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hongism · 1 year ago

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SWEET JUICE - s.mingi (18+)

➼ genre; fantasy, smut ➼ pairing; mingi x fem!reader ➼ au; strangers to lovers, magic au, witches/warlocks au ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 10.7k

the new apothecary in your small village is harboring a dark secret, you're certain of it, if only because he bears a starkly familiar crest on his shop sign - one that denotes the presence of magic.

part of the ...and it's snowing collab.

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➼ smut warnings; sex toys, unprotected sex, comeshots, begging, fingering, multiple orgasms, size kink, hand kink, mention of belly bulging, dacryphilia

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Normally, you aren’t one to be so deeply entrenched in the petty gossip going around town, especially when newcomers are not exactly scarce in these parts. This one in particular — the young man who moved here by himself and immediately set up an apothecary shop in the heart of the village — has been on the lips of almost everyone you’ve bumped into for the past week. Ever since the Summer’s End Festival, it seems all your neighbors can think to talk about is this mysterious lone wolf. Unfortunately for you, that means your interest has been piqued both out of nosiness and out of a potential opportunity.

“You said he’s nice?”

“Yeah! I mean, I didn’t meet him personally. I was busy running the stall while Yunho was doing all the socializing, but Gerda came over and she said he’s a rather nice and charming young man.”

You appraise the man across the counter with a far less enthused grin. It doesn’t deter Seonghwa from his egregious nods of encouragement, however. So, you continue to pack away the little bundles of herbs that you’ve been preparing all morning into the man’s satchel.

“She says that about everyone under the age of fifty. I think it’s her duty as an old woman to say that. What did Yunho say about him?”

“Hm, what did Yunho say about him…” Seonghwa brings a neatly manicured nail to his chin as he mulls over your question. You snap the buckle of his bag into its proper place now that you’ve given him all you need to and set your hands down on the counter. “He was fairly charmed too, I believe. I mean, in terms of the guy’s personality. You know his gaze goes in one single direction for all other aspects of things.” He flattens his palm against his cheek and doesn’t even bother to hide the smugness that creeps over his expression.

“Don’t get cocky now,” you cut in before Seonghwa can redirect the conversation towards himself.

“Is it being cocky if I’m just repeating what he says all the time though? Oh my Seonghwa, you’re so pretty, the only man I could ever look at, I never grow weary of seeing your darling face. It’s truly romance at its finest.”

“Back to the new guy, Hwa.”

“Hmph. You’re more interested in him than you were in me when I first moved here!”

“You didn’t run a shop when you first got here. Otherwise, I would’ve been just as eager, promise.” Seonghwa narrows his eyes at you, lips drawing into what must be an attempt at a frown but it’s so half-hearted and soft around the edges that you can’t be sure. “I’m trying to establish a financially beneficial supply line with this guy. Thus, I need to know what he’s like so that I know how much bargaining I ought to prepare for before going to speak with him.”

“He’s nice, not much of a talker from what I could tell watching him from a distance, and he mostly stuck near the bonfire. Though it was still damp from the rain earlier that day, and autumn was already sending in her cooler breezes. Anyone who hasn’t acclimated to our lovely finicky weather acts like that when they first arrive here. Spoke to everyone who approached him. Talks with his hands a lot. Very—” Seonghwa makes a few vague gestures consisting of him just waving his hands in the air a bit “—big. Not quite taller than Yunho, but broader and like… meatier, I suppose. I wonder if I should give Yunho bigger meal portions actually, he might need it. Really, how does he stay so skinny even doing all the heavy lifting around the house? Do you have any herbs good for muscle growth?”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of you, that’s it.” Seonghwa’s protest comes immediately. “No, because last time you did this, you started asking me about concoctions to make his semen taste better, and that is not a conversation we’re going to be repeating!” He grabs his satchel off the counter as you hop up from your stool, though he still tries to appear very upset over the matter while pulling it over his head.

“Well, tell me when you’re planning on going over there at least. I can give you a meal before you go home since it’s a bit of a trek to get back here.”

“I’ll go tomorrow. There’s still some inventory left over from the summer that I need to sort out. And I need to prepare some decor for the Autumn Festival sooner rather than later. Ugh, I got so behind on my work it’s infuriating.” You’ve been slacking a little more than you usually do this past week on account of being bedridden for five days straight. You thought you were going to avoid getting sick at the end of summer for once, but your body had other plans for you and decided to push it into the start of the fall season instead. That’s the only reason you need this information about the newcomer from Seonghwa so desperately: otherwise, you would have been at that very festival and been able to witness the man for yourself.

“Oh, speaking of, everyone missed you last week! And told me to send you well wishes, which are obviously not needed anymore, but the sentiment is the same nonetheless, no?”

You send Seonghwa off with a few extra herbs pressed into his hands and wishes for safe travels. It ought to only take him fifteen minutes to walk back to town, but he came by rather late and the sun is already setting so you don’t want him to get caught alone in the dark on his way. He is kind enough to allow your nagging, only pinching your cheek when you tell him once more to quit asking about recipes and herbs to use on Yunho’s dick.

Once you’re content seeing him reach the end of your garden path, you flick your wrist in the direction of your crops. The drizzle that suddenly starts falling from the sky is light enough to not be much of a hindrance to Seonghwa, though you’ll be certain to bring down some heavier rainfall after he disappears over the edge of the hill. Though your closest friend in the village, you still haven’t had the heart to tell him what exactly brought you to this remote place or what you were running from when you came. He only knows that you came here nearly eight years ago on your own and with nothing to your name, and by the time he and Yunho came along, you were already three years into building your business of selling herbs year-round.

In truth, your witchcraft is not illegal by the nature of it being magick. Rather, you yourself are the problem being a witch in name instead of the formally accepted term warlock. Should anyone with any sort of agenda against you discover that you are a defector using your magick when you are no longer a practicing warlock, then you would likely lose everything you have here in this place. It took you two years just to find a town secure and remote enough for you to feel comfortable living in, and eight more to reach this point of stability. You don’t consider Seonghwa to be someone driven by monetary promise or swayed by others’ opinions, but there is just enough doubt that’s crept into your heart over the years to keep you silent.

“How depressing,” you mutter, turning back to your cottage and heading inside. You make the rain fall just a little harder to go along with your sudden decline in mood.

…

Perhaps, you think, there is some goddess out there who is keen on causing you inordinate levels of distress. Because although today was supposed to be nothing more than a calm and friendly meeting in the hopes of establishing a business partnership, you cannot push yourself to even approach the door to the new apothecary. The name of the shop is insignificant on its own — Mortar and Cauldron — and you wouldn’t think twice about getting up from this cursed bench you now find yourself on if that was all there was to it. Yet for some godforsaken reason, this man has deigned to put a symbol behind the name, one that mimics one of the crests belonging to the House of Ballads (the very one you defected from a decade ago). Some deity must surely be playing a sick prank on you.

There are a few routes you could take in this situation. You could pretend you never came and forget the idea of creating a supply line, missing out on some revenue sure but it’s not like you wouldn’t be able to make up for it in other areas. You could go in and confront the newcomer, demanding to know who he is and what he’s doing here on the off chance that he’s truly some bumbling idiot who has no clue what symbols he’s drawn into his signs. He could very well be a defector himself, you suppose, although it would be suicide to use one of the House’s official crests as one. Or you could simply play the part of the fool yourself, act none the wiser, and pretend to be the normal citizen you are. Even if this man were truly from the House, he would not recognize your face because you were never formally entered into the place. You had been merely part of a small church sect on the outskirts of the capital, far from the House of Ballads and all its operations. The name you held while there has already been burned to ash and nothingness, likely stricken from all their records as well the moment you disappeared. If they wanted you dead — well, they would have had you killed long ago. So, you seem to have your best course of action.

“I know my decor isn’t the most appealing, but I don’t think it warrants such a foul expression.” The voice resonates so close to your ear that you truly feel the vibration in your teeth, but moreso, it startles you out of your skin, and you all but launch yourself off the bench with an embarrassing yelp. Just behind the bench where you were, there stands a man you don’t recognize. Tall, with sharp features and equally piercing dark eyes, and dressed in black from head to toe complete with a scarf draped over his head to mimic the hood of a cloak. It doesn’t fully shroud his borderline psychedelic hair — an unnatural yellow shade that blends into a fiery orange-red and makes his head look more like a torch than anything else. “Hello. Sorry for surprising you like that, it wasn’t my intention to make a first impression in such a way.”

Ah. If not for your racing heart, you would have put two and two together far sooner, because obviously, this would be the mystery owner of the apothecary, considering how you recognize everyone in town.

“Would you like to come in and look around? I was simply across the street to get some bread.” He tilts his head back in the direction of none other than Seonghwa’s shop. One glance at the storefront gives you enough of a clue as to whose fault it is that you’re having this unsavory first encounter because said man is pressed up against the window and staring through it directly at you. You have to fight the urge to scowl at him until after your newcomer steps out of your line of sight. Seonghwa tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear and sends you a far-too-cheery thumbs-up. You turn away with a less subtle middle finger.

Despite the muggy weather and cooler temperatures, the inside of the apothecary is warm. It almost feels a bit humid thanks to the rain outside, but not unbearably so. And considering how long you were sitting out there getting rained on, you welcome the heat quite a bit.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the friend Seonghwa mentioned, would you?” He catches you with the question as you’re undoing the knot holding your cloak around your shoulders. “I don’t recall seeing you at last week’s festival, though I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself to everyone then.”

“Oh, yes, that would be me. I wasn’t there because I was recovering from a nasty cold. Y/n.” You jut a hand out in his direction, pushing a smile to your lips as you look him in the eye, though thanks to his height, you feel as though you have to crane your neck just to do so.

“Song Mingi. It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n.” He doesn’t take your hand the way you expect; instead, he pinches the tips of your fingers and bends at the waist, lips grazing your knuckles so softly that you almost don’t feel the contact at all. What’s more startling is how hot his touch is, especially considering how he was just out in the cold. You catch a glimpse of his hand as he’s pulling away, but he’s simply wearing gloves. Knowing Seonghwa, he probably kept the man hostage with conversation for a long time before sending him out to speak with you, and your friend always keeps the house warm because of the ovens, so that’s likely where all the excess heat is coming from. Your staring lingers too long, and Mingi clears his throat quietly, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Likewise,” you spit out, placing your cloak on the coat rack by the door.

“Were you looking for something in particular, or did you just want to see what sorts of things I have?” Mingi wraps around the back of the shop’s counter, and you take it as an invitation to approach. The glass cabinet serving as the surface is filled with a variety of things both familiar and not. Potions, vials, bundles of powders, and even some gemstones that carry a glow at their centers. The presence of magick here is undeniably strong, and it is not yours alone. There must be dozens of magickal objects here, though the ordinary person wouldn’t sense a thing. You don’t let your gaze linger on any of them for long before pulling focus back up to the man’s face.

“Well, I intended to come introduce myself first since we didn’t have a chance to meet at the festival. But beyond that, I wanted to let you know I grow all sorts of herbs and ingredients in my garden. I supply many of the local shops and stalls, especially during the winter seasons. The ground is particularly fruitful thanks to all the rain we get here.”

“Oh? Yes, I noticed rather quickly that there’s near-constant rainy weather here.” As though on cue, a bout of thunder rumbles in the distance.

“You truly chose a summer lover’s nightmare moving here,” you laugh. “Charybid is always in rainy season.”

Mingi hums and grins a little, looking to the window before saying, “I’m quite alright with it really. The heat of my homeland is far more unbearable in my opinion. You can tell how little I went outside there just based on how pale I am.” He flashes the back of his hand that’s still enveloped by a glove like he wants to prove his point, only to realize his little blunder and fall into a bout of awkward laughter instead. “But you said you’re a supplier? Do you have a local shop as well or…?”

“Local, though not here in the heart of town. If you follow the west road up over the hill, you’ll see a string of cottages. Mine is the one with the big front garden! Oh, and there’s a sign as well, of course.”

“That would be immensely helpful especially since I don’t have much space here to grow my own things. It’s a bit difficult to outsource supplies in this area too, isn’t it?” Mingi glances down at the open notebook sitting on his counter and skims the contents. “Would it be alright if I came by at the end of next week? That way I can finish unpacking and taking stock of everything I have.”

“Yes, that’d work just fine. You can come by any time you need, though I always advise against coming too close to nightfall because walking in the rain at night is an easy way to get sick.” You offer a smile, perhaps a little too pleased with how smoothly your business proposal went, but your enthusiasm seems to be received well given how brightly Mingi smiles in return. The air has begun to get more stifling, and you can feel sweat clinging to the back of your neck. It’s unpleasant now, a kind of warmth you’re not used to experiencing all the time because you don’t keep your home so toasty, but it reminds you of evenings shared with Seonghwa that always end with you wanting to escape out into the rain just for some respite. “I won’t take up more of your time, though. I promised to go see Seonghwa myself once I was finished here. I bid you well.”

“Thank you, and have safe travels home yourself. I look forward to doing business with you, Miss y/n.”

…

You leave your cottage in the wee hours of the morning, intending to water your crops before the sun rises, but those plans are dashed the moment you spot the man waiting outside your fence. You’ve seen him several times since your first meeting, though not here and solely in town. He hasn’t come this far yet despite his insistence that he would come over two weeks ago. Autumn is in full swing now, four weeks since the start of the season and five since the new apothecary came to town. You had not quite lost hope that he would be true to his word, but you must admit that you are caught off-guard seeing him at this hour and at your gate.

“When I said not to come at nightfall, I didn’t mean that you needed to come at the break of dawn!”

“I wanted to come before opening hours,” Mingi replies in a far clearer voice than your own. You’re still wiping the sleep from your eyes after all, and it seems he has been up for some time considering how he doesn’t appear tired in the slightest. The lantern at the end of your walkway is lit — strange because you thought you had remembered to blow it out the night before — and the glow combined with the first few rays of sunshine over the horizon is enough to illuminate the space between you and the man. “I was also out on a morning walk, so I figured it would be smart to find out how to get here before making a fool of myself. Beyond making plans to do so several times over and not once making good on those plans.”

You did gather much from your first impression of the man. Seonghwa’s word proved correct: Mingi is quite friendly, although a tad clueless but his kindness makes up for that, and you heard as much from your fellow townsfolk after you left his apothecary a month ago. After all, newcomers will be the talk of the town for weeks after their arrival, so you got to be privy to much talk about his character just from spending five minutes milling about the streets. He’s cordial each time you happen across each other in the village on top of that, full of never-ending apologies about his delay in coming to see you (to the point where you have to demand he stop apologizing three times before he takes the hint).

“Considering how I didn’t even make it to the front door, I’m assuming I did not wake you?” he continues when you reach the edge of the fence. You shake your head, undoing the latching and pulling the gate over for him to step through.

“No, you simply caught me coming out to check on the crops before the rain starts.” You didn’t sense any rain coming today, but a little trip down to the pond can easily be arranged once Mingi departs. “This is only the front garden. I can show you the back as well, if you’d like, I have far more plants there.”

“You take care of this all by yourself?” he inquires, voice edging on awestruck, and your chest swells with pride.

“Yep! It is my livelihood, after all. But I am very enamored with the work too, so that helps me as well. These plants need more sun, and thanks to the location of this cottage, they receive it at least eight hours a day. Same goes for the plots on the left side of the house, but the ones on the right are not as sensitive to the sunshine. I keep the least temperamental crops in the back, along with some gourds that shops have a hard time finding at this time of year. My more cold-sensitive plants are in planters indoors, I have that small little greenhouse attachment on the side of the house as well as fungi and the like in the basement.”

“It seems you truly have a bit of everything then?”

“I try to at least. Whenever traveling merchants come for market days, I make a point to collect whatever seeds I can. I also like picking up gardener’s pamphlets! There are always good tips for how to make certain plants thrive, and occasionally they’ll mention ones I’ve not heard of so I know to be on the lookout for those things. If there’s ever something you’re in need of that I don’t have, I’d be happy to collect some samples for you from some merchants and we can discuss planting them too.” When you glance up at Mingi again, his jaw is hanging slightly open, eyes still bearing into you with that same wonder and disbelief. “Oh, sorry, I’m being a terrible host. Did you want to come inside for some tea or coffee? It’s still quite early.”

“That’d be great. Do you happen to have a catalog of all your crops as well?”

“Of course, of course.” You motion for him to follow you up to the house just as a few drops of rain start hitting your skin. Maybe you won’t need to go down to the pond after all. “It seems you came at the perfect time. Do you have some sort of potion that lets you predict the weather?”

“If only,” he laughs, ducking his head a bit to avoid the doorframe. He shrugs his cloak off upon getting inside, and once again you’re regaled by the sight of him dressed in all black. Though, today he’s forgone gloves and simply stuck to a long-sleeved shirt that extends past his hands.

“You’re welcome to look around as I get the water on and all!”

“I’d be happy to do that for you.”

“Please, you’re a guest, that’d hardly be fair of me.”

“But I did accost you before dawn, so I’d like to think of it as a fair bargain.”

You purse your lips. “Okay, I’ll relent and allow you to do the water, but I’ll take care of everything else.” He drapes his cloak over the back of one of your chairs, very careful and meticulous about the way in which he lays it down, but you only watch him long enough to see him reach the sink. Turning your back to him, you busy yourself with finding mugs and prepping the coffee Seonghwa gave to you a few weeks back. You should’ve thought ahead and asked him for more since you were just over there, but it slipped your mind completely. Perhaps he needs some more lavender and rosemary, you could pack some and use that as an excuse to go back to see him.

When you turn around next, Mingi is already sitting at the table in the seat where he set his cloak down, and you make a small noise of surprise.

“Did you get the stove figured out already? I swear it takes me four or five tries to get it to come on right every time.”

“Hm? It came right on when I turned the knob. Is it not supposed to do that?”

You let out a huff of air while shrugging and set the mugs down on the table. “It never does that for me but that very well may be user error.” The sharp whistle of steam interrupts your thoughts. “Ah, and it’s heating up quickly too? Those remedies of yours are becoming more and more appealing by the second. You might be the town’s new miracle worker at this rate.”

In truth, it’s making your skin itch a little. There was some odd presence of magick back in Mingi’s shop, and even now you feel something sharp prodding at your own magickal energy in your own home. It’s not a threat, not one that you can concretely act on yet at least, but it’s enough to make you wary. To let a witch into your safe haven is a dangerous and risky game to play, especially if it’s where the source of your power is. Thankfully, you were not so foolish upon moving here to do something as juvenile as that — yours is safely kept away in that pond down the opposite side of the hill and tucked into a small grove in the surrounding forest.

“Oh, let me grab that catalog for you real quick!” You bolt up from your chair at the sudden realization, and Mingi seems to accept it as simply that. You grab the book from your shelf, also snatching up the charm you keep near it and slipping it around your wrist while you’re out of sight still. It won’t be enough to fully shroud your energy, but if Mingi is indeed poking and prodding at your aura in search of something, it ought to at least throw him off enough to sate his curiosities. You usually only use such an item when strangers come to town for those market days you mentioned to Mingi before, and it certainly is a first for you to have to use it in your home.

He’s not budged an inch by the time you return, which is nice to see because he could either have started snooping around in places he shouldn’t or bolted without a trace. You set the book down before him, still wearing a faint smile on your lips.

“I just updated it at the start of the week too, so you have the freshest copy.”

“Wonderful, I’m starting to understand the name on your gate post more and more.”

“Ah, that.” Wonderland was simply a silly little name you came up with on a whim because that’s what this place is to you, but it stuck and everyone in town loved it so much that you could not escape the urgings to keep it as a name even if you are not a shop owner in the way that people like Seonghwa and Mingi both are. “It’s nothing terribly special,” you opt to say instead. The kettle starts whistling more egregiously, saving you from having to explain the name any further. You stand and go to grab the handle of the pot, only to scald your palm so badly that you nearly fall over backward. Mingi scrambles to get up, chair clattering against the ground as he rushes in your direction.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I—”

“You’re sorry?” you blurt through gritted teeth, clinging to your hand and trying to will the pain away to no avail. “What are you sorry for?”

“I-I should’ve — I should’ve gotten that, I mean, my hands are…” he trails off, and you glance down at the now exposed hands that he’s put between you. From the tips of his fingers down to the first knuckle on every single digit, Mingi’s skin and nails both are the color of charcoal, like they’ve been permanently stained that way. Were you anybody else, you would not know what it means.

“I’m fine,” you say. He’s a warlock after all, it seems. Of course he is. You have been teetering on the confirmation for weeks at this point, and it was silly of you to ignore the obvious so many times over. His uncomfortably warm touch and the stifling heat inside his shop were both dead giveaways. You did not forget to extinguish your lantern last night, nor did the stove simply come on by way of Mingi being deft at using the knobs. He lit the lantern himself, lit the stove himself as well though because he was unaware of how your finicky stove works, he made the flame too big and too hot, thus leading to the quick boil and unfortunate accident of you burning your hand. The symbol on his door sign should have been enough of a clue.

“Please, at least let me make you something to treat the burn. It’s what I’m good at after all, and it’s the barest of minimums I could do.”

If you kick him out now, then it will surely be obvious that you know something about his identity. Only daft idiots or people with something to hide would turn down the help of a healer such as himself. In the past decade, you have lost all semblance of good judgment because no amount of mental gymnastics can get you to refuse his help right now. You’re dooming yourself if he already knows what you are, but if he’s got even the slightest hint and you turn him away, then you would confirm it for him. You have to take the risk.

“Okay, I would really appreciate it,” you whisper, easing yourself down into your chair once more. Mingi’s shoulders visibly relax. “All these plants and I’m afraid I’ve barely got enough knowledge to make tea on a good day with them. Everything you need ought to be on the shelves behind the counter. Those are all freshly picked too.” When he turns his back to you, you let your meek expression drop and glare at the welt that’s already formed across your palm. Mingi’s magick does not appear to be volatile, meaning that he must have had some sort of formal training in his life. It’s common for fire warlocks to bear the same charcoal-looking scars that he has, mostly from overexertion of their kind of magick. You produce more sweat than is natural for a normal human being thanks to your affinities too.

Would the House truly send someone here for you after so long? And to go through the effort of having them set up a shop in the heart of town? If they wanted someone to watch you, then it would have been easier and smarter to have someone take one of the cottages closer to you. Besides, Mingi has not been taking every opportunity to come find you or learn about you. Nor does he wear any ring to indicate his affiliation with the House. A sanctioned mage would surely make use of such benefits. Could he be a defector like you? Or one that never made it into the House’s grasp?

He returns to the table with a mortar and pestle filled with some sort of salve that he’s already beaten down into a mush.

“Does it hurt badly?”

“Quite a bit,” you answer truthfully, only wincing a little when he turns your palm to the ceiling. It feels as though his fingers alone could sear your skin.

“I made extra for you to use over the next several days as well. All you need to do is store it somewhere cool and apply a little to the burn twice a day until the pain stops.” The mixture is so blissfully cold on your skin that you could cry, and even with Mingi’s warm touch massaging it into the burn, it feels like a heavenly relief. “If the pain doesn’t stop by the time you run out of salve, then please come visit me. I can make more and give you something to keep it from scarring.”

“Understood.”

“And y/n…” He squeezes your hand ever so slightly, and your breath catches in your throat. “You do not have to hide what you are around me.” His gaze finds yours. “You are a witch after all, are you not?” A witch. The word feels like a slap in the face.

“Are you associated with the House? Did they send you? What is it you want from me?”

“The House? Absolutely not. I left their good graces many years ago. I wouldn’t give them even an ounce of my time anyway.”

“So what? You’re a witch as well?”

“Yes, I suppose I am though I don’t make a habit of calling myself that. Simply an apothecary, much like how you are simply a farmer. Of sorts.” Mingi fidgets in his seat and looks closer at you. “I am genuinely not here to cause you harm or disrupt your life. I imagine we came here for the very same reasons in fact. I simply want to live by my own terms, not anyone else’s.”

“Get out,” you whisper. Perhaps there are hundreds of better ways to handle this, but you have never had to do such a thing in all your time here, and you cannot be faulted for acting out of panic and fear now. Your voice comes out louder now, “Get out of my home then! Get out and don’t come back d-don’t dare tell anyone.”

“The energy is permeating the entire house.” Mingi keeps his tone quiet as he continues to speak through your distress. “Your garden too, I felt it immediately. The rain — it’s in there as well. Sure, it’s always rainy season here but how much of it is because of you?”

“You know what the other name for my kind is, right?”

“You’re a water witch.”

You retract your hand from his with a scoff.

“The House tends to call us Scyllans. Sweet temptresses of the deep, killers of foolish men.”

Mingi somehow has it in him to smile.

“Then I ought to be safe, for I am neither foolish nor a mere man.” He stands without saying another word, collecting his cloak off the back of his chair and slinging it around his shoulders. You can’t help but to stare at him, wary and on edge with every movement he makes even when he reaches the door. “My words hold true, y/n. I hope you think them over at least. And your secret is truly safe with me.”

…

You avoid going into town for so long that Seonghwa seeks you out five days after you go into self-imposed seclusion. It’s easy to keep him off your back at least, and from what you can tell, Mingi has not sought him out to expose your dirty secrets as of yet. The logical part of you understands that you ought to avoid angering the man because he does hold quite a bit of power over you right now. Fear keeps you captive instead, however.

Two weeks and a day after that fateful encounter you had with Mingi, you dare to leave the comfort of your home. Not to go into the village — that is a step you are not prepared to face — but rather to visit your precious grove in the forest. You should have gone last week as it’s always been your habit to go once a month to rejuvenate your magick; however, you were so on edge that you couldn’t get beyond your back fence and promptly turned right back around. Tonight, you’re determined.

The skies are clear, not a single cloud marring her starry expanses, and the moon hangs high near the center of the sky. Even better yet, it’s a full moon. Ideal conditions for you to bathe in the pond and restore some much-needed energy. You set out forty minutes from midnight even though your trek will not take that long. You need only be there for the highest peak of the moon, so giving yourself this little bit of leeway should allow you all the time required to reach your destination. Despite yourself, you do glance over your shoulder several times on your way out of the house and garden. When you’re content with your loneliness, you set off down the hill.

It’s not as though you decided to dismiss Mingi’s words altogether once he left. You have put much thought and consideration into them, in fact, especially after Seonghwa came to see you and nothing had changed between the two of you. It’s no guarantee that Mingi didn’t tell anyone, but it’s something. The matter of him being a witch like you, well, that has been a contentious debate in your head. A true warlock calling themselves a witch is considered heresy to many, so you have to believe that Mingi is being truthful with you. You know enough about his magick to know for certain he is either one or the other. But at the end of the day, there is no way for him to prove as much. All he has is his word to back him up, and all you can do is either accept it as truth or deny it.

Long ago, you had settled on the knowledge that you would likely be a rather lonely creature for the rest of your days. Finding Charybid and its people was a welcome blessing, but not a permanent one, and the friends you’ve made (especially Seonghwa and Yunho) cannot understand what it is you are or relate to you on any matter concerning witchcraft. You’ve long since accepted that loneliness as a part of you even if there are pieces of your heart craving warmth and understanding from another like you.

If it were possible, could Mingi be that sort of person in your life? Does he crave the same thing? Is that why he confronted you to begin with?

You reach the grove with a heavier heart than anticipated. Moonlight creeps in through the canopy of branches overhead, glistening off the half-circle of rocks around milky green waters. The moon has already been charging the pond for hours, and you feel the pulse of magick resonating deep in you from the bottom of it.

Stripping down to nothing, you drop your clothes into a pile near the rocks with your satchel and toe at the water. It’s frigid as expected, thanks to the encroaching winter that is coming closer and closer still. You sink into it fully and submerge yourself in the charged waters. Several meters down at the bottom lies your precious black pearl, glowing a deep purple shade to show exactly how much magick she’s stored since you last came. You let the waters hold you for some time until the dull thrum you feel around you turns into a hum that makes your skin feel like it’s full of electricity.

It’s only then that you decide to emerge once more, breaking the surface of the water and letting air replace the magick in your lungs.

Yet, you find that you are not alone.

Bent so far over the pond that he looks one slip away from tumbling down into it, none other than Mingi sits crouched at the edge. It’s far too late to pretend as though you haven’t made note of each other. Depending on which direction Mingi came from, he may not have even seen your belongings behind the rocks. You sink lower in the water until it comes up to cover your lips.

“My apologies. I did not know you were here.” Just his gaze is enough to make your body warm. You tilt your chin up.

“Is that so?”

“I came because of the magickal energy, yes. Not because I knew you would be here.” He’s not far from you. The moon shines her pretty rays down around him, and you blame her for the insatiable tug in your gut that’s making you want to pull him into the waters with you. “I have been thinking about you though,” he admits under his breath. You imagine the words are not meant for your ears, but he doesn’t seem to realize he’s spoken them out loud. It takes little movement on your part to swim closer to him, and you only stop when he is perched directly above you.

“Do I look the part of a temptress now?” you inquire, hand breaking through the surface of the water to caress his cheek.

“Incredibly so,” he murmurs. “I see why foolish men fall. Perhaps I am no better.”

“You know nothing about me.” You trace your fingers down to his chin.

“I know enough.”

You shush him with a laugh and a finger placed directly over his lips. “The sun gives you her power during the day, but on nights like these, the moon offers me a fair exchange. Her power for my sexual energy. That is where a water witch’s magick comes from, and it’s what has earned us all those myths and urban legends about eating men. Now that you know that of me, should I trust you in return?”

“I am what I say I am. I am a fire witch. I defected from the House of Ballads five years ago. To answer your question, though, if…” His gaze has become lidded, focus drawing down to your lips with each word he tries to speak. You feel just as overwhelmed and foggy yourself, the excess magick seeping into you from all angles as the moon inches ever closer to her peak. “…you deem it wise.”

“I think some part of me might.”

“Did you consider what I said to you last time?”

“But of course. It wasn’t so long ago that I’ve forgotten already.” A sigh escapes you as you look up to where the moon can just barely be seen through the trees. “I’d like to give you a chance, if only because of morbid curiosity and the fact that I have made it a decade without finding another like myself.”

You inch up and graze Mingi’s lips with your own. His fingertips tickle the surface of the water, and the effect is nearly instant. Warmth surrounds you and draws a gasp out of you that has you curling away from Mingi’s face. He leans back.

“I cannot restrain myself well enough tonight. Not in the presence of such potent magick.” You are equal parts pleasantly surprised and grossly disappointed by his willpower. With a smile, you push away from the edge of the pond and head further into the water. Mingi almost makes the mistake of following you, teetering at the grassy bank.

“You are welcome to visit again. So long as I am not nude or compromised.”

“I-I—” His cheeks are stained a deep red by now.

“I do not intend to put on a show for you tonight, Mingi, but I am in desperate need of the moon’s energy. If that is all, then…?” Were the circumstances any different, you would consider your wording to be crude in that you are essentially asking him to leave so that you can fuck yourself with the crystal you brought along with you in your bag.

He clears his throat and sits completely back on his heels, gaze wandering across your face. Licking over his lips, his eyes linger on the water droplets running from your hairline to your jaw.

“I will come to you when the first snow falls,” he says. “So that you may have time to contemplate things further. My decision is already made, and I'm sure you're aware of it. Please… please let me know then what your choice is.” You want to retort that he doesn’t have the best track record thus far, but instead leave well enough and wave him away with a grin. A bout of laughter leaves your lips as soon as he passes through the clearing and out of sight.

“Are you testing me?” you whisper to the moon, receiving nothing but her monotonous glow in response. You wade over to the rocks where you left your belongings and quickly rifle through your pack in search of the rose quartz you brought along. It’s cold to the touch, unpleasant in comparison to the warm body that you just had with you and within your grasp. While the shape isn't perfect, it gets the job done in the absence of the real deal, and it serves its purpose just fine. Not like you have any other options as it is.

Part of you entertains the idea of having Mingi still here — from a practical standpoint, consummating the ritual with another magick user would be far more effective than using a crystal charged by the moon. But from a pleasure standpoint…

You dip your fingers between your legs, letting your body fall back to rest your head on the edge of the pond as you seek your core between your folds. The magick at your fingertips pulses through you and sends a jolt into your system just from the slightest brush. A soft mewl falls from your lips. You feel Mingi’s magick still permeating all throughout the water, clinging to your skin, and on your lips, you taste fire from that minute little kiss exchanged in a fit of passion.

No matter how hard you try, you cannot get your fingers deep enough inside your cunt. Instead, your thoughts are plagued by the visual of Mingi’s hands, his long fingers, the searing heat that emanates from them, and the all-consuming desire to know what it would feel like to have them inside you.

You cannot even bring yourself to waste time right now; slipping your fingers free, you plunge the toy in your other hand into yourself and sink it all the way in until the pressure in your gut is eased the slightest bit. It's blissfully cold against your walls; the coolness eases the burn that seems to be wedged beneath your skin and brings some clarity back to your mind. It does not, however, chase every thought of Mingi from your brain. In the haze of your vision, you can hallucinate him before you still, imagine him in the spot where he was not long ago watching you with those fiery intense eyes and urging you on. A louder cry of pleasure tumbles out of you as you're forced to twist and brace yourself on a rock to keep increasing the pace of the toy's thrusts inside you.

It ought to fill you with some degree of shame, you think, because who lusts so strongly after a stranger who poses something of a threat to your well-being and livelihood? But when your mind goes back to the idea of his large hands gripping your waist and hips as he splits you open on his cock, you can't be bothered in the slightest about the speed at which you're becoming invested in this man — all that matters is the speed at which you're thrusting the crystal dildo in and out of your pussy as an orgasm creeps up on you. You have to bury your face in the crook of your arm to have some semblance of sanity to cling to. And when you unravel soon after, it’s his name on your lips.

…

The first snow of the season is late.

You have been trying to avoid thinking about it solely on account of the superstition that mulling it over will only delay it further, but those attempts are futile. Because when you tell yourself to not think about it, you only end up thinking about it more, then you devolve into a sick cycle of reasoning with yourself and the moon and any deity out there who will give you the time of day.

While you could set your pride aside for the sake of what it is you’re waiting on exactly, that is simply not in your nature. Additionally, you want to see whether Mingi will uphold his end of the bargain. He promised to come at the first snow. So you will wait for that day.

Your gardens are thriving thanks to the lack of snow and the amplified support of your fully-charged magick, which is the only positive you can find in this situation while you essentially sit on your hands and wait. The downside is, however, that the temperatures are still steadily declining, and you always struggle in the winter to keep your home warm enough. Your specialty may be in water magick, but that does not mean you have any control or power over the temperature of said water, and everything around you tends to skew a bit cooler as it is. The thought of how cold you are and your house is and everything in between only pushes your thoughts more towards the lack of warmth and a potential source of it that will not come unless the fucking snow does first.

If you have to put up with seeing Mingi’s smiling face across the street while you’re pestering Seonghwa one more time then you may truly snap and lose all semblance of self-respect.

…

You’re knelt in a bed of rosemary when the first flakes of snow start to hit your skin. At first, you think it to be just rain but then a flurry touches one of the purple blossoms on the herb. The shout you let out is a terrifying mixture of joy and exasperation because at long last, your agonizing wait can finally come to a close. The way you scramble to pull yourself out of the dirt and rush indoors ought to be more embarrassing. It takes you all of five minutes to change out of your grimy gardening clothes and into something cozier and cleaner, though all you do is park yourself at the kitchen table with a mug of hot tea and stare out the window waiting for any sign of movement on the hill. The snow is coming down harder already, a billowing cloud of white that cloaks the dirt and grass on the ground. It doesn’t even occur to you to think that Mingi might not come at all, that he might have forgotten or worse — simply not chosen to come at all — because your patience has worn so thin over the past weeks that you feel relief just seeing the snow.

And luckily for you, Mingi is far more timely and true to his word than he was before. You neglected to keep track of the time, though you haven’t finished your tea yet by the time his lanky figure comes over the crest of the hill. You know it to be him instantly because his fiery hair is visible through the white all around him.

You’re at the door before you can think twice, flinging it open and making your way down the path to the gate as though you aren’t in the biggest rush of your life. Behind him, there’s a trail of footsteps where the snow has melted under his feet, and the closer he gets, the better you can see how not even a single snowflake sticks to him in any way. Every flake that touches even the outside of his cloak simply melts upon contact, leaving him pristine in the sea of white falling around you.

“Did you wait long?” he asks upon reaching your gate. Somehow he manages to maintain a lilting tone that makes your brain itch. You want to kiss him so silly that all that smugness dissipates like the snow on his skin. “Y/n.” The breathy exhale of your name is all it takes for you to grab him by the collar and yank him down to your level. The warmth is so blessedly welcome. “Have you made your decision?”

You slot your lips against his, licking at the seam of his lips without waiting for further invitation. He scrambles with the latch on the gate, though you’re of no help at all with how you’re trying to pull him over it, but once that pesky barrier is pushed open just a little bit, he slides through the gap and seals his body against yours. Even though the cold doesn’t seem to be affecting him much, his breathing still comes out in pants, like he sprinted the whole way here from town without rest. He clasps his hands around the back of your neck, thumbs caressing the underside of your jaw, and each kiss he plants on your lips is more searing than the last. It takes all you have to not trip over backward on your feet with him guiding you back towards the door of your home. The two of you don’t even make it through the door before he’s pushing you up against the doorframe and slotting a knee between your thighs.

“Please, y/n, let me hear it from these pretty lips,” he begs. Your whole body is alight with something — either magick or lust or something in between those things that you can’t distinguish at present. The heat radiating off his body makes your head spin, and it’s such an intoxicating sensation that you reach your hands beneath the fabric of his cloak to be closer to skin.

“I trust you, I need you, I want you to have me,” you murmur back. Mingi pushes his lower lip out with the tip of his tongue. His gaze carries the same heat you’ve grown used to seeing all the time when you look at his eyes. Now, the weight of it feels heavier. Your breath hitches in your throat as he wraps an arm around your back, and his fingers dig into your side briefly. You’re pulled away from the doorframe and into the house only for him to slam the door shut and lock the snow out. What you aren’t expecting is to be flattened to the surface face first mere seconds later.

“I want to have you right here and now,” Mingi growls behind you. Every brush of his hands over your body leaves goosebumps in their wake along with the heat of his magick seeping into your skin. He takes apart your bodice carefully, pulling each string with a startling amount of care compared to his desperate rush to have you. A sort of fever takes hold of you, and with each piece of clothing he removes from your being, the more the fire in your belly roars. Glancing down, you see your clothes fallen into a heap on the floor, along with his cloak, then his coat, his shirt — each piece of fabric goes to join the pile until you feel bare skin against yours. The bliss of the contact is so immense that you let out a pitiful moan.

“Mingi.”

“Raise your arms over your head for me, y/n.”

“Mingi,” you utter again, following the instruction without a breath of hesitation. He takes both of your wrists between just one of his hands and pins them to the flat surface of the door. Your chest trembles under your breaths.

“I will not be rough with you unless you allow it. How I take you is up to you… whether it be me taking you apart gently or fucking you hot and raw right here and now.” You can’t take the sensation of his breathing down your neck without squirming. No matter how hard you squeeze your thighs together, there’s no relief for the pulsing need for pressure there. The moment Mingi catches onto your attempts, he wedges his knee between your legs and leaves you to rock back on his muscled thigh for some sort of escape.

“Please.” It’s as though there’s cotton in your mouth keeping you from fully forming any kind of sentence because although your thoughts are running at a mile per minute, you cannot seem to get more than one word out at a time. Mingi nudges you forward into the door once again. He replaces the pressure of his thigh with his unoccupied hand, cupping your cunt and dragging his middle finger along the slit of your folds.

“You’re coming undone already, my little witch.” Mingi suddenly flicks his finger forward over your clit, and your knees buckle. Your reaction delights him so much that he repeats the action two more times, and your body truly becomes putty in his hands. He keeps you up between the hand holding your wrists to the door and the one cupped around your sex, but you aren’t sure your muscles could keep you up on their own without the help. Especially not when Mingi gets more daring and pulls a second finger into the mix to tease the ring of your entrance with small, methodical circles.

“Put them in me, put your fingers in!” you cry out only for Mingi to roll over your clit once again. His cock is twitching against your ass, firm and big, and part of you wants to forget everything else solely to have him in your mouth and down your throat.

“Is that how good girls ask for things?” He pinches your clit between his fingers until you’re whimpering out an apology and smearing drool across the door. “Ask again. Nicely this time, sweetheart.”

“Please f-fuck me with your fingers, please open me up for you, I w-want to feel you so badly.” Nonsensical babbling is enough for him, blessedly, because you’re not confident that anything more coherent than that could make its way out of you right now. He rolls the pads of his fingers up against your clit again before going any lower. His laugh is borderline sadistic when you curl your fingers into the wood, nails clawing for some sort of grip that will help you ground yourself. “Wanna come so—!”

“That’s it, come for me, lovely. Then I’ll fuck you nice and loose on my fingers while you’re coming.” Mingi retracts his fingers right when your gut clenches, and as your walls squeeze tight around nothing, he slips two digits into your cunt. Your lips part in a silent scream, moans caught in the back of your throat. Your vision goes white behind your eyelids though it lasts so much longer than what you’re used to getting from your own hand and toys. Perhaps it’s because Mingi doesn’t let up on you even in the throes of your orgasm, or thanks to your magickal energies intertwining in the most raw and intimate way imaginable. “Let me open you up some more first, then I’ll give you what you want.”

You blink your eyes open and look at Mingi out your peripherals, mouth wide open and cheek still pressed harshly into the door even though you’re the one keeping it there.

“Do you want it too?” you ask out of the blue. Your voice is tight and strained. His fingers curl inside you.

“So badly,” comes his quick reply, “that it’s taking everything in me not to put my dick in you right now. But I don’t want to hurt you.” As though to emphasize his feelings, Mingi rolls his hips forward, and his cock rubs hard against your ass. “Doesn’t even look like it’s gonna fit in you, fuck.”

“Mingi, I need you in me now, like right this instant now, not in five minutes now.” The first orgasm has your vision hazy and legs wobbly, but that’s far from a concern to you at the moment. Your urgency pushes the man behind you to have the same sort of franticness, hurriedly slipping his fingers free of your cunt and readjusting his hold so that he can grip the base of his dick. You hold perfectly still for him as he lines himself up with your waiting hole that’s already sopping with arousal. Your pussy takes him in like it’s greedy for it, each inch sliding in and spreading you wider to accommodate to his size. One thing’s for certain: Mingi has a stupidly big dick, so big that it makes you wonder if you’d be able to feel it through your stomach if you put a hand there.

Whatever shreds of patience he had left in him turn to ash the second he’s fully buried balls-deep in you. He doesn’t wait even a second before he pulls out about halfway, and the only stutter in his rhythm comes from him trying to find it. You’re suddenly rather glad that he’s keeping your hands up for you because the drive of his cock inside your pussy would bring you to your knees otherwise. The sounds of pleasure fill your ears — his low baritone moans tangled alongside your more throaty ones that crack here and there, the slap of his hips hitting your ass, and the thumping of the door as he fucks you so hard against it that it trembles.

“Y-You’re so deep, I feel you in my stomach,” you choke out between moans. It devolves into a sob as Mingi shifts his angle upwards a bit and hits a new spot deep inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Yeah? Your pussy is clinging to me nice and tight, lovely, I think you like it a little too much.” He has enough composure to still speak without crying, meanwhile, tears are starting to pool at the corners of your eyes as the overstimulation of your senses and nerves reaches unimaginable heights. “Bet your pretty little toy isn’t even half as big as me.”

Mingi thrusts so hard into you that his grip on your wrists falters, and one of your hands falls free. He doesn’t bother correcting it, nor do you try to keep it up any longer, instead rushing to get your fingers around your clit again. You’re so hyperfocused on chasing the high of another orgasm that you don’t warn him it’s about to hit you this time. He knows well enough when your body seizes for a moment before releasing every bit of tension in your muscles. Your walls flex around his cock, working him in time with the waves of your euphoria, until he can’t take it anymore and pulls free of your hole. He rests his length atop the cleft of your ass and thrusts a few more times there, then comes his release. Hot ropes of come shoot out from his cock, painting your naked back into a messy canvas of come and sweat.

Despite the sudden quiet filling the house, your hearing is hypervigilant and clings to every slight noise that comes from your partner, from his fight to get air into his lungs to the hand he now rubs over his spent cock.

“You…” Your throat is too dry and you end up coughing instead of getting a sentence out. Mingi’s fingers trace small, unknown patterns into your hip. “You’re welcome to stay through winter. That’s my answer.”

“Through winter?” Mingi hums. He slips his hand around your waist and flattens his large palm over your abdomen. “What about spring?”

“Then too.”

“And summer?” He’s teasing you again. Somehow he still has the energy to do that.

“And summer and autumn then winter again. But maybe by the spring after that, I’ll be sick of you!”

“You won’t be,” he says through a laugh, lips brushing against the side of your head. You’re going to need better retorts if he plans on sticking around that long.

────────────

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heylittleriotact · 17 days ago

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*banging pots and pans* Come get your angst! Delicious, heart wrenching Emmrook angst!

𝑀𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓊𝓃𝒹

adjective

1. near death

2. stagnant; without force or vitality

One of us needs to consider my mortality.

Had he known what would happen hours later, he would have chosen very different words indeed.

It was a foolish assertion in hindsight - a weak argument and he knew it: Amina was always considering mortality. His, hers, and everyone else’s.

A study of Emmrich's perspective after Rook goes missing: we get to bear witness to a scruffy, smelly, devastated man up to his neck in self-loathing, as well as the spirits that help him.

Contains heavy Act 3 spoilers - proceed at your own risk!

Full under the cut or on ao3

Day 0:

It was extremely unorthodox thinking - there was no evidence or theory supporting any circumstance where it might work: without a body on this side of the Veil to serve as a ballast, it was wishful thinking at best, but he had to try. Not trying meant accepting, and he refused to accept that she was gone - lost forever to the Dread Wolf’s prison. Not with their exchange from the night before being what it was…

That couldn’t be the end.

He excused himself curtly from the others upon their arrival back at the Lighthouse, expertly sidestepping any inquiries after his own wellbeing that followed him doggedly until they were silenced by the laboratory door slamming shut behind him. Might he have come off as callous? Perhaps. Did he care? Not presently. The time for contrition would come later.

Questions lingered about the specifics of what had happened, but it was easy enough to infer by the fact that Solas walked free and Amina had seemingly vanished from existence, she had been made to take his place in the prison he’d been trapped in. Solas had been able to survive there in that pocket of the Fade, so that meant that Amina could too… for a time at least, if not indefinitely.

He was going to get her out.

But first…

He stood in the middle of the room and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in, holding it… then slowly letting it go in a measured, disciplined exhalation that helped to slow his racing heart as he forced his body back into a state of calm: no mean feat when one comprehended the heaviness of the air as it pressed in around him, the tragic gravity of his task weighing on him.

He lifted his hands, felt the comforting susurrations of the Veil playing over, through, between his fingers as he trailed them through seemingly empty space: a lonely conductor at the podium, leading an invisible orchestra… the melancholy composer of a poignant dirge.

Threads unravelled with the morose, introspective swell of a cello’s baleful hum, and the vast mystery of Beyond sang to him, a faceless, nebulous chorus of voices, ageless and legion. Some were joyful, others despondent, but they all maintained a pristine harmony that would cause even the most cruel and unfeeling of souls to take pause for the sheer perfection of their sound.

He swallowed away the tightness in his throat. Forced strength into his craven voice. Focused on the familiar verdant light that filtered through his eyelids.

“Hear me, Amina - with my voice I am calling you!” He sent the words beyond the Veil, where no one may ever hear them again. “I set this beacon for you now: a beacon that will guide you home. Follow my voice. Follow me home: we are waiting for you…. I am waiting for you.”

With a gesture of his hand that would look very complicated to anyone observing, he tethered the invisible line he had cast into the Fade to the only body in the room: his. Traditionally this particular spell was called upon to guide wayward spirits back to their hosts, or in rare cases, draw the spirit of a dying person back from the Fade before it was too late to resuscitate them. That anchor point in the world of the living was vital for the magic to work, but since Amina left behind no body, Emmrich could only live in hope that her spirit was as tightly bound to him as he suspected his was to her.

It was likely folly: what affection could survive his cowardice? His preening ignorance? His vainglorious proclivity for driving something away as transcendentally pure as love itself?

But he had to try: at the very least she could live to despise him for the rest of her days.

The green light faded as his hands stilled and the notes of the symphony resolved. Silence returned so harshly it physically hurt. He opened his eyes and clasped his hands together as he so often did.

“I need you, dear…”

Perhaps she would hear that too.

Day 2:

He was awake well into the early morning hours communing with the dead, listening through the Veil for a whisper, a rumour - any rumblings amongst the spirits that would avail him of his darkest thoughts: even confirmation that she was alive would be enough.

The spirits were indeed talkative, but not a single one seemed aware of the presence of a mortal woman in their realm.

He wept for the first time that morning as her absence in its totality hit him all at once - the first of many times that tears would be shed in the coming days as he curled around her scent-heavy pillow on the settee in her room.

The couch which ordinarily felt rather cramped when they both shared it now seemed devastatingly wide and empty without her tangled up in him, giggling softly as she slotted her thigh between his and slipped a hand up the back of his shirt to shock him with the coldness of it against his skin.

Gone. She was gone, and it was entirely his doing…

Day 4:

It had taken precisely eight words to destroy everything, as Johanna’s remains were so eager to point out before he had her temporarily removed to a quiet alcove elsewhere in the Lighthouse. It was an astute observation, and he couldn’t find it within himself to offer a rebuttal to her further assessment that he was a ridiculous gloating twat with a truly awe-inspiring gift for cataclysmically fucking things up for every single poor soul that happened to cross paths with him.

One of us needs to consider my mortality.

Had he known what would happen hours later, he would have chosen very different words indeed.

It was a foolish assertion in hindsight - a weak argument and he knew it: Amina was always considering mortality. His, hers, and everyone else’s. If life was a sentence in a book, death was simply the appropriate punctuation that marked the end of it: without it, the sentence lost all of its weight and meaning.

She always spoke so romantically about the inevitability of that final mystery - the peace and freedom from pain and fear that would come with it, and the comforting guarantee of an end in a world where one could seldom rely on the guarantee of anything: food, fortune… love. To her, it was part of a treasured natural order, responsible for everything from the stars in the sky to the worms in the dirt. She was enchanted by mortality… he loathed it.

He dragged his hands through his greasy hair, hunched over an old and fragile tome.A tear splashed on the page, and not wanting to damage the delicate paper even in this state, he wiped it away.

His eyes itched and felt swollen - he didn’t need to look in a mirror to know they were bloodshot from long hours of focusing on print, missed sleep, and periodic bouts of pain and regret that would descend upon him like some great, vicious bird of wrath. It ravaged him with its talons and plucked at his insides with its wicked beak, discarding his guts methodically as it rooted around inside of him for its favored meats: his liver and his kidneys - bloody and succulent. His heart was left untouched by the cruel raptor… it wanted him to feel everything, and he welcomed its agonizing ministrations as he toiled endlessly, trying to find a way to fix his mistake.

It was his mistake after all.

“It wasn’t your fault!” Neve had insisted the first time he dared to speak the truth aloud.

A thoughtful sentiment, but worthless when held up to the light: he had instructed Amina to seize the dagger from Ghilan’nain’s corpse, and she obeyed without question because she trusted him implicitly.

He had been told after the collapse that the death of his parents wasn’t his fault either - as if that was of any real comfort to a traumatized child, newly orphaned and numb with grief.

Of course it wasn’t his fault - even as a young boy he knew the catastrophic failure of the building wasn’t his doing, but people said ignorant things when they didn’t know what else to say. Things that took root in the heart of a young man, replacing his grief over the years with a solemn and defiant indignance: ‘it wasn’t your fault,’ ‘it was the Maker’s will,’ ‘they’re in a better place now,’ ‘at least they didn’t suffer…’

Why would the benevolent and loving Maker will that a small child should be made to grow up without the love and protection of his Mother and Father? What divine goodness was there in stripping him of that and forcing him to carry the burden of their fates for the rest of his life?

Did people really put any thought to the shallow platitudes they babbled to fill space and tidily rationalize that which is utterly and completely irrational? Or was it merely a performance to give the one who offered them some measure of absolution - a sense that they’ve done the ‘right’ and ‘helpful’ thing in such a circumstance, when in fact they’ve unknowingly heaped another layer of despair on top of an already smothering, lonely mound of it?

Dizzying, petulant questions he had pondered for years… bitter, angry little things that buzzed around his head like grave-flies: when one died, three more seemed to take its place.

A small, dark part of him - a squirming, fanged thing with gnashing teeth and a tongue like a wooden switch had been sorely tempted to enlighten Neve to the futility of her words… perhaps subject her to what would come across as an overly curt and somewhat sardonic lecture on what one might instead choose to say to a bereaved person that wasn’t the verbal equivalent of spitting in a wound and rubbing salt in it. He might have made her cry, and he would have felt shameful for it later, but in the moment he would have taken what glee he could find in the seed of misery he planted in the world.

Instead he stuffed that wicked, bristling, fanged shade of himself away and reminded himself that Neve was grieving too… as were the rest of them. Not only was Rook gone, but Harding had bravely given her life to defeat Ghilan’nain. Bellara had been captured by the enemy, her fate unknown…

The Lighthouse had taken on the solemn stillness of a mourning parlor, and he should have been the most understanding and compassionate among them of their shared sorrow. He should have been helping them: shepherding them ably through the tribulations and challenging waves of emotion they would grapple with over the days and weeks to come like he was solemnly sworn to do, but he couldn’t… not when his every thought was occupied by her and the sheer, unrelenting compulsion to right this wrong: he was responsible for her being caught in Solas’ trap - it fell to him to get her out.

Her hips swayed with her familiar feminine gait as she strolled away from him in a memory, and her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot… she was breathtakingly radiant in the morning.

He never got to tell her that every morning he got to spend with her - disheveled, heavy-eyed, and often in a state of partial undress - was more precious than life itself to him. He never got to tell her how much he admired her maturity and well-organized mind, because the truth of it was that despite his enviable list of accomplishments and considerable years of experience, Amina possessed an enterprising bravery he knew could not be learned from a book.

Before the day ended he called through the Veil to her again, and as it had each time, the echo of his words came back empty.

“Oh darling…” He said to the absolute silence of the laboratory. “I’m so sorry.”

Just like Neve, he knew she’d tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Day 7:

He had been immersed in the dagger: the act of shaping the raw shard of lyrium into something deliberate and precise. It hung in the air, rotating slowly as he manipulated the Veil around it, giving the material form and purpose. Solas’s dagger was the key to the prison, and he had reclaimed it when he freed himself. Rather than wasting valuable time trying to get it back, it had been communally decided that attempting to duplicate it would be a wiser course of action. Letting Amina go - abandoning her to her fate - was no more of an option for their companions than it was for Emmrich.

He had thrown himself into the work - it gave him purpose and an outlet for the despair that threatened to overwhelm him when his hands and mind stilled for too long.

It was momentum. A direction.

“Pondering, planning, praying–”

Emmrich nearly leapt out of his skeleton - the shard of lyrium clattered to the workbench. He put out his hand to keep it from bouncing over the edge and shattering on the floor.

“Never a man of faith - but what else is there to turn to when reason has fled? ‘Please keep her safe.’ Words whispered through a curtain of song: ‘Darling, come home.’”

He took a breath and turned around, finding himself face to face with a spectral woman with ragged, dirty hair and a tattered, stained gown. Her translucent, faintly glowing form was in an advanced state of decomposition: her tongue dangled morbidly from her mouth, attached by the smallest scrap of connective tissue. Her skin was mottled and discoloured and sagged tenuously from the outline of her skull. He could see all of her teeth - not due to a smile or a snarl, but because her lips had dehydrated and withered away.

A rather unusual form for a spirit of this variety to take, he decided. It was a blessing she decided to manifest here in the laboratory and not Taash’s room - she would have given them quite a fright.

But was he truly so wretched that he had drawn Yearning to this place?

The spirit seemed to pick up on his moment of self-pity and it stiffened slightly, smoothing its decayed hands over the skirt of its ruined dress as it tossed what remained of its hair testily.

“At least there exists one Watcher who can identify me correctly.” Her voice was an autumn breeze, sharp and stinging.

He examined her closer, lifted a hand and felt her aura tingle against the bare skin of his palm. “Oh, my apologies,” he pulled the hand back and twined his fingers together in front of himself. “Devotion. I’m humbled by your presence given the circumstances. It couldn’t be that you’ve heard anything in the rippling currents of the Fade?”

“No.” The answer was abrupt but not unkind - the spirit did not dally with unnecessary semantics. “The Lost Watcher is hidden from all but the oldest and most sensitive of us, but she is a being of unique substance and did a great service and kindness unto me once - as she has done for many before me.”

Though the sting that came with confirmation that she was deeply, deeply hidden in the Fade hurt, he couldn’t help but be warmed with a sense of pride by the reminder that his Amina was a champion for spirits like Devotion and had spent her life aiding such beings… a fact that was clearly known amongst spiritkind.

Glowing green eyes landed on the rough likeness of the dagger on the workbench. “I have heard of you, Professor Volkarin. The others whisper of you even in the deepest halls of the Necropolis as I soothe their loneliness and seek to mend that which has broken them. I would not have found them if not for her.”

He’d heard rumours months earlier of a spirit that had manifested in the deepest, most rarely travelled corridors of the Necropolis. Despite its lesser classification it allegedly sought out the maligned and tormented and cared for them stalwartly with a dedication that was nothing short of admirable. If Amina had been the one responsible for it manifesting in the Necropolis in the first place…

Another thing added to the ever-growing list of things he wanted to ask about - there were so many stories he wanted to hear… but he wanted to hear them from her.

“I will remain here with you, Corpse Whisperer while you toil to reunite with your beloved. I cannot do much, but I can keep the likes of Sorrow and Diffidence at bay, for they are drawn to your labours as I was. Work, Watcher… and I will keep you safe.”

Day 11:

Was she even still alive? The thought burst into his mind unbidden, taking immediate precedence over the words he was half trying to read. Had she languished away by now, her mortal body incapable of sustaining itself in a prison designed for immortal gods? Beyond the need for obvious necessities like food and water, what horrors lurked in that place as retribution for the sins of the gods? Could she defend herself indefinitely? And if she had died, were those final moments peaceful: the welcoming of the sunset at the end of a long day? Or were they desperate seconds that stretched into eternity as she realized her impending and unavoidable demise, her entire being gripped with loneliness and terror as life slipped from her grasp like the finest grains of sand…

“No.” The assertion possessed defiance he didn’t think he was capable of. “I cannot think like that.”

She isn’t dead… she can’t be dead for the simple fact that there’s so much I have yet to say to her…

Denial, this was called, and it was a common coping mechanism amongst the bereaved. The mind was tremendously skilled at protecting itself during times of immense emotional and psychological strain. Comforting rationale would parse itself into a neatly packaged alternative that was easier to confront than the truth - a temporary neurological repair not meant to last forever, but rather allow one to withstand the immediate shock of a loss. But was he suffering the rigors of grief, or was he on the right path with his stubborn refusal to accept anything that didn’t result in Amina warm and safe and alive in his arms?

Did he even deserve her back after how he’d treated her?

Devotion was a welcome companion and had been a tremendous balm to his soul with its presence alone, but as hours drained away and days seemingly raced past, it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the mounting odds that there may not be a favourable outcome to this problem.

He heaved a sigh and straightened in his chair, his spine protesting at the sudden shift in positioning. He ran a hand pensively over his chin as he stared at the pages upon pages of notes, figures, and calculations before him, decently lengthy stubble rasping against his palm. He normally wouldn’t be caught dead with even a day’s growth shading his jaw, but these were extenuating circumstances indeed. That’s what he told himself at least - the truth was that he couldn’t bear to look himself in the mirror for the guilt he carried.

He could have just ignored it - that persistent tightness in his chest that forecasted the all-encompassing terror that would consume him in short order, stampeding through his body and reducing him to a shivering, clammy skinned likeness of a man. He could have done the intelligent thing and kept it to himself instead of trying to appease it by feeding it more pain. But no. He was Emmrich Volkarin - a smart man; an overachiever; an academic and philosophical force of nature - he knew what was best for him in that moment… and what was best for her, because for all of her quaint cheerful talk about death over breakfast, she hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about, and honestly, that pointy, vile little part of himself that he kept shackled with clever repartee and gentlemanly manners wanted to break that naive innocence.

So he bit. He lashed out like one of the dirty, malnourished, terrified strays that scurried between the narrow gaps of the crumbling buildings in the part of the capital that he called home in his youth. His brittle fangs caught skin and drew blood as he called her age and maturity into question, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone hunted him down and put him out of his misery - too dangerous, you see: the world has no need for a creature prone to such violence, even if it was shaped by its circumstances…

Perhaps he belonged in that prison with the gods. Perhaps the Maker had seen fit to free his parents from him: if they were dead, they no longer had to deal with the burden of a third mouth to feed while earning enough gold to maybe sustain one. Perhaps death had been freedom and relief for Rupert and Elannora Volkarin, because there was something wrong with little Emmrich, and it was in everyone’s best interests that he was alone. Perhaps the Maker looked upon Amina with that same kindness and called her away too, not willing to subject this kind, lonely woman to the wrongness that was Emmrich, and his carefully crafted palisade of goodwill that could only temporarily conceal the utter rot that dwelled beyond it.

He stared sullenly at the now room temperature bowl of roasted tomato soup Lucanis had brought him hours earlier. He couldn’t remember the last thing he’d eaten. Maybe a handful of the spicy peppermint candies that Amina was so taken with. Shortly after she started spending more and more time in the laboratory with him, she strutted through the door one day with a bowl full of them that she set on the mantelpiece, declaring that she was tired of going back and forth to her room to get more every time she fancied another.

He was always telling her that she couldn’t live on mints and needed to eat properly and look after herself. He ought to take his own advice, but the very thought of food only made his already unsettled stomach turn on itself more.

His eyes returned to the page as he tried and failed to summon the formidable academic concentration that had gotten him this far in life.

It was so odd how the words on paper kept replacing themselves with the words he should have said to Amina that night instead of hurling insults at her.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…

He sniffled and rubbed his eyes again, wiping away tears with the heels of his hands. He was so tired of crying. He had cried so much already. Couldn’t he be finished with crying?

He knew if he asked her that question, she’d look at him with that serious but perceiving smile of hers… maybe run her hand soothingly down his arm and say, “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, but I’ll keep you company if you’d like: shared sorrow is a halved burden.”

Fade take him… what a fool he was…

“Professor?”

Emmrich flinched at the unexpected greeting and looked up. Had Davrin been standing there long? His eyes flicked over to Devotion standing by the door only a few feet from Davrin - it seemed that she was invisible to everyone but himself.

“Davrin,” he put on what he knew to be a cheerful, amiable tone that might have been believable if not for the complete absence of vitality behind it. “What can I help you with?”

He’d spent so much of his life helping the living and the dead to avoid confronting his own horrors… the loss of his parents, his fear of death, the deep and persistent suspicion that he wasn’t worthy of love - why stop now?

The warden considered him, his handsome face grim and somewhat drawn; that usual fiery spark gone from his warm eyes. Emmrich watched those eyes take note of the untouched tomato soup, then the tear tracks on his gaunt cheeks. “Assan is going stir-crazy, and honestly I think I am too. I thought I’d see if you and Manfred wanted to come for a walk with us. The fresh air and a change of scenery might do you some good… inspire some grand epiphany or whatever you want to call it.”

The mockery of a smile slid off of Emmrich’s face. Davrin surely meant well, but even the fact that he’d asked was yet another painful reminder that she was gone: Amina was the one that usually ventured out with them. “Oh. That’s… that’s very kind of you to offer, Davrin, but I simply haven’t a moment to spare. Every second that passes is precious, and I believe I’m nearing a breakthrough with the tuning of the metaphysical oscillations in the lyrium dagger… I dare not walk away now.”

It was a blatant and terrible lie: the dagger was on the other side of the room on his workbench where it had sat untouched for two days. Despite this, Davrin seemed to possess the decency to pretend he bought the falsehood.

“You’re always on her case about taking care of herself - maybe consider taking your own advice, Emmrich: you can’t find a way to bring her back if you’re dead.”

There was truth in the warden’s words that echoed his own thoughts, but Emmrich struggled to feel inspired by them.

If he had been the one to retrieve the dagger instead, he could be the one to die alone in the Fade, and she would still be here… safe. Broken hearted, surely, but she would have recovered in time…

He bid Davrin farewell and paced over to the workbench, sitting into his hip and wrinkling his nose slightly. He stared at the softly glowing twin of the dagger bound to Amina’s fate. It would not be arrogant to say that it was an impressive fake. He’d never handled the original personally, but he’d watched Amina fidget with it enough that he was confident that he hadn’t overlooked a single seemingly insignificant detail - he was willing to bet that it was identical right down to the weight.

A shame that a pretty fake was all it would ever be.

Their plan to duplicate Solas’ dagger had screeched to a gutting halt when it became clear that there existed no means to enchant the dagger such that it would function the same as the original - not without accessing the unique aural resonances of the Fade that remained a mystery to anyone who didn’t happen to be an ancient elf. His theory was that Solas and the evanuris’ connection to the Fade was fundamentally different on a physiological level than that of a modern mortal. Whether that was a byproduct of their spiritual origin, or the result of them manifesting physically millennia earlier, he couldn’t rightly say… all that mattered was that unless he found a way to transform himself into an ancient elf, the dagger would remain as useless as Neve’s platitudes...

It was a petty, childish fantasy to stare at the dagger and imagine what it would look like buried up to the hilt in Solas’ eye socket, but when he could feel himself becoming overwhelmed with hopelessness and despair, it helped keep him going.

Few could guess by looking at him, but he was a creature driven by quiet anger: injustices and wrongs, big and small, collected and deliberately curated; claimed with the same detached fascination one might feel when they spot an interesting stone on a riverbank and slip it into their pocket.

As he amassed success and wealth and renown, he remembered those who had done wrong to himself and others, and he learned how to smile easily at them with warmth and kindness in his eyes as he shook their hands. He even learned to forgive some of them.

But he never, ever forgot what they were capable of, and he never ever let himself be fooled into believing that they were good and decent people.

This ire for a spirit was unusual for him, but impossible to let go of: had Solas known? Had he any idea what Amina meant to him? That she was a beloved person, and so much more than the piece on the chessboard that she was named for? Certainly as a spirit Solas would struggle with the seemingly static, immutable nature of people, but that hadn’t been enough to stop him from falling in love with the Inquisitor, had it? He was not so bound to his spiritual nature that the concept of love was beyond him.

The fact that Solas was originally a spirit and Emmrich was sworn to protect his kind did not excuse him of the fact that he betrayed Amina… perhaps even killed her.

Her. Amina. Rook. The woman he’d known for such a short time, and whom he could no longer imagine life without. He needed her back - was that so hard for Wisdom to comprehend? Life without her was as much a shallow mockery as the dagger he’d crafted.

He had waited so long for her - all but resigned himself to a life empty of the companionship and love that he craved with a desperation that had hollowed him out over the years, etching unwritten sonnets and love notes into his ribs until he was certain those words would die with him: an epitaph on the monument of his bones. He would take them to his grave where they would desiccate and become dust with him - imbibed and consumed slowly by uncaring, unfeeling time.

He could have spent their last night together reading those words to her: letting her peel away his flesh and muscle so she could split open his chest and bear sacred witness to every secret hope and abandoned dream. He should have breathed them directly into her lungs between long, hungry kisses that would serve as his confession that the that his sacrosanct duty as a Mourn Watcher was little more than a facade now, for he no longer belonged to the living and the dead: he belonged to her, body and soul… with what life dwelled in his breast and what eternity his soul could endure.

But he had done none of those things, and he could almost hear the Dread Wolf laughing at what his hesitation had cost him.

All he could do now was keep working… keep trying. Keep thinking.

Day 15:

In his dream, he found himself in the vast center of nebulous nothing. There was no sky, no ground, no walls. Nothing with which to orientate himself - up, down - such things appeared not to exist here.

The only other thing occupying it aside from himself was a faintly shimmering golden haze. It stretched into eternity in all directions. Endless. Incomprehensible.

He might have been gripped with terror at the idea of being alone in a place as strange as this, but he knew better than that: he was most certainly not alone. Of course he was terrified, but more awestruck than anything: if this was what he suspected it to be, this was a very, very rare encounter.

“To what do I owe this great honour?” He spoke into the golden eternity.

Two small suns burst into existence before him. They glowed with white hot fire, but radiated only a gentle warmth that permeated every cell of his being. Slowly the miniature stars rotated around each other, and a voice spoke that he perceived not with his ears, but with his soul, the agelessness and sheer power of it driving the breath from his lungs.

“One who has been drawn to this place many a time as I wander to and fro. Were you aware that it was once a refuge for the newly liberated?”

Its voice almost hurt - it felt like it was vibrating through him at such a frequency that it might rip him apart. Not its fault… it was a trait that likely came with being older than measurable time…

“I was aware,” he responded collegially. “It makes sense that such souls would attract Hope.”

The orbs of light circled each other slowly… passed through one another in a smooth, hypnotizing motion.

“Verily,” it said. “It stood empty and still for a long time, but still I would visit now and again, if only to revisit the memory of that which dwelled here once.”

“And now?”

“A lone spirit called to me without knowing it. By the time I returned, it was gone. I found you in this place instead.”

The lone spirit it spoke of could only be Solas…

“It’s as plain as anything that you are most certainly not Wisdom. There’s a sort of… desperate imprudence about you that gives it away.” The suns stilled for a moment, shivered, and resumed their languid orbit. “So what are you?”

Did Hope just insult him? How unexpected…

“Only a man of little importance on a journey of great urgency.” He felt emboldened, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the spirit’s existence alone that made him feel such a way. “Perhaps you could be of assistance with the matter in question?”

The suns flared slightly, streaks of streaming colour sparking over its surface. His surroundings went slightly rigid, the auric mist prickling his skin. “You carry brittle echoes of death within your spirit. There is bone dust in your lungs. The scent of corpses lingers inside your nose though there are none nearby.”

Emmrich swallowed hard, but remained in place.

“You shepherd the living and the dead towards purpose and convalesce unsettled entities all while fearing your own demise. Despite this you willingly relinquished your only chance to live on in perpetuity - why?”

The immensity of Hope was overwhelming. The fact that a spirit of this magnitude existed was remarkable on its own - the fact that he was conversing with it… unimaginable. But it had asked him a question, and he knew that the manner of his answer was of utmost importance if he was to obtain the aid of this being.

“Because with her I am less afraid to face that fear. It may always hold sway in my heart, but with her beside me, I have hope that all of my days won’t be dark.”

The orbs of light rose and fell… trembled faintly as though excited…

“Fascinating,” it breathed and its air caressed him like a triumphant spring breeze, smelling of honeysuckle and luscious young grass. “I feel the pull of the one that you speak of: she is palpable.”

He was glad to know he and Hope were of the same mind in that respect.

“The prison she is trapped in is designed specifically to keep me - and others like me - from penetrating its walls, but despair not - you are close to finding the one you seek: there is a ripple in the firmament that you may exploit - a fold in a place of significance to her… a crack.”

Emmrich’s stomach dropped - that could be almost anywhere, and even with a network of eluvians at their disposal…

“The beacon you have set for her is strong and although she cannot hear you, her spirit is joined with yours: look for her in the same place where the initial spark of curious infatuation between you quickened and became flame.”

He looked down at his hand slightly obscured by the actuality of Hope, and turned his mind to the puzzle: was there a single defining moment? Was it a culmination of weeks of stolen glances, shy smiles, and utterly fabricated excuses to find themselves in each other’s proximity once again - innocent and coincidental?

Yes - there had been a lot of that: dancing around one another politely, both undeniably smitten but neither willing to set aside the consummate professionalism that their vocation burdened them with.

It could have gone on forever. They might have passed like ships in the night for all their efforts if it weren’t for that one evening that seemed like so many other evenings until it wasn’t: a night of research and reading - both of them hunkered down in the library well past midnight when everyone else had retired.

The comfortable silence that dwelled between the soft husk of a page being turned every now and then. The easy conversation that flowed between them as they discussed matters ephemeral. Their knees almost brushed more than a few times on that uncomfortable couch. Amina, smothered a yawn here and there; Emmrich glanced up at her every time.

“What?” She’d ask, a confused little smirk on her divine lips.

“Nothing,” he’d answer.

He suggested she get some rest: he could continue reading - it was more important that she slept.

A defiant shrug and a polite refusal - but she did tuck her legs under herself and rest some of her weight against him - nothing familiar… just her shoulder against his.

Shortly after, he asked for her take on Orlok’s Theory of Asomatous Transitory Regression, and he thought she was taking time to consider her response, but when she remained silent for far longer than he knew was typical for her, he chanced a look down to find her sleeping soundly, her head on his shoulder and her book still spread open on her knees. He thought to rouse her - send her to her room where she’d at least be able to stretch out properly, but something held him back and he found himself gently slipping the book from her hands and setting it aside. Felt himself readjusting his right arm slowly - carefully - so it was around her, and he could share his warmth with her in the drafty space.

His heart had leapt into his throat, and apologies and placations lined up on his tongue a few minutes later when she made a soft noise from behind her curtain of hair and shifted, lifting her head enough so he could see slivers of green under heavy lids.

His lungs ceased working.

But instead of lurching away from him, blushing furiously and stammering her own stream of awkward, rushed excuses, Amina just blinked… once… twice… smiled groggily… shuffled down the couch some, rested her head on his thigh and fell back asleep, her hand on his knee.

He read until the morning - the same book three times cover to cover, in fact - because he didn’t dare move her - didn’t dare be responsible for ending that moment because whatever he had glimpsed in her sleep-filled eyes when she looked at him was a kind of magic he had never seen before.

Everything about it felt like home.

Even when he plucked up the courage to softly capture a strand of raven hair between his trembling fingers… even as he guided it away from her face as she slumbered, even as his touch lingered and he stroked down the silken length of it, his heart thundered.

That was it. That was when everything had changed for him - and for her.

“The library,” he croaked, throat tight. “It was in the library. I– I need to go. I need to go there now!” Tears filled his eyes as hope flooded him for the first time in days. A broken laugh burst from his lips and he clutched at his hair, aware that he looked like a madman. “Thank you!” He wept.

The orbs flickered again - rather like twinkling eyes - and then blinked out of existence.

“Live well, creature, and of all things that you may choose to abandon in the days to come, may hope be the last of them.”

He woke on the too-large settee to the cool green light of an aquarium that made no sense. He scrambled to his feet, flipped his hair out of his face, and bolted for the door.

Muffled voices… all familiar - one in particular. His voice.

Then his shape - his outline - a shape she would know anywhere.

A hand - a beautiful, soul-shatteringly, heart-achingly artful hand that was capable of healing and holding… destroying, creating, and calming; teasing and caressing - and everything else in between.

She heard herself sob as she seized that hand with her own and felt muscles and tendons reflexively tense in surprise for a fleeting instant before slender fingers clenched around her wrist in an unexpectedly bruising grip that wrung a clipped scream from her. Her feet left the ground as she was dragged into the bright light, and she was falling forward, up, down, and in directions that didn’t exist all at once.

Then something solid. Something warm and firm. The feeling of well-worn wool and meticulously cared for linen against her face… a familiar scent, though it was more rustic than usual…

The excruciating pain in her wrist persisted as her eyes struggled to adjust and she looked up. She blinked… once… twice…

“Emmrich?”

He had a decent start on a beard for one - that was new - and his hair was messier and dirtier than she’d ever seen it. The dark circles under his eyes were a particularly haunting shade of aubergine, and his sclera were dull and bloodshot. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. He looked terrible…

“Where’s Varric?” She demanded hotly, panic rising in her chest as she tried to step back so she could get a better look at him - he wouldn’t let her, and she already knew the answer to her futile question. The grip on her wrist tightened and so did her throat as her mind raced to try to comprehend the situation. The grief she felt in Solas’ prison at the revelation of Varric’s death was rapidly being replaced with incandescent rage directed at the Dread Wolf: she was going to destroy him - spirit or not, he had gone too far… “Emmrich!” She yanked her wrist free and let out a cry of surprise as he toppled forward into her arms, a disheveled, weeping mess that took them to the ground. She managed to keep them both upright and Emmrich caged her in an embrace that took her breath away.

“I’m sorry, darling - I love you - I’m s-so very sorry…” He half-sobbed into her ear as he stroked her hair. His voice was so ragged... She felt tears splashing against her, wet and abundant, and her own joined them: confusion and anger and joy converged on her in a baffling wave - she couldn’t house all of this. And Emmrich…

How long have I been gone?

She managed to pull far enough away from him so she could cup his scruffy jaw in her hands and meet his gaze - his haunted, hollow gaze.

“It’s all right now,” she soothed, summoning up enough calm for both of them - she was beyond furious, but he was despondent, and like any experienced Watcher she knew she needed to meet him on his level - manage herself for the time being.

She softly traced her thumb down the familiar plane of his cheek and he leaned into her touch, his hand covering hers. “I love you too… I’m here and I’m safe, and I’m–” her voice trembled and broke. “Oh Emmrich… I’m sorry too.” If what she was beginning to suspect was true - if she had been lost to that place of regret for much longer than a few hours - it meant that Emmrich had been sitting on that argument for days at least, judging by the looks of him - her promise that they would talk about it at home a dangling thread that would remain forever untied if she never returned…

She pressed her lips to his and he sighed into her, some of the tension finally leaving him. “You found me…” she murmured against his skin. “You got me out. Of course you did.” Her arms tightened around him and she kissed him properly - deeply.

“I couldn’t live with myself knowing the state I had left things in.” He rested his forehead against hers and twirled a strand of her hair around a finger as they sat on the floor, both aware of their audience of companions - both utterly unconcerned about their presence. “Will you forgive me?”

“If you’ll forgive me,” she offered: she carried her own regrets about that argument… though evidently not as long as he had.

His mouth curved into a smile for the first time and he chuckled weakly. “There is nothing to forgive, my dearest Amina.” His eyes continued to sweep over her as he took her in, mapping every line and angle of her, committing it to memory as if it would ensure she could never be taken from him again.

“You really love me, huh?”

“I have for some time, and I’m afraid that rather than embracing that fact with the deference owed to it, I acted like a cowardly fool. If I had only–”

She silenced him with another kiss, his mouth opening as her tongue brushed the seam of his lips. Her fingers stroked through the coarse, straight hair that covered his jaw and she realized with a jolt somewhere around her midsection that she rather liked it. She made a mental note to discuss the future of the beard with him later on, but for now…

“No academic theories right now, Professor…” she whispered. She was exhausted and overwhelmed. She needed to take a minute and just… come to terms with everything. With Varric, Harding, and Bellara; with how long she’d been gone… what the hell she was going to do next. What she was going to do to Solas when she got her violent, creative little Reaper hands on him…

“Humour an old man,” he smirked tiredley.

“I’ll consider humouring him in the bath.”

“You’re no basket of roses either, dear.”

“Regret bringing me back yet?”

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss to the back of it, his eyes locked on hers - as red and puffy as they were, the love that dwelled within them was unmistakable, and Amina knew they would never be parted in this life again.

“Never.”

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ariathelamia · 3 months ago

Text

Hellhound HRT - Day -???

Little note at the start: Hellhound HRT is being written by Arynia, who is a alter... the only alter in this system ^^ Since she is unable to front so far, we decided to have her write the story~ well she tells me what to write and i do that~ Don't worry, Lamia HRT is going to continue! It's just a bit of a drawing rut on my end^^..

Thank you @dawning-mars for the cameo and help writing this~ it was a lot of fun working with you!! Anyway~ on to the story!!

“That FUCKING asshole!”

I shout while kicking the empty can of soda down the alleyway, hitting a trash can and accidentally spooking the Racoon that was currently inside of it away..

I just happened to leave the clinic of this gigantic egotistical asshole doctor Erian, my tail all the way along my back and fur all over the place. Shit, getting ahead of myself here.

‘Sup, Names Arynia, but people just call me Nia. I’ve been on Wolf HRT for a while… probably what.. 4 to 5 months now? Well let me just paint a picture. Think about an average height punk girl, with a body mostly covered in a mix of orange and gray fur… Got a nice long undercut for hair, and an otherwise still pretty human face, if you discount the slight elongation that would become my snout one day. Got me a pretty neat tail though! Doctor was quite surprised when he saw it, usually they don’t get that tall so quickly? I guess I lucked out on that one. Legs are still humanoid though… no signs of paws yet… they do ache a little but i guess i traded the Tail growth for the leg restructuring.. Well none of this matters now cause that fucker just cut me off the meds anyway because i accidentally let slip that “being a normal wolf might not be as fulfilling as i thought… that i wanted something a little… extra.”... Guess that was enough for that idiot asshole bastard to say “If you are not happy with the current progress then continuing from here on out won’t be in your best interest.” And something about coming back when i know what i actually want and if this is the right thing and- URGH!! I should have kept my mouth shut but that's just not my style…

Anyway back to the here and now. Feeling kinda bad for the Racoon… well can’t say sorry now that it’s gone. But what the fuck do i do now? Well first things first, checking the messages… Lot’s o’ new people sending in their first dosage posts… pretty neat. Some new faces joined the support group-... ah shit gotta make the news that i probably gotta leave now.. since i don’t really have an ongoing prescription anymore… ACTUALLY- maybe someone has an idea what to do… yeah thats a better outlook, after all that asshole Theodore isn’t the only doc around.

I ended up sending a lengthy text in the vent section about my situation.. At first people sent some pleasantries but then also some neat ideas on where to go. I did mention my wish for something more… extravagant and low and behold, someone heard of a library in Hypercity that I should check out. Something about a Mysterious worker there that spooked some customers away with her… “monstry aura”? Sounds neat. Just gotta find the place.

Good thing the Maps app on the phone works in Hyper City.. otherwise this place would become a maze… It’s been neat just exploring new areas though, seeing all kinds of people on different stages in their HRT. Cats… Bats… a freaking DRAGON… pretty sure saw some cyborg too but not sure if that’s HRT or just them wearing prosthetics.. either way looked pretty neat. Ever since this stuff hit the market, and more people managed to grab the formula and distribute it, new kinda therians pop out by the day. Good thing I got a spot in that support group when they still had any. Although things do be a bit hectic in the chats.. but that’s alright. Anything major and important is learned in the group sessions anyway.

After another half an hour of walking and listening to the instructions on my phone, I finally made it to the library… Pretty normal looking place from the outside if you think about the worker here that everyone is making mysteries of is apparently supposed to be some kinda… space monster.. though the descriptions do shift from mention to mention. Anyway I decided it’s enough waiting around… time to go in.

The SECOND I stepped into the lobby, my instincts fired alarm signals. I don’t know how to interpret that but god damn, my fur was standing upright and my ears clenched backwards. What the fuck is going on? Despite my body telling me to run, I go forward… this wolf ain’t no quitter i tell you that! My hand slowly reaches for the bell at the reception, after three deep breaths I finally manage to ring it. The body is making one last attempt to try to make me run away, now that I have given away my position to whatever predator it was so afraid of. But I won't. I gotta know what the hell this place is about now.

As the bell rings, the library quickly goes cold. The lights seem to be weaker, trying to fight against a layer of darkness that wasn’t present before the ring. The air is heavy and the sounds of footsteps can be heard from book stacks. Through the Darkness emit 5 bright eyes, their pinkish purple hues fluctuate and pulse.

“Hello Deary, Welcome to the Thayer Library. My name is Mars, how can I help you?”

Her voice vibrates with an unnatural distortion. Emerging into view is a 7 foot tall creature. Her skin is an unsaturated purple that resembles that of a shark's skin. She wears a black 50’s style dress with a ribbon tied at her waist. A large black sun hat covers a portion of her feature lacking face.

Quite the contrast in style compared to my black tank top, skinny jeans with ripped sides and black and white sneakers…

Mars passes me, walking back to the front desk. She looks down and gives me a monstrously happy grin.

I take a moment to take in this surreal sight… I’ve seen my fair share of therians and otherkin before… Hell, one of my friends is a freakin’ Lamia… but THIS?! This is something entirely different. Feel like I just got transported into a whole different world, even though my actual position did not change…

“Uhm- name’s Arynia.. I was told this place could help me out with a predicament I found myself in. You see i uh-... just got cut off from my HRT for wanting something more… “Special” than a normal wolf and uh-... yeah-... here I am. Is there anyone you can introduce me to? Or how does this work?...”

I stop myself from just babbling on and wait with baited breath for the answer of Mars. Trying to figure out WHAT kind of otherkin she is…

“Hm, what exactly do you mean by ‘special’?” She asked, looking me over and giving an inquisitive glare. She didn’t have pupils to track, but the way her brows shifted and glared. I felt myself being scrutinized, like I was being dissected. I struggled to find the words, the eye on her forehead looked deeper than the rest. It’s unblinking resolve pierces through me to my very being. I felt afraid, angered, lost. She must’ve noticed how I felt as she reached to the lid of her hat and pulled it down to cover the fifth eye.

I looked at her with an unsure expression… What DID i mean by that? God, his words about being not sure what I even wanted came back to my head… I didn’t want to be just a wolf… although being a Wolf isn’t bad I just needed something more… “... demonic…”

I suddenly said quietly.. my own thoughts bubbling out of my mouth involuntarily.

“Not… like a demon-demon but like… I don't know… a Demon Wolf? Fur that is almost like smoke but also… solid? ... heat that burns in my chest…

That kinda special…”

Mars' expression changes and sits down at her computer. As her attention turned to the screen I felt a weight ease off me. I nervously watched as the being before me tapped away on her computer. As she typed up something she looked up.

“I think I understand”

Mars says, not looking up from the computer screen.

“There are ways to be… ethereal, cosmic, existing both in the mortal realm and the outer realms. Technically speaking, what you’re asking fits the description of the Abrahamic Hellhound. But I feel that’s not what you're looking for. It’s hard to explain the unexplainable… trust me..”

Mars hits the enter button as she looks back up at me. A kinder smile on her face as she looked for my response. The pressure of her presence once more weighed down on me as I stumbled to respond.

I scratch the back of my head and nod.

“Y-yeah. Kinda hard to find something that describes the kind of thing I am looking for. A Hellhound sounds not bad, maybe some kinda different version! Maybe something with a bit more… fur hehe.. I guess you would know what it’s like. I don’t want to sound mean but I have never seen anything like you either.”

“Well my transition is a bit… different than the rest.. it’s hard to explain and it’s harder to understand. Frankly I’m still trying to figure out what I am and what’s going on…”

I notice her grab something from behind their desk. She looks down as I hear her scribble something out before standing up once more.

“I think I have something of interest to you, within the archives we have a selection of old reproductions from the Library of Alexandria. It was there where I found a way to become what I am. I believe I know something in the vault that might help you”.

She walked past me, her back appendages stretching outward and then falling back to a rest state. Her tail sways as she walks past the stacks and to a glass door saying ‘Employees Only’.

“Stay here and I’ll have the item brought down for you, feel free to look around while I’m gone.”

It was then that I first noticed how freaking exhausted I was from all the tension that was constantly in my body. I slumped against the desk and felt like I could breathe normally for the first time in my life, even when I didn't notice me breathing abnormally before. This entire situation is beginning to make me feel… somewhat… no… not somewhat.. REALLY excited! When I first started my transition into a Wolf, I felt a slight excitement with it.. not nearly as strong as it is now. I was sure, this is it! I am at the right place, whatever comes next is what I really wanted!!

I didn’t start looking around, my feet were almost stuck to the ground, my body still somewhat on edge. My fur definitely needed a brush now with how much it keeps shifting from the adrenaline that keeps shooting through my body in waves. I can’t wait to see what Mars is going to bring back from that employee section… figures that the good stuff is being held back from the general public but hey, who am i to complain. It’s not like the things are not being used for others outside of the employees, guess there is a genuine reason.. if it is able to “produce” beings like Mars, maybe that’s for the better to keep it somewhat detained.

There’s a ding from behind the door and the sound of something rolling. As the employee door unlocks Mars steps out, pushing along a small cart. The second she’s within eyesight I feel her presence once more as I find myself frozen with anxiety.

“Here we are, the Alexandria Chronicles.”

She says with a pleased chirp. She sets the book between two angled pieces of foam. She gently flips through the pages, being extra careful with her sharpened talons. She settles on a page with incantation circles and text written in some ancient language. She moves her head and runs her claw along the text before turning back to me.

“Arynia, what I have here is a book that contains the remnants of the Library to Alexandria. Within these pages contain the history of the old gods, the ones who continue to influence us in secret. If you want to be like me, you will be made aware of these old ones. You will endure immeasurable pain and psychosis. I say this not to scare you, but to warn you.. to prepare you..”

Mars ushers me forward with her hand. I feel myself walk towards her, but not on my own volition. I approach the book, seeing the inscriptions up close and find the page overwhelming with information.

“Do you have any questions?”

I take a long look at the writing. Nothing I could ever understand… but still i feel the weight of Mars’s words on my entire body. “I was ready for the pain of the HRT. I saw how much it weighed down on people I care about so that point I am sure is not going to hold me back. As for these old ones…” I took a determined look at Mars, as much as I felt afraid when simply in her presence… There was also the resolve to continue.

“I guess my only question would be when we can start. I can worry about the rest later. Right now my heart tells me that this is the right thing for me.”

Mars smiles and gestures back to the book, her clawed finger gently pointing at a scribble written in the margins. The blurb appears to be an old attempt at translating the chant. The combination of consonants and vowels made it difficult to read.

“If you need assistance, never be shy to reach out. With that said, let’s begin”.

I nod, but then raise an eyebrow. “So- I just read out the stuff written on the page?”

“We’ll need to set up a ritual circle, but try reciting this till you feel confident. I’ll get the circle set up.”

Mars steps back and walks to the front door. I hear the latching of the front doors and her footsteps walking to the front desk. I turn my attention back to the few lines of translated text. I reread the text a few times working on the exotic letter combinations. Once confident I try saying it out loud in a hush tone. Tripping over a few words but finding it not as difficult as I initially thought.

Would have never thought I would end up in a library, practicing ancient texts in order to get some medicine that turns me into a hellhound! Not to mention this being connected to eldritch gods? Wonder if i should give this maybe some more thought… but then again.. it’s this or going to that asshole Erian and beg him to put me back on the hrt… yeah no this is definitely the better option.

I ended up practicing for, what felt like an hour, managing to no longer stumble over the words. I pick up the book, still mumbling the text while walking to where Mars is probably either still setting up, or is waiting for me.

I reached a clearing and found a large summoning circle matching the one from the book. Another circle filled the center as well as a ring of the ancient language. She smiled at me as she stood and handed me a candle.

“Set this where you like and light it. Once that’s done we’ll be ready”.

I nodded and turned away as I was handed a candle and a match. My mind raced with thoughts and feelings. I couldn’t stop contemplating if this was the right choice. If this would truly make me a hellhound. I felt drawn to a certain part of the circle and placed the candle. As I lit it I felt the air shift, my breath could be seen and as I turned back Mars sat just outside the circle with the book. She ushered me forward and like earlier I felt myself moving at her command. I kneeled next to her and looked at the book, sweat racing down my cheek as Mars placed a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s ok hun, I’ll be here to help you”.

I felt comforted by that and gave a gentle smile. I turned down to the book, nervously grabbing the edges and looking back at the translation. I grew worried that I would mess this up, that I flub the pronunciation. I felt like I was drowning and gasped for the biggest breath I’ve ever taken. And then, I began reading.

“Ph’nglui Mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh.. Wgah’nagl fhta-“

I felt a pit in my stomach, the last syllable seemed impossible to say, the ease and confidence was gone. Now I fought against some external force to finish the words.

“FHTAGN!!!!”

Then there was a flash, my eyes began to tear up as I felt a rush of surging energy. The circle illuminated, the ground shook, I felt my face being pulled in all directions. I wanted to shut my eyes but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but witness waves of images and voices. My vision began to split, I could see more than just the library. I could see pillars, a cracking moon, a hall draped with yellow banners. These images flooded my mind and soul and then nothing. I was floating in a vast void, I felt a moment of ease before the realm began splitting, an eye larger than anything I’ve ever witnessed glared at me… through me? I tried avoiding its gaze, but I wasn't able to… I tried to speak up but my instincts clenched my mouth shut.

I felt another rush as I was pulled away and then, finally, I blinked. My eyes celebrated the release of the tension as they began to refocus. I felt control regain in my mind and arms as I reached up and wiped the tears. I took a moment to recover, my mind still reeling from what I witnessed.

“Harsh, isn’t it?”

I turned to see Mars who looked relieved. She smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You seemed to handle that very well. It’s something to have every sense we have to be overwhelmed. It’s crippling, and when we have that control it feels so foreign..”

Mars reached for the now closed book and took it in her arms. She cradled it like a child and stood up and offered me a hand. I wasn’t sure I could stand yet, my legs felt like they were still trembling. I could tell Mars read my expression as she pulled her hand away.

“Sorry, why don’t you relax a bit while I get this all cleaned up.”

I nod to the best of my ability. Still trying to come to terms with what just happened. My eyes went from Mars towards the ground as my mind tried to make sure that I was back on earth… and not in whatever place I was before… It is at this very moment I start to realize what I just signed myself up for. And the fact settles in that this is not going to be the last time my very foundation of reality is going to be shaken. I look up at Mars one more time.

“Di-” I cough.. damn spit must have gotten in my throat at some point…

“Did it work?”

Mars turns her attention to the center of the circle and sees a small orange bottle. And smiles and turns back to me and nods.

“It did, welcome to family”

I looked back to the center of the circle when Mars did, turning back shortly after with a smile.

“Thanks~ I guess I’ll be visiting this place more often now~”

I slowly stand up, my legs still shaking from the ordeal and pick up that small orange pill bottle. It has my name on it… hades-lupusitine… bit on the nose name but hey, ain’t gonna complain as long as it does the job. The name of the prescribing doc was left blank though… then again that makes sense… don’t think you can fit whatever that eyeball's name was on the small tag of a pill bottle… IF that was the one that heard my call from the ritual… 1-0-1… so guess two of them a day… mornings and evenings huh?

I turn back to Mars with a smile as big as I can manage, and a wagging tail swishing behind me..

“Thank you so goddamn much for all of this Mars!” She smiled back at me. No more words needed to be spoken… not that I was really able to speak much after that mental strain anyway.. She kindly walked me out of the Library after putting the book back where it was safe. We waved each other goodbye, promising to stay in touch. I took my walk home, caressing the small pill bottle in my Jeans pocket and just itching to take the first pill in the evening. I just hope the next cosmic horrors at least knock first…

-----------------------------------------------

Definitely check out Mars's Eldritch HRT series!!

#animal hrt #therian hrt #transgender #trans artist #transfem #otherkin hrt #therian #lgbtqia #written stuff #Arynia's writing #Hellhound HRT #eldritch hrt

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zan0tix · 11 months ago

Note

Pleaseeee tell me more about that homescryption au

A little something between you and me and everyone else who happens to look at this post. Im working on a lineup for the four scrybes :D

Roxys design is subject to change and you guys have already seen D1rk. Jane and Jake are in progress!!! (Also D1rk and Harley are the names for dirk and jake but weve been struggling to come up with appropriately fantasical/magical names for Jane and Roxy that align with magnificus and grimora😞 Harley feels old-manish enough that it fits in well… im sure well get there but if anybody has ideas feel free to comment ✌️)

But yes i can tell you more!!! ILL PUT IT ALL UNDER THE CUT THIS POST IS GOING TO BE LONG o7

Working with cyrus repliiku to flesh it out x3 he was the one who got me into the game and im CRAZY NOW!!!!

The four alpha scrybes methods of inscribing cards are that Harley uses his magic blunderbuss and the things he shoots become cards, Roxys cards are the fantasical characters she creates in her stories, Jane will be a detective of death, uncovering how cards die and writing up a casefile in her detective agency about them (might give her a magic magnifying glass. Well see), and D1rk were trying to figure out something with Sburbs captcha card + ghost captcha system like how Po3’s cards are printed from real robots

The students/the scrybes underlings are going to be other homestuck characters or splinters!

D1rks will be the robots (aradiabot, arquius (wanted him to me more unique than just brobot + hal so he gets to be a robot) and jadebot.

Harleys will be jake-ish splinters rather than new characters. Thered be the Adventurer (prospector), the Hunter (trapper/trader), the Sailor (angler), the Ectobiologist (mycologists), and the Actor (woodcarver) and his campaigns would be more Action packed like jakes action movies type stuff hehe

Janes will be the dead trolls, nepeta, equius and feferi. Not much to say besides them being dead lol 😭

And roxys were still figuring out but nerm. Viceroy/Casey, Rose (maybe goobert but they are actually nice and kind to her) and Eridan….(lonely wizard he was banished to the shadow realm for being annoying 😁👍)

Luke Carter is going to be Calliope and Satan in the greater scheme of the daniel mullins-verse will be Caliborn/Lord English because i think itd be very funny for him to just. Be making video games and thats his evil plot. LOL and Sado would be Gamzee. (Will not expand to pony island or the hex this is just clearing up the ending of inscryption)

Kaycee would probably be Aranea but like just some normal girl. Not all that sure abt the OLD_DATA tho ??? Maybe just all the wrong doings Lord English has committed and influenced culminated into the files or the code that brought him into the universe I DUNNO.

Retconning the drawing i did when i first scribbled this AU, i believe when harley turns the other scrybes into preexisting cards d1rk would become a seagull (kingfisher replacement) roxy would become a jaguar (wolf replacement) and jane would become a jackalope (pronghorn replacement) 😁

And the way harley would be defeated would be using his blunderbuss on him with a special bullet instead of film. Po3’s decapitation fulfilled the Dirk prophecy too LOL

I think that of the gameplay/card gimmicks themselves would work basically the same but i might try and come up with more creative homestucky twists on them

Im planning on finishing the designs and making sprites and more mockup screenshots :3

I might write up or draw a comprehensive ref sheet for this au someday but for now heres what weve jotted down 👍

#homestuck #inscryption #homescryption #my art #zan0tix #daniel talks #IM GLAD PEOPLE ARE LIKING IT SO MUCH ITS SO FUN TO THINK ABOUTTT

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colethewolf · 2 years ago

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ON THE THEORY OF ELI BEING CREATED BY THE NEMETON:

This is something that I've been sitting here thinking about for the past couple weeks and I just saw a piece of fanart last night that made me think about it even more, because honestly, the idea that Eli was created by the Nemeton is such a cool idea and it fits with the canon.

So, I don't even care that Jeff Davis is an idiot and was probably too stupid to think of this idea. I feel like I'm in the mood to write some meta after years and years of not writing meta.

Let's talk about it anyways.

We know that the Nemeton was functional during the 1940's before the Nogitsune came into power. And then, sometime after the Nogitsune's first run wild through Beacon Hills, somebody cut it down and essentially rendered it completely powerless.

Now, it stayed powerless for decades UNTIL that one night in the root cellar with Derek and Paige. When Derek killed Paige, he unknowingly committed a virgin sacrifice and sparked the Nemeton back to life. Albeit, the nemeton remained in a weakened state, as it was not back to full power and not working as a beacon to draw in supernatural creatures.

Cut to a few years later, what happens next?

The parents of the teen wolf trio get kidnapped by Jennifer so that she can complete her "three-fold death" sacrifice by killing three guardians. However, she never gets to complete the ritual because Stiles, Allison, and Scott sacrifice themselves in their parents place as surrogates.

Now, the sacrifice that Stiles, Allison, and Scott make was the surrogate sacrifice ritual that Deaton knew how to perform. It put darkness around their hearts and gave them the ability to locate the Nemeton. But that was it, right?

It didn't also act as another virgin sacrifice, right?

Scott? Not a virgin.

Allison? Not a virgin.

Stiles? Not a vir—OH WAIT.

Stiles.

Unintentionally committing a virgin sacrifice by sacrificing himself and giving another spark of power to the Nemeton. And this time, it bumps the nemeton back up to full power after Derek had previously sparked it back to life.

Now, you might be saying:

"But what about Jennifer? She committed virgin sacrifices, too!"

She did. But not to the Nemeton. She was a druid emissary long before the Nemeton was brought back to life. And druids have the ability to perform rituals to basically earn themselves more powers. Those virgin sacrifices that she did in the first few episodes of 3A went straight to herself, not to the Nemeton.

Which means the next virgin sacrifice in the queue was the one that Stiles made by drowning himself, not knowing that he was technically committing two different sacrifices that night.

Derek commits a virgin sacrifice. Then Stiles commits a virgin sacrifice (albeit by sacrificing himself instead of another person). Two consecutive virgin sacrifices by Derek and Stiles, separated by years, and both totally unintentional. And yet both sacrifices powered back up the dead Nemeton.

We know the Nemeton is at least somewhat sentient as it can pick and choose who to let get close to it in the woods. So, who's to say that the Nemeton doesn't hold Derek and Stiles in high regard for bringing it back to life? Who's to say that the Nemeton isn't thankful?

Hmm?

Perhaps, even thankful enough to give Derek and Stiles the ultimate gift in its gratitude? The gift of a son? The gift of a son, born from the Nemeton?

Even Eli seems to have some random, totally strange connection to the Nemeton without really having an explanation for it. He just randomly sleepwalks in the middle of the night and ends up at the Nemeton.

Why?

Now, you could argue that Eli has been sleepwalking out to the Nemeton because of the whole Allison situation in the movie. But what sense does that make? Eli doesn't know Allison Argent. He never did. She was dead before he was even born.

But if we're getting meta in here, Eli just so happens to be 15 years old (the same age Derek was when he sacrificed Paige in the root cellar and woke the Nemeton up). Maybe the Nemeton thinks 15 is the perfect age to start dropping hints to Eli.

In my mind, Deaton was called out to the Nemeton in the middle of the night and found little Eli as a newborn in a little wicker basket made from Nemeton branches and soft leaves, just sitting there asleep in the middle of the Nemeton stump.

And Deaton, being a druid and the old Hale family emissary, knew exactly what the Nemeton was offering and why it was offering it. So, he dropped Eli in his basket onto Derek's doorstep, knocked real loud, and watched as Derek adopted the boy—totally unaware that Eli is 50/50 both his and Stiles'.

But that conversation comes much later.

So, there you have it.

Eli Stilinski-Hale. The son of the Nemeton. The son of Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski.

🌱

#sterek #eli hale #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf meta #meta

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ssukidesu · 6 months ago

Text

his happiness

Fandom: Inuyasha: A Feudal Fairy Tale

Pairing: Inukag

Rating: T

Inukag Week 2024 - Day 6: Sacrifice

Summary: (Sequel to day 5) Sango spies a suspicious mark on Kagome's neck, and conversations get a little uncomfortable after that.

Read on AO3

Read below the cut

Kagome released a pent-up sigh at the sensation of the warm water caressing her skin up to her neck. Sango, a few feet away, made a similar noise, and the two women giggled at their synchronized relaxation.

“This is nice,” the older woman said. “How long has it been—a month? I was getting tired of the chilly river.”

Kagome hummed. She felt a little guilty about it, as she’d benefited from the luxury of her own bathtub about two weeks prior—but her sentiment was still just as strong.

It was a little place tucked away from any roads or villages, about a stone’s throw from their last shard-related battle. It wasn’t too difficult of a fight, but it was a salamander demon who’d alternated between spitting fire and throwing mud at them. No one got terribly dirty, but it was bad enough to warrant a good, relaxing soak. While the sun was still up, the spring was theirs; the boys would take it after nightfall.

Kagome reclined her head against the stone behind them, recalling something Inuyasha had mumbled to her before they’d left.

Go get that wolf’s scent off of you. I can still smell it from yesterday.

Well, he had certainly seemed a little different since the previous evening—not that today had been the most advantageous for any sort of… rediscussion. At the very least, he’d taken a couple of liberties that made it very clear he was going to honor her request.

Don’t be such a stranger from now on.

Well, as for the first thing he did that morning in obedience to her request, he’d planted himself right behind her during breakfast and sprawled a leg out to corral her petite frame. Her back was all but pressed to his front, and, to her relief, the others kept their observations to themselves.

The second thing came soon after they broke camp; when it was time to set out, Inuyasha gripped the undersides of her thighs a little more… blatantly than he ever had; typically, he turned his hands so that his palms pointed outward and linked his fingers together to support her weight with minimal invasiveness. But this time, his palms and fingers came flush with her skin, right on the meat of her hamstrings. He must have heard her heart rate take up a violent pace, as he tilted his head to inspect her for any sign of concern. Their eyes met, and a shadow of self-consciousness began to invade his eyes—so she did the first thing that came to mind to reassure him: she tightened her hold around his neck, buried her face in his back, and muttered, “Hurry up, or we’ll get left behind.”

Sango interrupted Kagome’s musings: “Say, what’s that on your neck?”

She hoped Sango would interpret the immediate flush to her cheeks as only a result of the hot water.

And that brought her to the third liberty he’d taken: around lunch, when they’d stopped to eat at the place that would not ten minutes later turn into a battleground, Inuyasha had offered to scope out the area (he’d sensed there might have been a demon nearby). Before he left, and as Miroku, Sango, and Shippo were busy building a quick fire and throwing together a meal, Inuyasha took full advantage of the ponytail that was keeping Kagome’s hair off her neck, and gave her a not-so-gentle kiss there. He’d known to simultaneously smother her mouth with his hand—as she did emit quite the squeak at the sensation. It started as a kiss, then morphed into a firm suck, and then ended in one sharp nip.

She wasn’t sure if he’d meant to draw a little blood—in fact, if she had to guess, his immediate wince and encore of another soft kiss was likely meant as an embarrassed apology. It hardly broke the skin, and it wasn’t bad enough to bleed any more than the initial puncture would draw to the surface, but it sealed her fate: there would be a mark. And it had all happened in less than ten seconds.

Well, Kagome couldn’t blame Sango for asking about it now; it was on full display due to her forgetfulness.

Nonetheless, her fingers shot up to cover it, and the panicked expression likely didn’t help her case, either.

Sanyo’s eyes grew wide.

“Is that—!”

“Shhh!” Kagome lunged to cover Sango’s mouth with both hands, as their camp was hardly over the tree line, and a shout would likely be heard by Inuyasha and Shippo, at least.

Sango seemed to remember this a second later, and when she spoke again, it was in a shrill whisper: “Is that from Inuyasha?”

Kagome cringed, bringing her hands to cradle her own crimson face.

“Surely it’s not from Kouga?!”

“No!” Kagome hissed in offense. “…It was Inuyasha.”

Sango proceeded to make a myriad of various conflicting expressions, some of shock, others of excitement, and still others of confusion and frustration.

Kagome sighed, urging her nerves to subside. “It was from earlier today.”

“When?!”

“Does it matter?” Kagome cried, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to shift somewhere else. “We—we’re just…”

“Keeping secrets, that’s what!” Sango scolded, utterly scandalized.

“No, we’re not! Sango, this just started—we haven’t even talked about it since everything happened yesterday…”

“Yesterday?!” she yelled, and Kagome smacked her hands back over Sango’s mouth.

She returned their tones to a whisper. “Yes, yesterday. But please don’t act any different—I don’t even understand what’s happening, and I really don’t think he wants anyone else involved…”

She scoffed. “Of course he doesn’t. The idiot…”

Kagome couldn’t help but giggle at her tone, which was increasingly growing to that of an older sister.

Sango cleared her throat in an effort to compose herself, then she continued: “So, what? Are you two together now? What about…” As she trailed off, her expression froze, and she gave Kagome a rueful look, as if apologizing for something she didn’t even say.

“What about what?” Kagome pressed fearfully.

“You know…” she tried, but Kagome’s persistent silence forced her to spit it out. “What about Kikyo?”

Kagome flinched at the name. Admittedly, she hadn’t even thought about the priestess since yesterday’s events—and she wondered how such an important thing could slip through the cracks of her mind.

“Um, well…” she began, wringing her hands under the warm water and staring at the ripples on the surface. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, doesn’t Inuyasha still plan on dying with her? He hasn’t said otherwise, has he?”

Kagome’s stomach clenched. “I don’t…”

“Or does he still plan on using the Shikon Jewel to make himself a full demon? I can never keep up…” she said with no small amount of agitation.

Sango realized after a moment that Kagome had fallen silent. Then, in a poor effort to take back the sour mood she’d just created, she brought her hands to Kagome’s shoulders.

“No, I’m sure it’s no problem at all, Kagome! I mean, none of us actually thinks he’ll leave us—leave you—when all this is over. Everyone knows he’s head over heels for you.”

Kagome offered a weak smile in return, but there was no mistaking it: there was now a distinct shadow over her demeanor that nothing Sango could say could fix. It was as if she’d pulled the curtain back during a nice little stage play to show that, no matter how kind the king had seemed, there was still a whole other person in a green box who was actually in control.

“It’s okay, Sango. You’re right.”

“Maybe you should just ask him about it...?”

“...Yeah.” Her voice was high, as if she was trying to appear cheerful, but it only sounded strained.

Well, thought Sango solemnly, maybe the only way out of this is to go through.

She scooted closer to Kagome and brought a comforting arm around her back. She was taller, even when sitting, so the position brought Kagome into the crook of her arm.

“Hey... you love him, don’t you?” she asked softly.

Kagome kept staring at the water, but her expression grew even more pained. “Like crazy,” she whispered.

“Well, then. When the time comes, and we’ve defeated Naraku and restored the jewel, what would you wish for, if you had the chance?”

Kagome took in the question one word at a time. “I’d want...”

She hesitated. Kagome’s first instinct was to say that she’d want to be able to be with Inuyasha forever—and this wouldn’t have been a lie. But was that really what she wanted to want the most? Would she be the kind of person she could approve of if she wished for something like that, when all other wishes were at her fingertips?

Kagome imagined herself as the best version of Kagome she could ever be. What would that version of her wish?

She’d be willing to sacrifice what she wanted. She’d want Inuyasha to be happy, more than anything. No matter what that meant.

Kagome’s lips formed into a sad smile. After a minute of thinking, she turned to Sango and said resolutely, “I’d wish for Inuyasha’s happiness.”

This wasn’t what Sango expected to hear her say, and she’d be lying if a part of her wasn’t bothered by it, but she forced her lips to perk upward. “Then I guess you’ll just have to trust that he knows what will make him the happiest.”

Dusk’s arrival grew imminent, and with it came the bleak prospect of a waning paradise that Kagome felt she’d gotten to cherish far too briefly.

When they left the spring and returned to the men, Inuyasha offered her a secret smile, and she did her best to return it. But she did not wait for their return before laying herself down to sleep.

As she drifted off, she wondered if the growing sound of the soul collectors’ singing was real or dreamed.

#write a sequel they said #it will be fun they said #inukag #inukag week #inukag week 2024 #fanfiction #ao3

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tildeathiwillwrite · 6 months ago

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Tag Game: WIP Questionnaire

Thanks to @diabolical-blue and @paeliae-occasionally for the tags here and here!

Blank Questions:

1. What’s the first part of your WIP that you created? 2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be? 3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why? 4. What other pieces of media do you think your fanbase would share? 5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP? 6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them! 7. How do your characters travel/get around? 8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now? 9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) will you think draw your audience in? 10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

Gently tagging @faytelumos @thewritingautisticat @pluttskutt @illarian-rambling @somethingclevermahogony

@scaewolf @grimmdivinity @crwn-nrth and open tag! :D

Answering for The Legend of Orian Goldeneye under the cut:

1. What’s the first part of your WIP that you created?

I actually created Jas first. I fleshed out her design as a portal fantasy protagonist ages before I started thinking up the plot to TLoOG. It consisted of a character sheet with her name, appearance, and general sense of her personality, though that would get fleshed out later as I wrote the first draft.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Oooooo I had to think long and hard about this, but I'd love for the song Ghosts That We Knew by Mumford & Sons to be the hypothetical intro. I think the lyrics reflect a lot of the characters' motivations, backstories and relationships.

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

Killian because I like to whump him, Jas because she's me but slightly to the left, Orian because he's precious baby, Diana because she's a bard, Henrik because he means well but needs improvement, Azura because she is multifaceted.

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fanbase would share?

I suppose other works in the portal fantasy genre such as The Chronicles of Narnia, Beyonders, The Owl House or the Cosmere (I guess?? Worldhoppers are portal fantasy protagonists???) would have overlap. I would say amnesia trope as well but it might be surprising to learn that I haven't read very many books with it. While there are some Wheel of Time elements I don't think there'll be very much overlap compared to the rest.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

This storming rewrite draft. I have a plan that I'm going for but I'm currently at a standstill because Diana didn't originally exist the way she does now and I'm trying to find a good way to introduce Azura that isn't just Orian talking about her. Seriously the first draft was very different than what I'm trying to do now and I'm having issues.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Does Octavian count? Sure let's say his wolf form counts. Also Henrik's horse.

Octavian's wolf form doesn't come out very much, it tends to operate on instinct and its instincts usually are kill and maim and maul. But if Octavian's cornered he won't hesitate to call out to it and transform.

Henrik's horse's name is Swiftling, she's a powerful mare, former warhorse and as no-nonsense as a horse can possibly get. Asta's stallion learned early on that she won't tolerate anything she considers beneath her. A very fitting horse for Henrik.

7. How do your characters travel/get around?

Well Henrik obviously has his horse. Most of the story takes place in Saint's Shoal, so everyone just walks until they have to travel to Iron Hollow, a city some distance away. Then Diana hires a wagon and horse for the journey.

Some dreamshapers can warp space inside the dream, but only for themselves. Morpheus is one of these. Azura and Orian are not.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I just got to Diana's introduction and am gearing up for Azura's. In the first draft Azura was introduced when kidnapping Jas, but I changed that because of reasons. I'm currently having a bad bought of writer's block in this scene though, and I'm considering trying to write it from a different POV instead. Orian's maybe? I'll have to decide soon.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) will you think draw your audience in?

Portal fantasy

High Fantasy

Sarcastic female lead

Dreamcore magic system

Child of prophecy

Badass female villain

Lots and lots of whump

Minimal romance

Low/no spice or smut

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

That I finish this rewrite draft hehe

#my wips #the legend of orian goldeneye #wip questionnaire #tag game #writeblr #open tag #writeblr tag game

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waterdeep-weavemoss · 1 month ago

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Never By Choice

Doe sees Hope's treatment in hell and makes a choice. Mind the tags.

She could see fragments of what had happened here; Hope, faint as candle flame, engulfed by the bulk of cambion and incubus, snuffing her out. A shriek, faint as the feel of salt air off the sea, up there in the mortal plane.

Laughter, deep and close in Doe's ear as she fell to hands and knees and vomited, shaking. She stayed there, eyes squeezed shut and holding her breath, until the devil lifted her to her feet with one hand, dabbed almost tenderly at her mouth with a square of conjured silk.

'You're sick,' she croaked in disgust.

'I tried being kind, little Doe,' he said. 'Just as I am to you. I can be gentle. Or I can be... instructive.'

He circled like a wolf, looming behind her. To snuff me out. He was hard against her back and her stomach roiled, bile rising in her throat. WIthout thought in her aching skull she snatched the dagger at her hip and drove it backwards into his thigh. Raphael grunted, one clawed hand prising the weapon from his flesh.

'Fuck you. How could you do that to her?' Doe turned, feinting sideways before he could snatch her into his arms again. She sneered. 'Creatures like you with the faces of men, you want so desperately to be worshiped, to be loved, that you can't handle the agony of being seen for what you are.'

His face contorted in fury. 'You have no idea of which you speak,' he snarled. 'I offered her everything.' He stalked forward, huge and imposing, wings flaring out to block her vision. 'She refused. I offered her a place at my side, she refused. I offered her all the riches your corrupted little mortal hearts could want, and she refused!'

'So you tried breaking her instead,' she said icily, standing her ground. 'I'm not afraid of you, devil. No amount of suffering will make a difference. You think yourself an alchemist, able to transmute pain into love, but you can't.' Her lips pulled back into a feral growl and she crouched to attack.

He laughed then, mirthless, at how small she was, how little she could do to him even if she exhausted herself. 'Doe,' he tutted. 'You think you're such a special little thing. There are thousands- millions here like you. Every single one of them thought they might be the one to appeal to my 'better nature' but I have a secret, little mouse. You lose. From the moment we met, you lost it all, and now you're coming to know what that means.'

He swept her up, hand at her throat, his infernal eyes blazing with hate and lust. She dangled in his grip, face flushing as he squeezed, claws puncturing her flesh.

But she could still think.

One chance. One.

She tried to form words, and choked. He was fixed on her, burning, searing with emotion, drawing her closer. His fangs were long and sharp from here. He was going to devour her, body and soul.

Strike first, strike true, defy the odds.

With the last vestige of strength she had she snatched up her second dagger and drove it forward as he pulled her in. The tip of it cut into his skin and she pushed with all her might, sending it biting all the way to the hilt. The devil dropped her and she fell hard, crashing into the ground with a horrible crack and a yelp.

Raphael coughed, spattering boiling blood onto her bowed form. She screamed a strange curdled rasp, scrabbling backwards and dragging in lungfuls of stale hot air. He'd fallen to his knees, doublet sticky and dark.

So much blood.

There was no chance of binding him in his own chains, not here. Doe staggered upright, turned and ran.

No weapons, no hope. Get out, get out, get out.

Through the barrier, tearing through the banquet hall past the terrified debtors, his roar of rage too close behind her, the thunder of his step getting louder and louder-

'C'mon,' she gasped, the deep sting of pain washing over her, stabbing into her side, clawing at her throat, settling heavily into her legs.

The portal.

It glowed through the open doors ahead. Doe grit her teeth and grunted, pushing. Her body screamed in response, sharpness zinging up her spine and into her ribs, almost sending her stumbling.

And then her vision blazed with hellfire. It wulfed up in front of her, around her, behind her. Its unbearable heat reaching like fingers down her throat and into her eyes. She turned, and through the blur of her tears and the pressure in her head, saw Raphael walk through it, wings wide, hands outstretched with palms up, playing at mercy.

'Poor little mouse,' he purred. 'You hope to die now, I don't doubt, but I'm afraid I cannot give you that gift.'

He'd gotten to the restorative waters of the pool- was healed and whole. Doe was trapped between him and the wall of flame. He advanced, feline and dangerous.

I will be Hope. I can't be her. Please, whatever can hear me...

Nothing answered.

She had no choice. She turned her back on the devil, and hurled herself through the fire. It licked at her, ravenous with blistering kisses, its passionate red caress catching in her hair and on her clothes. Doe made herself push through it, the smack of her bare feet against the marble, the catch of claws against her back as he failed to ensnare her again. She ran, blazing and blind with smoky tears, felt the sigil's magic and pressed her raw hands to it.

'NO!' Raphael shrieked, the sound tailing off into a distant cry.

'Doe?' Gale's voice, distant to her ears, frantic. 'Hells- Halsin, Shadowheart, she needs healing now-'

She dragged herself out of the sigil circle, allowed the soothe of hands, one pair soft and small, the other large warm and calloused, to take away the blister and burn. 'Thank you,' she said weakly.

'Don't be silly,' said Shadowheart. Her face was pale with concern. 'You're stable for now, thank Selune.'

'You need rest,' said Halsin softly. 'Plenty of it. And you must never make a foolish choice like that again. The fear in my heart when you-' he turned away, voice thick with tears.

'I'm-'

'Don't you dare say you're fine,' snapped Astarion, draping his cloak around her. 'Gale, tell her.'

'We thought you'd died,' said Gale quietly, moving to her other side with his arm around her waist. 'I can't lose you, Doe. Don't you ever do that to me again.'

'I'm sorry.' Her eyes welled with tears. 'Gods, Gale, what he did, I thought-' she buried her face in his chest and sobbed. 'I- I was so s-stupid- I ju- I just-'

'I know sweet girl. I know. You're safe now. Come on. He can't hurt you. We're going to go home and you're going to rest. Okay?'

'Oh-okay. Okay. I'm safe. I'm safe.'

'I love you,' Gale murmured softly. 'I've got you. Forever, I said. And I mean it.'

Tagged:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @12thhouse-sun

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee

#doephael #raphael x tav #well it's raphael x tav in a really fucked up way. in a you're my enemy but i know you best way #mine #tw abuse #poor hope. i love her #tw blood #doe x gale #towards the end there

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sparks-chaotic-cove · 8 months ago

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IMPORTANT: please suggest quotes for those I don't have an idea for! It'd be very helpful, especially because I don't have all the VODs! I need quotes for: Rae, Caspian, Momboo, Jamie, Easton, Centross, Ven, Athena, Wolf, Arisanna, Haley, and Icarus. Open for suggestions on Ocie, Ulysses, and Aax!

I think when Fable ends I'm going to work on a series of pieces- love letters to the entire story and how much it's impacted me. I've got a few planned but I need Fable to end before I start it, because whatever happens from now to the finale- including the finale itself, is going to be so important in relation to these! A few of the already like- dead dead characters I can work with though

I want to include text within them, so;

Rae - Rae's is going to be one of the most fun. There is so much I can do- so many directions. The finale will probably solidify which I do! A few things are for certain though; 1) aspects of the skulk. Most likely will be vines crawling up the background! 2) Aspects of the three shards- Alerion, Enderian, and Perix. Probably will be conveyed through color! Enderian will have a more specific nod as she's more present within Rae himself! Some sort of crown would sort of be my idea. 3) Stars. Of some sort, I want there to be stars. 4) A crown. Will probably be end-esque but we shall see!

Aax -There are a few things I know I want for Aax as well! 1) Four. Such an iconic thing for Aax- it's gotta be there. 2) Glowberries (because why not) 3) A trident and an axe. Aax's words will probably be something like "by design", or something about protecting Rae and Caspian!

(more below cut. It's a lot of words-)

Caspian - The problem with Caspian is I don't know an absolute ton about him! I do know a decent bit though, I'd say. A few things I want to include: 1) a quill. what's a writer without his tools? 2) A nod to momboo in some way. I'll figure that out. 3) Redstone/gadgetry of some kind. 4) something Atlas related, if not Atlas herself.

Momboo - I want a lot of nature themed elements, of course, but also a splash of color. The glitching. May do a half and half but probably not- it'll probably be worked in there somehow tho! I want nods to Jamie and Easton as well. Not sure on the quote yet!

Jamie - I hold Jamie in my little hands. I want nods to Athena, Momboo, and Easton in there, as well as Eeji, whatever the sheep is named, the camel and Solaris! I might have them as tiny creatures within the art piece itself! There will be an increase of nature themed elements as well, a nod to how they inherited that from Momboo! (no quote so far)

Easton: I don't know too much about Easton as well, sadly! I want to include lightning, skulk, nods to their mother and sibling, and the border will probably be a heart monitor type line (well within the border), a nod to how they see the world! (no quote so far)

Athena: I of course want Nether elements, but also a nod to Jamie, nature/flowers, and Cheshire! Cheshire might be included, possibly at the bottom or draped across Athena's neck. Whatever I can get to work! I kind of want to draw her in his fancy nether outfit, because I feel like it fits? (no quote so far)

Ven: The little traitor man! (/aff) I want nods to Fengari and some sort of writing detail! I don't know a ton about Ven, but I may include some nods to Fable (twisting yellow claws, etc!) (no quote so far!)

Ocie: I have the most idea for Ocie- she's the one that started my brain a'going. One of the strongest themes in Ocie's character is grief. It's lost so many people- and now another one, Len. Features I want to include are: 1) a nod to Momboo, 2) Oscar, 3) I kind of want her eyes to glow, 4) a heart of the sea, 5) tears. The words on her piece will probably be "Another empty grave." (or "I don't want to dig another grave.", or "It takes every piece away"!)

Centross: Wouldn't be a Centross piece without a nod to the end! A note that this piece will be of Violet! I want to display each character sort of in their "final form", whatever that may be. I want stars, the reaver, and a nod to the farming. His quote will probably be something cryptic about keeping the balance!

Wolf/Fenris: Fenris's is another that is going to be really fun! I may add a phantom mask over his face, as well as the moon above or behind his head. I want him in a fancy outfit- probably the one Malitae gave him, or the Festival of light one. There will be stars for Rae, and maybe wheat for Centross? Not sure of a quote yet!

Arisanna: Gotta have allays. But also pillager references! The border will probs have arrows within it! She'll also have some sort of book reference, whether that be the background or her holding one!

Icarus: Wings and potions and wack. Icarus's will be colorful, feathery, and otherwise I'm not entirely sure! I want a crown, so icarus's matches the rest of prince trio's. I also want to highlight their eyes! Otherwise, I think help from y'all and also the finale will help. Quote might be "Oh, we're doing this again?" but I am very very very open to suggestions

Haley: Haley's is going to be eerie- probably a reference to how she died, but also I want something puppet-y about her! not sure what else, and for the quote all i got is "this wasn't how it was supposed to go"

Ulysses: formerly evil fish man WOOO! Gotta have references to medical stuff, possibly have Victor in there, telchin stuff, and alcohol. Ulysses is trying to make amends, to fix the wrongs, to improve. I don't know how I can convey the layers of that well, like I can with Ocie's grief. Honestly, the quote might be the best way to do that! ("I'm sorry", or "I didn't mean for this to happen", maybe?)

I won't be doing one for Galahad, Will, or Chaos! Galahad and Will because I don't know their characters that well, and I feel like it'd be out of place now. Chaos for infer-able reasons.

Addie may be added if I have time, motivation, and if we see addie again before the end!

#fablesmp #fsmp #fsmpblr #fablesmpblr #fable smp #fablesmp rae #sparkrambles #fablesmp icarus #icarus morningstar #athena morningstar #Rae morningstar #Ulysses themist #fablesmp ulysses #fablesmp ocie

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lifmera · 10 months ago

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hi mera!! i hope you’re having a lovely day! could i please request a hazbin hotel, chainsaw man, and twisted wonderland matchup if it isn’t too much?

pronouns | she/they

preference | it doesn’t matter!

personality | very shy, but once i’m comfortable with you i become very chaotic! i tend to be mean affectionately when i get comfortable and just say what’s on my mind without much thought cause i know i can trust you. i am the type of the person to tell you if what you’re doing could get you hurt or in trouble in some way. i’m also very big about honesty so it’s rare that i ever tell a lie, especially to people close to me. hence why i want people to be straight up and not lie to me. not very big on people i don’t know well touching me, but if you’re close to me you can hug me if you’d like.

when i’m frustrated or angry, it happens often but it’s never truly that deep. like i’ll be angry but it won’t be for long. i do lash out at people, but it is often not just one thing that caused me to do it, it’s a build of of things over time.

being sad is just the same way, it builds up over time until it boils over. i cry a lot when i’m sad, same with when i’m angry, because i don’t know where to let out my emotions.

appearance | my hair color changes often, but right now it’s blue and purple! my hair cut is a wolf cut with bangs! i’m very pale with pale blue eyes and i’m about “5’3” to “5’4” in height! my style is grunge or alt, but i like to keep it simple! so just cargo pants, a plain t-shirt, and some high tops and jacket will do!

hobbies | archery, writing, reading, drawing, collecting, gaming

likes | 80s music, vampiric aesthetics, victorian fashion, cats

dislikes | bugs, spiders, thunder, loud noises, arguing

lil extras | istp | pisces

i’m a very all over the place person so i hope this is okay! thank you! <3

HI HUN!!! IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. IM TRYING 😭🩷

I’ve decided to pair you with…. CHARLIE, DENJI & MALLEUS

Pretty wide variety… i know!

She LOVES your personality once you start to become comfortable.

She loves to be chaotic with you. Shes just a chaotic energy in total.

She’d love if you kept her AND other people out of trouble! Thats why she loves you so much :)

Shes also huge about honesty. Did you see what happened with vaggie!

She understands boundaries. Although she’s probably huge on touch, I feel like she wouldn’t do anything unless you initiated it.

When you lash out, she tries to help you not bottling up your emotions, and talking to her anytime something happened, she’ll love to hear whats going on.

She loves your outfits and your hair!! She thinks its super unique, and would say “opposites attract”

DENJI

Chaotic trio w power!!

If you playfully are mean to him he’ll do the same. I also think he’d try to bite you as a joke. Like chomp chomp.

Hes HUGE on honesty. Like what happened with makima…? Yikes..

Please help him stay out of trouble. He’s always doing something hella nuts or putting himself in danger. Although most of the times he prob won’t listen, he might!!

I think he might be a little annoying, so it’ll make you get angry, but if you talked about it to him.. 100% he’ll try to fix it!

Loves how u look. Honestly probably fell for you bc of it!!

He would probably game with you. And he’d enjoy it so much and be like.. “could you teach me…”

Teach him all your hobbies. PLEASE. HE’D LOVE TO DO IT ALL. He’ll suck butt at drawing and painting but please. It’d be so fun.

He’ll kill all the bugs for you <3

I honestly think at first he’d be scared of thunder, but he’d start to like it, and help you!!

MALLEUS

Definitely found out abt you thru Lilia. Lilia approached you cus of your style and was like… we need to be bsfs.

He’s also pretty quiet, but when you get comfortable around him, he’d LOVE how chaotic you are.

I think he HATES when people are too uptight. And will look to you for a break!!

Malleus might be a frustrating partner since he seems closed off, but i promise its just cause he doesn’t have friends and he needs to learn :(

He’d be so happy to find out the reason you were shy at first is bc you’re awkward and you aren’t scared of him like everyone else.

He’d be fine with whatever you did to him. Honestly if you lash out at him, he’d be a little taken aback but he’d let you let all your emotions out, and try to help you through it all.

I also think he’d suck at art. At first. I think he’d pick it up super quickly. He’s pretty good at everything.

I think at first he’d also suck at comforting but after a while he’d be super great at it.

I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY <3

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arachnixe · 5 months ago

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The Hangover

(Part 11 of Night’s Longing - Previous: Homecoming)

The castle should be darker than it is. Without so much as torchlight illuminating the passageways, we would ordinarily need to rely on our lamps as we make our way to the beating heart of Dracula’s lair.

Yet somehow, there is enough to see. An eerie, violet light shines in place of mortar between the stones, as though the whole structure were held together by occult force rather than by the arts of man. A lesser hunter might quake with doubt, but I am resolved to see this through.

“Careful, Boltman. Set too hasty a pace and we might fall to ambush before achieving our goal.”

The voice of wisdom to my left comes from Alucard—among my most valuable allies, one without whom we could never have penetrated so far into the enemy’s domain.

With long, tied-back hair the color of sacred silver, bearing a frame and voice that balances on the razor’s edge between masculine and feminine, I had on first meeting dismissed the fop as weak and useless, some delicate, effete molly masquerading at mastery of the martial arts. I have since learned better, having witnessed firsthand how well the other hunter weaponizes the presuppositions of men against them.

It would be a similar mistake to underestimate the young woman behind me, the array of amulets around her neck rattling as she jogs to catch up. Hernández may look frail, but the witch from Spain invokes powers beyond my ken, far exceeding the limits of my meager theurgy. With pockets full of strange trinkets, talismans sewn into her clothes, and arcane symbols etched across her skin, she wields her mystic knowledge to prepare our party for every obstacle.

Neither of them would be with me now if I weren’t willing to trust them with my life.

I grit my teeth and slow my steps to match the pace of the others. We cannot afford to take unnecessary risks, and right now it is my impatience that puts our party in needless jeopardy.

“Good timing.” The witch pitches her voice low, for our ears alone, speaking in hurried, clipped statements. “The snake tail quivers. Threats approach. Not men. Not beasts. Unholy. Undead.”

I draw my silver blade and whisper a prayer. With a nod toward the others, I affirm my readiness as we round the corner together and spring the enemy’s trap.

To get here, we have had to cut through vampires, yes, but also living vines, wolf-men, puppets of stone and spiderweb, and toxic fiends beyond description. Still I am unprepared to witness what faces us in the next room.

Our assailants are more than just undead. Looking like the bones of men picked clean by vultures and bleached white on some ancient battlefield, bones that rise again, lacking muscle or sinew yet standing upright all the same and gripping the weapons they clutched in death, these skeletons charge at us as if still fighting their ancient, forgotten war.

Where to stab? Where to slice? Professor Van Helsing’s unimpeachable research on the undead has proven tragically lacking on tips against this particular variety. Even the garlic I insisted the three of us wear seems hardly to slow them down at all—perhaps because they lack the necessary olfactory organs?

I narrowly avoid the thrust of a spear, catching it and lashing out with a kick that snaps the thing’s femur in two, but broken bones seem to hurt the skeletons no more than the fact that those same bones are missing ligaments to join them together.

“Well done, friend!” Alucard’s heavy glaive shatters the skull of another, though it rises once again to stand, pieces of its skull drifting back into alignment again. “Break as many bones as you can!” The glaive caves in the same skeleton’s chest. “The puissance animating each one is limited. The more pieces it must hold together, the thinner it stretches, the weaker it becomes, until—“

Another strike, cleaving the pelvis just as the skeleton starts drifting upright again, and the monster collapses, bereft of sufficient strength to reassemble itself.

How fortunate to have the company of two fine experts on the dark arts!

The spear makes for a useful quarterstaff with which to bludgeon and crack bones at range, but we are quite outnumbered, and destroying even a single skeleton is exhausting work. Alucard, with that massive glaive, clears enough space for Hernández to do her work, plunging her staff into the ribcage of a skeleton and rending its animating force to shreds in a flash of light, but even our witch is limited to the slow work of dismantling them one at a time.

They’re closing in, surrounding and forcing us slowly backward, toward the entrance to the hallway that led here. That is a real danger. The bottleneck would serve our enemies and their spears better than us; we need the space more than they do.

I cast my eyes around the room, searching for an approach. A heavy oak table sits near a wall, further along which is an alcove bearing an oversized stone statue of a woman I do not recognize. The arched opening leading from the hallway provides a small lip, and above us looms a grand, albeit tarnished, chandelier.

“Keep them off me!” Taking a step back, I sheathe my sword and drop the spear.

Alucard steps forward, not hesitating to fill the double-duty of clearing space for both Hernández and me. The glaive spins in a furious, two-handed whirl. Someday I’ll have to ask where such a fighting style comes from, but for now I simply whisper a prayer of gratitude that my allies are as formidable as they are.

Hup! I leap to catch the lip of the archway above me with one hand, the vantage high enough to offer an unobstructed view of the far side of the room. With a practiced motion, I pop the clasp at my belt and uncoil my long whip. As a part of the hunter’s arsenal—despite my storied ancestor’s efforts to prove otherwise—it makes for a poor general-purpose weapon no matter how much theurgy one invests in its construction, but as a tool it has its utility.

I find my grip on the stone—firm enough—while my other hand lashes forward, casting the whip in an unerring line across the room to wrap around the neck of the statue. I heave with all my strength and pull the thing off its plinth, sending it crashing down atop a line of skeletons.

“Ha!” Alucard barks a triumphant laugh, taking advantage of the sudden chaos to finish two skeletons in rapid succession.

That’s a few more down. Enough to momentarily clear a path through the crowd.

“Coming through!” Tossing the whip to the ground for the moment, I release my grip on the stone and bound ahead, across the fallen statue. I sprint, vault onto the friendly table, transfer my momentum vertically with a leap that kicks off the wall and sends me soaring overhead to catch the chandelier.

I heave myself atop the ancient fixture, even bigger up close than it looked from below. Perfect. With two hands on the chain, I flex my arms and lever my legs to start the chandelier slowly swinging. Need to build momentum first. I’ll only get one shot at this.

My hand grips the sword again. I whisper an invocation to awaken its true power, conjuring forth a brilliant glow of theurgy, the power that makes this heirloom more than mere metal. Gripping the chain, gauging the timing, I slash downward. More-than-silver cleaves through tarnished bronze, severing the chandelier from its support, sending it tumbling into the crowd of skeletons below.

My aim is true. Most of the fiends are crushed with one fell blow. Letting go of the chain, I land on the table below with an artful flip. Made of heavy oak, these wooden legs make for adequate clubs after I chop them off.

With their advantage in numbers greatly diminished and their remaining strength divided between my allies and my dual-club assault on their rear, the tides turn decisively in our favor. We work as a team to crush and dismantle the skeletons until, panting with exhaustion, we emerge victorious.

“Clever work, Boltman.” Alucard claps me on the shoulder. “And not a scratch on you. Each day I’m given new reason to marvel at how well-earned your reputation is.”

Hernández runs a hand through her dark hair, clearing wild strands from her face. “A wonder, truly. I have never before seen anyone—ah, anyone human, that is—move like that. You fly through the air, a hawk among the bats that haunt this castle.”

“I am human,” I respond with more defensiveness than is warranted. “My clan possesses great lore to enhance our human potential, and God Himself blesses my family name, but I am human still, nothing like the devils we hunt.”

“Of course not.” Alucard offers a placating smile. “After all, the garlic you’ve forced us to wear should offer adequate proof of that point!”

Hernández scoffs. “That doctor you so respect plagiarizes local superstitions and calls it science. Smelly plants ward away my distrust no more than they ward away vampires. Morris, my friend, your actions speak with deeper truth; none who fight the undead with such awesome ferocity could count among their number. Let my words never cast doubt on that understanding.”

Her contempt for Professor Van Helsing no longer raises my hackles. To disagree on how one should hunt the minions of night concerns me less than the truth of her own ability to fight them. At least she humors me by wearing the garlic despite her disbelief.

I nod in acknowledgment, then turn my attention to my other companion. “Alucard, what on Earth were those things? I have not seen undead of their like before. Not vampires at all, but something frightfully new.”

“Beyond ‘skeletons?’” A shrug, as if this were a trivial point of academic curiosity. “The Count was a powerful sorcerer long before he became archvampire. We must prepare ourselves for many powers and defenses that exceed the capabilities of ordinary vampire-kind.”

“But how?” I shake my head in frustration. “Are there others capable of similar feats? Could he train apprentices to become a threat on a similar scale?” I gesture at the bones littering the ground. “If all vampires were capable of commanding an army like this, our job would become far more difficult.”

“They say,” Hernández speaks slowly, picking her words with care, “that he was tutored in his youth by a witch who sold her soul to the devil, groomed from childhood to become the ultimate manifestation of evil on Earth, the product of a dreadful ritual that can never be repeated.”

“All the more reason to end him now, while he is yet vulnerable.” Alucard nods decisively. “With that said,” the hunter casts a scrutinizing look toward our party’s witch, “I wonder where you learned such secrets about our enemy. To describe that as ‘rare lore’ would be a fantastic understatement.”

“Perhaps when our job is done, I will lay bare what secrets I still keep. To do so now, well, the walls in Dracula’s lair have ears.”

“Nevertheless—“

“We all have our secrets,” I interrupt, putting a hand on Alucard’s shoulder. “You not least among us, friend. Let us not distract ourselves with talk of the past. It satisfies me to know that we’ll not suffer from an epidemic of Draculas after we finish our job here. Have we not just spoken of our mutual trust? Hold fast to our faith in one another, and we cannot fail.”

The two of them nod in agreement, duly reminded of the bonds between us. They have both become dear friends to me, and I trust them with my life.

But… Why is it that the light casts such strange shadows across their faces? I can hardly make out their features. Their smiles, simultaneously familiar and strange to me, suddenly lose their reassuring quality.

Do I know these people? I rub my eyes as though I can wipe my vision clean, clear this confusion, this nagging feeling that I am not myself.

Names and faces flit through my mind, superimposing themselves on my companions. Elizabeth and Victoria, dignified and dear, catch me as I slump to the floor.

“Boltman, are you well?”

Now it’s Ylio and Carmen, the hands on my body a silent threat, concern painted on masks hiding their true agenda.

“Dracula’s resurrection is at hand.”

When did we decide to assault a castle? Where is this castle?

“I am not yet through with you, Hanna. You must play your role in this story.”

Now it’s Daniel and Carlo, towering above me, swinging whips of blood. In unison, each man’s whip coils around a wrist. They haul me upright, a weightless marionette puppeted by my relatives. Daniel hands me a stake of pure white oak which my fingers mindlessly close around.

“Did you think you could give up on your duty? There are none left to take up the mantle. You saw to that when you made yourself the last of our bloodline.”

My head is weak, flopping to the side, but I do my best to shake it in denial. My voice fails me, but I mouth one word: lies.

“Did you think there were still others? Did you think the Boltmans haven’t been hunted? Did you believe an archvampire drew close to you on accident? By your own hand, you have made yourself the last Boltman, and in so doing you have doomed yourself to become the vessel of prophecy’s fulfillment.”

I refuse. You’re dead and buried and gone! You have no right to rule my life! Go to hell!

“The Cult of Dracula is your responsibility. The death of Dracula is your responsibility. Ending the reign of the vampire is your responsibility. You have no choice.”

No!

---

I bolt upright. A scream dies in my throat before it escapes to the waking world. My sweat soaks the bed, sheets a tangled mess kicked to the floor.

What was that dream? Not the usual one at all, showing me the moment of Morris Boltman’s death. This one was something altogether new. Is it real, another vision of the past, or merely a nightmare reflecting my fears?

Also, I can’t help but notice, I’m alive. Why am I alive?

Carmen is sound asleep at my side, meaning that I, for once, woke up before her. It must be midday still. In sleep, her back to me, there remains in her no trace of the violence with which she assaulted me last night. I still ache from it, but by now I’m sure the injuries have closed up already.

My eyes fall to admiring the curves of her body, tracing the ornate lines of her tattoos down until I notice a familiar symbol on her lower back.

Huh. I hadn’t caught it before because her version of the design is almost medieval in style, rather than the more modern interpretation I’ve seen, but that is unmistakably the same winged ouroboros worn by Ylio and their allies.

What does that mean? It feels like I’ve been handed the pieces to an important puzzle, but there’s something critical I’m missing. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Whatever it is, my skull is pounding, and I still ache all over. I’m not exactly in the right shape to play detective about this mystery.

More immediate a concern is the way Carmen revealed some of her true self to me last night. I doubt I’ll ever feel quite as safe around her as I once did, but… she didn’t kill me. She even tucked me into bed afterward and fell asleep beside me just like always.

I could leave now, before she wakes, with the protection of the midday sun, making my way back to my sisters’ place. That would be the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it? The safe decision?

Let me admit the truth to myself, though. I don’t want safety. I’ve never honestly known what it is to be truly safe, and I’m not sure I even trust the concept. All I want, all I ever wanted, is love at any cost.

Wrapping an arm around Carmen, I lie back down, pressing my body into hers. I prefer the familiar caress of a beautiful knife at my throat over the stranger that is “safety.”

#my writing #empty spaces #Night's Longing #vampires #romance

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imagineanime2022 · 1 year ago

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Ayato Kirishima With A Wolf Shifter S/O

Ayato Kirishima X Fem!Reader

Requested: @the-letter-horror-lover

Request: Please may I have a Tokyo ghoul request headcanons Ayato Kirishima with a wolf female S/O..basically to help you with it better..she is the last of her Japanese wolf kind which is rumoured to have gone extinct years ago (no thanks to the CCG investigaters) and even though she is human..she has the ability to change into her wolf form, even partially with the ears and tail because that was her ability..it was difficult for her sometimes because having the ability of shape-shifting into her wolf form meant like for example, whenever she's sick..she couldn't take any ordinary medication like the other humans because it could potentially be toxic for her and she had to be careful while in wolf form too..because sadly there are potential causes of actually being killed accidentally by a hunter. S/O is more than capable of fighting for herself..she isn't a damsel in distress..and that would explain why she is a skilled fighter in her own right..

S/O accepted Ayato for who he is considering her own secrets too..and he wasn't the only one who felt differently..

Touka's relationship with Ayato's girlfriend too..

🐇 Ayato met you because he was sent to grab you, Aogiri Tree wanted you, you were a rare breed and they loved their collectables. 🐇 Eto figured that she had a common enemy, she’d offer you safety if you offered her your strength, she knew that you’d be one of the pieces that would help her win the war she had started. 🐇 Ayato honestly hated you at first but let's be honest he doesn’t like anyone on first impression. 🐇 The more he’s forced to work with you, the more he learns to tolerate you, tolerating you turns to liking you when you become the only person who seems to understand survival. 🐇 He never really asked about your wolf form until the first time that he saw a part transformation, when you explained that it was all to do with the fact that you were sick he rolled his eyes and told you to suck it up and take some medicine. When you told him that you can’t because some of it was poisonous. 🐇 He feels bad after that and actually helps you get better, takes you somewhere quiet, might even be his room considering no one dares to bother him when he’s in there. 🐇 Once you're better there’s a new unspoken bond between you both, not that either of you commented on it.

You had been sent out on yet another mission with Ayato, the CCG had caught onto you very quickly and now you stood face to face with a kid who seemed a little too enthusiastic about killing you. “Woah you have a tail and ears like a wolf!” The kid said. “Yeah and you look like a terrible patch work project, your point?” You asked as you got down into a defensive position, even with your reflexes you could only block the scythe that was aimed for your neck, the blade lipped over your forearm where he dragged it back to cut deep into your arm and lose your balance, you fell forward rolling to the side when he struck again. You were up a second later, you kicked the kid away from you, the growl that ripped from you would have scared a normal person but it only made the kid more excited. “You're so cool!” He cheered as he dove forward again this time, he swung at the same time that he threw a dagger drawing you into the place that he wanted you cutting straight down from your left shoulder to your right hip, luckily the wound wasn’t as deep as it could have been but it still hurt. “I have to take you back with me!” “I’m not a pet.” You growled out through gritted teeth, your teeth elongating and nails sharpened into claws, you dove forward dodging his scythe and daggers knocking him back and scratching straight down his arm in the process, he screamed and as if calling in protection an Quinque came down out of nowhere you just managed to clear it “Juuzou I told you to be careful.” “I was, she just caught me by surprise.” He pouted, both of them drawn to you when a feral noise somewhere between a growl and a grunt slipped from your mouth. “Come on, it's time to go.” The new arrival ordered as Ayato landed next to you, surveying your injuries, though he didn’t show it, he was impressed that you were still standing but he’d tell you that later for now he stood at his full height Ukaku spread wide behind him, he knew that you’d cover any attacks that came lower than his range, with how low you were to the ground, eyes trained on the investigators in front of you, when they fell back he could see that you were ready to chase them so he moved in front of you. “We need to get back, we got what we came for.” He said, he watched as it seemed that his voice snapped you out of whatever state you were in. “Right, let's go.” You mumbled as you stood he could see that your wounds were healing, he unzipped and shrugged off the leather jacket that he was wearing, putting it over your shoulder. “Make sure those assholes back at the base can’t see anythin’ you don’t want them to.” He mumbled before you both headed back.

🐇 Ayato notices your quiet nature when something is bothering you. He doesn't ever bother you about it though because he knows what he’s like when something bothers him. 🐇 Your wolf senses can make you sensitive to sounds and smells, Ayato is careful of that but sometimes he yells, he apologises offhandedly afterwards though. 🐇 When you guys actually get together it’s more of a promise than asking you to be his girlfriend, you tell him what happened to others of your kind and promise you that he’d never let anything happen to you as long as you stick with him. 🐇 Once you're his though he’s protective as hell, doesn’t matter that he knows that you can look after yourself, doesn’t matter if the enemy is one you’ve beaten 100 times He’ll keep his promise and protect you from everything. 🐇 He isn’t big on PDA but that doesn’t mean that he won’t sit there with his arm around your shoulder or your knees touching to remind you that he’s there if you need him.

You had been sitting with Ayato, you were talking about nothing in particular when Yakumo Oomori took a seat next to you, you didn’t actually look at him but you did stiffen slightly, they both felt it and you were sure that Oomori took pride in it while Ayato wrapped his arm around you a little tighter putting his hand between you and the notorious killer. “Well aren’t you two cute?” He sneered as Ayato glared at him. “What do you want, Oomori?” Ayato asked, he looked relaxed as they came but the snappy way that he spoke gave him away. “We’ve got a mission, to retrieve the one eyed ghoul.” He answered. “She doesn’t want you to bring your little pet, it's just the two of us.” “Fine.” Ayato waved him off “and don’t call her that, she’s not a pet, her name is (Y/N) use it.” “You should be careful people might catch on to the fact that you're a real softy.” Oomori smirked as he stood up walking away, you somehow found him even more unnerving with the mask off but your attention was drawn from the retreating figure back to a more calming presence. “Don’t worry about him.” Ayato said “I won’t let him do anything and if he does, I’ll put him down for it.” “I don’t think that Eto would like that very much.” You mumbled and he scoffed. “I don’t care what they would like, I care about you.” He said, pressing an uncharacteristically soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I froze.” You finally said. “Don’t worry.” He said again, he’d always be there.

🐇 Now when you finally got to meet Touka, it was when Ayato finally decided to change sides after Kaneki left, he obviously asked you to come with him and honestly there was nothing that you couldn’t do together, you were a dangerous team. 🐇 Touka could see how happy you made Ayato, now that he felt safe to do so PDA was more frequent though he still didn’t do it all the time. 🐇 Touka took some time to trust you still, it’ll probably take seeing you take a hit for Ayato or sticking up for him that will assure her that you are trustworthy. 🐇 Once she does trust you, you are the best of friends, you do all the things that normal friends do within your limitations, you still have to be careful given your own physical drawbacks. 🐇 Control came easier in a safe environment so Touka hardly saw you in partial or full wolf form but if you ever ended up having kids with Ayato then seeing your kids in wolf forms is common for her. 🐇 Seeing your wolf form for the first time did scare her but Ayato was the one to assure her that there was nothing to worry about. 🐇 Sticks up for you where people bully or become aggressive against you, fear or not it’s not acceptable to her (or Ayato for that matter), she’s more likely to talk to someone about it though, her brother will just straight up punch them.

It had been years since everything had settled and the fighting had ended, it seemed like everyone was finally happy, you were out with Touka but there were still situations that caused an uncomfortable stress response, your ears and tail popping out and causing people to stare which only seemed to make it worse. Touka noticed but not before a group of men came over one of them grabbing your tail and tugging on it. “Wow they were right when they said that your kind can grow tails and ears.” He smirked “can you feel it?” “Stop.” You ordered, Touka could see that if this continued there would be a few very injured men. “I’d listen to her.” Touka said as she crossed her arms. “If you want to keep that hand.” “You think that you two can take all of us?” He asked “even if she is from some special shapeshifter family, there’s still too many of us.” “I’m warning you, it’s not just her you have to worry about.” Touka smirked as she stepped forward. “Oh really?” He asked. “Touka don’t you have kids to go home too, let me punch him in the face.” You said as you stepped forward. “You think you can?” He teased, you smiled before pulling back and strike in less than a second, the man touched his nose noting the blood on his hand “you are going to regret that.” “She really won’t.” The voice behind you made your heart sing as he came to stand behind you, his scent relaxing you “leave before I change my mind about stopping her.” The man grit his teeth as he turned and left, Ayato turned you to face him, mumbling words of reassurance and asking what had caused you to panic in the first place while Touka watched with a small smile, she was so happy that he found you because he looked happier with you than she had seen him in a long time almost as happier than when they were kids before everything had ruined them and she only hoped that lasted forever for the both of you.

Request Here!!

#tokyo ghoul one shot #tokyo ghoul imagine #tokyo ghoul #ayato kirishima #ayato kirishima one shot #ayato kirishima imagine #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #female reader

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dolphin1812 · 1 year ago

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The slang automatically tells us that something’s wrong here: to Hugo, slang is criminal, so the people speaking it are as well (his attitude towards slang merits criticism, but this is within the context of the book).

(Personally, I really like how this part is rendered in the Donougher translation; rather than tell us they’re speaking in slang, we see that the “it’s here” is “icicaille” – a phrase we’ve seen Patron Minette use before and with an ending included in the argot digression. The slang picked up while reading is what tells us something’s off!)

M Thénardier truly is awful, now failing to recognize two of his children. And Éponine’s trying so hard to distract him, but it hurts to know that while her affection may be feigned, his lack of it isn’t. The closest to affection she gets from any of Patron Minette’s members here is Montparnasse telling her not to cut herself by accident with his knife. And he threatens her, too.

And yay animal symbolism! We knew Éponine couldn’t go along with Patron Minette anymore because she stopped using slang, but she also draws on a dichotomy we’ve mainly seen with Javert: dog versus wolf. She’s the “daughter of a wolf,” keeping the wolf as a symbol of criminality, but she’s become the “dog” guarding the Rue Plumet house. She doesn’t know who Valjean and Cosette really are, so “dog” is appropriate; to Éponine, she’s defending the social order, keeping Cosette safe so that she and Marius can live out an idealized middle-class romance (since she doesn’t see Marius’ poverty and is most struck by how well-dressed Cosette is). And she’s very aware that the social order is cruel to her, too, stating that she might end up among the drowned dogs. Unlike Javert, her decision isn’t so much based on her thinking the social order is right. She’s more resigned to it, knowing that it’s unjust but also thinking that a better life is impossible for her. And if she can make someone she cares about who’s better off in that social order happy, then she’ll sacrifice herself to do it.

Her youth is also so clear. She’s singing to herself again, one of the traits used to show her childishness before. She’s brave, but she’s so vulnerable, too.

#les mis letters #lm 4.8.4 #éponine thénardier #patron minette #m thénardier

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chthonicgodling · 10 months ago

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how many kids does your Loki actually have?

(hi everyone I am right now accepting eLoki’n’kids questions, pre-Elysium, past-Elysium, current-Elysium— pls. please please. pls pls pls pl—)

[prev question over here too!]

WELL i’ve actually been retconning one Elysium-child out of existence (no one cared about him anyway shshsh) and been back and forth with myself on doing that to another one EDIT:AND FINALLY DECIDED TO DEMOTE THE OTHER ONE so the current *but subject to change* count is 13!! ALL accidental it’s worth mentioning dggkfg

(plus - who knows if any more children might be in his future! Who knows!!! anything could happen!! anything at all………………...)

I’ll go through them all in order of oldest to newest!* (weird wording due to* Libby*) Please enjoy this blend of Norse mythy realness & Elysium brand chaos, under the cut cause it’s soooo extremely long of course; I mentioned it at the bottom but special warnings for some Dark Mentions in here of things like child death,/ murder/ miscarriage / & of course less dark but general pregnancy talks—

1- Sleipnir! Loki’s first born, the eldest son, also notably one of just two amongst all of them who has not been able to move into Elysium :(( Sleipnir- true to myth - is an eight legged horse, carried by Loki (in the shape of a horse) after being sired by Entire Horse Svaldifari. it’s… a long ridiculous story that ended up in an oopsie baby spider foal (you can just look up this Norse myth lmao) and that was all well and good until Loki finally returned to Asgard with toddler horse and Odin took him away. This first event - the first of what would be many tragic circumstances to follow surrounding his first six kids - was the start and beginning of Loki’s deep-seated trauma and paranoid caginess surrounding all of his pregnancies/children. to this day Sleipnir remains in service of the Aesir as Odin’s personal stallion, where Elysium can’t just take him since Odin would obviously notice and Loki is technically a wanted escaped fugitive in his home world so 🙃 horrifically sad and traumatizing forever. uhhh anyway!

2- Hela! Loki’s eldest daughter. I literally just drew her yesterday over here!! She’s the other one of all the kids who has not moved to Elysium. Loki is Hela’s mother, & she was sired by the Frost Giantess Angrboda, with whom Loki had begun to rendezvous with solely as an act of general rebellion against well, everyone. Loki uhhhhhh had not expected to somehow get magically pregnant from these encounters, biologically nonsensical as it was, but he’d delightedly rolled with it after the first time (and would return to her twice more hoping for more accidents - and receiving them - before she finally shooed him away). Like I said in her drawing, Hela was half dead once she was born, and half of her decomposes, regenerates, decomposes. As a teenager she and her younger siblings (the next two bullet points) were ripped from Loki by Odin and each respectively banished away in isolation out of fear of their growing powers. Hela is the queen of the Norse Dead and resides in their Underworld of Niflheim, where she has made a home and an obligation for herself that she will not abandon, even for the chance to reunite with her mom :(

3- Fenris! (also known as The Fenris Wolf….. also known as Fen), the former GIANT WOLF born to Loki & Angrboda again, nowadays shapeshifted into your run of the mill big hulking werewolfy Viking. Once again birthed by Loki as a puppy:) before growing extremely big with no sign of stopping. yes wolf-shape-Fen is larger than even Cerberus. Growing up as a gigantic bloodthirsty ravenous wolf but truly just misunderstood and unfairly judged Fen too was separated and banished during Odin’s scourge, imprisoned in isolation on the island of Lyngvi for many many years… until the coming of Ragnarok in ~2014ish (as Eisa and Einmyria were being born) - which Loki during canon Elysium events circumvented by freeing Fen, transforming him into a human shape, finally bringing him home to the Elysium palace. Fen is like ~palace adjacent~ he and his brother Jör are near inseparable and prefer to spend their time roaming the Underworld rather than confining to one place after so many years of being locked up.

4- Jörmundgandr! (also known as The World Serpent, The Midgard Serpent….. and also known as Jör) - the former GIGANTIC SEA SERPENT born ALSO to Loki and Angrboda, the last of their children before they “broke up” (had they even been dating??) Like By the time Jör was born - again to Loki yes as a big snake even then but. Quite a bit Smaller thank god. - Angrboda was finally like Jesus christ ENOUGH stop using me to sire children leave me alone??? and that was the End of that relationship or lack thereof. Jör was the last of the three kids that Odin banished away at once, he was thrown into The oceans of Midgard (EARTH) to wrap around the world nine times, ending with swallowing his own tail in one big ouroboros……. Like his older brother, Jör was freed and transformed humanoid to prevent Ragnarok in 2014 and lives Elysium-adjacent with Fen. Fun fact Jör was friends with mermaid Glaukos even as a big snake - from living in the oceans! Glaukos was able to reunite them when Loki first fell to Elysium yaaay. Also. it’s worth mentioning that even humanoid Jör is constantly biting his nails some things don’t change…. The ouroboros continues……

5 & 6- Vali and Nari! Who I just drew as teeny newborns over here and whomst I have drawn many MANY times. Normal human shapes except in the modern day Elysium canon….. they’re ghosties, eternally ten years old :(((( Loki carried the twins too though they’ve always called him father; their mother was the goddess Sigyn, nowadays Loki’s Big Ex (one of em.) after being Loki’s longest committed relationship, wife adjacent. the twins were conceived by accident of course very shortly after their previous three siblings were taken away, but Loki & Sigyn had been in a relationship for QUITE some time before that, as she’d acted as step parent to the trio since their early childhood. When Loki killed Balder as revenge for the loss of the trio, Odin magically bewitched ten year old Vali and Nari to kill each other and left their horrific remains for Loki to find (enough left for Loki to enchant the pieces himself and sEE WHAT HAD HAPPENED AND BY WHO).

This was one of the most horrifying and traumatizing things to have ever happened to Loki, now SIX losses of his beloved children— a catalyst for his period of supervillainry in which we allll know what happened. Sigyn also left him - an incredibly ugly breakup that didn’t help anything, as she’d blamed him fully for their deaths. When Loki ended up in Elysium, Tory transferred their ghosts from one Underworld to another and reunited them at long last :’)) finally the beginning of a happy ending!! As cheerful ghosts, solidified and recolored by their new bestest friend Meli (the goddess of ghosts) the twins DO live a happy and fulfilling life, and their return to his arms was the biggest step to Loki in Elysium finally starting to pull himself together. yay!!! and now the Elysium continuation kids!

7- Fjöer! son of Loki and Laphi, Loki’s first baby in the Elysium palace! Fjoer is half owl like his dad Laphi and is the shape of a big blue feathered. uh. thing. Fjöer like alllll the rest of them was an oopsie baby, after screwing arounddd and finding himself pregnant in the palace wth NO idea who the other parent could be. Loki panicked and ran away, preferring ALWAYS to be pregnant alone anyway (leaving secret instructions to find him just with Vali and Nari, though Epi was able to contact him through dreams.). Within a month Loki had given birth to… an entire bird’s EGG, narrowing the other parent down to ONE specific half-owl-god lmAO. He returned to the palace at that point, and Fjöer hatched two months later. Fjöer was actually the first cross couple baby of all the palace let alone with Loki (lmao look at us now!) but Laphi and Jesse took this in stride especially once Laphi’s owl-parent instincts took over. Fun fact!! Fjöer speaks only in chirpy bird talk, but all of his siblings and parents can understand him seamlessly! NO ONE ELSE, THOUGH

8- Rane! Daughter of Loki and…….. hmmm redacted due to in-progress retconning.(also she has never had a twin shhhhhhhhhhhgg). Let’s call her Flower Nymph for now. Rane’s humanoid but the first of Loki’s kids to LOOK and act Jotunn, as she came preloaded with a super low body temp and ice powers (which she hardly uses in favor of playing with mortal card tricks as a better form of magic), and was powerful enough in utero to knock all of Loki’s magic haywire. Soooooo back when Loki had left with Fjöer in utero, he’d somehow befriended a stray Flower Nymph residing newly in the palace, detached from everyone else; Vali and Nari had brought her to him to make friends lmao. what followed for the next few years was a friendship turned sort of romance, as she was COMPLETELY in love with him - he was not - he humored her for a while - it was a bad pairing all around - finally they broke up. They…. hooked up a few more times against their better judgement. Aaaand of course then Loki found out he was pregnant.

Loki’s relationship story with Flower Nymph is in the process of major retconning but they remain NOT together as a couple, just finally friends after many years of turmoil, and Rane shares split custody between the two of them (most of her time with Loki in the oalace). MOST fun fact about Rane of all time is!! she was actually born IN the avengers tower😈😇 which is a whole other story that I will not include here bc this length is so stupid already but. lmao! This is also Loki’s least favorite fact

9 & 10- Eisa and Einmyria! …Haha oh boy. they are Loki’s daughters with TORY, and the first EVER babies who Loki didn’t carry himself - while Loki was about eight months pregnant with Rane, on accident he had knocked up Tory, who had given birth to baby Raz himself not long before. Eisa is made out of molten lava - Einmyria is made out of smoldering ash. Before I talk about All this here is a DISCLAIMER that everything is fine with them and everyone NOW in terms of coparenting and a happy family!! but the series of events surrounding their surprise conception and birth was nothing but CHAOS. Maci had allowed Loki to sleep with Tory one time - NOT GET HIM PREGNANT, and she was BEYOND furious. Generally Maci AND ALSO TORY are NOT calm people they are both Very quick to anger!! Loki, bugging out of his mind from not carrying the babies himself, also feeling cornered from Maci meltdown rage and Tory’s anger and panic, responded to all of this by- perpetuating an all out war right back at them.

from all angles there was SO much screaming and yelling and fighting and custody battling— For like a solid four months of Tory’s pregnancy there was just utter turmoil, including events such as Tory fully leaving the palace (falling ill as the babies powers surged too strong for him to handle and returning); separately Maci leaving the palace in a fit and returning when Tory got sick; then separately again Loki himself getting kicked OUT of the palace after another explosive blowup— Tory and Loki PUNCHED EACH OTHER AT ONE POINT — oh my god it was a dramatic NIGHTMARE. You have to remember back then Loki and Maci HAAAATED EACH OTHER!! But finally tempers cooled and everyone calmed down, agreed to coparent and make nice for the babies’ sake, Tory allowed Loki to name the twins himself, everything was fine.

Everything is fine today! lol Maci was so bitchy about the kids and took one look at them and fell in love so bonus babies no issues. All that fuss and for nothing. …. By the way during Tory’s pregnancy with them had been when Thanatos had escaped and been exploded by Loki, and THEN— due to the stress of all these events of the past year— Ragnarok was triggered to begin. right around when Tory’s water broke (prematurely). Oops. Just uhh Loki things. This is when Fen and Jör came to the palace though!

11- Vrykolakas! Aka Vryk. Most of you probably know Vryk cause this was around the time I had started updating everyone on Elysium goings ons! Vryk is Loki and Epi’s son - sired by Loki and carried by Epi, and his claim to quirky fame is his action of traumatically dying in utero, and then clawing his way back out of his own grave to carry on forever undead. Vryk’s conception also came with a great deal of drama even before Epi had miscarried him. Epi and Loki (&Eury) slept together with the intention of possibly getting Loki pregnant, whatever happens happens, new free baby since Epi and Eury’s previous pregnancies had not been easy for either of them, but it was a panicky shock when Epi ended up pregnant instead. (None of Loki’s genetics or biology make any sense lol.) Though Maci and Loki had been playing nice with Eisa and Einmyria by then, Maci immediately started a fight with Loki with the misguided intention of protecting Epi who was terrified to be pregnant - to which of course Loki retaliAted back at her and ALLL THE DRAMA OF PREVIOUS STARTED UP ALL OVER AGAIN. Epi ended up barring both of them from being near him and hid in Chal’s house - this was when all that was going on too! - until unexpectedly miscarrying.

This was devastating of course I mean do I even need to say that. Aaughhhhh god and- Loki had lost so many children before, but never in this way, and he reeled as well. With even worse emotions at play now and those previous tensions only Barely having been smoothed, Loki and Epi got into a vicious fight - but reconcilied soon after over Vryk’s coffin. Aaaand then Vryk came back to life later that week and was fine ever after :)

Fun fact Vryk was the FINAL actual key for Maci and Loki to actually finally start to tolerate each other with any degree of warmth - for the reason OF warmth, actually. Vryk, being DEAD, does not give off body heat, and cried for days and days straight with no one able to tell what was wrong…. Until Maci, fire goddess, picked him up and immediately got him to stop. Vryk has always called Maci Mama :) shockingly Loki did not kill her over this— if only because Vryk would cry any time Maci put him down OR Loki left the room. They had no choice but to be together AHH lmao once again everything is fine now but! harrowing series of events!!

12- Sæunn! Sæ is the current youngest of all of Loki’s children right now! Also appearing Jotunn-like, Sae’s most exciting feature is the ability to turn into a giant squid for NO reason, an ability only recently discovered. She is the daughter of Loki and Jesse (yknow. Laphi’s husband. whoopsies.) Jesse and Loki hooked up, on birth control bc Loki had too many fucking kids. Because Loki is Loki, that birth control did not work on Jesse And!!! Jesse found himself pregnant!’ The big thing about the birth of Sæunn is that - Before Jesse had ended up pregnant Loki had thought he’d been handling processing the events of Vryk’s almost loss quite well but suddenly having another baby IN someone else right after he’d watched Epi lose Vryk made Loki twitch out of his mind a little bit. He drove Jesse absolutely crazy treating him like he was made of glass for all nine months even with Jesse’s assurances that everything was totally fine. In fact the ONLY unusual thing about Sæ before she was born was that Jesse was inexplicably drawn to water and the pools the entire time. Otherwise the whole pregnancy was healthy and uneventful! Six years later (she’s six now!) the reason for that became extremely clear…. Squiddy :)

however. honestly. a quick aside. lmao the REAL lasting result of Sæunn’s birth was that Loki ended up taking like a three year celibacy hiatus due to EVERY FORM OF BIRTH CONTROL failing either him or any of his partners and oh my god this is so many babies back to back to back. celibacy in the… loosest sense of the word as Loki can just make clones of himself so 🙄 lol. up until - what with Maci being naturally infertile - well. was it possible she was the ONLY person Loki could actually sleep with without knocking up!!? yes😈 hence Loki’s long-standing grudge against her finally snapping, leading into that very first time in 2021…… and then, the next year! everyone discovering an,,, herbal birth control dealio….. that not only did successfully prevent pregnancies in Loki due to trial and error but also doubled as a….. sex pollen-esque aphrodisiac…… whose consensual yet probably hilariously irresponsible use by ALL parties can probably be single-handedly blamed for the blossoming of THE NOT THROUPLE DYNAMIC that we are dealing with today SO LMAO UHH— thanks Jesse and Saeunn?? ANYWAY-

FINALLY the last Lokikid currently is! of course! drumroll!!

13- Libitina! Aka LIBBY who we all know and love! Yes, Chal’s Libby! Most people say that Loki adopted Libby but Loki’s adamant that he gave birth to her and— he kinda did. Technically chronologically, Libby fits in before Vryk, because she was “born” when Chal was first caught by the palace and everyone discovered that she was sleep deprivedly hallucinating an entire girl as her best friend and conscience. When Chal healed her sleep deprivation and thus lost Libby, Loki was commissioned by Ty and Bel to bring her formally to life straight out of Chal’s head, and the real tangible Libby was created! Even from that moment they’d all joked that Loki was Libby’s mom. However it was some time later - hence this chronological timeframe - that Libby clarified with Loki— hey, ARE you my mom? “Do you want me to be?” “…yes?” “Then yes :)” and since then Loki has unequivocally treated Libby completely like one of his own.

Actually secretly Loki had wanted to formally adopt Chal too, he’d been the one in the first place who’d found Chal floundering around and had pushed most strongly For her rehab. but Chal and Loki’s relationship had never been parental or close due to both of them being little shits - in different ways. For that matter - When Tory and Maci (Maci and Chal are little shits in the SAME way) formally adopted Chal, they’d actually tried to loop Libby in, which is the exact moment they discovered that unbeknownst to anyone that Libby and Loki HAD established a parental bond and Loki refused to “toss her aside” to them (Libby didn’t even know this had come up Loki shut it down SO immediately 😅). So!!’ Libby Lokidottir!!! Even though no one will ever be closer to her than Chal is, Libby HAS been wholeheartedly welcomed and embraced by all of her Lokikid siblings, who are all completely ride or die for each other and Libby is no exception. She loves them and has so much love to give! And they all love her back!!

It is Chal’s sulky belief that Libby appears to have joined a cult and you know what? The Lokikid clan is. not far off.

thank you for joining me on this EXCEPTIONALLY LONG essay journey this was an absolute delight to write up. I’ve drawn all these guys except for Sleipnir so feel free to ask for links and pics if u wanna see any of them!! And so, Loki’s lucky 13!

only time will tell if the count will ever increase! like I said… anything could happen, even though Loki hasn’t been pregnant for SO long (since Rane a decade ago!!) and he IS on working birth control right now so…… but who knows!! WHOOOO KNOWS—

EDIT now after some retconny decisions have indeed been made: a previous version of this post included Kaia, formerly known as daughter of Loki and [REDACTED NYMPH] hut this is no longer! Despite being close with her half sister Rane and by extension, step-parent-ish Loki (for a time, ssssssort of,, sort of, it’s complicated), Kaia is no longer not one of Loki’s kids but simply the biological daughter of [NYMPH] and a Lampade, since they can. just. do that✨ gender notwithstanding✨ she was conceived and born roughly around the same exact time as Vryk was and though she’s completely offscreen, [NYMPH’s] pregnancy with her was enough of an emotional weakness for Loki for him to distance himself from the Chal debacle at the time for her safety. Addendum needs to be placed here, in my opinion, since kAia has previously been included in all Lokikid lineups! sorry for the demotion bby girl but she’s more interesting that way!!

phew thank u again If you actually made it to the very bottom. If you can’t tell. I like to write just a bit…,,

#oc talk #eloki #asks #OKAY TW CLOUD UHH—#child death tw /#miscarriage tw /#death tw /#ASK TO TAG #this is hilariously long for a question that should have just been a CHECKLIST #Elysium essays

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