much as an overeager teenage boy: every now and then he would double-text and grossly overreact to her sending a simple meme. In fact, he smugly conveyed the fact he'd single-handedly started a meme war between the Avengers and even Steve was forced to participate; something that was, allegedly, out of character for the blonde man.

She didn't mind. Not like she had many friends to have so much fun with. Even if it took her twice the time to do her favourite eyeliner style, it was worth it. She hoped Loki would appreciate the bold, but classy make-up and the dress and shoes combo that accentuated her assets. Her date expressed curiousity about her tattoos and the difference between her preferred style and the humans he spent most time with. She guessed secret agents were not particularly fond of anything that made them memorable so she held out quite the hope for... Showing off some of her tattoos in a more private setting.

In other, simpler words, the woman came in prepared for both a friendly, leisurely stroll and a quality night. Either way, it would be a time well spent.

Loki's shiny, raven hair was impossible to miss as he towered over the rest of the people waiting by the restaurant's entrance. He wore tailored black trousers and a simple cashmere sweater, perfect for the evening's damp, cool air. Tall and lithe, Loki was mouthwateringly handsome.

"Come here often?" She wormed her way through the crowd, causing the man to smirk down at her. Her cheeks flared from the tiny gesture alone.

"Just waiting for a friend," Loki uttered lowly, extending an arm towards the woman, which she gracefully accepted as they made way towards the entrance. "Reservation for Loki," The Asgardian stated to the hostess, who, after a rapid doube-take, led them to a private, secluded area in the back of the restaurant.

Loki shouldered the slightly awkward interaction with grace, paying no mind to the girl. His focus was solely on his date and he was nothing but gallant as he took the woman's purse and held out the chair for her to comfortably sit down. As a prince, he was taught well, she mused.

"Usually I would ask 'what brings you to our little ball of water and dirt?' but I think we can skip that part," The woman stated with a sheepish grin, idly flicking through the menu and curiously eyeing the items that were unfamiliar. The desire to try something new fought with the possibility of accidentally ordering something too far out - like snails or other things that rich people fancied, for some reason.

Loki's greens briefly appeared over the top of his menu, grateful and sparkling. "I think it's best if we do just that," For a second, he looked away, before returning to the menu. "I can think of better things to discuss. I recall you didn't finish telling me about that college friend of yours, who was an anarchist... I'm dying to know..."

The waiter came and went, barely noticed by the pair, as they both poked at something that sounded the most familiar for both of them. Stoically, Loki admitted that Tony Stark did the booking for him and the woman reluctantly acquitted she wasn't very familiar with upscale establishments, being of middle-class background and working a middle-class job.

Interrupting the story she began telling hours ago, the woman took the time to point out the things she was familiar with on the menu and advised Loki to stay away from - like the aforementioned snails, and other things, slimy and salty things that she considered to be 'disgusting but rich people liked it for some reason'. The conversation slowly progressed into Loki telling her the mischief he got up to at the feasts Odin threw. The Asgardian shared the woman's disregard for influential people doing gross things to show off.

The food was good - it was really hard to miss with a traditional Italian lasagna - and seeing Loki shovel an obscene amount of food was an experience, but she didn't comment on it, tactful enough to consider his alien biology might have different dietary requirements that her human one. It was great, really, that she could order dessert and not feel guilty about it.

The gelato melted in her mouth like sweet ecstasy and she moaned with her next bite, only partly aware of how obscene really was the noise.

Loki's hand stuttered on it's way to his mouth. Wide-eyed, he stared at her lips, at her mouth, where her tongue lapped up the small drops of dessert from the spoon. "Why the split tongue?" The Asgardian finally gathered his wits, having had a good look of what he was sure was a trick of the eye at first.

She grinned, acutely aware of the effect that particular body modification had on men. "I like being different. I embrace the weird." She giggled, not at all ashamed, sticking out her tongue and wiggling both parts of it teasingly.

Loki's Adam's apple bobbed; "Weird?" He raised his eyebrow, fighting to maintain his previous cool composure.

She nodded. "Weird," She retorted coyly. "I usually don't divulge the details at least until the third date. Wouldn't want to scare my potential suitors off," The playful wink was the proverbial cherry on top. He was hooked, his eyes darkened, following the plump arch of her lips as she took another spoonful of the treat and savoured it, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

It was pornographic.

"Obviously, Midgardians don't know what's good for them," Loki scoffed in his usual bored monotone, fully aware of how fitful his attempt to conceal his excitement was. He sounded needy even to his own ears.

"And you do?" She pushed away the empty plate, chastely patting her mouth with a napkin. The raised eyebrow and the little smirk spoke volumes.

The grin he wore was hardly anything but feral; he asked for the waiter's assistance by flicking his wrist in an impatient fashion. Once the bill was paid and the woman's cardigan found its rightful place on her shoulders, Loki once again took hold of her arm, this time holding her smaller body against his larger one, taking care to slow down and keep his strides shorter.

She found the coolness of his presence refreshing in the moist, heavy air of the New York city.

"Where to, milady?" Loki asked her, looking down at the woman fondly.

"My place is a block away. Walk me, good sir?" She gave a delightfully easy smile in return.

He nodded, letting her lead the way, allowing himself to get a little bit lost in their shared presence, a little bubble of them in the middle of a busy city. It was as if someone had quickly turned down the volume of the honking cars and noisy pedestrians around them, leaving the soft breeze and the sun slowly descending below the skyscrapers. It felt far too short, partaking in the comfortable silence together, skin tingling under the thin layers of cloth where they were touching.

The sun was trapped in the strands of her hair as she smiled at him from her doorway, worrying her lip between her teeth. It was a bittersweet moment.

"A kiss good night for the good sir?" She asked hopefully, eyes darting between his face and his mouth.

Loki obliged, resting his palm flat on the door frame, towering over the woman as he gently slotted his thin, cool lips against her warm ones. The woman stood on her tippy toes, eager, placing a hand on his chest. The pair melted into the kiss - it had no business being this mind-blowing, brain-freezing for two people that have not met until that very day. The woman didn't refuse when Loki probed with his tongue, requesting entrance to her mouth; she licked into his own with fervor, fisting her hands in the soft fabric of his sweater.

With the hand that was free, Loki pulled the woman flush with himself, feeling the heat of her start a fire of its own inside of him. Her breathing rapid, the gesture only served to tighten her hold on his sweater, until a soft, barely audible moan slipped into his mouth, causing his brain to quickly reassess the situation.

Regretfully, Loki pulled away, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere," He meaningfully looked at the array of doors around them.

"I thought you'd never ask," She retorted with a fond eyeroll, tightening the grip on his sweater once more, to pull him inside her apartment and shut the door behind her. The awkward moments were few and in between; neither knew who reached for the other first, mashing their mouths with less grace than before, clutching at the other's arms and hips with hunger.

This time, Loki didn't hold back his own muted groans of satisfaction, shivering when the woman's hands snuck under his sweater and the simple tank top he wore underneath. Blunt nails scraped along his abs.

Step by step, she pushed him further inside her apartment, determined in her small quick strides. There was no mistake of their destination; no mistake in her desire: she was as hungry and as impatient as him. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, long arms extending to unzip the top of her dress to reveal a simple but tasteful black lacy bra covering her breasts. The woman barely noticed the action, stepping out of her dress as soon as it hit the floor.

He admired her. Inches of soft skin covered by intricate ink, some patterns bizarre and complicated, some beautiful in their simplicity. Loki couldn't wait to find out about the meaning behind every one of them, to trace the lines with his tongue and sink his teeth into the heated flesh.

The hands that were holding onto him for dear life tugged on his sweater and he chose to simply vanish it, too preoccupied with looking at the view in front of him. She gasped and her eyes met his: uncanny, magnetic emeralds shone with magic and power and desire.

"Fuck," She more mouthed than said, walking backwards in a trance until her shins hit the bed.

Loki grinned, advancing on the panting woman with the grace of a predator. "Darling?" His tone was innocent; his expression was anything but. His large hand encompassesed the side of her face, thumb running over her bottom lip in a possessive gesture that had her squirming in her place. He loved the way she just melted into his touch.

Their lips met again, slower this time. The kiss was once again graceful and unrushed, allowing them to explore the softness of each other's skin, mapping the arches and valleys with gentle strokes of their palms. The broad expanse of Loki's back was uneven, riddled with scars and blemishes, and she mapped every single one, blunt nails raking down it as she pressed into him, arching into his hands where he held her.

The soft flesh of her ass, barely covered by a scrap of black lace, was shamelessly grabbed - the woman didn't doubt there would be marks left - letting her feel his arousal pressed against her belly, hard and twitching. She didn't resist her desire to ge handsy and palmed it, taking note of the gasp and the twitch coming from the man occupied with the clasp of her bra. In no time, it flew away, forgotten somwhere the very moment Loki's palms took over her breasts, running a careful thumb over each nipple.

"Fuck," She parroted her previous statement, equally breathy and considerably more aroused.

"That's the plan," Loki's chuckle was hoarse.

She huffed, biting her bottom lip before reaching out to swiftly pop the button of his trousers, smirking at the hiss the friction of her palm produced against his cock. It shouldn't have surprised her that Loki was a commando kind of guy, but still, she gasped, partially from the ministrations of his clever fingers, partially from the mouthwatering sight in front of her. The thick, flushed length made saliva gather in the corners of her mouth.

He must've heard the audible swallow. "Not so haste, darling," He tutted, giving her relaxed body a gentle push, causing her to land on her back, heated skin against the soft duvet of her bed. "Let me taste you," A thud; Loki had dropped to his knees, using his large palms to spread her legs, opening her up to his eyes.

If his previous work hadn't made her so pliant, so aroused, she'd have been rendered speechless; instead, the woman arched her back, presenting herself and the desire that had pooled down below. The Asgardian chuckled, fingertips soft against the scratchy lace.

"Tease," The woman moaned, outstretching her arm to guide him but quite unable to reach him. She had to settle for squirming in her place, receiving a fraction of the desired traction against her swollen lips.

"Am I, love?" Loki asked her sweetly, caving enough to dip a single finger to run along the outside of her slit. It glided easily thanks to all the moisture gathered there, lips parting easily before his touch. The panties were vanished away promptly, another finger joining in immediately to rub slow, precise circles around her clit.

She keened low and long, fisting the fabric in her hand until her knuckles turned white. Loki knew what he was doing. It didn't take him very long to slide his long digits to the welcoming heat of her opening, dipping them inside until she began to make the noises he so craved. His mouth followed after that, long agile tongue drawing senseless shapes on the inside of her labia and dipping deeper, where her clit stood out engorged and slick.

He could smell the bittersweet of her arousal, mouthwatering and hot.

"Loki, fuck," She moaned, only half-coherent and partially aware of her own hips following his every stroke, every flick. He only advanced, hitting that sweet spot inside her with every stroke; the sparks traveling up her spine quickened with each time she changed his name like a prayer. "Loki, Loki, Loki..."

He growled, attaching his mouth firmly to her clit, and she arched for the final time, coming undone, squeezing around his fingers and gushing in his mouth, the obscene sounds covered by her own scream of delight and his impatient growling. The growling that sent shivers of aftershocks throughout her body.

"Darling, you taste so sweet," Loki groaned, still panting.

She took the time to open her eyes: Loki looked comically out of place in her bedroom, he dwarfed her bed and made her feel small, but it didn't matter at all at that very moment. His erection stood out hard and proud; despite the leg-shaking orgasm just moments ago, she wanted more, she wanted to taste him, she wanted to feel him inside-

With unsurprising agility, one swift motion was all it took for her to rest comfortably against the pillows, his throbbing member resting against the juncture of her thigh. She tasted her own release on his lips, however brief, whispering a weak, "Please," aching to feel the emptiness.

"As my lady wishes," Loki's cool breath ghosted over her cheek. She waited with baited breath until the tip of his manhood breached her, exhaling a moan into his neck and immediately wrapping her lips around a patch of skin as he stretched her so sweet.

Loki's arms shook slightly as he waited for her to adjust. He kissed her, soft and sweet; there was something vulnerable in him, something as sweet as the ache he'd taken away. Once he began to move, slow and fluid, all there was left was an all-consuming need to feel. As graceful as dancer and with a deadly precision, Loki pounded gasps, moans and screams out of the woman's slack mouth, kisses turning hungrier and sloppier by the second.

"So sweet," He cooed, relishing in the snug grip of her cunt around him.

She only keened in approval, too far gone and unused to the intensity of the feelings from a man with centuries of practice and the power of a god.

His thrusts slowed gradually until he was rutting into her, grinding his pelvic bone into her clit. The gasps and screams turned into drawn-out, longing moans; her hips followed his, meeting in a slow, sensual motion.

Loki was not a patient man. He withdrew - she gasped in protest - flipping the woman over on her fours with ease, taking but a split second to admire the curve of her body presented on display for him. Just for him.

With that thought burning in his mind, Loki sheathed his cock deeply inside her spasming cunt. It was nearly unbearably stimulating and only his own desire to prolong the bliss held back his own impending orgasm. That, and his own ego; he was naught if not a generous lover.

She slurred something, quiet and incorrigible, fucking back onto his cock as eagerly as he was plunging into her heat. The hand he'd placed on her shoulder promptly wrapped around her throat in hopes of lifting her close enough for him to hear the words but instead, it sent a full-bodied shiver throughout her. Loki grinned, tugging her that much closer.

The arch in her back looked quite uncomfortable yet she didn't mind; it was the exact opposite, in fact, her cunt tightened around him, drenching his shaft down to his balls. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his thigh, the sting of pain going straight to his cock-

"Loki, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-" She slurred, gasping for air.

He weakened his hold on her throat enough to let her gulp the so-needed oxygen. It was her undoing: was it the rapid pace of oxygenated blood traveling to her brain or was it his cock, mercilessly pounding against her g-spot - she was violently spasming around his cock, much like she did around his fingers not too long ago.

It felt like ages, her crescendo coming in waves with no signs of stopping any time soon. Loki's continuous thrusts, his hips slamming into hers, her skin feeling like molten lava.

"Gonna fill your sweet cunt with my seed," Loki moaned lowly, holding her up by the throat, the other hand leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on the outside of her hips. "Mark you from the inside out," His voice had gone into primal territory, growling filling up the room.

"Please..." The woman rasped, oversensitive.

And he pleased, with a series of sharp thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt in her, the force of his release making her shudder and moan once against, going limp in his arms. Loki kept her in her place until every drop was inside of her cunt. Nothing was sweeter than that.

The Asgardian didn't bother with getting under the covers to hold her, conjuring a soft, comfortable throw in modest green, to cover their nudity. He didn't need the extra warmth but his companion was by far more fragile and sensitive to these things- Loki's fingertips traced the array of bruises he'd left in the wake of their passion, expression surprised as he found the woman smiling.

"Feels nice," She supplied meekly, eyes half-lidded, face trusting and open towards him.

He gave a small grin in return, placing a chaste kiss atop her head. "Yes, it does, darling."

Time after time, she didn't expect much out if their date. The sex was nice, nice enough for both of them to want seconds and thirds after their rushed first time - but it wasn't like she expected him to hand around. It was a pleasant change from the usual mutual ghosting she'd done with her previous partners, but Loki had texted again and they had resumed their conversation via text like nothing had happened.

No, that would be incorrect. Now, she had a wonderful friend who was a great conversationalist and an even better lover. There was no pressure to put a label on their relationship so the woman didn't bother with it; it didn't seem like Loki cared about the label, either, so she left the topic alone and enjoyed things the way they were. It wasn't like she had a line of suitors anyway.

She couldn't help the smile that creeped onto her face when she unlocked her phone and saw a video call request from other than Loki himself. She still had thirty minutes worth of lunch break to waste and this was a wonderful time to chat with a friend.

"Stark, hand it back or I swear to Norns-" Loki's voice sounded agitated and far away, accompanied by sounds of a struggle; the bearded, smug face on the screen was not who she expected at all. Only years of customer service and low bullshit tolerance combined stopped her from freaking out seeing none other than Tony Stark smirking at her from the screen of her phone.

"Yes?" She arched an eyebrow, taking note of the anger of Loki's tone.

"Hi, I don't think I need to introduce myself," Stark babbled, eyeing her - disheveled and with a wall full of sticky notes and miscellaneous items acting as the background to her video. "Reindeer games refused to show you to us so we decided to persuade him," Tony's grin grew wider, muted whispers being rapidly exchanged in the background all the while Loki screeched "BROTHER!" and various expletives at the top of his lungs.

"You could've, I dunno," She paused, unimpressed. "Asked me to dinner, like a normal person. Instead of stealing, you know, like a thief," The eyeroll that she performed had the team worried her eyes would fall out of their sockets.

"I merely borrowed his phone, don't be dramatic," Stark huffed, and for a moment, she could see various other people trying to look at the screen and by extension, at her. "So, what is it that you do? Because Smurf over there wouldn't..."

"Oops, bad signal. Sorry, can't hear you properly," Her side of the call suddenly shook and in a moment, she ended the call, not at all willing to deal with people that lacked boundaries. Sure, it might have been Iron Man, but if he was planning on being a snooping asshole, she wasn't gonna go down with that easily.

Exactly five minutes after she had clocked out, an incoming call from Loki had her equal parts excited and mortified. What if..? But he was apologetic. And very angry, swearing in his native language - something that he'd promised to teach her at some point.

"So, Clint did it?" She sipped her beverage, strolling home with the phone pressed snugly against her ear.

"Most of it was his fault, yes," Loki grouched on the other end of the call.

"I vote we get back at him. Invite me over, if he's so inclined to see me, and watch him get humiliated in front of everybody," It wasn't a secret she had her own mischievous tendencies.

"As much as I appreciate your vigour, darling, I doubt the Widow will appreciate you verbally castrating the Hawk in public," He replied sourly, his voice still betraying the faint notes of interest.

"I have a backup plan!" She stated without a hitch. "He'll embarrass himself and I'll be your alibi."

"I'm listening," Loki perked up immediately.

They decided to not to stall and schedule the 'family dinner', as Thor himself dubbed it, for the next available weekend. Loki had made sure Tony's AI had been made aware the trickster would be gone all day, and it took him very little magic and effort to pop in and out of the tower for the five minutes that were needed to execute their prank.

His friend barely managed to keep the snickering at bay as they ascended the elevator to the common floor where the dinner was being held. Not only that, but the woman spouted an area of dark purple love marks, barely obscured by the low turtleneck of her blouse.

She made her introductions and they made theirs. "This affair could use some background noise," She remarked off-handedly, casting a meaningful glance at the TV.

Tony Stark was known for being a great host so he entertained her wishes, flicking on the huge flat screen with a flick of his wrist.

The team froze.

"I... -" The woman stared at the screen, mouth hanging wide open at the scenes that played out. "... am not going to kinkshame, but please turn it off," She stated in a small voice, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the mass of tentacles commencing erotic assault on a woman's body.

Wordlessly, the TV shut down, immersing the room in stunned silence. Loki face-palmed, the slap of his palm against his face echoing in the eerily quiet room.

"Loki!" Captain America, red as a tomato, instantly accused the most obvious person.

Except, he had forgotten one thing. "Loki was with me all day," The woman replied, unkindly. "Do you need more proof?" She tugged on the hem of her turtleneck, exposing an inch of skin marked blue.

The good Captain's face changed the shade once again, venturing very well into beetroot territory. "Who was the last one to use the TV?" Rogers asked, now with a hint of anger, as he stared at a guffawing Bucky.

"I believe it was Mr. Barton," The AI piped up, mechanical voice sounding almost insinuating. Or, perhaps, it just appeared that way.

[lepidotrichia]

almagest

Summary

"So you know how life is made up of stardust? Like you and I both are made up of the same things that used to make up a star, right?" "Right." "And you know how people make wishes on stars?" "...Yes?" "What if someone ends up being made up of the stardust from one of those wishing stars?" Snorting, he said, "You calling me a dream come true?" "No. I'm a dream come true. You're probably made of the stardust of an evil sun that cursed every living thing around it." "Fuck off."

They were both laughing, music dancing through the night.

Characters

Noriaki Kakyoin, Jotaro Kujo, (BRIEF APPEARANCE) Joseph Joestar, Mohammad Avdul, Jean-Pierre Polnareff

Relationship(s)

Noriaki Kakyoin & Jotaro Kujo (If you wanna read it that way. Technically Pre-Relationship)

Themes, Motifs, and Additional Info

Stargazing, Constellations, Mention of Nightmare, Comfort

Takes place after the fight with Death 13

Word Count

2312

Story below the break! You can also read it here.

While collecting the stars, I connected the dots     I don’t know who I am, but now I know who I’m not     I’m just a curious speck that got caught up in orbit, in orbit     Like a magnet it beckoned my metals toward it, toward it  

Joseph’s snores sounded throughout the campsite, harmonizing with the crackling campfire. Jean, Mohammad, and Iggy were huddled nearby, the fire’s steady light dancing across their sleeping figures. A rock’s shadow loomed over the ground. Perched upon it were Jotaro and Noriaki, huddled in a blanket to keep out the January desert night’s chill.  

The average seventeen-year-old isn’t equipped to fight a living god. Fear of what’s to come, of what failure would mean for the world, keeping them awake. Both of them were too proud to name that fear out loud, but they knew. Specters tearing apart everything and everyone they ever cared for haunted their dreams.  

At times like this, the company of another was a small mercy.  

“And that one,” Noriaki continued, pointing at the diagram Hierophant had drawn in the sand, “is Lyra. The one that looks like a parallelogram with the line sticking out of it.”

Hand pressed against his cheek, Jotaro mumbled, “What’s it supposed to be?”

“A lyre. Have you heard of it? It looks like a small harp, but its structure is more like a lute. It was commonly used during the Greek classical period.”  

Jotaro carefully considered the sky etched into the ground. Noriaki had wanted to tell him about all the constellations they were missing out on since it wasn’t the right season to catch a glimpse of them in this hemisphere. Breathing out another cloud of smoke, he replied,“I don’t see it. All just looks like a bunch of dots to me.”  

Noriaki shook his head. “You’re not looking hard enough. I mean, they are just “a bunch of dots, but humans always manage to find patterns. We find icons and symbols, make stories out of them.”

“What’s the story for this one?”  

Noriaki grinned, “I’m glad you asked!”

Gazing into the peaceful darkness, Jotaro eased into his skin. He’d much rather be in a hotel room right now, but he had to admit, he was glad he was here to see the night sky. It looked so vibrant. He’d never seen the milky way in person like this. The city lights back home overwhelmed the stars’ distant glow, rendering them invisible. Here, there was no excess light or noise. Just the stars, the campfire, and Noriaki’s soft voice streaming bits of trivia.  

“Do you know the story of Orpheus?" Noriaki toyed with his hair as he began. "Supposedly, he played the first lyre ever made. Legend has it, his music was so beautiful that it charmed even the sirens and the gods. When his lover, Eurydice, died, he went to the Underworld to beg the god of the dead, Hades, to bring her back to life. Can you guess how he got Hades to say yes?"  

Without waiting for a reply, he answered, "By playing for him on his Lyre! Thus, Eurydice was allowed to leave the Underworld under one condition." Noriaki leaned in, the dim glow of the campfire casting a shadow on his face. "Orpheus couldn’t look at her until they were back to the land of the living.”  

Taking a breath, he continued, “Of course, like most of these stories, it ends with a tragedy. Orpheus couldn’t help himself. He’d missed Eurydice so much. He just couldn’t believe that they’d be together again. And you know, it’s hard not to want to reach out towards someone you’d loved and lost. So Orpheus ended up looking back at Eurydice as they were leaving the Underworld, despite Hades’ warning."

Noriaki leaned back on his hands, tone turning nonchalant as he finished. "So Eurydice was sent back, never to return to the land of the living. Orpheus would spend the rest of his life wandering around aimlessly while playing his lyre, and no one lived happily ever after. The end."

Jotaro’s mouth twitched into a frown, “That’s stupid. If I was Orpheus, I just wouldn’t have looked back.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Noriaki inclined his head as if to say "really now?".

 “No. I mean, why would I go through all that trouble just to fuck up and do the one thing I wasn’t supposed to do? What’s the point?"  

“Well, it’s a story in the end.”  

“Hmph, dumb story."

“It was probably a rhetorical question—” Jotaro nodded, “but the point of the story is to talk about how death is absolute. At least, that’s what I think. No matter how much Orpheus and Eurydice loved each other, love alone wasn’t enough to overcome death.”

Jotaro furrowed his brows. “But it was Orpheus’s fault.”  

“Was it?" Noriaki rebutted. "Gods are supposed to be omnipotent. See, I think Hades knew that Orpheus wouldn’t be able to resist looking back, so he gave him this impossible condition to follow. He was humoring the funny little man with his pretty-sounding lyre. I mean," his hands were animated now as he spoke excitedly, "how are you just going to waltz into the realm of the god of the dead demanding your lover be brought back to life just because you miss her? Hades was never actually going to bring Eurydice back to life.”  

Bringing his hands back down behind him, skin pressing into stone, Noriaki gave Jotaro a sad smile and said, “No matter how brutal it is to have someone you love ripped away, the universe doesn’t grant any favors.”

The two sat in contemplative silence. Hierophant’s tendrils shifted beneath the sand, mapping out their surroundings out of habit.  

“I still wouldn’t have turned around”, Jotaro broke the silence.  

“Hmm?”  

Turning to face Noriaki, he continued, “I wouldn’t have turned around. Orpheus was thinking about how much he missed Eurydice. That’s why he turned around. That was his mistake.”

Noriaki tilted his head, a teasing gleam in his eyes, “You’re saying Orpheus was being selfish?”

“I’m saying he cared more about how much he missed her than actually bringing her back to life.”  

“You’re telling me he deserved to be punished for missing someone?”  

Jotaro sighed irritably, “I’m saying he put his wants before someone else’s needs. His feelings shouldn’t matter when someone’s life is on the line.”

Noriaki hummed. “Impressive, Jotaro. You know, Mr. Abdul told me how you locked yourself up in jail after you found out you had a Stand because you were afraid you’d hurt someone." He reached out to sweep aside a curl resting uncomfortably on Jotaro's left eye. "Something about an “evil spirit”? Did you have the same mindset when you did that?

Jotaro pulled back. “Fuck off”, he dismissed, stubbing his cigarette against the rock’s side, dropping it into the sand below. Noriaki winced as the cigarette landed on a part of Hierophant, ashes burning into their tendrils. Hierophant quickly withdrew themself.  

“Shit", he breathed in sharply." Fuck, sorry.”  

“You’re fine you’re fine", waving the incident away. Stifling a yawn, Noriaki closed his eyes, chin dropping. His loose curls fell against the side of his face, the red of his hair burning bright against his silhouette. Basking in the faint warmth of the fire, he spoke slowly, apologizing, “Not much I can tell you about the sky right now. I’m only really familiar with the summertime constellations.”

Pressing his face into his palm more, Jotaro stared at him, jaw tensed in quiet worry. “Kakyoin.  

"Yeah?"  

"Go sleep.”  

“What?" Noriaki opened his eyes, sitting back up. "No, I’m fine.” Jotaro gave him a side-eye. “Dude, I’m wide awake.”

A wicked grin took over, as Noriaki pressed, “Is it that you’re tired, Jotaro? Is it past your bedtime? I know Ms. Kujo wouldn’t want her baby boy up so late—”

“Oh my  god, I’m going to kick your ass”, Jotaro complained, shoving at Noriaki. There was no hiding the smile growing on his face. Noriaki’s laugh carried in the air as he pushed himself back to lean into Jotaro, the latter dissolving into silent, shaky laughter himself.

After some time, the two caught their breath. Below a sky full of stars, they sat resting against each other. Noriaki spoke gently, “Are you worried about her?”

Jotaro huffed, “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“We’re going to win, you know. We’ll save her.” Noriaki squeezed the other’s arm, “You hear me, Jojo?”

"Yeah.” He was quieter now.  

“I promise.”  

Hiding below the brim of his hat, he mumbled, “Thanks, Kakyoin.”

“Do you wanna play a game?” Noriaki poked up at the hat’s brim so he could see Jotaro’s eyes again. “Let’s make up our own constellations.”

“That sounds stupid.”  

“Exactly. Haven’t you ever tried to do something stupid to cope with something serious? It’ll be fun.”  

Sighing, he gave in, “Fine.”

 “You first?”  

“What? Why? I don’t even want to pl—”  

“You’re older, so you go first.”  

“That’s so stupid. This is so stupid.”  

“If you complain or say “stupid” one more time, I’m going to have Hierophant pour sand down your uniform.”

“You’re one evil bastard.” Noriaki grinned as if he’d just been complimented. “Fine. Okay um”, Jotaro squinted at the sky before him. “That one looks like a cat stretching.”

“Really? It looks more like a horse to me. See, its face is too long to be a cat’s.”  

Jotaro sneered, “Hey, it’s my constellation. I’m the one who says what it is.”

“Okay okay!” Noriaki laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “What’s its story?

“Fuck, I don’t know. It’s just a cat. Does it have to have one?”  

“It’s more fun if it does.”  

“I think our definitions of “fun” are very fucking different, Kakyoin.”

“Fine! You’re taking too long anyways.” Noriaki scanned the scene before him. “That one looks like someone asking for a dance.”

“How do you even see that?”  

“See? That’s his arm and it’s outstretched. He’s in a dancer's pose, and anyways, it’s my constellation. I’m the one who says—”  

“You’re so annoying.”  

“So I think his story is that he was this great dancer, so great that he could never find a dance partner. He always performed alone. No one could ever understand him because no one could ever keep up with him. One day, during one of his performances, he was suddenly overcome with so much grief that he danced himself to death. So now he dances in the stars.”  

“That’s dark. How did he end up in the stars?”  

“Even though he always felt lonely, the people around him admired him a lot. They loved to see him, even if they didn’t really understand him. So although he lived as this untouchable being, he still left a mark on his admirers’ lives. So now he dances with the stars for the whole world to see.”  

“That’s depressing.”  

Noriaki grumbled, “Come up with a cheerier story then.”

“I’m not good at storytelling.” After searching for a moment, Jotoro said, “That one looks like a fish.”

“No story?”  

“No…but I can tell you what kind of fish it is.”  

“How do you know about the kinds of fish?” Noriaki questioned curiously.  

Jotaro shrugged, “I’m getting into marine biology. Anyways, we’re near the Red Sea, so I’ll say it’s a Bigeye Houndshark.”

“Why a shark?”  

“I like sharks.”  

“I learn something new about you every day”, Noriaki nudged him with a smile, pulling the blanket tighter around them. “One more?”

“Sure.”  

“Hierophant”, Noriaki called out. Hierophant materialized before them, starting at the two. Messages seemed to pass between the Stand and their user, and, after a moment, Hierophant chirped affirmingly. Floating higher up, they unraveled themself, aligning their tendrils to match what the boys saw as the position of the stars. Jotaro blinked at Hierophant as they settled themself in, seemingly pleased with their work.

“What’s this supposed to be?”  

Noriaki smiled and replied, “If I remembered it right, it’s supposed to be a map of our journey so far. See that bright star near Hierophant’s head? I recognize it. Polaris, I think. People used to use it to navigate.”

"What’s it supposed to stand for now?”  

“Cairo, or our end goal in general. The story of this “constellation” is the story of our crusade, I guess.”

Jotaro stared for a moment longer, trying to think of something to say. A certain feeling tugged at his chest, and in his rush to beat it down, he was rendered speechless.

“We’re awfully close to figuring out how this story ends, don’t you think?”  

Jotaro scanned the distance between Hierophant’s head to Polaris. They weren’t all that far from the end now, were they. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready?” 

Their eyes met. Jotoro shook his head.  

“Me neither”, Noriaki sighed as he called Hierophant back in. “We’ll get there when we get there I suppose.”

“Kakyoin.”  

“Mhm?”  

“We’ll win. Promise.”  

Noriaki stared in surprise before softening his eyes. Smiling, he replied, “Thanks, Jojo.”

"Do you want to stay up a little longer?” It was Jotaro who pulled the blanket around them tighter this time, silently voicing his own answer.

"Please.”  

"Alright.”  

The campfire crackled, sharing in the warmth of its company, both asleep and awake. The Red Sea’s coast was only a few kilometers away. The group's 50 days and 50 nights were drawing to an end. Maybe no one else would witness their efforts to save the world, but the stars above have burned on longer than any human life. Joining together, they form constellations. They are the archivists of times long passed, stories mapped out in the heavens. They are the storytellers of histories long forgotten. They are the witnesses of the things that happen in the dark, hope carried through dots of light.  

Make my messes matter Make this chaos count Let every little fracture in me Shatter out loud 

Author’s Note

If you were wondering, the constellations they're referencing in their game are:

Monoceros

Orion

Pisces

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 08: MARK OF ZEMOUREGAL

QUEST SUMMARY:

Because of Jahaan’s betrayal of Zamorak during their heist of the Stone of Jas, Zemouregal takes the matter of revenge into his own hands. When Jahaan looks to get even, he enlists the help of his Mahjarrat allies to take the fight to Zemouregal…

CHAPTER 1: EVERLASTING FIRE

Jahaan trudged for a while before he reached civilisation again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to risk Ardougne, not just because of what happened last time, but a few Zamorakian Mahjarrat had their strongholds nearby, and considering his role in the heist, he figured he wasn’t the most popular man alive right now. He also had to avoid the Legends’ Guild because, well, reasons. So, accepting that the people he’d probably pissed off the least were the Guthixians, Jahaan made for Seers’ Village, deciding to stay there for the foreseeable future. Acquiring some papyrus and a quill pen, the first thing Jahaan did after placing his order at the town’s largest tavern was to write to Ozan, telling him in brief the events that had unfolded, and asked if he was near enough to Seers’ Village to stop by for the tale in full, along with a hearty meal. Once Postie Pete came around the next morning, Jahaan made polite conversation with the decapitated skull pulling along a parcel sack on wheels. Postie Pete had seen and done it all, and if you could catch him for long enough, he was a delight to chat to.

However, he never explained the story behind just how he became Gielinor’s resident postman with nothing more than a skull and cart to his name. But hey, he got the job done. In fact, the very next morning Jahaan received a reply from Ozan, saying he was just leaving Catherby and would stop by in a few days on his way to the Fremennik Province.

During the days in between, Jahaan bumbled about the town, looking in all the quaint little shops and taking a somewhat tourist-y trip up to Camelot Castle, feeling rather embarrassed with himself after gleefully grinning like an idiot when he saw Sir Bedivere walking across the courtyard.

When Ozan arrived, Jahaan regailed him with tales of the heist of the Stone of Jas, enrapturing him and the entirety of the local tavern at the same time. Taking a leaf out of Ozan’s book, he used his storytelling ability to keep their plates and cups full to the brim for days on end.

He didn’t notice the one man in the back, listening on with concerned surprise, before making a subtle exit.

The next day, he was still so overjoyed with retelling his story to the new patrons, and even the old ones who came back to hear wild stories of Mahjarrat and Zamorakian fortresses, that he didn’t even notice the headlines in the Seers Weekly publication that talked of an assassination in Falador park, details to come after the investigation is completed, with no suspects at present.

No, Jahaan was quite enjoying his time in Seers’ Village with his best friend at his side.

But all good things…

Jahaan had slept soundly in that rather comfy bed every night he’d been there. This night, however, he was oddly awoken by a weird sensation - that of moisture around his hand. Groggily, he opened his eyes, ready to figure out how his beer had gotten onto the pillow.

Staring back at him were eyes, bloodshot and lifeless, inside a head with skin as white as the sheets had once been. The face was old and shrivelled, wrinkled before all the life had been sucked from it. Jahaan shot upwards, scrambling backwards until his hand landed upon something solid, yet squishy. Warm, yet deathly cold.

Lit up by the pale light of the moon, his eyes landed upon them.

Two decapitated heads.

He recognised them both, despite the warped contortions death had brought to their features. He wished he didn’t recognise them, but oh gods he did…

Sir Tiffy Cashien and Thaerisk Cephire.

Panting heavily, desperately fighting back the urge to vomit, Jahaan’s shaky hand made for the dagger that was usually on his bedside table, but it was gone.

“Looking for this?” a voice rose from the shadows, full of teeth and menace, holding a runite dagger. Jahaan was too terrified to move, completely frozen in place between the severed skulls around him.

The figure moved into the light from the moon, an incredibly tall and bulky figure with ashen skin, covered in a combination of armour and robes.

“Zemouregal,” Jahaan had wanted to sound a lot more fearsome than he did, but it came out more like a stutter.

“In person,” he snarled, twirling the small blade around his fingers.

Jahaan’s eyes darted to where his armour and swords were piled up in the corner, closer to him than Zemouregal was, but that little look betrayed him, and when he went to move, he found himself ensnared in pulsing black and purple binds. Hissing in the pain they inflicted, tightening his arms to his sides, Jahaan was rendered immobile by the simple spell.

“Do you like the gifts I brought you?” Zemouregal sauntered closer to the edge of the bed, malice layered inside his smugness. “I put a lot of thought into them.”

Jahaan’s eyes burned through Zemouregal like fire.

Fire, like…

What a second, what’s that smell?

Jahaan’s nose started to twinge at the foreign, invading odour seeping into the room, pungent and clogging. Once it finally reached his throat, it scraped downwards, drying his throat out instantly.

Panicked eyes darted back at Zemouregal; he struggled in his binds.

Laughing maliciously, Zemouregal snapped Jahaan back to unwavering attention by throwing the knife into the headboard beside him, splitting the wood on impact, only an inch from his ear.

“I’d say it’s not worth fighting, but by all means, continue. It’s fun to watch you squirm,” Zemouregal’s dry lips cracked into a sneer. “After all, I won’t get to enjoy your suffering for that much longer. It’ll be sweet while it lasts.”

“What the fuck is your trauma?!” Jahaan bellowed, sweating already from the intense heat. To himself, he racked his brain, wondering, How the hell had this not woken me up before?

“You really have to ask?” Zemouregal spat in return. “Did you really think betraying Zamorak would go unpunished?”

“Please, if this was Zamorak’s doing, he’d want to kill me himself! This is all YOU, isn’t it?”

His grin widening, Zemouregal replied, “You’re a sharp one. Your insolence has rather started to grate on me. I’ll be doing Zamorak a favour by ridding the world of you.”

Struggling once more, Jahaan knew there was no escaping this hold, not while Zemouregal was in the vicinity. Desperate, Jahaan tried a new approach. “So what, you’re not even going to finish me yourself? Too scared I’ll beat you - again?”

From the flash in Zemouregal’s eyes, it looked as if Jahaan had succeeded in striking a nerve. If I just get him to release me, to fight me, I might stand a chance

However, once Zemouregal’s malevolent smile returned, Jahaan knew his approach had failed. “Nice try, but a quick death just isn’t as much fun. So as every fibre of your skin is being melted away, slowly and agonisingly, know this - this is of your own doing, World Guardian. The deaths of the knight and the druid are on you. The death of your close friend, the dark skinned one you entered with, is on you. He’s still here, by the way. My spy managed to slip something even stronger onto his beverage, double the dose of yours. It would have knocked him out for the night, but he’ll wake up once the flames reach him. Now you’ll be able to hear his screams as he burns.”

The crackling of the flames was now much louder, thumping in time to Jahaan’s heartbeat. Hearing the impending inferno beating against the door, Zemouregal looked satisfied. “I guess this is goodbye, World Guardian.”

With that, he was gone.

Jahaan assumed the restraints would vanish alongside Zemouregal, but their hold remained, cutting into his sweating flesh like wires. Writhing and twisting with all his strength, Jahaan tried to wriggle free, to break the binds, to escape… but it wasn’t to be.

The heat was unbearable; the fire had yet to break through the door, though it was only a matter of time.

He had no runes to teleport out of the binds, and no weapon that would cut through them.

Jahaan didn’t want to resign himself to the fact that this was going to be his end, that he was going to die screaming, helpless, and by Zemouregal’s hand.

By Guthix, Tumeken, Saradomin, Zamorak, Seren, Zaros - SOMEONE help me! Jahaan internally pleaded, knowing that if any time was the right time to start praying, it was now. Then, like a lightning bolt, it struck him - prayers! Not in the conventional praying to a deity sense, but curses. Zarosian curses, to be specific. Jahaan’s bedtime reading since the Mahjarrat Ritual had included Infernal language books, Senntisten history tomes, and texts about the Zarosian religion. The latter talked about curses, a Zarosian practice that were a hybrid of conventional spells and combative prayers, things that warpriests were mainly skilled in. They didn’t require runes, and they could be performed by anyone against an enemy of Zaros.

Considering Zemouregal was Zamorakian, Jahaan figured he stood a chance.

Trying to reduce his panicking, Jahaan worked to calm his breathing and clear his mind, focusing on remembering how to chant went.

“A gentes cervarum's non habere, Zaros liberabo te fidelis…” Jahaan mumbled to himself, growing in fervor as his urgency rose, “A gentes cervarum's non habere, Zaros liberabo te fidelis!”

Come on Zaros, I know I’m not a Zarosian but you fucking owe me one! He internally added, sweat dripping from his brow as he continued aloud, “A gentes cervarum's non habere, Zaros liberabo te fidelis! A gentes cervarum's non habere, Zaros liberabo te fidelis! A GENTES CERVARUM'S NON HABERE, ZAROS LIBERABO TE FIDELIS!”

Suddenly, miraculously, the binds shattered. Panting in unbelievably relief, Jahaan wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, shaking violently. Gasping in a lungful of thick, smoky air, he scrambled to his feet, unfortunately unable to forget that he was covered in the blood of his friends. Desperately, he tried to fight past it, snatching the dagger out of the headboard and scooping up his bag on the way to the door. The handle, conductive to heat, was beyond scalding to the touch. Fortunately, the door was weak from the battering of flames, and Jahaan broke through by throwing his shoulder against the less-than-sturdy oak. Pulling his shirt over his nose and mouth, Jahaan managed to at least somewhat protect himself from the escaping cloud.

Once he opened his eyes and tried to readjust to the imparied vision, he saw the extent of Zemouregal’s damage.

It looked as if the world was on fire.

Jahaan watched the deep flames of the enraged inferno through blurry eyes.

What of the other residents? he allowed himself a fleeting thought, one that sunk his soul. He hoped - no, prayed - that they had all escaped. Perhaps they had gotten more of a warning? Perhaps they could escape through their windows?

Shaking his head clear, Jahaan tried to focus, not wanting to dwell on the horror for too long as he made his way to Ozan’s room at the end of the hall. Jahaan tried to call out his name, but the ensuing inhalation of smoke caused him to collapse to his knees, a coughing and spluttering mess.

Like his own door, this one was weak too, and he managed to kick his way through.

Inside, every wall was crawling with a furious red heat, scalding with flames. Thick smoke engulfed every ounce of sweet air and replaced it with a heavy, suffocating blanket of pungent smog.

And in the centre of it all, Ozan.

He looked so helpless, laid out on the bed. So peaceful, the only still thing inside this inferno.

Deathly still, Jahaan’s mind stabbed at him, Why hasn’t he woken up? Has the smoke...

He refused to let the thought overcome him, refused to let it be true. Stepping over the smouldering remains of the bookcase, Jahaan tried to fight past the violent heat and towards his friend. He could barely see anything past the flickers of orange among a sea of grey and black, but once he’d set his eyes on the murky outline of Ozan, he refused to let them waver.

Tingling heat pricked at his bare skin like daggers, relentlessly. The temperature was unbearable, but he pushed forward, driven by adrenaline alone, careful to keep to the centre of the floor and away from the scorching orange embers on the walls.

The bed was quickly growing in flames, and they’d started crawling across Ozan’s clothes, charring the skin underneath.

A loud crash came from behind them; darting around, Jahaan looked on in horror as the southern wall - where the door was - had started to cave in, and the floor was looking like it was the next in line to go.

That only left the window, but it was a straight drop down three stories onto concrete pavement. While Jahaan might, MIGHT survive the fall, in his condition, Ozan would not.

Seeds of helplessness started to sow themselves, nurtured by desperation.

Why don’t I carry runes? Jahaan internally whimpered, regretting his near-hatred of magic for all these years. If I could just teleport out, I could-

Suddenly, it hit him. Quickly, he removed his backpack and scrambled through it until he pulled out the tiny invitation box he’d acquired all that time ago. Not wasting another second, Jahaan firmly grabbed onto Ozan’s arm and, with his free hand, pried open the lid of the box, feeling them both get whisked away...

Jahaan and Ozan collapsed onto the relievingly cold marble of the Empyrean Citadel chamber, the former coughing up a lung in the process. Wiping the soot from around his eyes, he hurried to toss his backpack aside and check on Ozan, who still hadn’t regained consciousness.

Putting his ear close to his mouth, he tried to listen for any signs of life, but there weren’t any. Shaking him didn’t help, nor did shouting his name. Luckily, Jahaan remembered the resuscitation training he’d received in the Imperial Guard, and set to work on chest compressions, counting back from thirty. This was followed swiftly by rescue breaths, two short and sharp exhalations into Ozan’s mouth. He repeated this process a handful more times until finally, mercifully, Ozan spluttered to life with a series of coughs.

Letting out the most tensed, shakiest breath he’d ever held, Jahaan felt tears of relief trickle down his face.

Thanks for letting him stay, Icthlarin, Jahaan whispered internally to himself, getting out his waterskin and knife from his backpack. Gently, he helped Ozan take small sips to clear the dust from his throat. The man tried to speak, but it only resulted in a dozen more coughs.

“Take this and don’t talk,” Jahaan instructed. Ozan was in no position to argue.

While Ozan dozily held onto the waterskin, Jahaan carefully cut the burned and charred clothing from around Ozan’s more severe burns, seeing as most of it had already fused to the skin and couldn’t be treated just yet. When he heard the waterskin drop, Jahaan saw that Ozan was shaking, severely. Fighting back the poisonous worry, he helped lay Ozan down flat on the cool citadel floor, using his backpack to try and elevate his feet somewhat. With the discarded, yet still almost full waterskin, Jahaan tried to rinse clean some of Ozan’s burns, causing the man to jolt and shudder with the contact. Wincing through it, Jahaan continued until the waterskin was nearly empty, saving just enough in case Ozan needed a drink later. Feeling the aching dryness in the back of his throat, Jahaan fought the urge to take a gulp for himself. Ozan needed it more.

Jahaan didn’t notice the sun start to rise, but being so high up in the clouds, once he clocked onto it, he could get a magnificent view. Ozan was sleeping now, uncomfortable and charred and ragged on the citadel floor, but sleep was the only cure for his injuries right now. Jahaan couldn’t leave him up here without treatment for long, but he couldn’t bring him back down to Gielinor’s surface. For all he was aware, Zemouregal assumed them both dead, and as long as the wicked Mahjarrat kept thinking that way, they were safe from him trying to finish the job.

No, until Ozan was able to stand - gods know how long that would take - they would remain in the safety of the skies. The invitation box would plant them right in the centre of the clearing north of Ardougne, a town with guilds and medical supplies that could potentially aid them.

It was also the closest town to Hazeel’s hideout and Khazard’s territory, making the large city home to who-knows how many spies and soldiers loyal to the Zamorakian Mahjarrat.

What if they had sent word out about me? What if the word got back to Zemouregal?

It was these thoughts that helped focus part of his mind on something other than his wounded, half-dying best friend lying beside him. These worries kept him sane, and they kept the anger bubbling up. Jahaan did not resent this - subconsciously, he welcomed it. That hate he’d felt for Lucien for so long, the longing to slit his throat and watch the blood drain from his eyes, to see him torn apart by a pack of hungry hellhounds, to see his head caved in by a crude hammer...

...now all that was redirecting itself at Zemouregal, and it made him feel alive. The skin on his arms and hands fizzed with nervous energy, and his breathing was ragged and out of sync. It was exactly how he felt before he cut down that knight outside of Al Kharid, where everything inside of him coiled up and spat out this violence, this hatred, this blind and murderous rage.

He’d felt like this many times before, and Ozan was one of the few that could help him control it. After the murder of Guthix, Jahaan knew that his wires were frayed, and when he finally snapped, Ozan was the only one that could calm him down, that could bring him back to earth.

He needed to get to Zemouregal before the element of surprise was over, before the Mahjarrat realised the two of them escaped alive, albeit barely. He’d find him, and however he damn well could, whether it was by a sword, axe, arrow or his bare hands, he’d kill him.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Jahaan muttered under his breath, repeatedly, his teeth chattering as his pulse started to race.

Due to his frayed nerves, teetering his sanity on a knife’s edge, as soon as Jahaan heard the whisper of a teleport spell enter the citadel, he slashed his dagger from his belt and shot up from Ozan’s side, ready for war.

However, when it was Sliske who walked into the chamber, he managed to relax his stance, though only slightly.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

“I could ask you the same question now, couldn’t I?” Sliske returned, sauntering closer. His eyes conveyed something unfamiliar to Jahaan. Something that combined curiosity with apprehension. Something almost akin to worry. ���I told you, I like to come here to watch the sunrise. But what are you doing here? What happened to you, and-” his eyes fell to Ozan, and his tone was a lot more stern when he demanded, “What happened, World Guardian?”

Sheathing his dagger, Jahaan replied through gritted teeth. “Your Mahjarrat friend, Zemouragal, happened. Apparently he didn’t take too kindly to me siding with you over Zamorak.”

Sliske let out a tight exhale, muttering something in a harsh vocabulary that hurt Jahaan’s ears. Turning back to Jahaan, he asked again, slowly, “What happened, World Guardian? Tell me everything.”

That was all Jahaan needed to unleash everything that had transpired in the short evening that felt like a lifetime. How he woke up next to the severed heads of Sir Tiffy and Thaerisk, with Zemouregal looming over the edge of his bed; how the Mahjarrat had set fire to the inn, causing the flames to engulf the building at an unprecedented rate; how he and Ozan barely escaped with their lives thanks to the invitation box Jahaan had held onto and, finally, how Zemouregal was going to pay.

Once he’d finished his heated rant, through which Sliske had listened patiently, not reacting much at all, Jahaan felt breathless. Panting, he didn’t even notice just how red in the face he’d gotten, or how the vein in his forehead had started to bulge. After a few short breaths, Jahaan looked straight into Sliske’s yellow irises and demanded, “I need you to teleport me to Zemouregal’s fortress.”

Sliske blinked. “Come again?”

“Teleport me to the fortress, NOW,” Jahaan barked, his teeth chattering again.

“Yes… no I’m not doing that.”

“I’m going to kill him, Sliske, and all I need is a teleport,” Jahaan felt sick with impatience, his nerve-endings alive with electricity.

Again, Sliske refused. “A teleport to your demise? I don’t think so.”

Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, Jahaan declared, “Fine. I’LL FUCKING WALK.”

Blocking Jahaan’s path to the scattered invitation box, Sliske said, “Hey now, you only best Zemmy once and, if you're being honest with yourself, that was a fluke. If you give him home turf, well... if the cold and the bandits don't kill you, his undead army will finish you off before you even reach him. And besides, you’ve lost your armour and your weaponry - are you really going to try and murder a Mahjarrat with that little butterknife? Think this through.”

Admittedly, Jahaan began to hesitate, gravity slowly clawing him back down to the ground.

It was only when Sliske added, “And besides, what of Ozan? You really expect me to babysit him while you get yourself killed?” that Jahaan finally tossed his bag back down to the floor and dropped to his knees.

Gravity had brought him down, and now it was suffocating him. Gazing over at Ozan’s near-lifeless body, the nausea churning in the pit of Jahaan’s stomach caused him to wretch, but he swallowed it down. His head was spinning at a rate of knots, the lump in his throat choking him. One by one, tears started streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t even bother to wipe them away. The salt stung, but he held his eyes on Ozan.

His disjointed, weighted thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, Sliske had those very same eyes again, ones of sympathy - a state of mind that Jahaan didn’t know Mahjarrat were even capable of, least of all Sliske.

“Come with me,” he said, quietly, offering Jahaan a hand to help him up.

Taking it, Jahaan dazedly began, “B-But what about…”

“In his condition, Ozan will sleep for hours. I’ll hide him in the Shadow Realm,” Sliske assured, “Zemouregal won’t be able to find him. Don’t worry.”

Sliske knelt down beside Ozan and placed a hand on his chest. Then, with a wave of his other hand, Ozan was wrapped in shadows and mist, and when it cleared, he was gone.

Holding out his hand again, Sliske repeated, “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Jahaan managed to ask, hesitantly holding out his arm.

A small smile crept into the corners of Sliske’s lips, but for once, it bore no malice. “I don’t get to say this and mean it often, but trust me, Jahaan.”

And you know what? Jahaan did.

He took Sliske’s hand, and they were whisked away.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[a-robin-among-thorns]

Request 4:Battle Wounds

Requested By @demonic-chaos

Word Count:1,750...I had a bit too much fun here ^^;

Content Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Despite what Renfred so often liked to accuse, Elias was not a violent person by choice. There were, of course, situations that forced his hand. Much like the one he found himself in now. He was unsure if there was ever a peaceful solution to be had when crossing paths with a territorial manticore, but he knew there was no chance he would find one today.

It had been pure bad luck that Elias had stumbled across the mismatched creature trouncing around the outskirts of the forest while he had been gathering components. He suspected it had somehow become misplaced from its Arabic homeland, perhaps in an even shadier than average auction transition. The church would have had him become involved sooner than later and he definitely did not want the man-eating beast lurking within a hundred miles of Chise.

But still, something of this nature is much easier to deal with when one is prepared, Elias thought as the beast’s swollen red stinger zoomed just past his shoulder.

The beast retracted its scorpion tail and reared back on its thick lion legs before landing down releasing a ghastly howl. Its face was human-like, as is someone had sawed off the face of an emaciated young man and sewn it to the neck of the lion body. Green strings of saliva hung from is cracked lips as it panted bodily.  

Elias sidestepped around the creature’s defensive position, slowly drawing his wand. No neighbors would come to his aid at this moment, he would have to draw on his power alone. The beast’s gold eyes, much too large for his human face, followed his every movement. Now or never.

He thrust his wand forward. "Nettle in the shadow. False hol-Ah!"

Heavy paws and claws crashed into his shoulders knocking aside his wand as he fell downward. Some instinctual fraction of good sense reminded him to raise his head slightly to prevent his horns from jamming and possibly cracking, into the soil. As luck would have it, that sense also moved his head in time to miss the stinger as it bolted forward and became deeply embedded into the earth.

Drops of stringy saliva brought the mage’s attention back to the beast hanging over him. Just in time to see its lips crack open across its face as it unhooked its jaw. Ah, so that was how this creature managed to swallow humans whole. Elias would just have to be bigger than a human then.

In an instant the liquid shadows that made up Elias’ body expanded, sprawling outward in jagged thorns and spikes. This didn’t stop the creature's trajectory resulting in its humanoid teeth clamping against the plumage and neck where Elias’ skull had been a second earlier. The teeth were blunt but the force behind them still threatened to knock the wind out Elias. He ignored the pain focusing on his thorns as they wound and spun around the beast prying its body of by an inch. Exactly enough for Elias to free his arms.

His right hand plunged into the beast’s side like a harpoon. Distantly, he noted the jaws of the creature unclamping from his shoulder while a sharper pain set in his external ribs. He ignored it, gripping his jaws around its neck and surging his hand into the beast’s hide deeper and deeper as it screeched and howled. Finally, his claws grasped the throbbing mass they had searched for and tugged. It fought furiously to free itself but the grip of Pilum Muralis was vice even against thick ropes of tendon and muscle.

Elias could feel muscles against his hand and tongue go limp as he ripped the beast’s heart free of its chest. A final hiss like a deflated balloon choked out of its mouth. With a definitive yank, Elias broke the organ free of the vessels connecting it. He was unlearned if the beast expressed healing capabilities but he did not wish to leave anything to chance.

Only after the heart ceased its residual beating did Elias finally release his grip, both on the creatures neck and disembodied organ. He made to sit on his haunches to inspect the damage...well damn. This could pose a problem.

----

The gathering basket fell to her feet in a clatter of herbs and vegetables. Her hands clasped over her mouth as Chise inspected the scene before her in horror. Her ring had alerted her the instant Elias had been injured and she had rushed to find him. She couldn’t have possibly imagined this.

Elias lay on his side, his body taking the huge form she had not seen since their first encounter with Cartaphilus. Blood seeped from his shoulder and coated his hand. Not an arm's length away laid the slain manticore, it’s open throat and chest already being scoured by mushroom-like fae. All of this was awful. But not quite as awful as the sight of the beasts stinger embedded in Elias’ external ribs.

She fell upon him in a flush, cupping her hands against the corners of his jaw. To her great relief, his eyes flickered at the contact opening up to meet her. “...Chise..?”

Chise felt a mountain lift from her shoulders. “Elias, thank god you’re alive.” She leaned her forehead against his own, grateful beyond words to feel his rumbling breath tickle her belly. She finally pulled away, still cupping his jaw, to look him in the eyes. “What happened here?”

“Lots of things,” he answered as he slowly propped his long arms to sit upright, “but mostly I was very unlucky today.” Chise was not pleased with the answer but her attention was quickly drawn to the heavy thud of Elias’ body collapsing back to the ground. A pained hiss slipped between his grinding teeth.

She shuffled to where the stinger, still attached to the beast’s tail was lodged into the lowest and smallest of Elias’ external ribs. An inch lower and it would have sunken into his belly, she thought with a shiver. She didn't know how potent the venom of a manticore was but bone should, in theory, spread it slower than blood. She hoped.

With steely resolve, she looked back to his eyes. “What do I need to do?”

“You’ll need to remove it without touching the venom." He rumbled in answer. "Try not to let it break off if you can.”

She fished her gardening gloves from her apron pockets and hurriedly put them on. Placing her right hand against his stomach for purchase, she felt him tense as she cautiously closed her dragon cursed hand round the bit of stinger closest to the embedment. Using the ancient strength of dragons made her nervous. One slip of concentration would render the stinger to keratinous shards.

She took a deep breath and slowly pulled. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter the stinger was removed from the bone. With a jerk, it unhooked from the bone leaving a dent filled with a shallow pocket of a troubling thin yellow liquid. But thankfully no blood.

Elias rose to look at her work and made to give her the next instructions. To his surprise, Chise was already at work pulling basil leaves from her bag of holding in one hand and her wand in the other. She peered around the treetops til stopping at one. “Will you help me?” She called offering up her palm. A gentle tinkling sounded as a Hawthorn spirit landed in her palm. Its eyes crinkled in a smile. They were often pleased to help their dear sleigh beggy.

Chise crushed the basil between her fingers and sprinkled it in the dent of bone. A spicy herbal scent filled the air as the powdered leaves fizzled in contact with the pooled venom. Holding her wand and the fae aloft she began to chant.

Seep and burn herbs of the earth.

Run deep and work the bezoar’s deed.

The magic of the queen bee sparkled and fizzed through the air landing on the specks of basil leaves. The herbal smell grew stronger as the fizzling leaves burned in bright yellow streaks. The light spread along the bone in spiderweb patterns followed by smoke like an incense burner. In a few minutes, the last of the smoke dissipated out of the bone leaving not a trace of venom.

The crease between Chise’s forehead smoothed as she sighed. “Thank you, friend.” The hawthorn squeaked happily and disappeared is a flash of sparkles.

Elias rose again in a smooth unhurried motion. “Well done Chise, I am very impressed at your progress.” He looked her over with a proud glimmer in his eyes. “And your ingenuity.”

Chise blushed, tucking a wild tuff of her bangs behind her ear. “I had made something similar for mother up the hill whose son was stung by a scorpion. I was worried it wouldn’t work without the rest of the catalysts or it just wouldn’t be strong enough for monster poison.”

Elias tilted his head, pondering. “If a normal mage would have attempted it, it may have not worked. Also calling on a forest fae was a smart decision.”

Chise would have basked in the praise a moment longer were it not for the spots of blood dripping from Elias’ neck. She reached into her bag once more and secured the gauze and cleaning agent she kept on her desk drawer. She walked to where he had lain his head earlier. “Can you lie back down on your stomach so I can patch up your neck?” He complied as Chise set to work on her knees.

Despite the second set of horns making the maneuvering somewhat awkward, Chise made quick work of the wounds. Once finished she removed her gloves and stuffed them in the apron pocket. She would have to remember to wash the whole kit later. “How does that feel?”

Elias experimentally twisted his neck here and there. “Much better. Thank you Chise.”

She smiled again as she sat criss-cross. “I don’t suppose you can change back yet?”

He haunched somewhat sheepishly. “Not yet, I don’t think.”

Chise held her hands out urging. He accepted the invitation without hesitation, settling his chin in her lap. “That's fine. I’ll stay here till you can.” His eyes muted pleasantly as she began stroking the top of his skull.

“Thank you Chise.” He said as his clean hand wrapped around her.

“And you can explain why you didn’t call me when you saw the manticore.” She teased.

“Urk!...Alright.”

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 79)

*If the bigger the storm means the bigger the rainbow then give me a hurricane.*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language

“Y/N,” Pan was back, “Walk with me.”

“Keep out of trouble, dork.” I slipped him the looking glass and left with Pan.

We ventured into the jungle and I was becoming more unnerved the longer he went without talking. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “Where are you taking me?”

“To visit a friend.” he answered without looking at me.

“Is something wrong?” I asked hesitantly.

“Of course not.” he reached for my hand. “I have you.”

“Peter?”

“Keep up. We’re almost there.” He tugged on my arm and the conversation ended. We came upon an elevated cave and Pan gave a whistle.

“Go away, Pan.” Shouted a voice from within. It sounded like a girl.

“Come now, bird, I have a surprise for you.”

“Fine.” A ladder dropped down, “If it is anything like that last one then I don’t--”

A girl about my age came down the ladder. She had a mass of curly blonde hair and wore a weathered white nightgown. “Y/N!” She hopped down from the ladder and ran to me. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. “I have missed you so much!”

“I missed you too.” I hugged her back. A name was right on the tip of my tongue.

“What was that about my surprises?” Pan smirked at her.

“Shut it.” she snapped at him. She turned back to me with a wide smile. “When did you get back? Where were you? Are you alright?”

“I came back yesterday.”

“Yesterday? And I was not told because?” she leveled Pan with another glare.

“I wanted some time with my Lost Girl before you stole her away. Just be happy that I’m giving her back now, darling.”

Nightgown...darling...darling...Wendy! Wendy Darling! Just as the realization hit me so did something else. A large weight landed on my shoulder and I froze. Carefully I turned to see a beautiful white bird resting on my shoulder and nuzzling its beak against my cheek as it trilled out a happy song.

“Why hello there.” I scratched the top of its head.

“Candace missed you too.” Wendy ran a hand along the bird’s feathers. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve been looking after her while you were gone. Not that she can’t take care of herself but you know how it is when she starts a new cycle. She may be adorable as a baby phoenix but at least I don’t need to mash up her food for her when she’s grown.”

“Of course, Candace!” I hugged the bird as more memories came back with her. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“I’ll let you two have your fun but, Y/N, I want you back at camp before nightfall.”

“Sure.” I nodded. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and was off again. Wendy pulled me into her home. It was cozier than I was expecting. An actual bed, changing screen, a wardrobe, wash basin, some little knicknacks and books stacked in the corners among numerous candle stubs and coconut lanterns.

“I am ecstatic to have you back.” Wendy and I sat down on her bed, “I have been so worried since you got sucked into that curse. Tink kept assuring me that you were safe and that it was all for the best but not a day went by that I didn’t think of you. It has been rough living here without you to quell Pan’s temper tantrums. I am so sorry for everything but you have to believe that there was no other way. With you still here Pan would have keeled over within the month and then--”

“Wendy.” I shushed her, “What are you talking about? How’d you know I was in a curse?”

She hung her head in shame. “I am so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want to but it was the only way!”

“What was the only way?”

“You didn’t end up in that curse on accident. The girls and I knew that Pan wasn’t going to survive long enough to find the Heart of the Truest Believer with how things were going. Since the curse worsened when he was too happy we figured that making him inexplicably sad would buy him more time. So we traded the bean you took with a regular one that we had glamoured and I am more sorry than you could ever believe. The guilt has been eating away at me for years and years!”

“It’s okay, Wendy. I understand.” I also have no idea what she is referring to but it was tearing her up a great deal. One thing she did say stood out to me though. “Pan’s cursed?”

“Yes. You know this. You went to such lengths to prolong his life.” She narrowed her eyes at me, “And when did you start referring to him as Pan?”

Crap.

“Um...I was…”

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. It was just a slip of the tongue.”

“If you say so.” she sighed and stood up and pulled something out of the wardrobe. It looked like a flower crown but gilded in gold. “You probably want this back.”

“Right.” I took the crown and was surprised that it felt like actual flowers and not metal. The leaves and petals even bent like the real thing. “Thanks.”

“Do you remember when I gave you that? We were sitting at the lagoon and I placed it on your head. You called yourself the queen of the lagoon for a week.”

“Of course. I’m still queen of the lagoon.” I smiled as I put the crown on my head.

Wendy’s smile dropped. Something’s wrong. “I was hoping…” she slammed the wardrobe shut. “You’re not Y/N, are you?”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am.”

“I didn’t give Y/N that crown directly. I gave it to Pan to give to her before he sent me back to London.” The way she watched me gave me chills. Like I was a mouse with its tail caught in a trap and she was the pissed off cat that had been chasing me for hours.

“Who are you?”

“I am Y/N. I am.” I held up my hands as if that would somehow prove my innocence, “It’s just...it’s complicated.”

“What is?”

“Before I say anything, will you tell him about any of this?”

“Depends on what you have to say.”

So I ended up telling her everything. About the town I came from, my memories being erased, being brought to Neverland to save Henry, the small memories that had been coming back. I told her all of it. At the end I felt better but it didn’t last long.

What happened now? Would she run and tell Pan? Did I just doom Henry and I?

“This isn’t right.” Wendy shook her head, “Out of all the people on this island to betray Pan...I never thought one of them would be you.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re doing the right thing.” she drummed her fingers against the bedpost, “Saving Henry is the right thing. Going along with Pan’s plan will only save himself. Now that you have a way out of here there’s no reason to keep him alive. Before, we were all trapped here with him. If he died so did all of we. But now with these people you came with we can all get off this island. I can go back home and be with my brothers.”

“You’re so quick to leave him to his fate.” I don’t know why I felt such anger right then. Before it was just a rescue mission. Death wasn’t supposed to be involved. “Is he really that bad?”

“I haven’t seen my brothers in a very long time because of Peter Pan. Many people have died by his hand. Good people. All he cares for is himself and you. But seeing as how you aren’t exactly you anymore that reason means nothing now.”

“Will you help me then? Rescue Henry?”

“As long as I can get a seat on that escape boat along with you. I will help you do anything, my friend.” she clutched my hand, “Now tell me, what do you need?”

~~~

As dusk fell Y/N returned to camp. No. Not Y/N. Not entirely at least.

He knew it was Y/N. It was her body and her soul. But her mind wasn’t her own. The heroes said that she didn’t remember anything of her life here. Didn’t remember him…couldn’t…

It was cruel. All Peter had wanted these past twenty eight years was for Y/N to come home. Now she was. She was home and it wasn’t even her choice. They brought her here because they knew that Peter would trust her. That he would see her and ignore all the warning signs and just trust in her blindly and happily. Knew that he would never hurt her even if it resulted in his death.

There had to be a way to unlock those memories. To bring back the real Y/N.

She started to make her way towards Henry but Peter cut her off and pulled her towards the ring of dancing Lost Boys. “What are you doing?”

“Asking for a dance.” he shrugged.

“You didn’t ask though.”

“Details,” he pulled her into a dance. She was stumbling at first tripping over her own feet before she started to get the hang of it. He pulled her closer and was happy to see the wild carefree smile he recognized adorning her face once more. Y/N was still in there somewhere.

He spun her around once more and she let out a loud crow to the sky. He pulled her back in so they were nose to nose. She was still smiling as she caught her breath.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to have you here again, precious. To have you home and in my arms…” he swallowed back the ugly truth, “Surely you must now that.”

“I’m glad to be back.” she said but there was guilt in her eyes, “There’s no other place I would ever want to be.”

“Here,” he produced her old pearl necklace, “Remember this?”

“My necklace…” she whispered. “Where…?”

“Doesn’t matter.” he clasped it back around her neck. He watched as the pure white pearl tinted itself to the softest shade of pink. That had to be a good sign. “Now you both are back where you belong.”

“Yes.” she touched the pearl, “Where I belong.”

Please. He sent up a silent prayer. Please let her remember.

She looked back into his eyes and this time he knew what he was seeing. She was Y/N behind those eyes again. “Peter, I--”

A wave of magic passed over the camp rendering all but Peter unconscious. Y/N dropped to dead weight in his arms. He carefully laid her down on the ground before facing those that had intruded on his camp.

“We have a guest! No doubt someone who knows how much I like guessing games. Who could it be? I guess the Dark One.” The bonfire sparked back to life revealing the man Peter had once called friend, “Come to save Henry, have you, laddie? How exciting. The Dark One ready to sacrifice his life for his family. Speaking of family you can come out now, Baelfire.”

Another torch lit and there was Baelfire with a crossbow aimed at Peter. Was he really trying this? He fired off a shot but Peter caught it before it could hit him.

“Clever. But we've been through this before, Baelfire. Have you remembered nothing?” He dropped the arrow. It was only then he felt the sticky blackness stuck to his palm.

“I remember plenty. That's why I didn't coat the tip.”

Squid ink. They moved to collect Henry. Baelfire gave a look at Y/N behind Peter’s feet. He looked as if he would take her too.

“Try it. I dare you.” Peter growled at him. Baelfire left Y/N where she was and started to escape with Rumple. “Are you sure you're really saving him, Bae?” he called out before they were gone.

“What could be worse than leaving him here with you?”

“Why don't you ask your father? Sometimes the people we should fear the most are the ones closest to us.”

“You’d know all about that wouldn’t you?” Rumple cast another look down at Y/N. “Don’t play dumb. You have to know the truth about her.”

“I do.” No point in denying it now.

“Then why keep protecting her? I know you. Everyone is just a means to your ends no matter how close you get.”

Peter remained silent.

“Oh, I see,” Rumple smiled, “The great Peter Pan, leader of the Lost Boys, ruler of Neverland and king of pretend, has fallen in love.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know plenty. Explains why she wouldn’t say anything while I had her in my dungeons. Didn’t want to squeal on the boy whose heart she holds.”

“Dungeons?” The image of Y/N bloodied and barely clinging to life shot into his mind. The nightmares she suffered of someone who had hurt her. “It was you. You had her. You tortured her!” Peter felt a hot white ball of anger burst within him. “She almost died because of you!”

“You didn’t know? Guess she didn’t trust you as much as you thought.”

Peter fought against the magic of the squid ink. He needed out of this. Needed to kill him! “What would you know about trust? You think Henry is any safer with you? You think with that prophecy that he is anything but dead in your hands?”

“What prophecy? What is he talking about?” Bae asked.

“The prophecy that says that your dear old dad isn’t here to rescue his grandson. He’s here to murder him.”

“What is he talking about? You want to murder Henry?”

“He’s only talking out of anger because we threatened his Lost Girl. Come. We need to get out of here.” Rumple grabbed Baelfire and they disappeared from the camp.

Peter craned his neck as far as he could to look back at Y/N. She was still fast asleep on the ground completely undisturbed. Rumplestiltskin was playing a dangerous game. A game he wasn’t going to win.

~~~

“Huh?” I came to inside a tent. Did I fall asleep?

I got my bearings and left the tent. The celebration from earlier was still in full swing. I touched the pearl necklace resting around my neck. Seeing it had awakened some deep memories. There was a mermaid that tried to kill me and Peter saved me from drowning. I killed a Lost Boy and Peter healed me afterwards. I was galloping across a field with Peter at my side. So many memories flooded back that it was impossible to keep up. Was the overload what caused me to pass out? Must have. Hope I didn’t blow my cover by doing that.

“Awake I see.” Peter appeared at my side, “Are you well? You fainted on me earlier.”

“I’m fine.” I nodded. “I think I was more winded from the dance than I realized. How long was I out?”

“An hour or so. Nothing to worry about. As for the dancing it seems you’ve been out of practice too long.” Peter smirked. “We can rectify that. Care for another go?”

“Sure.” I took his hand and let him lead me back towards the dancing Lost Boys. I’m liking Peter Pan more and more as each minute goes by. It was dangerous I know. But the more time I spent with him, the more my memories started to come back, the more I didn’t want to leave. The more I saw of the Peter Y/N knew and not the Pan the others warned me against, the more I wanted to help him. I surely didn’t want him dead.

I left all the trouble of who to trust and what to do about Henry and Peter and everything else for future me to deal with. Right now I was a Lost Girl dancing in Peter Pan’s arms and that’s all I wanted to be.

(First) (Previous) (Next)

[waif-of-the-night]

Death Takes A Holiday

Part 3

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Rewrite Masterlist

Masterlist

A/n: Okay, I’m sorry if I sound vain and I know that some of you who do read this, show it love and I appreciate it so much. But lately I feel I’m writing this rewrite for just two to three people and it makes it difficult for me to find motivation to write more. I’ve got the whole story panned out in my head already but I’m just not sure if I should write it out. Thanks for reading :)

It wasn’t easy, to say the least, to learn everything but it was sure fun. The fun part included watching the boys getting their asses handed to them by a kid. Soon, it was time to head to the funeral home and save the seal from being broken. The outside walls of the funeral home were covered in some sigils that you had never seen before and were apparently only visible in the veil. You entered the place after the boys and looked around for the reapers before stumbling upon the sight of the two reapers laying unconscious on the floor with reaper trap markings around them and a demon attending to them both. “Dude, check me out.” Dean mumbled before he vanished before you and appeared right behind the demon, landing a hard punch to his face. Quickly, you too were taking part in having fun while beating up the demon using your new ghost powers but it didn’t last long. The final punch you gave ended up having you three to the other side of the empty casket and before any of you could act, another demon came running with an iron chain and trapped you there. You were unable to leave the small space, seeing as you were all ghosts and couldn’t cross the iron chain. You were frantically looking around for an escape when Alastair entered the room and a chill ran through your spine upon hearing his voice. “Find the place okay?” the demon smirked as his eyes turned completely white. He took small steps forward before stopping before you and was handed a shotgun by one of the other demons. He aimed it at Dean and shot, making him disappear and then shot you next. “Rock salt’s not so much fun anymore is it?” he chuckled darkly at Sam before you and Dean appeared again. “Why don’t you try some of your mojo on me now, hotshot?” Alastair’s words were aimed at Sam and they confused both you and Dean. “Can’t get it up when you’re not wearing your meat huh?” “Go to hell.” Sam hissed at him to which he only turned his back at you, mumbling about if only he could. “But they just keep sending me back to this arctic craphole.” “To kill death?” you asked back. “No, to kill death twice. It takes two to break a seal. I figured another one would show up though. They’re like lemmings.” Just when he finished, he cocked the gun and shot Sam this time. “By the way,” he turned to you, “It’s good to see you again, (y/n). I was looking forward to this; would really love to chat with you sometime.” “Can’t say I feel the same.” You uttered out, never breaking eye contact. “You can shoot us all you want,” Dean spoke up, “But you can’t kill us.” Just then, Sam appeared again. “Ah, that so?” Alastair replied and his words made your skin crawl. It was like he had taken this as a challenge and it terrified you. He pulled out a scythe, talking about the moon being in the right position. “You’re gonna kill a reaper with that ?” Dean scoffed gesturing towards the scythe. “It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” “Is it? An old friend lent it to me. You know he doesn’t really ride a pale horse, but he does have three amigos.” Alastair replied as he walked over to the first reaper, “And they’re just jonesing for the apocalypse. Pays to have friends in low places, don’t you think?” He hoisted the first reaper’s head up with the scythe placed on his neck and started reciting an incantation. You and the boys looked around for a way to stop him but you were stuck and before anything came to you, lightning flashed violently and the first reaper was killed. He moved on to Tessa and held her by her arm while she screamed for her life and repeated the incantation. hic cruor messorius illud sigillum Before you could think of anything else, Dean caught your attention and you realized that they both were concentrating on the chandelier over Alastair and you did the same. You gathered all your focus on it to make it fall while the boys did the same quod luciferum reverendum obstringit Aperiat ut resurgat The chandelier finally broke and fell on the trap, rendering it powerless and quickly enough, Tessa freed herself from the demon’s hold and also you three, removing the iron chain and allowing you to disappear from there. You landed outside near a street with Dean and Tessa but Sam wasn’t with you. “Where’s Sam?” She asked you. “We’ll find him, you get out of here.” Dean replied. You and Dean walked a little distance before Dean also started to fade away from the veil. “What’s happening?” you fretted and Dean explained that it must be Pamela bringing him back. “Hello, (y/n)” you heard a voice from behind you, a voice you recognized that belonged to Alastair. Dean saw him too and took a step to get you behind him but before he could do anything else, he faded completely from the veil, leaving you there alone, with Alastair. “Told you I needed that chat with you, seems like the right time.” The demon spoke as he took small steps towards you. “And like I said, I’m not interested.” You answered, taking a step back yourself. “Oh but I really need to know (y/n), that why are you helping these angels. Even after what they’ve done.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I’m talking about your Mummy and Daddy. Oh what a sweet little family you had, ruined by these angels.” The mention of your parents made your blood run cold. They had nothing to do with this demon-angel business, or at least you had thought. Alastair must’ve noticed your expressions before he spoke up, “Oh don’t tell me you didn’t know that angels were the ones who slaughtered them that night.” “No.” A whisper fell from your lips as a tear rolled down your cheek. “No, you’re lyi—” A lightning struck Alastair making him disappear before you could complete. You stood there for a moment, clueless of what happened before you felt someone behind you and you turned to see the angel Castiel. “What- what just happened?” the words came out in a stammer. “You and the Winchesters just saved a seal.” Castiel answered in his usual monotonic voice. “I couldn’t care less.” you took a sharp breath, “Just tell me he was lying. About my parents and...” you didn’t complete your sentence. You didn’t need to. His face was completely transparent and guilt was visible all over. You took a shaken step back, suddenly not wanting to be there, hearing the truth. “Why?” you whispered as you stared Castiel blankly. He shook his head before he answered in a low voice, like he was ashamed of what he was about to say, “It was heaven’s orders.” “What?!” a bitter laugh left your mouth, “No. That’s not enough. It’s not heaven’s choice!” “—God commanded it.” “No! I refuse to believe that! I refuse to believe that God wanted his angels to kill people, good people. My parents were good people Castiel. People who prayed to Him every freaking night, people who told me that angels were watching over me, that they were supposed to protect me.” You couldn’t stop the tears from pooling at this point and your voice breaking, “My parents were good, Castiel, I know it. They took me in and gave me a house, a home. They didn’t deserve that.” “I’m sorry—” Castiel took a careful step forward but you didn’t want him anywhere near him. Or any angel, ever. You just wanted to be out of that place, and like someone heard your prayers, you were back to your own body, waking up to another nightmare. Pamela was stabbed by a demon who was taken care by Sam but the cut was deep and she was dying. You were cursing yourself for ever suggesting taking Pamela’s help for the case. A couple of short minutes later you watched Pamela take her last breaths and leaving you three for good. You didn’t speak at all that day after waking up from the veil and decided you needed to be away. ---------------------- “...I’ll keep my cell on in case any emergency comes up. Stay safe.” Sam read the last words of the note you left for him and his brother at Pamela’s funeral. You left early, to never come back. You needed yourself away from the brothers, away from the whole angel-demon drama, away from God, if that even made sense. And somewhere in a dark corner, you loathed Dean. Less because of the words you heard leave him at the diner, and more because God decided to give him a second chance when he made a deal with a demon but ordered his angels to kill your parents. You knew it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t even know about your parents yet, and you knew it was wrong of you to feel that, but you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to. So you decided to do what you knew best, leave.

Forever tags: @roonyxx @itslizabitch8021 @jessikared97

[anne-wentworth]

Christmas Sniffles

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone did you?”

A/N This is set somewhere before Harvey told Donna he loved her and she went to work for Louis and everything.

Read on ao3

Donna was miserable.

It was Christmas. And she was sick.

Usually she’d spend the holidays with her family but the cold she had woken up with two days ago had rendered her useless and she was unable to make the trip. Her parents hadn’t been able to drive up to New York either due to heavy snow so here she was, all alone with her growing mountain of used tissues as her sole companion.

All of a sudden, there was a knock at her door and she wondered who on earth that could possibly be.

It was Christmas and every person in the world had plans.

Kicking off her blankets, she shuffled out of her room and headed towards the door.

And upon pulling it open, she found Harvey Specter standing in the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in confusion.

In all the years that they’ve been working together, Donna could count on one hand the number of times Harvey had been to her place.

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone did you?”

His words immediately sent butterflies fluttering about in her stomach.

“You don’t have to...didn’t Marcus invite you to spend Christmas with him and the girls?”

She was a tongue tied idiot and she mentally cursed herself for getting so affected by the fact that he had shown up here. After all, it was just Harvey.

“Marcus invites me every year,” he replied with a shrug.

Donna shot him a look in response but he shot one right back at her and in the end, she relented, stepping aside to let him in.

“So how are you feeling?” he inquired as she shut the door behind him.

“Like shit,” she grumbled.

He had been the one to send her home the day before, after taking one look at her as soon as she sat down at her desk. In true Donna fashion, she had stubbornly insisted that she was fine but Harvey stood his ground. She was also outnumbered when both Mike and Louis joined in, although she suspected they were more concerned about her contaminating the firm than anything else.

“Well I made you some soup so that should help.”

Donna’s eyes landed on the bag he was carrying that had escaped her attention as he strode into her kitchen.

“I hope,” he added as an afterthought.

“You made soup?”

Donna couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

“What? I can cook,” Harvey said defensively, placing the Tupperware filled with food on the counter.

She wasn’t even aware that he owned Tupperware.

All Donna could do was watch in silence as Harvey moved around her kitchen, finding a bowl and spoon and then pouring out some of the soup. Dressed in a sweater instead of his everyday three piece suit, the scene appeared strangely domestic and something about it tugged at her heartstrings.

He gestured for her to sit as he walked towards the couch and at this point all she could do was listen.

So she plopped down, taking the warm bowl from his hands.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he replied tenderly, painting her in a shade of gold.

Donna quickly looked away from his gaze, directing all of her attention to her soup in order to ignore the emotions that were threatening to drown her.

That was just the fever.

“This is good,” she admitted after her first spoonful.

“Told you,” Harvey smirked satisfactorily.

“You should cook more,” she told him.

“We put in fifteen hour work days,” he said drily.

“True.”

A comfortable silence settled over them as she ate but halfway through her meal her stomach started swirling again. Donna refused to throw up in front of Harvey so she placed the half eaten soup on the coffee table before curling up on the sofa.

“I hate being sick,” she complained. “Why am I sick? I never get sick.”

“I think the last time I saw you with a cold we were still at the DA’s office,” Harvey mused.

“Ugh. I remember.”

“So do I. You sneezed all over my files.”

“You’re never going to let that go are you?”

“No because I woke up sick the next day!”

“Huh. I don’t recall,” Donna mumbled but the corners of her mouth were turned up.

Harvey sent her a little glare but by the way his eyes were shining, she could tell he didn’t mean it.

She was about to shoot back another response but suddenly she erupted in a fit of sneezes. After her fourth sneeze in a row, Harvey began to look worried but she couldn’t catch her breath long enough to tell him that this was normal.

This was her life now.

Reaching for the box of tissues at the foot of the couch, Donna silently thanked herself for putting boxes all over her house.

She loudly blew her nose, coughing in the process and was struck with a strong hatred for the entire goddamn universe.

“I hate being sick,” she repeated.

“On the bright side your nose is so red you look like Rudolph,” Harvey teased.

“Shut up,” she said, kicking him where he sat on the other end.

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “I brought you soup and that’s how you repay me?”

“I thought I didn’t have to thank you.”

“I take it back.”

Donna couldn’t help it when a giggle burst from her throat and then Harvey was smiling too. He was looking at her in the way that made her knees weak. The way that made her feel as if she was the only person on the planet who mattered.

And as flowers started blooming in her veins, filling her with the beginnings of spring even in the dead of winter, Donna realised that she didn’t feel quite so awful anymore.

Oh the cold was still threatening to kill her but somehow, Harvey’s mere presence just made everything better.

“I’m really glad that you’re here,” she said quietly. “I know spending Christmas with someone who’s sick isn’t the most fun thing in the world. Especially when you put in your fifteen hour work days ten feet away from that person. So thank you.”

“I know how much you love the holidays so of course I wasn’t going to let you suffer alone,” Harvey stated, as if such a thought was absurd. “Besides, I like spending time with you. You’re my best friend.”

And just like that, sparks were exploding within her chest.

“Does that mean you’ll watch cheesy Christmas movies with me?”

As expected, Harvey groaned in reply.

“I didn’t get a chance to watch Love Actually this year,” she grinned hopefully. “Please.”

“Fine,” he eventually sighed, exactly as she knew he would.

Donna tried not to notice the way his eyes lingered on her as she put on the movie, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. This was Harvey. Her best friend.

It didn’t mean anything.

So she tried to keep that in mind, even when her eyes started falling shut and she was dimly conscious of Harvey grabbing the remote and turning down the volume.

However, when he left the room and returned with her blanket, gently draping it over her, her heart sang.

“Merry Christmas Donna,” he whispered to her half sleeping form.

And as she drifted off, the last coherent thought that idly ran through her brain was that she wanted to spend every Christmas with Harvey.

She wanted more.

[enterinit]

New Xbox One Games for January 27 to 31

Stone (January 27)

G’day, I’m Stone. Here’s our Xbox page. Play this single-player third-person movie length interactive story and see what happened. Yeah it was rough, but a good life lesson. Enjoy, and remember don’t do this at home ya bunch of crazy animals. By the way this story really isn’t going to be for everyone. So enter at your own risk, mate. Plus this was created by a global team including the narrative designer of QUANTUM BREAK, CONTROL and VFX artist from GRAVITY, PROMETHEUS & more. You're in good hands, mate. FLAMING FEATURES: 3rd person so you can rotate a drone cam around me and move me like VoodooDeep, reference heavy interactive story never told, mate.Drinking, dancing and smoking for your pleasure.Map based free roam so you can explore the world at your own pace. Here’s some tips:Echo for great techno, Smoky Possum for some liquid gold and my flat. It’s comfy mates.A cast of my mates. Like Les, weirdo and kanye lover and my gorgeous chookie Alex.BTW if you see Cockie, tell her I’m sorry again. If you see Devil, run, run, run! • Amazing licensed tracks from sick up and coming indie musicians at the Record Shop.Like Ryan Little, Luchii, Ilkka S, Warchief, James Tottakai & MoreSeriously the music is great. There’s hip hop, trap, stoner rock and heavy techno!Also THERE”S CLASSIC MOVIES!!! Yeah you can watch film classics likeSentimental Bloke, Night of the Living Dead & Story of the Kelly Gang ( CONVICT REPRESENT )Hang out with me.It’ll be bonza and hell, I think you’ll be a better person from it too.

Kentucky Route Zero: TV Edition (January 28)

A magical realist adventure game in five acts, featuring a haunting electronic score, and a suite of hymns and bluegrass. Rendered in a striking visual style that draws as much from theater, film, and experimental electronic art as it does from the history of games, this is a story of unpayable debts, abandoned futures, and the human drive to find community.

Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire – Ultimate Edition (January 28)

The award-winning RPG from the masters at Obsidian Entertainment finally arrives on Xbox One, featuring all major updates and expansions. The god Eothas awakens from his slumber, killing you and stealing a piece of your soul. Now resurrected, it is up to you and your companions to use magic, gunpowder, and steel to uncover the rogue god's machinations as he tramples across the Deadfire Archipelago. Bend the world to your will as you explore the depths of infinite possibilities, including detailed character customization, total freedom of exploration, and more meaningful choices at every turn. Featuring an enormous open world, a massive cast of characters, and a story you can play your way, Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire Ultimate Edition redefines the role-playing game experience for a new generation. Play in either Turn-Based Mode or Classic Real-Time with Pause: Immerse yourself in a deeper single player RPG game experience - now with both classic real-time with pause and new turn-based combat, Deadfire builds on the foundation of classic tabletop gameplay more than ever before.A massive adventure: Over 100 hours of gameplay per playthrough.Play however you want: Detailed character creator character and over 1000 class permutations gives you the freedom to be whoever you want.Gather your party: Build your party and customize your companions to join you on your quest. Assign multiple classes and deeper abilities for each. Witness their personal relationships, reactions to player choice, and interactions with each other unfold.Beast of Winter DLC - heed the call of Vatnir, a priest of the god of death, to halt the tide of destruction encroaching upon the living.The Forgotten Sanctum DLC - battle your way through the bowels of a vengeful, sleeping god. Seeker, Slayer, Survivor DLC - Triumph or die in the Crucible of Kazuwari, where only the mighty reign. https://youtu.be/thbGhvZJNjc

It Came from Space and Ate Our Brains (January 28)

A merciless alien species that feeds on human brains (duh) has invaded the Earth. Who can stand up to them? You, obviously! Save the world—or at least yourself. Send aliens to oblivion in It Came From Space and Ate Our Brains—a unique top-down arcade shooter. Addicting gameplay elements, co-op mode, and a way to turn aliens into goo? It’s all here! Explore atmospheric locations with a flashlight and a weapon powerful enough to blast those unwanted intergalactic guests back into space. Survive hordes of enemies trying to corner you and get inside your skull… at least until you set a new high score and die like a badass! Key features: Six exciting co-op campaign missions for up to 4 playersDifferent alien typesPowerful weapons and special powersAn incredible techno soundtrack that serves as the perfect background for brain-eating mayhem

Journey to the Savage Planet (January 28)

Welcome to the Pioneer Program! In this upbeat & colorful, co-op adventure game you play as the newest recruit to Kindred Aerospace. Dropped onto an uncharted planet with little equipment and no real plan, you must explore, catalog alien flora and fauna and determine if this planet is fit for human habitation. But perhaps you are not the first to set foot here… Onward to adventure! Good luck – and mind the goo! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvceKg6bSMg

Music Racer (January 29)

Music Racer is the dynamic rhythm game loved by millions of players around the world. Rush along futuristic, neon tracks. Gather beats, catch the rhythm. The racetrack is created in real time based on the game's music tracks. The speed and mood of each run are determined by the compositions chosen. Obstacles and awards are generated from the music. Get into the rhythm and collect as many points as possible. Features: 14 levels25 cars with the ability to customize themBeautiful neon, Retrowave style graphics4 game modesMusic library

Milo’s Quest: Console Edition (January 29)

The young puppy, Milo, is enjoying his time in the park and sees a delicious bone to chew on. But its cursed and sets free the evil king Old Skull. Now it’s up to Milo to go on an adventure to stop the curse! Choose from a variety of difficulty levels for your adventure, pick up items and tools on your quest to help defeat ghosts and solve puzzles to stop the evil king in this retro-inspired adventure game.

Monster Energy Supercross 3 – Special Edition (January 30)

Double your credits at the end of every online and offline race, race with the legends and in a legendary track that made the history of Supercross. Have fun changing your bike's livery and your rider's tracksuit with incredible customization items, enjoy the spectacle of the Monster Energy Cup with its set of special rules, customize your game menu showing your loyalty with your favorite bike manufacturer and customize your track editor with new items! https://youtu.be/dRKcbp2mcjU

Code Shifter (January 30)

The story takes place in the development offices of a software company, ""Awesome Rainbow Corp"". Trouble arises just as you're gearing up to release the final version of the game! Many mysterious bugs are occurring, and time is running out! To deal with this situation, a programmer, Stella, whips up a debug program: ""CODE SHIFTER"". ""CODE SHIFTER"" will let Stella's avatar ""Sera"" dive into the game and start fixing things up. Will Stella and her coworkers be able to find the origin of these bugs and deliver the game before the launch date?" Original style with a retro twist! Enjoy the delightful graphics from titles past and present remixed with 2D watercolor and 8-bit pixel art.Game system Players will explore the stage while transforming into various characters from different IPs created by Arc System Works! Successfully adapt and complete all stages using a large volume of 30 playable characters animated in 8-bit!Comedy Take a break from debugging with a comedic story between the ARC staff Stella, Mozzie, Rudy, Hudson, and Greig.Arc System Works crossover This game is a 2D 8-bit action game where various IPs created by Arc System Works crossover, players explore the stage while transforming into various characters animated in 8-bit. The IPs included in this game are all 25 titles of Arc System Works' massive library! A large volume of 30 playable characters and 70 support characters are featured. A dream crossover between IPs are finally here!Brawl fighting action mode In addition, the 4-player brawl fighting action ""Colorful Fighters"" is also included as an extra feature!

HyperDot (January 31)

HyperDot is a minimal action arcade masterpiece with one rule: dodge everything. Evade enemies and test your skills in over 100 trials in the campaign mode, outlast your friends in multiplayer battles, or build custom challenges with the level editor. Features: CAMPAIGN MODE: Dodge your way through over 100 hand-crafted trials in the single player campaignBETTER WITH FRIENDS: Local co-op play has an easy drop-in/drop-out system that gets up to four players in-game fastLEVEL EDITOR: Create your own one-of-a-kind levels with unlimited possibilities, from dizzying patterns to relentlessly difficult challengesNEVER PLAY THE SAME GAME TWICE: Extensive gameplay customization offers more than 1 million enemy, arena, and modifier combinationsPLAY WITHOUT COMPROMISES: HyperDot features high contrast mode, adaptive controller integration, and full gameplay support with seven unique controllers including eye-tracking https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uad_WQ-UQDk

Sky Rogue (January 31)

A fwooshy rogue-lite action flight simulator where you blow things up over land, sea, and air across an infinite number of procedurally-generated islands. Go toe-to-toe with enemy aces or assault giant flying aircraft carriers… but watch out for volleys of missiles; when you die, you’re dead.

Coffee Talk (January 31)

Coffee Talk is a game about listening to people’s problems and helping them by serving up a warm drink out of the ingredients you have in stock. It is a game that depicts lives as humanly as possible, while having a cast that is more than just humans. Immerse yourself in the stories of alternative-Seattle inhabitants, ranging from a dramatic love story between an elf and a succubus, an alien trying to understand humans’ lives, and many others modern readers will find strongly echo the world around them. Features: Tales of people from an alternative-Seattle, a city where elves, orcs, mermaids, and many other fantasy races live together with humans in a modern world we will all find familiarBranching storylines, where the branches are determined not by the dialogue options you choose, but from how you serve your café customers90’s anime-inspired pixel art visuals and chill vibes-inducing color palette help to immerse you in the game’s worldSelection of jazzy and lo-fi music to accompany the late night warm drinks and conversations An experience to make you think, feel, and rest both your body and your soul https://youtu.be/WA1lEU_zTCw Read the full article

[guyanthonydemarco]

New Post has been published on Guy Anthony De Marco

New Post has been published on https://guyanthonydemarco.com/world-building-tools-for-authors-and-game-masters/

World Building Tools for Authors and Game Masters

Science fiction and fantasy rely heavily on placing the reader in a world that envelopes them like a warm blanket. That blanket might be a comforting hug from Hermione or the backblast of covering fire from a Gauss gun. It’s the responsibility of the author to craft a world that follows its own rules and is layered with fascinating details that draw us in the further we go along.

Lucky for us (or unfortunately for us, depending on how easily you can be sucked into a procrastinating black hole of interesting and fun points of data) there are lots of tools that can help an author to flesh out a complete world, from a medieval tavern to an unexplored star system that is scientifically accurate.

What follows is an eclectic list of some tools I’ve used on occasion or have heard other authors mention in a positive light. I would recommend you poke through and see what interests you and go from there. Don’t dive in and spend all of your writing time playing with your new toys. Also, some items cost real-world money, which I’ve tried to point out. I would suggest trying one at a time to see which tools have what you need instead of splurging on all of them at once…unless you’re rich. In that case, please buy a million copies of my books.

General

https://www.worldanvil.com/ (Free) Free to monthly/annual membership. Geared towards authors and RPG gamemasters. Has a huge amount of tools available and is well regarded.

https://www.reddit.com/r/worldbuilding/ (Free) Reddit’s Wordbuilding resources. For a list of convenient resources look here: https://www.reddit.com/r/worldbuilding/wiki/reading_list

Fantasy Worldbuilding Questions By Patricia C. Wrede (Free) Hosted by SFWA, this is a nice black hole you can get buried in. It covers plenty of questions folks don’t consider when building a world like economics and ethics.

http://kittyspace.org/leviathan0.html (Free) Kitty Chandler gives Patricia a run for her money when it comes to things to consider when constructing a world. This is another wormhole-infested land where your time will disappear faster than free dollar bills. To make things even more tempting…

Belinda Crawford went ahead and assembled a giant Scrivener file and a template for free based on Kitty’s Worldbuilding Leviathan.

http://www.web-writer.net/fantasy/days/ (Free) Someone thought it would be cool to do a NaNoWriMo-style 30-days of worldbuilding hell, so this is the place to go to focus on one item a day for a month.

https://onestopforwriters.com/ (Free + Paid) They have a very limited free plan, but it may be worth nine bucks for all of the additional thesaurus and generators they offer.

Odd Niches

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HomePage (Free) Wonder what a trope involves? This is the place to check. There are more tropes than you can fit into one novel. I dare you.

http://lexicity.com/ (Free) Dealing with ancient languages? Why not include some realism by using them correctly.

http://nimblesnotebook.tumblr.com/post/57170994691/myths-creatures-and-folklore (Free) Looking to add some myths and legends? Here’s some interesting ideas for you to build upon.

Generators

https://megacosm.morgajel.net/ (Free) Interesting generators when you’re stuck on something (curses, a character, a place). Useful to get over writer’s block and occasionally funny.

https://www.seventhsanctum.com/ (Free) Steve Savage put together a wide selection of generators from Power Princess to Technology to Writing.

http://www.generatorland.com/ (Free) Got an idea for a generator? Make your own and post it here for free. There are plenty of writing related versions available as well as pirate name generators and Guy Fieri menu item generators.

https://www.namegenerator.biz/ (Free) Need a name for that janitor who gives the hero a clue? Here is a collection of name generators for things from Twitter to science fiction.

http://donjon.bin.sh/ (Free) Impressive old-school generator system that can generate a complete tavern, including rumors and complete list of inhabitants in seconds. More into science fiction? Try the SF Random Generator and get ten different ideas for a cyberpunk job or the star system generator.

http://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/ (Free) Need a name? They have 1,200 generators available. Watch out for carpal tunnel from clicking your mouse too often.

https://www.mithrilandmages.com/ (Free) I like that they have names for old west writers. Plenty of generators, from businesses to crimes someone committed to what a city block looks like.

Planets & Star Systems

http://fast-times.eldacur.com/StarGen/RunStarGen.html (Free) StarGen is ugly as sin, reminding me of my GeoCities days, but as an online tool it can give you some exceptional scientifically accurate star systems that can support life. Great for those interstellar Browncoats folks who fly under the radar.

http://www.world-builders.org/ (Free) From the Charter College of Education, California State University in Los Angeles comes this science-based educational site that can help you with geology and what creatures populated our planet. This can assist you should you have a ship land on a primordial rocky planet in the Goldilocks zone.

http://universesandbox.com ($24.95) Universe Sandbox 2 allows you to modify solar systems like ours to see what would happen. Running out of room on Earth? Double the size!

Maps

https://www.cartographersguild.com/ (Free) The first stop for inspiration should be The Cartographer’s Guild. This is a gathering place for all things that map enthusiasts love, from fantasy to science fiction to real maps from ancient times to contemporary. Like paintings, there are some that will take your breath away.

https://www.profantasy.com/default.asp ($99 – $620) This map generator ain’t cheap, but you get what you pay for. The maps go far beyond the usual pretty bumps for mountains and Tolkienesque trees. The images are excellent and professional quality.

http://www.nbos.com/products/mapper/mapper.htm ($34.95) Fractal Mapper 8 now includes Fractal Mapper Explorer. You can create everything from continents to starship deckplans.

  3D Worlds & Visual Landscapes

https://www.daz3d.com/bryce-7-pro ($19.95, has add-ons available) You can make beautiful landscapes to look at and explore, or create one with fractals and use it as a reference point for describing what your characters see as they explore that new planet.

https://www.daz3d.com/ (Free, has paid and free add-ons available) Since Bryce is related to Daz3D, I’ll mention that it’s free for download and use. It’s similar to Poser, and quite useful if you want to make realistic book covers using CGI. They do make their money by selling add-ons like space ships and figures. It has quite a learning curve, and you should seriously consider whether you should be rendering pretty pictures or writing words.

  Hopefully I haven’t distracted you from writing for the next two years. Remember, worldbuilding should support the story and not be used as a means unto itself. Build your world a little at a time as you go along, making sure to write it all down in a logical sense (a story bible or a world wiki are two useful methods). There’s no reason for you to worldbuild what’s happening in a cave on the other side of the continent unless it will directly involve your characters.

[ciathyzareposts]

The Two Towers: Bored of the Rings

The Ringbearer hasn’t left the same perilous countryside since the game began.

         Lord of the Rings, Vol. II simply doesn’t work. I’m sorry to have reached that conclusion. I had enjoyed the first game well enough and had been looking forward to the sequel, even though I knew there would be no Vol. III. Now I feel that if Interplay was going to leave fans hanging, they should have left them hanging after Vol. I instead of proceeding with this lackluster title.

The yanking around from party to party got worse–laughably worse–after the last session. I began this session with Frodo and Sam, and I’d barely done more than wander through the marsh for five minutes and fight one battle with some orcs, when the game decided it was time to switch the action to Edoras. There, Aragorn et. al. did nothing more than approach the gates of the city before we were off to check in on Merry and Pippin. Then, for some reason, those two had an absurdly long session, ignoring several obvious transition points, culminating in the destruction of Isengard by the Ents. It feels like their story is over before Frodo even got near the Black Gate.

        One of my three parties now has nothing to do but wait.

       But the problems with Vol. II run much deeper than that. It’s core problem is that it is satisfying neither as a Lord of the Rings game nor a standard RPG. If you were a fan of the original books, I can’t imagine that you’d find this game a good representation. The characters are mute and bereft of any personality. Epic moments are rendered in banal, bloodless manual text or on-screen exposition. The little side quests that the developers threw in to lengthen the plot and make it more like a standard RPG simply slow down and confuse the main story.

Even worse–and I don’t often criticize games on these grounds–the graphics fail to evoke any sense of the kind of awe and wonder you should feel when exploring Middle Earth, running up against its most famous landmarks, and meeting its most famous denizens. I wasn’t one of them, but I can imagine a Lord of the Rings fan, having read the book umpteen times, conceiving in his imagination “the green shoulders of the hills” and the “wide wind-swept walls and the gates of Edoras.” Let’s recall how Tolkien describes the Black Gate:

            This was Cirith Gorgor, the Haunted Pass, the entrance to the land of the Enemy. High cliffs lowered upon either side, and thrust forward from its mouth were two sheer hills, black-boned and bare. Upon them stood the Teeth of Mordor, two towers strong and tall. In days long past they were built by the Men of Gondor in their pride and power, after the overthrow of Sauron and his flight, lest he should seek to return to his old realm. But the strength of Gondor failed, and men slept, and for long years the towers stood empty. Then Sauron returned. Now the watch-towers, which had fallen into decay, were repaired, and filled with arms, and garrisoned with ceaseless vigilance. Stony-faced they were, with dark window-holes staring north and east and west, and each window was full of sleepless eyes.

Across the mouth of the pass, from cliff to cliff, the Dark Lord had built a rampart of stone. In it there was a single gate of iron, and upon its battlement sentinels paced unceasingly. Beneath the hills on either side the rock was bored into a hundred caves and maggot-holes: there a host of orcs lurked, ready at a signal to issue forth like black ants going to war. None could pass the Teeth of Mordor and not feel their bite, unless they were summoned by Sauron, or knew the secret passwords that would open the Morannon, the black gate of his land.

             Even I, as a non-fan, have to admit that this is pretty powerful stuff. And here is the Black Gate in-game:

          One of the two Teeth. There’s a mirror about one screen to the east.

          Say what you want about the recent Shadow of Mordor/Shadow of War series, but at least they did (in my opinion) graphical justice to the setting. Here, no matter what Tolkien intended, the architectural style favored by the game for just about every building is “aluminum airplane hangar.” The setting’s most fearsome foes and most majestic allies are impressive in neither icon nor portrait. 

         Every building looks like the same temporary shelter with no door.

         As an RPG, meanwhile, the game fails in almost every category. Character development occurs solely at plot intervals and is remarkably impalpable. The skills system, by which characters can actively use certain skills and attributes, goes back to Wasteland but is ill-used here. Among the individuals in each party, you never lack the necessary skill, and it’s always perfectly obvious where to use it. It might as well have happened automatically. The basic equipment list is unexciting, and the combat system–by which you select “attack” and choose from a list of indistinguishable foes–is even less so.

          The game’s relatively boring inventory system.

         Many of these problems were present in Vol. I, too, so you will naturally wonder how I can justify giving that game a relatively high score and a positive review. To be fair, I did levy some of the same criticisms about how the game fared as an RPG, but beyond that . . . I don’t know . . . the game just somehow felt fresher. I recognized that it wasn’t perfect, but it was doing something new and original and I was more willing to give it a chance. I expected the developers to have learned some lessons between Vol. I and Vol. II and thus have corrected some of the engine’s weaknesses. If anything, they went backwards.

The lack of cut scenes is a particular blow. The first game had some original artwork at set intervals that served to keep the characters’ personalities embedded in your mind, and that kept you on track with the source material. (The remake replaced this artwork with scenes from the Ralph Bakshi film, which I liked less, but was still better than nothing.) The fall of Isengard ought to command more than a single paragraph of exposition next to a couple of goofy little icons that are supposed to be Ents.

Feeling as I do, I was going to try to push through to the end of the game for this entry, but I didn’t quite make it. Perhaps I didn’t even come close–I have no idea how this game is going to stretch and warp the book’s events. I’ll recap the progress of the characters, but to avoid exposing you to the same constantly-jarring changes in perspective that I experienced, I’ll just relate each group in turn.

Frodo, Sam, Gollum, and Gilglin started at the edge of the Dead Marshes, essentially where they’d started the game 7 hours prior. They’d had the vampire interlude and were looking for something called the “star ruby” before making their way to (or past) the Black Gate. Gollum warned us not to follow the lights in the marsh (I wonder what would have happened if we’d never enlisted him).

           “Do not follow the lights. They lead to . . . [hiss] . . . Cleveland.”

         Systematically exploring the marshes, we soon fell into a barrow in the ground and met an elf named Nendol. He had sworn to never leave the side of a Numenorean named Vorondur who had saved him in combat–a vow that he soon regretted when Vorondur was cursed by undeath and sentenced to wander the marshes as a shade. Nendol asked if I might be able to release him.

We climbed out of the barrow but soon fell into another one where a ghost, in exchange for some rations (which he mimed eating), allowed us to take the Star Ruby. Back at the vampire’s tower, the Star Ruby banished the undead who wanted it. I think it probably would have helped me against the vampire, but who explores the map in such an erratic fashion that they’d find the ruby first? 

          A magic ruby for some Lembas bread that you can’t even eat. Seems fair.

         We found a group of ghosts hanging out in the marshes, and one of them was Vorondur. Since we had already killed the vampire and received the “spirit key,” all we had to do was give it to Vorondur, and he and the other ghosts were able to pass on. Nendol rewarded us with a dagger, some food, a prybar, a shovel, and leather armor. This was good since Gilglin had joined us with no equipment and had had been beating orcs with his fists.

             This was a fun encounter, but some bug put the text all over the place.

          We finally made our way through the marshes and south to the Black Gate. There was one encounter where we had to hide from some passing orcs using the “Sneak” skill. As we approached the gate itself, Gollum gave his canonical speech about we’ll all die that way and he can show us a secret path instead. Just for fun, I pressed forward and got a scripted ending. Reloading, I followed Gollum’s directions, and Frodo’s part of the adventure ended as he crossed the border into Ithilien.

            West of the sea, everything’s cool.

           Merry, Pippin, and their two Ent friends resumed their adventures in Fangorn Forest. They had been tasked with finding two Ents–Leaflock and Skinbark–and watering them so they could rouse themselves and get to the Entmoot. I already knew their locations, and my travel was facilitated by the wandering Ent named Longroot, who will carry the party from place to place if they’re lucky enough to encounter him. Leaflock and Skinbark both responded to Entwater, and both gave the party some kind of password to use, although there was never a place that I used them. I also don’t think I fully explored the ruins or solved the quest involving the seed and the Entwash source. Oh, well.

Back at the Entmoot, the Ents agreed to march on Isengard, and action transitioned to the next map, with Treebeard joining the party (now composed of more Ents than hobbits). Rather than head directly for the fortress, I steered them around the edges and through a mountain pass that led to a village of Dunlendings. They demanded that we leave the village, and when we refused, they attacked us in force and slaughtered us.

           To be fair, they are marching to Isengard, not Dunland.

           On a reload, I went directly to Isengard. As we approached the gates, we got a textual notice that orcs and men were emptying the fortress, marching off to war somewhere, leaving a skeleton force behind.

Since the party had prematurely cleared out a couple of battles in the previous session, we had an easy time on this visit. After a single battle against a few orcs, the game informed me that the Ents were destroying the fortress, Saruman was in hiding, and there wasn’t anything left for Merry and Pippin to do but go wait by the gatehouse for the rest of the Fellowship to show up. I don’t know how the book is paced, but this seemed an awfully early ending to this thread.

           The film version was slightly more epic.

          Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Gandalf had barely set foot into Rohan before they were set upon by a band of Rohirrim and escorted to Edoras. Most of the buildings were empty, the occupants fled, so the party made its way to the Golden Hall. There, as in the book, Hama insisted that we divest our weapons, but he grudgingly allowed Gandalf to keep his staff. I had to play this encounter twice because the first time, I didn’t realize that Gandalf’s “Glamdring” was a sword, not a ring, and I didn’t drop it before entering the hall.

          This felt wrong, and it turned out it was wrong.

          Inside the hall, the dialogue between Gandalf, Grima Wormtongue, and the possessed Theoden played out as in the book. When it was over, I used Gandalf’s staff, Theoden returned to his senses, and Grima fled the hall.

             Paraphrased dialogue from the book.

           In a divergence from the book, it now transpired that Grima and his allies had set traps all around the multi-leveled Golden Hall, and somewhere had secreted three ancient artifacts: Helm’s Horn, the Cup of Rohan, a bridle, and a scepter. Some prophecy said that Rohan’s armies would never be successful lacking these items, so we had to find them before anyone would ride to war. The party had to wander the rooms and corners of the four levels, using “Perception” and “Disarm Trap” frequently, until we recovered all items. (Some notes in a box that Grima left behind gave us clues as to where to find the items.) There was one battle with a spider in the basement. 

            Finding the bridle.

         When we found the scepter in the attic, Saruman oddly appeared and attacked us. We exchanged a few blows and then he disappeared. I don’t know what that was about.

          That was briefly satisfying.

        We briefly met Eowyn in one of the bedrooms and recovered Theoden’s sword, Herugrim, in another, although oddly the game wouldn’t let us give it to him. A found note gave a clue as to a side-quest: Saruman had tasked Grima with finding some magical gauntlets near Helm’s Deep. We looted some magic armor and a magic sword from the armory, which turned out to be fortunate because when we left the Golden Hall, the game said that Grima had stolen Anduril in his flight.

    I’m surprised that Eowyn won’t join the party. Shoot–maybe I didn’t try.

               When the party left the hall, the Rohirrim were yelling things like “For the Mark!” and “Forth Eorlingas!,” so I assume they’re on the move. I end this session with Aragorn and company exploring the area surrounding Edoras to see if they can recover Anduril and/or meet up with the hobbits at Isengard.

           Is Anduril even supposed to be reforged yet?

         Having not made it past the first 40% of Lord of the Rings, I’m extremely fuzzy on where this installment is likely to end. (Fuzzy and slightly curious; in fact, vague curiosity about how this game ends is really all I have left to look forward to.) I think I remember someone telling me that the film of The Two Towers ends well before its point in the book, but I could be wrong. As far as I know, Merry and Pippin have nothing left to do. Aragorn and his party still have to go to Helm’s Deep, which I assume will be the climax of the game.” As for Frodo and Sam, I suspect they need to meet Faramir (though I understand events play out very different in the book than in the films) and then find the secret tunnel. Will they run into Shelob? I guess we’ll soon see. One more entry should do it.

Time so far: 12 hours

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/the-two-towers-bored-of-the-rings/