#straight up this resonated with me so hard that i got a little misty

[babbushka]

A Throne By Any Other Name

Kylo Ren x F!Reader (Medieval AU)

A/N: This oneshot was inspired in part by to some requests sent in by dear anonymous users, and in part by the revelation of Adam's apparent cunnilingus skills lol. I hope you enjoy this smutty oneshot!

3.1k, NSFW (oral sex [f-receiving/face sitting], fingering, PIV, jerking off, outdoors sex, sex in the rain)

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It is too early in the day for the sun to have set, and yet the skies are dark. Clouds, heavy, blank, pendulous, fill the summer afternoon, a torrential downpour out in the distance. You and Kylo are lying on the plush green grasses of the fields which sit just outside your castle, enraptured with one another. He stares into your eyes, one palm on your cheek, soaking up the sight of you in your embroidered kirtle, your hair braided long down your back clasped with golden bands encrusted with pearls and sapphires.

For hours you both have been there, wrapped in one another’s embrace, watching as the lightning strikes across the clouds, claps of thunder following soon after. The time between the flashes and booms grows smaller and smaller, and each time it shatters the sky, you cannot help but gasp. Instinctively, Kylo tightens his hold on your body, and you warm with affection for your husband, your King.

“Isn’t it breathtaking?” You have been reduced to a whisper from the sheer awe of mother nature, lifting a hand and squinting with one eye like you’re about to fire an arrow, aiming it straight for the deluge that hits the edge of the fields as you breathe, “It must be so far away and yet, I feel as though I can reach out and touch it with mine very fingers.”

Kylo takes your hand and pulls it to his lips, kisses across your fingertips and down your palm, pushing back your sleeve enough to expose your wrist, where he grazes his crooked teeth along the delicate skin.

“Are you afraid?” Kylo whispers, never one to assume more volume than you, never one to assert himself over you.

Once, a long time ago, Kylo had soothed you from the way the sounds of thunder disrupted your sleep. You smile, grateful that he would be so willing to use whatever influence he has over this land as its King, to do the same again.

“No, I have learned to love the thunder, now that I know it bends it’s whims to you.” You tell him as such, and Kylo blushes shyly in a way so discordant with the ferocity of his power.

“The rain is moving towards us, what shall we do my beloved?” Kylo turns to the storm, his pupils growing to soak up what little light is left. It grows darker and darker out in the fields, save for the lightning that flashes, a deep purple black surrounding the castle. He kisses your shoulder, “I will not see you soaked to the bone if you do not wish it.”

“Hmm, and what if I do?” Tilting your head to the side, you allow him greater access. The wind chills you and you shiver, Kylo only holding you closer as he licks a hot stripe up your throat, nibbling at your ear.

“In that case...” He breathes against the spot just underneath your jaw, his hand working under your many layers to brush his fingers through the thick thatch of hair between your legs, breath hot as he sucks on your pulse, “I shall see to it personally, that my Queen be soaked in another manner altogether.”

“If that is what my King wants,” You reach for his hand and press it against your flesh further, sliding out of his embrace in a guise to better lie down, “That is what he shall get.”

Kylo removes the clasps of his fine furs, hiding them inside the large basket of cheeses and wine you have brought with you so that they do not get so soaked. You pull your kirtle up and over your head, leaving you in just the plain white cotton chemise that flows in the wind of the oncoming storm. Kylo is about to grab at you once again, when you are suddenly off, slipping just through his fingers, all of a sudden out of reach as you cheekily tease, “But first, he must catch me.”

This is one of your favorite ways to work him up, your husband. He must win your affection, must prove himself worthy of it. And oh how he does love to prove himself to you -- the maximum capacity of his prowess on display for you as the world lights in moments, a game of chase where your pleasure is the prize.

The rain has found you both, in this game, and Kylo wishes he could see you better to see the way your chemise has molded to your body, the fabric gone translucent with the rain. He knows, he just knows that all of your curves are on display; the roundness of your tits, the swell of your ass, the softness of your stomach and thighs as you run, your hair clinging to your face as the wind whips the braids around.

“Get back here!” Kylo demands, hungry for you, his heart pounding inside his chest, luring you in close with false modesty, “You are too fast for me.”

“Then remove some of thine armor my darling, and perhaps you will be lighter on your feet.” Never one to give in to his traps, you only dart past him, grass sticking to your ankles, rain slick’d much like the rest of you.

Smirking, Kylo does as he’s told, stripping down just far enough so that he is clad only in his leggings; his tunic and all the belts and buckles of armor and cloaks gone in a soggy pile on the ground far from where he manages to wrap his arms around you once more, bring you laughing to the ground.

“I’ve got you now,” Kylo declares triumphantly as he blinks away the rain water that beats down on his back, as he wrestles you onto yours with a grin, “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

His hands roam across your body, and you encourage him to do so with the parting of your legs, your wet chemise clinging and sticking to your body, your chest heaving with a mix of adrenaline and exertion. Your cunt drips, and you grow impatient with the waiting, the game over.

“You speak as if you have won, yet where I lay, it appears as though I am the one with a prize.” Your hand smooths up Kylo’s leggings, palming the hard line of his cock and giving it a firm squeeze through the fabric, your voice deep and sultry when you inquire, “How do you want me?”

“Take off your clothes, lest I drown in the fabric.” He replies immediately, and you know by his phrasing that he means to delve his tongue between your legs, a pleasure so sensational that you have never once denied his wish for it.

“Mm, what a way to go that would be.” You laugh at the thought, struggling to get the drenched garment over your head.

“Not before we have heirs to succeed me.” Kylo too grows impatient, and with the brute strength he possesses, he tears the chemise straight down the center, helps push it off of your shoulders instead.

Feeling the rain on your bare body is nothing short of divine, you have decided, as Kylo lies down beside you. For a moment, the two of you simply open your mouths and taste the crisp clean summer rain on your tongues, but you are near desperate, Kylo can smell it, for a good fucking, and who is he to deny you anything?

Rolling your body on top of his, Kylo crushes your mouths together, those very same tongues hot and throbbing against one another. Kylo has one hand gripping the back of your neck, holding you steady, and the other busy with freeing his aching cock from its confines.

“Kylo, the lightning.” You murmur against his lips as thunder crashes overhead, your hands bracing the earth on either side of his head, your legs straddling his thighs. You push your hips back so that you may catch the feeling of his cock against your pussy, but Kylo has other ideas.

“Fear not, it will not harm you.” He urges you, a heated desperation of his own in his voice when he instructs, “Now please, take your seat upon your throne.”

His mouth is hot against your cunt, when you settle your knees in the very spot your hands just were, the bend of your legs digging into the waterlogged earth below as rain pounds pounds pounds on top of you. He is eager, so eager, to part your folds with his lips, so eager to begin sloppily kissing your pussy with his tongue, that the force of it already has a tight coil of heat winding in your stomach.

“Oh, oh stars, that feels good.” You sigh, your hands smoothing up and down your thighs as your legs widen for him ever further, allowing him deeper access.

Kylo’s grip on you returns, but it does so one handed. His left hand digs deep into your hip, grasping and grabbing at the supple flesh there, while his right hand works strong solid strokes of his cock up and down, his hips bucking up into his fist as yours grind down onto his face.

“Mmmm..!” He groans into your cunt, and you revel in it, in the way the vibrations of his baritone resonate through your very bones, your nipples so stiff in the cool air of the thunderstorm, your clit pulsing against his tongue, his lips. Mindlessly, Kylo jerks himself off, savoring the pleasure as he drinks yours down.

“Kylo! Oh my liege, oh fuck!” Your moans are swallowed by the sound of the rain, so you are free to gasp and shout as loudly as you’d like. No one is outside in weather like this, and even if the castle were to look out their windows, the rain is so dense that it shrouds you in a cloak of misty darkness. Soaked completely, you ride Kylo’s face, your naked body undulating onto his mouth. “More, more I demand more!”

The way his tongue plunges up into your pussy has you nearly falling forward from surprise, the thick slurping sounds that he sucks out of your cunt has your knees weak, thighs shaking. His nose is perfectly positioned over your clit, and the pace that he nudges against it drives you to the brink of ecstasy, has you breathing fast and heavy, blinking away water and pushing soaked hair from your face, your body tensing up, that heat in your stomach spreading through the nerves and veins of your body like a wildfire.

“Hands, Kylo, I beg of thee, hands.” You are nearly frantic as his mouth sucks at your folds, bites at your inner thighs. You will be sore there tomorrow, but in this moment, if you do not get to come, you’d wage war. He is obliging, and so he releases his hold on your hip, taking three of his fingers and shoving them inelegantly up into your pussy, seeking your gspot, and grinning when you grind down onto his palm with a satisfied, “Yes!!”

He latches his lips around your clit and sucks and licks at it as his fingers thrust in place of his tongue, crooking against that spot against your walls, filling you with such a pleasure that you have to clutch at your tits and pinch your nipples, just to have something to ground you as your eyes snap open.

“Oh yes!” You cry, his speed increasing, spelling his name on your clit, your nipples so hard, body so wet, dripping all over, “Oh Heavens above -- fuck!”

“Come on my tongue, precious, my precious girl.” Kylo pulls away only long enough to watch as your body convulses above him, your shoulders shaking, body pitching forward. He steadies you and reverses your positions, lays you down on the wet earth as you come and come and come, frantic in his own right to line his cock up, waiting to push in until he has your express permission, “May I..?”

“Kylo I fear if you do not fuck me right this instance I will burst like the thunder that blooms across the sky.” Your eyes are glassed over, he can see in the dim light, and it’s all that he needs before he is nudging the head of his cock up to your pulsing folds, pushing inside.

At once, your body accommodates him, opening and blossoming for him like an oyster in the moonlight. He thrusts into your demanding cunt in one fell swoop, the rain on his back cooling his overheating body as he pounds your pussy with reckless abandon.

“Fuck, oh -- fuck!” He moans through grit teeth, the sheer pleasure of your body filling his head with a thick fog that he could shout about, your tits bouncing from the force of the way he fucks you hard, fast, grunting out, “This cunt’s so tight, you miraculous beauty, so tight and hot, and all for me.”

“I -- I -- oh yes, Kylo please, more?” Your voice is high, wanton and desperate, breaking on the verge of a scream as he lifts your hips and holds them up with his hands, plowing into you, deeper deeper deeper, the taste of your come on his lips, in his nose. It is obscene, the sound, the way you are wet inside and out, slippery with come and rain.

“Let the kingdom hear, let them all hear.” He wants you to scream, he wants to push you over that edge, the very same edge he himself is so close to meeting. You’ve come once, but he wants another, and another, and another still, until you are a babbling incoherent mess of nothing but please and his name.

“Kylo!” You give him what he asks, voice ringing through the rain, cutting above the thunder as he bends his body to capture your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it the same way he sucked on your clit, making your body writhe underneath him this time instead of above, “Oh my liege! Oh -- Kylo!”

Thunder crashes, and lightning streaks, and the rain pours, and Kylo fucks your pussy with as much strength as he can manage. Deep even thrusts that fill you so completely that it pushes you up the grass, body bouncing, shaking, screaming for him. You have to shut your eyes against the pleasure, your orgasm from when he ate your cunt out never having a chance to end, simply rolling into the next one, your back pushing clean off the ground from the strength of it.

He is not too far behind, focusing all his energy into pleasing you. One of his fingers rubs at your clit and he smiles into the crook of your shoulder when your legs kick out from under you, scrabbling for purchase as your fingers tangle in his inky locks. His own orgasm hits him with little warning, and he pins you to the now muddy ground with a harsh grunt, his hips slamming against yours once, twice, three more times, before he collapses on top of your body.

You both feel it, the way his come fills you up, hot and pulsing inside your cunt. Grinning, there is a satisfaction that comes with this -- your dear king needs no mistresses to keep him pleased, no rotation of women to warm his bed. You are all he desires, the evidence is flowing between your bodies. Kylo rolls you over so that you can rest your cheek on his chest, for he is too tall to do so without pulling his cock out of your pussy.

Chests heaving, you each gulp down humid air, before the tingles of your pleasure prick up your spine, and you’re laughing into the line between Kylo’s pecs. He smiles softly at you, pushing your hair away from your face where the rain keeps sliding it down, cranes his neck to kiss you.

“You are so beautiful in the rain.” Kylo murmurs, his eyes half-lidded.

The rain has begun to lighten up, no longer the intense downpour. Perhaps that was a metaphor, or perhaps in his own release of ecstasy, so too did the clouds complete theirs. In either case, the rain has softened to a gentle drizzle, and the thunder and lightning have subsided.

“You can hardly see me.” You smile playfully, for now that the clouds have begun to part, there is naught but the light of the silver moon to light the field.

“I can see enough to know that you are a beauty beyond our mortal comprehension.” Kylo kisses you again and again, his lips chaste.

“Careful Kylo, you may be blaspheming.” You whisper, but your husband only scoffs, rolls his eyes.

“So what if I am? Am I not king? Do I not have divine right to this throne? Who is to say that then I do not have right to a divine wife?” He helps you to stand, and you are wobbly on your feet, pleasure still thrumming through your body.

“That’s the orgasm speaking. Here, allow me to give you another -- ”

“In a moment,” Kylo pets down your wet hair, stretching his limbs and cracking his joints. He’s getting old, he thinks, hoping, wondering, if this time he’ll give you those heirs you both desire. “Just give me a moment to recover.”

“Perhaps we should move to our bedchambers. I am positively covered in mud, and the rain has begun to grow cold.” Laughing, you take stock of one another, the joyful sensation of pleasure mixed with fond adoration of one another causing a fit of chuckles at the way both of your bodies are filthy from your romp in the grass.

“Now that you mention it,” Kylo nods, his slippery hands groping your chest, “I desire a hot bath, with frothy bubbles, and with you sat atop my lap so that I can get those glorious breasts of yours right in my face.”

“And then perhaps once we are clean again, you may have a...renewed appetite?” You bump your hip against his as you collect the soggy pile of clothing from the ground, the torn chemise and your once beautiful kirtle.

“My lap, my face, I’ll take you however I can get you.” Kylo agrees, knowing the moment that he says it, you’ll be running off towards the castle.

In the light of the silvery moon on this summer’s evening, Kylo watches you run and thinks that it really is the quickest way to work him up. Good thing, he thinks as he chases after your naked body through the rains once again, he has the rest of the night, to give his Queen exactly what she wants.

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Taggin' some Kylo lovin' friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @lovinghufflepuffgirl @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip

[nautiscarader]

Misty/Ash 14 praise kink

Two fucking weeks of writer’s block, autumnal depression and lots of work.

Jeeez.But I;m gonna finish those, even if it was to be the last thing I do!

()(ao3)(Next>>)

The small, cozy house on the outskirts of Pallet Town was filled with short, impatient moans, as Misty let her boyfriend indulge in a fantasy he didn’t know he have. Her hand moved up and down, gently tugging on his cock, while her lips danced on his shoulders, peppering it with kisses, while her lips seeped sweet words into his ear.

Earlier that day, a fan asked her after her show in Cerulean if it was true that she was dating the Alolan champion, and after a while Misty began talking answering more and more questions of Ash’s past. And then, a mischievous idea was planted in her head, and she needed to execute it as soon as possible.

They’ve made love in front of a mirror before - in fact, she quite liked it, especially when they assumed some position that didn’t give them opportunity to look at each other, but this one was a bit different. The two could see their reflections in the glass in front of them, but it was the contents of the cabinet behind the transparent doors that added to the erotic experience.

The vast collection of Ash’s shiny badges, smaller and bigger trophies, as well as golden Battle Frontier symbols filled the Pallet Town trainer with pride and satisfaction that resonated with each praise Misty sang into his ear, while her fingers moved alongside his stiff manhood.

- ‘That’s right’, I said, ‘I’m dating that famous Pokémon master’… - she whispered, placing gentle kisses on his jawline - And I told her how you take me every night… - M-Misty… - Ash whispered, tightening his grip on the edge of their bed, her other arm preventing him from flipping her over. - I told everyone that your cock is a long as that golden cup there… - she pointed to the phallic trophy from Orange Islands - And that your balls are as big as the Pokéball on it… - You-You didn’t…. - Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t… - she cooed, feeling as his muscles twitch under her slow, meticulous caresses - But only I know the truth…

Ash let out a prolonged moan, giving Misty a signal to change her tactics. She moved from their bed, and at first, Ash thought she was going to get to her knees to love him orally, but the water trainer had a much more mischievous plan on her mind. Without taking a break from stroking his cock, she reached to the glass cabinet and took the same cup she was talking about, opened its Pokéball lid, and brought it to his twitching head. Ash yelped when he felt the cold, metal rim of the trophy, contrasted with her warm breath, tingling with droplets on his sensitive skin.

He dared not to look at her, mostly because he knew that the moment he’ll see her viridian eyes, and the devilish smirk on her face, he’ll have no way but to cum. But of course, he couldn’t shut off his other senses.

- I told them exactly like it is, Ashy… That each night you go down me as if you were a hungry Lickylicky… - M-Misty! - …and then you turn into a Blastoise and you Hydro Pump me full of your cum…

She moved her lips closer to his head, just so he could feel the vibrations of her voice on his cock.

- …and you act like a Smeargle, painting me with the rest once you pull out… - M-M-Misty! - Ash’s legs quivered, while she stroked him faster and faster, pointing his to the angled cup. - …and that one day we’re gonna have enough kids for each of your badges!

Ash opened his eyes, and as his eyes fell onto the row of the very collection Misty was talking about, he couldn’t withstand the vivid image she was painting in his mind. he let out a prolonged, weak roar of defeat, and came, almost yanking the cup from between his legs, but Misty’s grip was far stronger. Rope after rope of cum filled the golden chalice, while Ash fell to his back and let out sharp, fast moans, each progressively weaker, with each stream of his cum.

She took her time to make sure she has emptied him, and waited until he would regain his senses enough to sat up, and when he did so, she brought the trophy to her lips, watching his reaction with one eye, as she tilted the cup. When the musky liquid reached her lips, she let out a sigh that quickly turned into a guttural moan, when she tasted it and began swallowing the strong and aggressive, but tasty essence. From his position he couldn’t see how much, or how little was in there, but it didn’t stop Misty from putting on a sensual, depraved show. She spend long minutes emptying the cup into her mouth, watching as his eyes widen, and she gulped down the last oh his drop, she took a satisfying breath of fresh air, and licked her lips tasting one last glob of his seed.

Misty smiled and looked down, glad to see that her performance had exactly the result she was expecting; his limp cock was hard again and once she put the cup to the floor, she was ready to claim him as hers. But when she turned around, Ash grabbed her and pinned her to the bed, spreading her legs and heading straight to her exposed folds.

- So, that’s how I start every night, huh? - he smirked, smelling the enticing aroma of her perfume mixed with the carnal fragrance of her sex. - That’s what I-I told them… - she gasped, her voice quivering when she felt his hot breath on her lower lips. - A-Ash! - But did you tell them that Ash Ketchum has the sexiest…

He closed his mouth around her folds, sucking it between his lips, feeling as her legs quiver.

- …nastiest…

He licked her folds along her slit, tickling the skin around her clit.

- …the most mischievous…

Misty’s reply, if there was one, was drowned in her moan when Ash stuck his tongue inside her, lapping the nectar that already began overflowing from her love canal. Though she was stronger than him, he easily got hold of her thighs that quiverend and jolted around his head, while he ate her out. The sleek Cerulean mermaid arched her body several times, in the anticipation of her climax, and it was the next set of words, reverberating against her delicate skin that brought her to the edge.

- …and prettiest girlfriend in the world?

She let out a stifled moan and dug her fingers into his ruffled hair, flooding his mouth with more of her juices her walls produced. She understood how he must have felt a few minutes ago when he was pushed to the edge, especially as she laid in the same, warm spot he landed in. And just like him before, it took her a minute to gather her strength, before she scooted back to the center of the bed and spread her legs invitingly.

- Come'ere and let’s start working on that first badge.    

[polynymph]

What Once Was Chapter 7

At least it didn’t take two weeks this time! We get a little closer to finding out a bit more about Armyah’s past and her connection with Asra.

TW: Swearing, could be seen as NSFW because Julian is a subby, touch-starved boi and I love him

The wagon bounced on the uneven road of the town square. The sun was just rising as Portia, Armyah, and a few other members of the palace staff arrived at the market. It was hot, but the dress the Countess had chosen for the magician that day was a sleeveless, off-the-shoulder type. She had never worn anything like it, but at least the length was much more modest than that of the sea green ensemble she had the day before. Portia was across from her, chatting away with another servant about matters in which Armyah didn’t understand. However, she did recognize the word “courtiers” and the mere mention of them made her stomach drop and fingers twist around the mint fabric of her garment. She would be meeting them today. Turning to look out the window and clutching her bag to her chest, she tried to focus her mind on the bustling crowd. Suddenly, the coach lurches to a stop and the group file out onto the busy street. Armyah is careful not to trip down the stair in her borrowed, nude heels. A handful of servants and the magician huddle around Portia, awaiting orders. The stout woman clapped her hands and rubbed them together confidently.

“Alright everybody, listen up,” she said loud enough for them all to hear, “noon o’clock we’ll be making the announcement here in the city square. ‘Til then, you all know your errands. Talk to me if you don’t. Any questions?” She looked to each member of staff in case there was any need for clarification, but they all nodded in understanding. She nodded, signaling for the servants to disperse. They spread out into the marketplace as she waited for them all to leave before turning her attention to her friend. “I thought you’d might like to check on your shop,” she smiled. Armyah breathed a sigh of relief, Portia knew she was homesick. “I’ll try to find you, but if I don’t, try to be back here by noon.” They waved goodbye to each other and the servant disappeared into the throng. The magician turned on her heel and walked briskly, excited to see her home. She knew the way like the back of her hand; right, straight on, then down the ally. There it was…her own little oasis. Even in the misty overcast in the sky the shop seemed to glow. Practically skipping up the steps, she rested her palm on the heavy wood door to release the sealing spell. Her hands shaking from glee, she unlocked the first two locks, but fumbled and dropped the keys before she could get to the third. The fortune-teller dipped down to retrieve them, but paused when she spotted a small, leather pouch resting on the stoop. Taking the rough material in her hand, she could feel the energy resonating from it. She picked at the knot and pulled the string open; herbs, bark, resin, and incense…a magic mixture. She poured a small amount into her palm and inhaled deeply. There were hints of sage and marrow root, but the strongest scent was myrrh; a protection aura. She had a strange sense of déjà vu as she smelled the strong aroma, but she couldn’t place it. She casted a sidelong glance to either side of the street, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Pocketing the pouch, she reached back down for her keys and turned the final lock. However, just as she leaned on the door it swung open and she nearly collided with a person standing in the doorway. Doctor Devorak was looking right at her, eye just as wide as hers. She freezes in her tracks, struggling to speak. For a moment, they both just stare at the other.

“Armyah! Fancy seeing you here,” Julian smiled awkwardly, guilt written all over his face. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d check to see if you’d gotten home all right.” He fidgeted under her incredulous glare, “and here you are, getting home all right! Marvelous!” He laughed weakly, and she put a hand on her hip disapprovingly, “I’ll, ah…stop wringing my hands now.” For a second, she thought about calling for the guards, but she hesitated. This was the second time he had been in her shop; the guards might think she was harboring him. At least, that’s what she told herself. Regardless, she fixed him with a narrow gaze.

“How am I supposed to believe you?” she was a little indignant, how was he even getting in with the protection spell? “You’ve broken in not once, but twice now! What are you after?” He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and trying to look innocent. Trying and failing.

“What? What am I after?” he stammered, “Why, I’m not after anything. What would I be…” He trailed off, eye going wide, “Oh, you don’t think I’m a thief, do you?” He smiled that roguish grin of his, “I’m a lot of things, but not that.” She wasn’t budging.

“And I’m supposed to just take you at your word?” she asked suspiciously. That mischievous smirk never left his face as he shucks off his overcoat and starts to unbutton his black waistcoat. She flushes deep crimson, but she can’t seem to look away from the doctor. He’s in the same billowing undershirt as the night before, his arms are outstretched and palm up in submission.

“Search me,” he challenges, “if you find something of yours, I’ll show myself to the stocks.” He grins wickedly at the magician, daring her. “Go ahead, search me until your satisfied.” Julian lowers his eye, presenting himself for inspection. Her ears grow hot at the insinuation, but the urge to wipe the smugness off his face outweighs her embarrassment. She drops her bag unceremoniously to the ground at her heels.

“I think I will,” she said as she took a languid step toward him. From the stunned look on his face, he obviously didn’t expect her to take him up on his offer. It was just as satisfying as she’d thought it would be.

“What, ah…what are you doing?” he shifted as she got closer, but his arms never lowered.

“Calling your bluff,” she teased. He looked almost impressed, but his smirk returned once again.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He puffed up his partially exposed chest, “Well then, don’t be shy. I promise I’ll be good.” Armyah was within arm’s length of him as her chocolate eyes roamed over his body. Tentatively, she ran her hands down one of his arms. She could feel how cool his skin was through the gauzy material of his shirt. Becoming a bit braver, she moved closer until there was a sliver of space between them; she doesn’t dare look up at his face. The leather of his gloves creaked as he flexed the lean muscles of his arm under her hand. Julian looked down, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration of her assessment. It was clear she was avoiding looking at him, but he couldn’t help but tease her. He loved how her cute, button nose crinkled in annoyance. “Ohh, you have such lovely hands,” he practically moaned, “you can squeeze a little harder, you know…I won’t mind.” There it was. The nose crinkle and a satisfying shade of crimson flooded her cheeks. She presses more firmly as she follows her evaluation down his other arm. Did he dare test the limits? Yes…yes he would, “come to think of it, I haven’t seen you up close in broad daylight before,” he purred, “you’re much prettier than I realized, I’d like to get a little closer.” He reached for her, clever fingers wrapping themselves around her slender wrists and tugging, trying to close that last inch of space between their bodies.

“Stop moving,” she demanded harshly. His eye went wide, and the tips of his ears burned. He didn’t know she had it in her. Her commanding tone stirred something within him that he hadn’t felt in a long time, causing him to bite his lip. He had the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees in front of her and beg forgiveness; swear to her up and down that he’ll be good for her. Instead, he obediently dropped his arm back to his side. Armyah looked questioningly at Julian’s reaction. Feeling bold, she circled behind him as if she were a predator and he, her prey. He twisted around to watch her, not willing to let her out of his sight while in such a vulnerable position. His eye is bright with interest making her face warm under his shameless stare.

“I had no idea you were so…hands-on,” he chuckled, “how daring of you. Aren’t you afraid someone will see?” She knew he was baiting her, but she almost backed off. The only thing stopping her was sheer curiosity; she wondered what other reactions she could get out of him.

“Did I say you could move?” she took a less harsh, but no less authoritative tone. She got the same response: blushing hard and chewing his bottom lip.

“I, ah…no,” he stuttered, flustered, “you didn’t.” Did he have a thing for being bossed around? ‘Interesting…’ she filed that information away in the back of her mind.

“Then turn back around.” He complied without hesitation. She slid her hands down his back and fine tremor rips through him, “besides…shouldn’t you be the one afraid of being seen?” He struggles to speak as her fingers continue to trace the length of his spine.

“Er, well, I suppose that’s true.” She places her hand on his hip and moved around to face him again, trailing over his hipbone to check his pocket. An unexpected hard edge is ridged under her palm. ‘Is that…?’ She pulls her hand away swiftly in panic, losing her nerve. She actively looked anywhere but his red face.

“It’s not what you think!” he explained quickly, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small pocket knife and held it up to show her. She breathed a sigh of relief, but she was quite finished with searching him.

“What are looking for?” she asked evenly, “maybe I can help you find it?” He looks almost terrified at the very idea.

“Oh no no no no…” he shook his head vigorously, “you don’t want to be caught up in…this.” He gestured broadly to himself. She looked at him curiously.

“I just meant that I know where to find everything in the shop,” she explained, “are you looking for something specific?” Julian’s throat bobbed when he swallowed, and he let out a slow, shaky sigh.

“I…I was looking for answers.” He was frustratingly vague, almost like Arsa. “But I didn’t find any. Not the ones I wanted, anyways.”

“Alright,” she shrugged.

“Wait…what?” he looked at her as if she had two heads.

“I believe you.”

“Really?” She smiled sincerely.

“Really.” He rolled his eye at the magician.

“Terrible idea,” he stared off in the distance, over her shoulder, “you shouldn’t trust anyone, Armyah, least of all me.” He retrieves his overcoat with a showy flourish and slipped it back on. “I do hope your satisfied, though.” He fastened the silver buttons of his waistcoat back in place before returning his attention to her once more. “Well, I’m sure you have things to do, so I’ll just be getting out of your way.” He takes a wide step, contorting his long, lanky form to allow her to pass.” Armyah’s eyes follow around to him.

“Doctor Devorak-” she started but was interrupted by his hand raising for her to stop.

“Take care, Armyah,” he says softly, “If the powers that be should ever entangle us again…” He smiles, but not that mischievous grin of his, it’s genuine. “Call me Julian.” His eyes flicker to something behind her. His broad grin takes only a second to fade before shock takes over his features. The hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. Slowly, she looks over her shoulder. Portia had come to find her, but she wasn’t looking at the magician. All of her focus, the suspended disbelief in her wide eyes, was focused on the man behind her. Armyah looks back at Julian who pays her no mind. Tears well up in his stormy eye.

“Ilya?” Portia squeaked. She couldn’t believe he was in front of her. After all these years she thought he was dead. He looked different, more stern; no longer that gangly teenager with the voice that cracked with every other word. Oh, how she made fun of him. She stumbled forward, throwing herself at the doctor. The magician had to back into the wall to get out of her way. “Ilya is it really you?” Fat tears were rolling down her face. Her shaking hands fall to either side of Julian’s face. He smiled at the small woman.

“It’s me…” It came out as barely a whisper. Armyah looked between the two: the same auburn hair, stormy eyes, and strong jawline. There was almost a family resemblance between them. You could even say…the magician’s breath caught in her throat as she remembered the letter she had gotten from his desk in the library. Dear sister…

“You bastard!” Portia cried, banging a fist weakly against his chest, “What are you doing here out in the open? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Her fingers curl, tugging at his ears and drawing a shameful wince from the teary-eyed man.

“You’ve grown so strong, Pasha…” he choked, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to see it.” Her face flushed with anger as she let go of Julian’s ears.

“Ohh, I’ll show you sorry, you son of a bitch!” she rasped. Then, she remembered the woman beside them. “Armyah!” The magician went ridged at the shorter woman. “I-I…I’ll catch up with you later.” Portia pulls the floundering doctor into a nearby alley as the fortune-teller grabs her bag and ducks into her shop, shutting the door behind her. She looks around the deserted store, nothing looked to be out of place. Stooping under the curtain to the back room, the familiar smoky scent of incense fills her senses. Running a hand forlornly along the reading table, Armyah’s gaze falls on a pile of Arsa’s belongings in the corner; clothing and magical relics. The Countess’s theory resonates in her mind: maybe one of his possessions could give her an inkling of wear he might be. She picks up a carved totem of some sort, but nothing. She tries an ivory statue, even a shirt he wore before he left, but none of his things carry even a trace of his magic. Sighing in defeat, Armyah pads across the shop to the door. Once last mournful glance at her home before she stepped out into the street and locks the door. She considered skipping the cross-me-not spell since the doctor was getting in anyway, but she decided it was better safe than sorry. The magician places a cool palm on the wood grain and summoned an aura of protection over the door. The temple bell chimes loudly twelve times, signaling noon.

She rushes to the town square, following the dull roar of the crowd. Portia is already there, her eyes still raw from crying. She on the edge of the fountain so she can be better heard. The statue of Count Lucio on his rearing horse looms over her.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” she calls out to the crowd, “This is an announcement from the palace of your Countess Nadia!” The square was densely packed with people, smaller folk and latecomers circling the perimeter for a better view. Armyah slid carefully amongst the buzzing crowd. “On the eve of the passing of your most glorified Count Lucio, the Countess will open the palace gates once more!” People around her start chatting excitedly, “that’s right, folks! All are invited not to mourn, but to celebrate the spirit of our dearly departed Count!” A ripple of loud enthusiasm passes through the crowd, but Armyah was distracted by the familiar scent of myrrh. She turns her head and finds a hulking figure in the shadows underneath the pillars that surround the square. Their eyes are shrouded under a hood and heavy brow. Though the excitement in the square is growing, the figure looks more like a harbinger of despair. “It’ll be a Masquerade like no other before!” Portia continued over the bustling mob, “Spread the word, tell your friends! You won’t want to miss this!” As the crowd erupts in chatter, the massive stranger moves down a side street, the magician dashing after them. The stranger’s lumbering pace that’s easy to follow and she catches up to him halfway down the street.

“Have…have we met before?” she calls out to him; surely, she would remember seeing a person of his stature, but her mind draws a blank. He turned slowly as if he dreaded the very sight of the young magician.

“Yes,” he said monotonously, his voice like rumbling thunder. He shuffles away with a suffering look as the chain around his neck rattles with each heaving step. Did he leave the pouch at the shop? Did he know Arsa? However, before she could ask he had already disappeared into the shadows. Armyah headed back to the town square where Portia was tossing flower petals and rice onto dancing cityfolk. Noticing the fortune-teller, she climbs down from the fountain and jogs over to her.

“Armyah, there you are!” she exclaimed with excitement, “You missed the beg reveal! Would you look at this crowd?” She gestured behind her to the celebration. Motioning for the magician to follow, they both climbed up the steps to the servant’s coach. Portia plopped down on the plush seat and patted next to her for her friend to sit. “No incidents back at the shop I hope?” her smile had a shade of desperation, “nothing out of the ordinary?” Portia’s eyelid batted at a hummingbird’s pace, pleading.

“Umm…no,” Armyah faltered, “everything is just as I left it.” Portia looked torn, like she wanted to explain what happened back in front of the store, but she couldn’t muster the courage. The wagon lurched to life, chased by wild laughter down the street with ringing news of the upcoming Masquerade. The magician wrung her fingers with the strap of her bag. She had so many questions for Portia, but there were too many people around. Maybe if she asked something simpler… “Do you have any family?” It seemed vague enough, but the look on her friend’s face was pained.

“A brother…” she said carefully, “I haven’t seen him since we were kids, though.” Armyah could see the resemblance back when they were next to each other. She should have seen it before, they both have that mischievous glint in their eye. “You?” The fortune-teller didn’t know how to answer besides “I don’t know”. She didn’t really want to get in to her past, or lack thereof, with so many other staff around.

“No,” she lied…or maybe she wasn’t lying. The air between the two grew awkward and neither of them looked the other in the eye so they made the rest of the trek to the palace in silence. When the palace came into view, Armyah saw the bridge lined with carriages.

“Oh!” Portia squeaks, “the courtiers must have arrived!” A shiver ran from the magician’s head to the base of her spine. Portia must have notice, because she gives Armyah’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, remember these people can’t wait to meet you!” It doesn’t help calm her nerves. “I’ll be right there the whole time.” Armyah gave her friend a strained smile. When the coach comes to a halt, all the servants file out and dissolve into the corridors of the palace. Portia links her arm with the magician and escorts her through a wing of the palace that smells strongly of incense a half dozen different perfumes. Armyah could tell they have reached the parlor door by the music and cackling laughter from within. ‘They’re just people…’ she told herself over and over. The room was hazy, swimming with elegant plumes of smoke and it took all of her effort not to cough. Figures sprawled lazily on pillowed couches. The Countess noticed her first, glancing up from behind a gleaming pipe organ as she played a victorious chord. “Announcing Armyah,” Portia declared after clearing her throat, “friend of the palace and skilled magician!” Every head turned to face her, the apprentice’s face grew hot at the attention. “Armyah, this is Pontifex Vulgora, Procurator Volta, Praetor Vlastomil, Quaestor Valdemar, and Consul Valerius.” She gestured at the corresponding person as she introduced them.

“Welcome, Armyah,” the Countess greeted coolly. The sight of her lifted a bit of tension from the magician’s shoulders.

“Ooooh! This is Armyah?” the stout woman Portia had introduced as Procurator Volta asked as she picked off the refreshment tray, “She’s cuter than I imagined!” She wore a robe like a nun’s, but no holy symbol. However, there was a broach of a red beetle clasped to her chest. Armyah noticed that her right eye was completely white.

“What a delightful surprise,” Praetor Vlastomil was bony, deathly pale man clad in black from head to toe. Something in his eyes was unsettling to the magician. Perhaps it was because his pupils were vertical slits like a cat. Her eyes narrowed at the red beetle broach that he, too, had fastened to his shirt.

“Sit, Sit!” Pontifex Vulgora piped up, patting the seat beside them with a clawed gauntlet. “Sit here beside me, Armyah! Don’t be shy!” Their red tinged face and wide lizard-like eyes make the fortune-teller shift with uncertainty. She hadn’t expected such enthusiasm with their welcome. They all seemed very delighted to see her, making her feel more at ease. A cold, metal hand took hold of her wrist and pulled her down onto the couches and into the fold of conversation. The Countess watches carefully from her seat where she plays the organ, drawing contemplative tones.

“Tell me, Armyah,” she asked evenly, “how was the announcement received?” The magician was about to answer, but she was interrupted by a thin, almost green complexioned person in a doctor’s uniform.

“One can only imagine!” the previously announced Quaestor Valdemar had smirked, “Even we, the favorites of the Countess, closest to her heart, had no idea!” They seem almost indignant that they weren’t told beforehand.

“That or dear Countess, who shares everything with us, could orchestrate such a surprise!” Volta grated as she stuffed a handful of finger sandwiches into her mouth. Vulgora eyes the Countess in vexation from their seat next to Armyah.

“A surprise Masquerade!” they inflated, “How lucky we are, not having to worry about planning for it!” The Countess struck a low, irritated sounding chord.

“How lucky Armyah would have to be to get a word in with all of you,” she rolled her brilliant, ruby eyes. “My goodness.” All eyes were on the magician again, causing her to squirm under their hungry eyes.

“Oh, but how lucky she already is!” Vlastomil acclaims, “to be taken in by the Countess, an unproven, unknown apprentice!”

“And to take such a, dare I say, chance?” Volta agreed, “so very unlike our most thoughtful and meticulous Countess.” The Countess scoffed.

“It was not chance that led me to Armyah’s door,” she sneered.

“Then perhaps the Countess could inform her adoring court…” a deep, smooth voice rumbled from the chaise on the far wall. A man with a long braid that faded flawlessly from black to blonde was swirling his glass of wine in his elegant hand. “…how exactly it was the she arrived at the witch’s door that night.” Valerius looked much too young to be a Consul. His sophisticated grey robe embellished with gold trim revealed much about his status. He was very severe with golden, piercing eyes. Handsome, if not unsettling. He stood from his seat, not bothering to set down his glass and paced over to the magician, eyes evaluating her. “Or perhaps the witch might tell us herself?” The tone of his voice was condescending, he sneered as he called her a “witch”. It wasn’t specifically a derogatory name for people like her, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Perhaps don’t call me that…” Armyah spat venomously. The rest of the courtiers round on Valerius, gasping with bright, hungry eyes. Almost as if there were waiting with baited breath on how he would respond.

“Witch?” he asked in mock ignorance, boots clicking as he walked over to the opposite side of the room. “Is that not your occupation?” He smiled and glanced over his shoulder at the young woman, “ah, forgive my mistake. You are but an apprentice.” They all turned to back to the magician with hands fluttering over their mouths as if he had just paid her the greatest insult. The Consul held his narrow gaze even as the Countess’s sonorous voice rises over the whispers.

“You know,” she said, tired of the courtiers’ antics, “if you all wanted to know so badly how that night transpired, you might have simply asked.” She rolls her eyes, “as it happens, I was having some trouble sleeping-”

“As you have been for some time, Countess!” Volta piped up.

“Yes, Procurator…” she ground through gritted teeth, “as I have been for some time, I was having trouble sleeping.” The Countess took a deep, calming breath before she continued, “on that night, I woke haunted by the spectre of a dream with no escape for my mind: no comfort from my terrors nor anyone to whom I could turn, who might understand them.” Mournful, she places a graceful hand over her heart to extenuate her grief. “Indeed, I was in a desperate state…desperately seeking someone, anyone who may be of help to me.” Her version was a bit more dramatic than the story Armyah would have told. ‘She knocked on my door, asked me to stay at the palace for a bit, and then I gave her a reading and she left’ was a more apt description. “It was I who was lucky, to come across the one I needed so soon. A benevolent universe brought us together, did it not, Armyah?” The Countess’s glimmering eyes fell fondly on the fortune-teller. The courtiers shift, studying her with a new intensity, causing her to squirm in her seat uncomfortably. The moment was seized by an airy sigh as Valerius peers at her through his wine glass.

“A benevolent universe brought you together?” he ridicules incredulously, “with all due respect, Countess, your mind may have been too occupied of late…” His thin, tapered hand swayed in the magician’s direction, swinging his wine glass with it. “To see the full capacity of our wide and welcoming arms!” The Consul threw his arms wide, sending a sparkling arc of wine sailing from his glass and splashing across the front of a dumbstruck Armyah, soaking her borrowed dress. A collective gasp swept the room as the heady liquid seeped through to her olive skin. The Countess’s expression as she strikes a sour chord and rises from the organ was practically murderous. “Oh, my apologies,” he shrugged nonchalantly, a satisfied smile stretched across his face, “how clumsy of me! Surely, a witch as skilled as you knows some hocus or pocus to remedy this dilemma?”

“Enough, Valerius!” the Countess boomed, “You have exhausted my patience for tonight.” She marched over to the young magician and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. “All out you, out! To your chambers!” The courtiers skittered out of the room like scolded children. Valerius, with a smirk, bowed dramatically as he exited the parlor. “I would appreciate if you could make it there without spilling, but I won’t count on it,” she called after him. She looked to the wine-soaked fortune-teller and shook her head, sighing, “I am sorry, Armyah,” she tutted, “I had imagined many outcomes to this evening’s affair and I must admit…this was one of them.” The Countess lowered her eyes, gazing mournfully at the ruined dress. “We must rid you of these garments, but I have taken enough liberties with your wardrobe,” she beamed at the magician, “so please, do not hesitate. Tell me what you would like, spare no expense.” Portia stood ready as the Countess laced her jeweled fingers together, both eagerly awaiting Armyah’s request. It seemed as if the Countess wanted her to ask for fine silks and riches. Perhaps she enjoyed showing people with gifts? Or was this an apology for the “test” a day before? Whatever it was, Armyah didn’t have to consider long…she knew exactly what she wanted.

“My old clothes, please,” she squeaked. Portia’s warm smile stretched from one ear to the other, the Countess, however, did not look amused.

“Ah, I thought you might say that,” the servant chuckled. The Countess regained her composer and gave the magician an even look.

“I suppose you would…” she said nonchalantly, “you shall have your old clothes then, Armyah.” She looked away, thoughtful, as if she were debating whether or not to say something. “I regret if this comes as a surprise, Armyah…” her brilliant garnet eyes met the magician’s somberly, “but your comfort here is of great importance to me.” The air was filled with a brief moment of awkward tension, “Portia will escort you to your chambers where you will be bathed, and your garments returned.” Armyah shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable, afraid that she had offended the Countess. “I believe you will find them much as you left them.” She turned away from her servant and guest, Portia seizing the moment to lead her friend out of the parlor and down the hall; the melodious sound of the pipe organ chasing after them. Armyah couldn’t help but feel as though she were a child being sent to bed after disappointing their guardian. Portia and the magician were silent as they walked the brightly lit halls of the palace to the bath chamber. She sunk into the steaming water and breathed a sigh of relief, the tranquil bathroom did much for her mind as it did her body. The same oils were lined along the tub, though the rose scented one she had used the precious night had been refilled. She was going to reach for it, but then her eye caught a familiar word marked on a glass vile: chamomile. Chamomile was her favorite flower; it was unassuming but had so much purpose. She uncorked the oil and sniffed deeply, the beautiful floral scent filled her. Though, she didn’t expect a twinge of pain behind her eyes. Maybe the concentrated aroma was overwhelming to her senses. Whatever the case, she poured a generous amount into her palm and washed thoroughly. After Armyah had bathed and changed into her comfortable handmade clothes, Portia returned her to her chambers. She bid her friend goodnight and shut the door behind the servant, turning and resting her back on the heavy door. A glint at the window caught her eye, a parcel was waiting for her by the window next to the incense burner; a tightly spiraled note perched on top, addressed to Armyah. ‘A gift for my dearest guest, this emerald which seemed to have called your name. Wear it in good health. -Nadia was written in flawless calligraphy. Even in writing, the magician could feel her imperious gaze, penetrating and full of contemplation. Unwrapping the paper, the gold chain slipped through her fingers as she held the jewel. In a gradual wave, she sensed the familiar energy wash over her. There was no mistaking it: this was Asra’s magic radiating from the gem in gentle, soothing ripples. She had remembered her unsuccessful search in the back room for a connection to her teacher. Now, with this brilliant trinket alive with his energy, she had a chance.

Armyah waited until the halls were quiet and the only sound was the metallic clanging of temple bells echoing through the city; midnight. She stole out of her room with the emerald hanging around her neck and dashed through the empty halls, the thought of hearing her old friend’s voice again causing her to shiver excitedly. She knew the way to the veranda well by now. Humid wind pulled and swelled against her, moving languidly down the stairs and through the garden. When she had reached the fountain under the weeping willow tree, she spotted someone familiar hanging from its branches.

“Faust!” Armyah exclaimed happily, the lavender serpent hissed gleefully. Did she know the magician was coming? Or was this where she spent her time? She coiled her way down the wide trunk of the tree. Armyah padded over to her, resting a gentle hand on her smooth head and trailed it down the snake’s slithering body as she glided across the bark and onto the soft grass. It was only then, when Armyah noticed the carving on the back side of the tree; Armyah. Her name etched into the mossy willow in her teacher’s recognizable handwriting. However, it was old…much older than the three years in which she remembered knowing him. Faust interrupted the magician’s thoughts by sliding up her leg and up to her shoulders. The serpent took immediate interest in the emerald, tongue flicking after it as Armyah unclasped the pendant from her neck. Returning to the gazing pool, she sat on the marble edge of the fountain. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply as she dangled the green gem over the water and dropped it in. Light caught every glimmering angle as it sunk to the bottom of the pool causing the water to change colors and shapes to bloom over it.

“You’re back,” a familiar voice breathed. Tall palms swept behind Arsa against a glittering sea of stars. His curly white hair catches starlight in every whorl. “I saw the water changing this time,” he smiled, happy to see his apprentice and familiar, “Faust, you’re looking lively. Being around Armyah does that to you, doesn’t it?” His bright, violet eyes twinkled as he laid his chin on his palm. He looked weary, which wasn’t too surprising. His sleeping habits were, as Armyah calls them, predictably unpredictable.

“You look tired,” she smiled, grateful to be able to see him and talk to him. He looked content, as if his secret escapades must had been fulfilling.

“Do I?” his silvery eyebrow raised, “I don’t feel tired. I was just about to get in the water, but you beat me to it.” His apprentice rolled her eyes at his joke. Faust slithered across Armyah’s lap, taking sniffing flicks at the water. “You two have definitely gotten closer,” Arsa beamed, “she’d opening up to you.” His eye shifted away from hers, guiltily. “It may be time for me to do the same.” Armyah’s breath caught in her throat. She must’ve made a face because Arsa laughed, high and unrestrained. “No really, it’s true! I want to start being more honest with you.” His time in…wherever he is must’ve given him a lot of time to think. “What’s on your mind? Ask me whatever you like, all that I ask is that you start being more honest with me, too.” He must have been talking about when she finally told him how she felt about being left behind in that dream.

“Who is Julian to you?” she asked, the burning question brought her relief as it left her lips. She had seen the depth of emotion that crosses the doctor’s face whenever he speaks of Asra. Her teacher, however, looked confused.

“Julian?” his eyes narrow in thought, then soften in realization, “Ah...he goes by that name too.” Armyah's eyebrows knit together.

“Is that not his name?” she wondered. Had he used a fake name all this time?

“I knew him by another name.” Another vague answer, “he was a...friend, once.” A blush rises to his tan face, “then more, then...something else.”

“Something else?” He wanted to be more honest with her, but he was still frustratingly unclear.

“Something that I had to get away from,” Asra is somber for a moment before laughing bitterly. “Who is Julian to me...who is he to anyone?” He looks past his apprentice's shoulder to the start behind her. “Julian is whoever he needs to be to get what he wants.” Armyah's heart drops. She should have known that he was lying to her all along, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. “Why do you ask?”

“We’ve crossed paths a few time,” she answered carefully, “he’s asked about you.” Asra sneered and rolled his eyes.

“To think he would come for me after all that…” he shook his head, “I’m done talking about him. He’s a hack physician with a lot to learn and, until he does, nothing good will come of him.” With a deep sigh, he clears the heavy mood with a smile. Armyah knew there was some animosity between her teacher and the doctor, but she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. “So that’s what you wanted to know? That wasn’t so bad.” She looked away, “or…is there, perhaps, something else on your mind?” He knew her too well. His twinkling eyes searched hers with wordless depth. She remembered the carving of her name on the willow tree.

“Who am I to you?” Arsa’s soft violet eyes go wide and lips part. For a moment, he looked confused, almost hurt. Sighing, he folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward to look his apprentice square in the face.

“You’ve helped me grow,” he breathed, “I’ve learned so much from you.” She didn’t think that was the whole truth, “I wish I could tell you so much.” He looked pained, desperate for her to remember something, anything.

“Is it something to do with before?” she whispered, “When I lost my memory?” He doesn’t answer. “Did you carve my name into the tree?” Asra’s eyes widen in fear, he hadn’t expected her to find it. He almost forgot about it himself.

“You should get some rest…” his voice cracks as he looks down at his feet. Before Armyah could respond, the water ripples around his image until it disappears. ‘So much for being more open…’ she sighed and looked to the lavender serpent who is watching from her shoulder.

“Come one, Faust,” it’s hard not to smile at the ruby-eyed snake, “We’ll see him again soon.” With a shake of her head, the magician gathered the snake into her arms and headed back inside the palace. What was he keeping from her? Why couldn’t he tell her? Frustrated, she tried to shake the thoughts from her head, but she stops dead in her tracks. No, it couldn’t be…she had known Asra for three years. Still, she was missing over 20 years of memories. Maybe he isn’t who he says he is. Perhaps he used her amnesia to manipulate her into thinking he was a completely different person than who he was before. Armyah’s blood runs cold as she remembered Julian’s words that first night in the shop.

“That creature is far more dangerous than you know…”

Thanks for reading! Tell me how I’m doing!

Tag List: @julians-chest-hair

[doux-amer]

I FINALLY SAW CAPTAIN MARVEL AND I GOT EMOTIONAL WATCHING IT. Okay, calming down now. As a lot of you know, my expectations were low as the marketing was lackluster, I was nervous about certain choices that were made, etc., and even though I avoided any CM chatter, I heard murmurs of mixed reactions...so my expectations were pretty much on the floor when I went to see it. I just hoped it would be fun even if it was okay, but uh...I REALLY ENJOYED IT. It’s not perfect and when I was talking to Alanna, she said people said it reminded them of CA:TFA (it really does in certain ways and I get why they said it, but TFA, for all its cheese and its weaknesses, is one of my favorite MCU movies lol). BUT! I! LOVED! IT! I don’t care about the unevenness because all that fell to the wayside by the sheer, all-encompassing joy I felt watching it. 

This is how I wanted to feel watching Wonder Woman because I adored Diana as a little girl and it didn’t happen although I kept quiet about my disappointment because I wanted people to go support it anyway as it was super important that it did well. THIS THOUGH. I wanted to punch my fist in the air so many times and laugh and hug and hang out with Carol. I JUST. GOD. 

I’ve experienced unfettered happiness and fun before with Marvel—that’s how I felt with The Avengers and with Spider-man: Homecoming. But this? This was the first time I was a fan of someone from the comics before seeing a movie and seeing it come to life the way I so hoped she would. It was extremely special because of that particular element and I got emotional because of it which I didn’t expect. I really felt disconnected to Carol from what I saw in the trailers and was afraid the movie wouldn’t resonate because it would be very white feminist-y. It wasn’t. And that hero on the screen? THAT WAS MY GIRL CAROL. I’m kind of getting slightly misty-eyed writing this. But GOD, I waited years for this and it’s just overwhelming wth!

I’m going to do my usual bullet points. If you want to avoid spoilers, scroll past this long post:

I was turned off by the silliness of the trailers and Carol’s more serious moments came off as unconvincing in them, so I expected not to connect with her. I WAS WRONG. I GOT MY GIRL. I’M WEEPING! She’s emotional! She’s feisty and bullheaded. She can be serious and fueled by anger. She can be fun even when she’s a fierce warrior, but not to the point that it’s distracting! Her humor is very much her own and very much Carol. It’s not witty. It’s goofy. She clearly finds herself hilarious which I LOVED. SHE’S SO DORKY, SMILING AT HER OWN JOKES. 

The movie stayed away from what could have been a cringeworthy white savior undercurrent by making Carol culpable in the suffering of the oppressed. I know the Skrulls are aliens and look like them unlike the other aliens we’ve seen who you can’t exactly forget are played by POC characters, but lbr that narrative is about refugees and...look at current events lmao. As a Kree warrior, even if she unknowingly participated in the Kree-Skrull war ignorant of the truth, she hurt a lot of innocent people. And that’s great! It’s not that she was this pure person swooping in to save the weak or whatever. This is something she had to grapple with once her memories came back and her eyes were opened and she knew she had to make amends.

It reminded me strongly of Tony in IM1 with Obie dealing under the table to terrorists and becoming a part of a corrupt machine without meaning to. It didn’t matter that that was the case; he still felt responsible and accountability became a huge part of his story.

This origin story reminded me of Cap’s, not because of the whole military aspect to it lol but because of how she’s “just human.” Carol never gives up and Steve doesn’t either. They get knocked down? They’ll shake it off and stand back up. I might’ve gotten a little emotional here too which I didn’t expect. Plus she wanted to prove to herself that she could do whatever the hell she set her heart on. The other parallel was the whole fighting for the government/military who end up not being so great and going rogue thing.

It made me sad because we won’t get the Steve-Tony-Carol friendship we so deserve, but lol while the credits were rolling, my sister was like “Yeah, Tony’s going to die” because she’s the obvious successor. Originally she said it was because of his powers when I asked why and then she agreed when I pointed out that it’s not just because of his powers, but in terms of personality and a whole slew of things that reminded me of him AND Steve (it’s like Peter in CA:CW and SM:H). She feels like the linchpin holding the MCU together like them too. 

Like the fact that Carol was the reason for the Avengers’ existence! That was obvious, but that scene where Fury’s typing on the computer and he looks at that photo of her before changing the name of the initiative? HM....I WAS VERKLEMPT.

Also, I loved how they made her get her powers. It wasn’t an accident. No one sacrificed their life for her. She got her powers because of her own actions. She got her powers because she was being a HERO. SHE IS WHO SHE IS BECAUSE OF HERSELF. LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!

Speaking of that, I was surprised by the Mar-Vell plot twist because we all thought that would be Jude Law and I expected Annette Bening to be someone else (who she sort of ended up being anyway) lol. I didn’t mind that they did that. Love that she was Carol’s mentor.

I loved the female relationships. CAROL AND MARIA’S SCENES. MARIA BELIEVING IN HER. MARIA TALKING ABOUT HOW HARD IT WAS FOR HER AS A SINGLE MOM AND A WOMAN IN THE AIR FORCE, BUT CAROL DIDN’T CARE ABOUT THAT. THE PHOTOGRAPHS OF THEIR LIFE TOGETHER...BINCH...I MAY HAVE BLINKED OUT A TEAR!!!!! Carol being cute with Monica! Monica urging her mom to be a hero while Maria wanted to watch out for her because she has Monica to think of now, not just herself. Monica being responsible for Carol’s Captain Marvel getup! Carol and Maria getting involved with Lawson because she was their ticket to proving themselves and moving up! 

And yet the movie didn’t get too hammy and heavy-handed with feminism (I hate it when some people write stuff that way because I find it extremely sloppy and ineffective)! We didn’t have to have a female villain just because we had a female lead superhero. We didn’t have to have moments where Carol says preachy lines. That moment where she just raised her eyebrow at the motorcycle dude? Fantastic. She didn’t have to deal with that scumbag. That moment where Yon-Rogg tried to pull a typical Man Move TM by trying to make her prove herself to him (and trying to take ownership of her development and strength)? She didn’t have to be all cocky and say some quip or cheesy af line. She wasn’t even that angry because he’s not worth it. He’s an ant beneath her foot. He’s irrelevant. She just says it straight up that she doesn’t have to prove anything to him, and that was what made that so powerful for me. It resonated because she said it like it was the truth, plain and simple, and it WAS. 

No romance shoved in not because Carol didn’t need no man as a Strong Woman but because there are more important things at stake and honestly, the romance was with her wife Maria her relationships with other humans and the Skrulls were the emotional crux. They’re an important part of who she is and of rediscovering her identity. God...like her relationship with Fury? So well done. It was the buddy cop movie that I so wanted. I loved their jokes and their mutual respect for each other. I love how they became so important to each other and we saw Fury deeply care about someone and showing that. One of my favorite scenes is the one where they’re washing dishes together. 

They also didn’t shove Coulson in too much which I was afraid of. We got to see where Fury started off, a greener one but one who was as compelling because he was so human. We got to see Fury deeply caring about someone and so openly (this is the guy who said, “I'm just an old man who cares very much about you“ to Tony in AoU). It was nice seeing how the whole belief in superheroes thing truly started with the both of them (Coulson had his whole Cap thing, but I feel like this was the moment where he imagined having a hero like that in his own time was possible).

Uh let’s see. I love Goose. I don’t particularly care for animals in movies even though I know people obsess about them, but they didn’t overdo Goose’s part. 

All the little callbacks to the comics! KSD showing up! 

The period part of the period piece wasn’t overdone which I appreciated. Carol typing made me laugh, the slow download and AOL shoutout made me laugh, and damn, the fashion and music? I was over the moon. You didn’t have to go over the top to make us immersed in the 90s. Also, my heart sang when we got Carol on a bike on the open road in a leather jacket. The bliss I felt is indescribable tbh.

Ooh the special effects were good for the most part! Loved seeing her fly and loved seeing her gut ships and destroy missiles. It felt real. Space didn’t feel cheesy af to me which was a problem I had with GotG 1. 

Speaking of flying and punching things, it was so viscerally satisfying to see her do that. One of the things that really did it for me was how she enjoyed her powers. It was exhilarating seeing her fly for the first time (similar to seeing Tony taking out the suit for a test flight in IM1). Her little laugh/whoop of excitement? That’s what it would be like to discover you can fly! That grin when she breaks free of the Kree dampening her powers and she can feel her powers at full force running through her? That’s what it would be like to be at 100% and have all that. I wanted to jump out of my seat and feel what she felt. It made her powers not feel very OTT-overpowered? Carol has....too many powers and is super strong to the point that she’s overpowered, but uh...idk I didn’t have a problem with it here, mainly because of this. 

The post-credits scenes were good too like....WOW, HUH. I watched this in Dolby (my first Dolby experience!) and I GOT EXTREMELY, EXTREMELY, EXTREMELY THIRSTY OVER STEVE IN A BEARD AND OUT OF HIS SUIT AND A TIGHT WHITE SHIRT!!! I DON’T KNOW HOW I KEPT IT TOGETHER BECAUSE I ALMOST DIDN’T WHICH WOULD’VE BEEN EMBARRASSING. BUT PHEW!!!!!! STEVE? WHAT A *****!!! Thought the scene was nice too even though I wish Carol got better hair. I assume she flew and that’s why she looks so bedraggled, but uhfhghdaoifhas I hated her hair in this and want Carol to get the nice hair she deserves (preferably a short butch cut...thanks. C’mon, Brie wants it too). OH, ALMOST COMPLETELY FORGOT TO MENTION THAT IT BROKE MY HEART TO HEAR HER SAY, “YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHO I AM. I DON’T KNOW WHO I AM” AND TO NOT KNOW WHERE SHE BELONGS. SHE’S NOT KREE, BUT SHE’S NO LONGER FULLY HUMAN NOT ONLY BECAUSE OF HER POWERS BUT BECAUSE OF HER LIFE ON HALA AS WELL. I loved how we saw her journey to accepting that and who she is now and how that was all tied up nicely with her wearing her old leather jacket the Rambeaus kept for her and her new suit as she goes into space. What a great moment and a nice visual cue to a comics cover I really like of Carol wearing her jacket over her suit and staring up at the stars. I feel like trying to find her place and her identity are important to her so I loved that we got that here and we’ll hopefully see more of that.

There are a bunch of negatives here (a bunch of stuff about the Tesseract that go against canon, the Skrulls (makeup, personalities, nerfed powers and threat level imo, etc.), subpar writing and acting at moments, etc.), but I seriously don’t care at all because I enjoyed the ride. My happiness dwarfs every little thing I could have nitpicked. I don’t care!!! I had so much fun! I liked the movie a lot!

[artnerd1123]

A Snake In The Castle

A Not My Fight RP with @doodles23 and @killerraptors ---------------------------------------- This is backstory for how Naga lost her arm.

WARNING! There is some blood n gore in this one near the end and during a fight scene. Though that can’t be helped, as it is how a character got their arm ripped off.

The chapters list for the whole story can be found here --------------------------------------

All 3 of us decided to rp this out, so here’s a bit of a collab story!

Arty: Rain was pounding on the walls of the castle. The sky was dark, though lightning lit up the spires every so often, thunder booming seconds later. Many would have hated a day like this. The storm effectively trapped most monsters inside their homes. But there was one who enjoyed days like this...

Squall stood on a balcony outside his rooms, head tilted back and eyes closed as the rain ran down his scales. Rain. One of his few pleasures in the world. One of the few things that would cause him to push plans back to appreciate the downpour. It was days like this that Nthenda was, for once, a peaceful kingdom. His tail twitched. Someone was waiting for him inside. He huffed, then turned around to see Vordur in the doorway. "What is it?" he growled out.

Doodles: Everything seemed still from squall’s view of the world, but little did he know that down in the shadows, an assassin was slithering silently through the storm. She muttered silently to herself, not believing her luck that a storm had started.  She flinched at every lightning flash, worried that each one would expose her. Usually she loved the feeling of water running down her scales, but not today. The only thing she was grateful for was the added darkness of the cloud cover.

Killer: Lightning. So much power drawn out of each spark. The light flashed it's blinding color, showing itself off for the world to see. The day had been long and always a bore. The halls were silent, besides the consistent roar of the storm edging its way overhead. Very few had passed Vordur in the long darkened paths, his back kinked straight and a long spear grasped in his hand. With clicks of his clawed toe, he had made his way down to Prince Squall's room, only to find him admiring the rainfall down onto his skin and clothing. Such a scene would tell another to not become bothersome for the Prince, and therefore Vordur stood silently waiting for his master to approach him. Once the Prince turned tail to the dark air of the world outside and spoke directly to his guard, Vordur spoke, "My Prince sorry to... disturb you." He paused and slouched over for a second before straightening back out, "three of our elite guards have gone missing, and a few of the others came to me for the matter. Would you like to let the matter simply pass or a search to be issued out?" He asked in his raspy voice.

Arty: Squall tilted his head. "Three are missing...? Hmmh... that's a bit of a strange number..." He mused aloud, "where were they stationed? Do we know if there are any intruders to the castle?" He came inside, standing by the fireplace in his room. He fanned his wings out to dry as he waited for an answer. It was quite possible that there was a spy or assassin in the castle. Glacia hadn't sent any in awhile, but he knew better than to hope for the best. It was different if one or two guards went missing. Even his elites ran off sometimes. But three...? A roll of thunder rang out from outside the still-open balcony doors. He snapped his fingers, his eyes momentarily flashing red, and it shut with a soft click.

Doodles: Naga saw squall turn around and took the opportunity to go. She slithered quickly through the shadows to the castle, staying out of sight. She looked around and decided that she could not use the front doors. She shivered. All this cold rain was NOT helping her think. She pressed a button on her sleeve and her clothes start to silently heat themselves. She sighed quietly as the heat seeped back into her scales. She looked around again and spotted a window that had swung open from the wind. 'bingo' she thought to herself.

Killer: Vordur kept his mouth shut while the Prince was speaking, it would have been utterly rude to interrupt him. Once his words faded out, it was his cue to speak once more, "All three of them were stationed in the Keep sir. The missing reports happened all around the same time, but there is no evidence as of now of something that would have taken or killed the few. I can send a message out to the search party, to check the corners and edges of the castle?" He asked and before Squall could give an answer or comment suddenly another guard popped into the entrance of the doorway. The guard shouldn't have been there, only if it were urgent. If it wasn't he would have Squall to deal with or even Vordur. The guard looked as if he had been running, his chest heaving. "Yes?" Vordur politely bowed to Prince before turning to the guard and stated. "Sir there is a fight breaking out in your sector." The guard was speaking to Vordur by using the term 'Sir', Prince would have been used if directed toward Squall. Vordur grumbled slightly before asking for permission from Prince Squall, "May I please be dismissed my Prince?"

Arty: A soft growl slipped out from between Squall's jaws. It seemed his initial thought had been correct. "You are dismissed, but be sure to send guards to go search the castle," he ordered before turning to the other guard. "Go and tell those guarding the entrances to close the gates. I don't want anyone going in or out of here," he snarled. Whipping around, he strode over to his desk. He grabbed a sphere made of yellow crystal and set it down in front of him, tapping it a few times. A fog billowed up inside of the sphere. After a moment or two, it cleared, revealing a misty form. He tilted his head. "A snake..." he muttered, "just as I suspected..."

Doodles: Naga continued sneaking around the castle. Whenever she heard anyone coming, she would expertly hide within the shadows or under a table. She looked around, searching for her target. Her tongue flicked in concentration. She pulled a picture out of her pocket and looked over the figure again. It was a dark colored raptor with pink, green, and blue feathers. She glanced around her area again, wondering how someone with bright colored feathers could be so hard to find.

Killer: Vordur tilted his head toward Squall before turning his attention on the guard. The two hissed back and forth to one another, Vordur's stance was obviously annoyed with the creature. His clawed hand wrapped around the guard's arm and dragged him out with him, "How dare you interrupt me when I'm with the Prince. And for what? A fight!" His voice raised and he barked out at the guard, "You could have handled it yourselves..." As he walked down the hall his voice faded and trailed off out of hearing distance for Squall. Once he got to the sector and took his spear and slammed it onto the ground, lightning pulsed its way around the room and struck the three guards fighting. They all screeched in pain and stopped nagging and tearing at each other. It wouldn't damage them, just get their attention majorly. "That's enough!" Vordur growled out and the room went quiet. A few burn marks appeared where the excess lightning had landed, the sounds had echoed down the halls and added to the storm outside the walls.

Arty: Squall ran a claw across the sphere's surface, and the misty image became clearer. It seemed that there was a spitting cobra in the castle. He watched as it pulled a small square of parchment out from its bag. 'Hmmh. Must be it's target.' A few more taps allowed him to get a good look at the picture. He let out a snarl as he recognized the face. It was Vördur. They were trying to kill off his head of the guard. Shaking himself to get rid of any excess water from the rain, he swept out of his rooms. It would be better to find and kill the assassin himself than have an unsuspecting vördur chance upon them. He felt a presence shift in the back of his mind, and soon a soft red glow came from his eyes. A grin slowly spread across his face. He knew that if the pcoumo got involved without him asking, it was bound to be a fun chase. Fun for him, that is. Not so much for the snake.

Doodles: Naga heard the noise. She looked in the direction of the sounds and flashing lights. She rolled her eyes, wondering how she could've forgotten his magic. Lightning... He must be stronger with the storm raging outside... Nonetheless, she slithered out from her spot towards the room Vördur was in.

Killer: The room quickly cleared out, the other guards heading back to their more private rooms so they wouldn't get in any more trouble with the sector's head guard. Vordur stood there his spear in hand, all alone... or so he thought. The storm continued to crack and thunder outside, the rain getting caught by the gusts of wind which tattered it against the walls of the castle. Vordur perked up his head and looked around, something didn't feel right. His tail shifted to the side, and his claws flinched, someone was still here. But... all the guards had left, he wondered.  His feathers atop his head ruffled and a small spark emitted from his weapon, which for a second lit the room up before it went dark again. He let out another spark as he looked around, nothing yet in sight.

Arty: Squall trotted down the halls silently. He could thank the pcoumo for muffling the noises of his footsteps. The sounds of thunder echoing off the spires outside distracted him momentarily as he paused to listen. For a moment, he wished he could just go out in the rain. But the thought suddenly disappeared out of his mind. He shook his head and continued on. By the time he arrived outside of Vördur's sector, he could see sparks flashing from under the door. He huffed. Mild disappointment resonated from the back of his mind. It seemed he'd have to sit this one out. Nevertheless, he cracked the door to watch the show.

Doodles: Naga’s lips curled up into a small smile and she bared her fangs. With a small hiss, she spat her venom from in the shadows at Vördur. She then pulled out what looked like a handle with some buttons on it, and held it at the ready.

Killer: Vordur tilted his head to the side, hearing and catching the small hiss coming from behind him. He turned and back peddled his feet. The venom splattered onto the floor and sizzled a bit before dying down. He blinked a few times and brought his head up and growled out, baring his row of sharp teeth. He slouched over and bent his legs more backing up. His spear was gripped tighter in his claw and he spat out, "So... they sent an assassin to kill me." He narrowed his eyes, "Cute." He swished his tail back and forth. The next spark created a blinding light that revealed Naga, and cast odd shadows on the wall. His yellow eyes were locked on her figure, and he lowered his feathers a bit.

Doodles: Naga let out an angry hiss. The floor had been marked with a pattern of ovals, unique to only naga. She pressed a button on her stick and a large blade swung out with a 'shink'. She darted forward, swinging her blade at him, knowing she couldn’t hide if he knew that she was there.

Killer: Vordur jerked to the side and raised his spear up, catching the blade in the middle of the long handle. He bared his teeth once more and pushed her back, a streak of quick moving lightning stretching out and grazed her side, leaving a very faint burn mark. With his weapon he was stronger, something some people didn't realize, but most were able to figure it out soon enough. Their weapons clashed back and forth, soon the tip of Naga's blade dug into his lower half of his chest and ripped a tear in the clothing, drawing blood to the surface. He rebounded her hit and stabbed the end of the spear into her tail, which electrocuted her for a few seconds before he ripped it out and backed off to regain his sight of her.

Doodles: When she had been burnt in the side she gritted her teeth, but she recovered quickly. She realized that she needed to get that spear away from him. She attempted to, causing a slash across his lower chest in the process. As she tries to disarm him, he gained that opportunity to stab her tail. She was unable to remain silent with the hit and cried out some as the electricity coursed through her. When it stopped she backed away some to recover. She shook her head and lunged at him.

Killer: Vordur went at her head on as she made the choice to dive back into the fight. He felt the blood oozing out of the gash in his chest, the grayish tone of his skin and brown cloth clothing becoming stained with crimson red blood. He snarled as he swung his spear around, trying to catch her on the side of the head, but only for her to judge the movement and duck under the sharpened metal. Vordur felt a burning sensation as Naga spat her venom once again and he jeered backward, and Naga's blade went through the flesh above his hip. He railed out and was pushed to the ground, his spear sliding away from him. His toe claw clicked on the ground, and he raised it kicking her in the stomach to get her away from him, the claw had dug in a bit. He laid there on the floor, clenching his teeth.

Doodles: "-oof!" She was kicked away from Vördur and his spear. One hand was on her stomach, and the other held her weapon. She aimed it at the spear and pressed another button. Out of the end, a magnet attached to a single shot and grabbed the metal end of the spear. She tossed the spear up, embedding it in the ceiling, out of reach. She looked back at vördur, the blade of the weapon back out.

Killer: Vordur hissed and shuffled himself backward on the ground away from the assassin. He glanced around and noticed one of the guards had left a weapon out, not being brought with them or put away. He growled and shot up, booking it toward the weapon, his leg giving out a few times from him being impaled. He heard another hiss coming from the snake and he jumped his claws and toe claw gripping onto the side of the wall, which made the venom miss, and he rebounded off and curled onto the ground. His claw picked up the weapon as he rolled back into a stance. He lashed his tail back and forth again and created another flash to see Naga's figure once more.

Doodles: Naga saw that and cursed because he had a weapon once again. Though she had an advantage. Only the end if her tail was hurt and she could still move with ease. She bared her fangs and attempted once again to hit him with venom as she moved to attempt to slash again.

Killer: The new weapon Vordur picked up was a long-handled ax. It was heavier than a spear and more top heavy, but the had trained with many different weapons before, and he would have no problem wielding it. By now Vordur was getting used to the pattern the snake would use her venom. It may have been a pain to quickly move out of the way, but he ignored the pulse shuttering throughout his leg. He gripped his claws onto the floor, his toe-tapping, getting ready to run. With a clap of thunder from the outside show, he started forward, growling out. The storm raged on, creating shadows and shaking the walls. Vordur yelled out, forcing his leg not to collapse in on itself, and grabbed the end of Naga's blade as she went to swing at him. His flesh dug into the blade, at his hand moved down the middle of the sharp metal, blood washing over the surface in streaks. Her weapon was moved to the side with this choice, and he brought up momentum through the ax and landed it down on her right arm, with cracks and shattering bone, the ax pushed past her arm and fully through. He looked her in the eyes, pulling his damaged hand out from her blade and stepped back, his leg giving out finally. He fell to the ground and watched as the assassin's arm did the same.

Doodles: Her eyes went wide as the axe landed on her arm and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her scream only became audible when the axe left her arm. She screamed. Loud.  She stumbled back and her left hand flies to what's left of her arm, below her shoulder. She shook badly. Crimson blood gushed out of her wound. She knew that she had to get out of there. Or else she wouldn't leave at all. The room suddenly went black, including the hallway and she moved as fast as she could out of there. She hid. She pulled out bandages and attempted to patch up her arm but shook too much to do much, plus her dominant arm was gone. Tears streamed down her face from the pain.

Arty: Squall watched the two fight. He was silent, not wishing for them to notice him observing the two, but was ready to step in. He nearly did when the snake gained a bit of an upper hand. The fight may have been entertaining, but there was no way he'd let it kill his head of the guard. The snake's screams echoed off the inside of the room and into the hallways. The presence in the back of his mind trilled with glee. Different noises, especially the sounds monsters made, always seemed to excite the pcoumo. When the room suddenly went dark, he rushed in, pulling the darkness away in waves. The snake appeared to have darkness magic. 'Like smoke bombs', he thought grimly. "Vördur," he called, snapping his fingers, "get yourself to the infirmary. I'll make sure this snake leaves here, be it from the castle or from this earthly plane." And with that, he rushed past him and out of the room, following the trail of blood the snake left behind. His nostrils flared, taking in the scent. It was fresh, as it should be, and invigorated him. He tugged on the shadows around him. They came around him easily. The more cover he had, the better. Lightning lit the corridor ahead of him, revealing a slithering shape headed toward the castle wall.

Doodles: After she attempted to patch herself up, she made her way out of the castle. She HAD to get back home. She had to. Without taking her left hand off her new stub, she made her way slowly out. Blood had seeped into the bandage within seconds of being put on. She became dizzy from blood loss but she kept going, and she hardly noticed the cold of the storm as she slithered outside.

((And this is where we ended. Long story short, Naga got away and slithered her way to Skipper’s shop. He had her go to a healer first, but then took measurements and made her a new arm outta enchanted metal.))

[amaranthkick]

A Wolf and A Raven, Part 3

a hint of angst, fluff, and some explanations

(Part 1), (Part 2)

Shiro waited patiently at the steps to the building while Lance locked up for night. Two sets of footsteps could be heard running towards them.

 “Shiro!” The wolf instantly alert, that voice! It was Keith, the young man in question was running at full speed and Pidge was not too far behind.

 Keith knelt down in front of Shiro a firm hand on his shoulder, his grip tight as if to keep Shiro from disappearing again. Keith has never been the most affectionate person but Shiro could appreciate that he was trying his best. He could practically see the relief in his eyes. The younger man genuinely smiled probably for the first time in a long time. “It's good to have you back.” ‘It's good to be back,’ Shiro would tell him later.

 Keith stood up and turned towards Lance hand extended. “You're Lance, right? Keith. Thanks for taking care of Shiro.”

 Lance accepted and shook hands with him and grinned, “it was no problem he's super sweet. And also he's amazing, he recovered real fast.”

 It was all Shiro could do to keep his jaw from dropping. No, it wasn't me. It was you Lance, I just know it. He would have slapped a hand to his forehead if he could. Seriously, was the universe taunting him with this enigma?

 He was startled from his thoughts when Lance laid his soft hand on his head, apparently he, Keith and Pidge had finished conversing and were saying goodbyes. “See you later, Shiro. Take good care of yourself.” Lance smiled at him but it didn't reach his eyes and his eyes seemed tinged with sadness. He got up and left a little too quickly. That left Shiro with a pang in his chest. He could hardly focus when Keith and Pidge told him to follow them. They mumbled something about a castle full of lions? But at the moment all he could think about was how much he missed Lance.

 Black gracefully landed on Lance’s shoulder and chirped at him when he was all too quiet. There was a faint painful tugging in his chest that served to only reminded him of Shiro. “Sorry, Black. I just… I know that it would be easy for us to see each other again since Pidge knows Shiro. But… I don't know. I don't know what's going on. I just- I miss him.” Black cooed softly as if to comfort him as Lance wiped his misty eyes with his sleeve.

 Lance had forgotten tonight was movie night with Hunk when he opened to door to find his best friend waiting for him inside.

 Hunk took one look at Lance’s sagging form, eyes glazed over with tears, and rushed over to envelop him in a big hug. Lance hid his face in his shoulder which muffled his sobs. Hunk shushed and rubbed soothing circles on his back. “Aww bud, what's wrong?”

 “I don't know. I think- maybe I got too attached.”

 Hunk hummed, this didn't seem to be like those times when a patient died. He wanted to ask for an explanation but he could wait for Lance to be more emotionally stable for him to talk.

 “That’s it bud, just let it out. And when you're feeling empty I'll make you all your favorite dishes so you can fill your body and soul with comfort food while we watch The Great British Bake Off.” Hunk held him tighter a sure sign of loyal support.

 Lance let out a wet laugh, “Hunk… have I ever told you are the bestest friend a guy could ever ask for?”

 “Only every day, Lance.”

 “Even though you're pretty nosy and high-key suspicious of some of the strays I feed.” Hunk huffed but didn't stop hugging him.

The castle didn't have much lions, a part of Shiro felt disappointed though he wasn't completely sure what he was expecting. There were only five giant guardian lion statues ‘guarding’ the entrance. He could appreciate their fierce yet regal appearance.

 Pidge went ahead to inform the princess of their arrival. Meanwhile Keith led him to a bathroom to change to the spare clothes he brought.

 Ahh, to be in his human form again, it felt freeing to stretch his tense muscles. The mirror across from him drew his attention. He felt so self-conscious at what was staring back at him. He changed so much, muscles and scars gained from fighting for his life.

 Shiro heaved a heavy sigh, it was no use to think that way and tried to change his train of thought. Naturally it went to Lance, would he be disgusted by his appearance? Nah, he wasn't afraid of his wolf form so maybe he still could hope. Would Lance be able to tell that he and the wolf are really one in the same?

 He jumped at Keith's voice sharply cutting in asking if he was done.

Keith led him to a large dining area next. Near the long table in the center of the room was a composed, regal young woman with long, cloud-like, white hair in an elegant dress. He took a wild guess and assumed this was the princess. By her side was an elder man also in blue, his hair a bright orange. His well groomed moustache stood out as well.

 What was most striking was their pointed ears and marks just above their cheeks. Elves perhaps.

 The lady greeted him first. “I am princess Allura of Altea and this is my royal advisor Coran. We heard much about you from your friends. I know you just escaped captivity and the last place you want to be is anywhere near the galra however I must apologize for being blunt but could we ask for your aid in taking them down?”

 She was someone who got straight to the point. Although even if she seemed composed on the outside, Shiro had a hunch she was seething with anger on the inside. The galra must have done something terrible to her too. He guilty thought about Sam and Matt. They and so many other must still be suffering. He nodded, mind made up he would help any way he can.

 Allura smiled, “thank you, I- Coran! What are you doing?”

 The dapper man in question was circling around Shiro hmm-ing to himself like a shark carefully assessing its prey.

 Something had caught his attention and it clearly bothered him. Coran started cautiously, “Pidge and Keith has told me that you are an unbonded familiar correct?”

 “I- yes..?” He was supposed to be. He thought that he kept himself well guarded, surrounded himself with lonely, desperate walls. The air got stuck in Shiro’s throat and suddenly the space around him felt heavier, colder as if he was in the presence of a wraith.

 Coran looked straight at Shiro. “My boy it seems you've bonded with someone.”

 Shiro felt like someone punched the air out of his lungs. His mind already looking at the worst case scenarios. Did the galra succeed in forcing a bond on him? Terrible memories he tried to force down quickly resurfaced. How, with some horrific experimentation, some forcibly bonded familiars would lose themselves only to become mindless, savage monsters. Will that happen to him as well?

 All too soon there were hands on his shoulders and people calling his name. He took in a sharp breath. Shiro realized he was shaking, on the verge of hyperventilating. He saw Keith and Pidge at his sides, concern on their faces. Their touch was grounding. Allura and Coran stood close also concerned.

 “S-sorry,” he hated how weak and fragile he sounded.

 “Don't be, you got nothing to be sorry for.” Keith said voice steady and firm. Though he looked ready to fight every galra he could find.

 Coran cleared his throat to grab Shiro's attention, he looked at the young man apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Shiro. I didn't mean to cause a panic over my observation. Maybe I should have said this earlier but you don't have to worry much, the person you're bonded to doesn't seem to be a galra.”

 “Huh?”

 “Well us Alteans are sensitive to magical energies, quintessence if you will, though that also includes life force energies. And from what I've learned about bonds from a multitude of research documents is that there is a partial sharing of energies between familiar and their partner so that they mix and resonate and empower each other. The foreign energy I sensed in you Shiro doesn’t feel like any galra I've sensed before. And I would know they have a distinct feel to them.” Coran pulled on the collar of his suit quite sure of himself.

 Shiro could feel shoulders slouch in sheer relief but his mind kept running. If he wasn't bonded to a galra then who was he bonded to?

 Coran chuckled, the tense air around him faded as he was no longer serious and went back to his uplifting, silly self again. “Actually, the energy I sense is quite warm. Radiant like sunlight yet gentle like pure moonlight. If you concentrate hard enough I think you could feel it too and try to see who it reminds you of.”

 Shiro saw everyone give him encouraging nods so he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt a tugging in his chest and tried to follow it. He saw bright light behind a silhouette of a person reaching out to him. This scene seemed so familiar. Shiro wracked his brain to remember and he nearly yelled when it hit him. It was the his dream he had the night he escaped.

 “What dream?” Keith asked. Oh did Shiro say that out loud?

 “The one I had at… Lance’s hospital…” Uh-oh, Shiro broke into a cold sweat as the pieces fell into place.

 Pidge connected the dots just as he did and it left her wide-eyed and gaping. “Oh my gosh, you bonded to Lance! Whoa cool down there Keith, Lance most likely doesn't even know he participated in a bonding. He doesn't even know or believe in this stuff.”

 Shiro was conflicted, one part of him was happy to be bonded to someone as kindhearted as Lance but the rest of him was terrified he might inadvertently drag him into this messy war with the galra.

 Pidge lightly squeezed Shiro’s arm a sly, teasing smile on her face already thinking of a way to cheer him up. “Hey, you know the rumors that humans can possibly gain magic powers by forming a bond with a familiar?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Guess you were right when you asked if he could use magic since he probably has magic now due to your bond.”

 Shiro gasped and squinted his eyes, “I knew it! I knew he was the reason I recovered so fast! He has healing magic!” He savored the moment knowing he was right all along. His chest puffed out a little internally pleased with himself.

(Part 4)

[dulwichdiverter]

All Wilby well

COMEDIAN, WRITER, PRESENTER AND LONG-TERM SE22 RESIDENT ROSIE WILBY ON MONOGAMY, POLYAMORY AND THE CHOCOLATE SALAD PROBLEM

BY RONNIE HAYDON

Rosie Wilby looks quite misty eyed when she talks about Dulwich Library. It’s a handsome beast, for sure, and a fine example of the prodigious Victorian philanthropy of John Passmore Edwards. But for Rosie, it was also the starting point of a wide-ranging research project into serial monogamy, which led to the publication of her book.

“I found a whole shelf devoted to relationships in the psychology section while I was mooching around East Dulwich, working through material for my shows,” she says. “It’s so great that my book is on that shelf now.”

The seeds for the funny, thoughtful tome, titled Is Monogamy Dead? were sown by the many years she spent on the comedy circuit, presenting a radio show and podcasting around the subjects of sex, relationships and break-ups.

Rosie’s warm, mischievous talks and discussions about love and heartbreak are often accompanied by statistics from sociological studies, with tangential stories illustrating these facts and figures.

The result is a delicious mix of eye-opening relationship study and belly-clutching hilarity. It’s no wonder she’s been called the “lesbian Eddie Izzard” by one reviewer, which is apt, because Izzard has described himself as a “straight, wannabe lesbian kinda guy”.

“I love Eddie Izzard’s stuff,” smiles Rosie, when we meet for coffee at Rock Steady Rum Lounge on North Cross Road.

As we chat about the book, the conversation turns to the labels we attach to people, and their sexuality.

“The book began with a trilogy of shows, starting with one called The Science of Sex that I toured in 2009-10. That was the show where I sometimes dressed up in a white coat: [a self-styled] ‘Love Doctor’.”

Rosie’s Love Doctor, with her flipchart, survey results and quick-fire gags, presented serious science about human relationships in a “fun and accessible” way.

These talks kicked off what she calls “a long arc of creativity” under which an often vulnerable and heartbroken Rosie sheltered, her personal life strewn with messy break-ups that fuelled more fevered research.

“I think what’s really changed is what it means to be lesbian, or gay, or LGBTQ now,” she says. “Both over my lifetime, or more recently, in the years since I moved to Dulwich in 2002.

“When I started doing comedy there was still an element of risk about which venues you would feel comfortable in, openly talking about being gay, which of course is a weird concept now that we can get married.

“But, in a way, I hanker after the old days of being a lesbian activist and wearing that badge with pride – even though none of us fit into neat boxes, it’s tricky nowadays when everyone’s fluid or pan-sexual or whatever, to find your place, to get a toehold anywhere…”

As if she senses she’s wandering down a potentially contentious path here, Rosie pulls out a gag: “I jokingly say sometimes that everyone’s a bit gay now, but frankly it’s been ruined for us!

“I miss having the secret, rebellious world we used to inhabit. Of course it’s wonderful that we have progressed so far in terms of equality, but I loved that feeling of breaking the rules and being more creative in my approach to relationships.”

Rosie welcomes the chance to be a rebel with her LGBTQ radio show, called Out in South London, which she presents every Tuesday evening at 6.30pm on Resonance FM, a community arts station based in Borough.

“I really appreciate having a dedicated platform that allows our LGBTQ guests to discuss how their sexuality influences their work,” she says.

“I still think there’s a real need to have our own shows, even though our community is in the mainstream now and we’re all cool about being gay, which is the reason the BBC has axed its dedicated shows. I think our voices should be heard on as many platforms as possible.”

Her ready wit and warm, chatty style has led to Rosie’s own voice being heard on a variety of radio shows on the now determinedly unstarchy Radio 4, from presenting her research into monogamy in a Four Thought broadcast (called A New Currency of Commitment) to guesting on Woman’s Hour and Loose Ends.

Her career has come a long way from her Camden years as a wistful singer-songwriter fronting her band, Wilby.

A guitar-strumming early career led Rosie into the world of stand-up comedy and turned into a wonderfully self-deprecating show about failing to make it in the Britpop years.

“I’d always chatted between songs – making jokes at my own expense – and the talking took over from the music,” she explains.

“That was a relief, really, because so much sad stuff had happened [her mother died when Rosie was just 28; a year later she lost everything she owned in a house fire] and I just wanted to park the darkness.”

Gloom was duly banished, as Rosie continued with her comic interludes, and took her first tentative steps into stand-up.

“By the time I got round to comedy I was in my 30s. I had a couple of early successes at a club called Comedy Camp. Gay men make the best audiences. There was a lot of ‘go, girl’ camaraderie. It was a lovely comedian called Simon Happily who gave me my first break.

“Once people started paying me I began gigging, with sets at the Old Nun’s Head and the Ivy House. I even did a show in Peckham Library, at the very top where they have this weird little space capsule. I do like Southwark’s libraries.”

The Science of Sex show, which she took to Edinburgh, led her to question the whole rollercoaster of falling in love, staying in love and committing to one person without it all becoming too domestic and humdrum. It set Rosie off on a path of exploring whether monogamy, as a concept, had outlived its usefulness.

She writes: “Should monogamy, which comes from the Greek, monos gamos, meaning one marriage for life, be newly translated as ‘one marriage until I choose to have an upgrade?’”

“I needed to redefine monogamy, which [for me] had meant a series of monogamous relationships and lots of breaking up, which is why I do the podcast, as well,” she explains.

Rosie presents The Breakup Monologues podcast (it’s free to download), in which she and other comedians (recent guests have included Viv Groskop, Alix Fox and Robyn Perkins) discuss their best and worst break-up stories.

“I still do a comedy talk about monogamy, in which I reference my book. During the talk I ask people what counts as cheating – anything from having sex with, kissing, texting or flirting with someone else.”

Or keeping the biggest portions of food for yourself. Apparently that’s a thing.

“In this interrogation, it seems that monogamy is such an assumed cultural default that many people don’t communicate to [their partners] what monogamy should actually mean, and everyone’s definition of cheating is different.”

She has written that women plus women relationships can be lonely, because it’s hard to have separate girlfriends to love, best buddies, like heterosexual married or partnered-up women do.

She tells a joke in the book, where she tries to distinguish between the many uses of the word “love”: “I love my girlfriend and I love chocolate, yet one of those is an insatiable, obsessive craving… and the other is how I feel about my girlfriend.”

Rosie worries in the book that the “lower-key, humdrum state was how I was supposed to feel about my long-term partner. Maybe she wasn’t chocolate but… a salad. Secretly I still hoped for both. Was a chocolate salad even on the menu?”

Is Monogamy Dead? received rave reviews when it was published in 2017, with Viv Groskop declaring it “bittersweet original, honest and funny”.

She added: “Rosie Wilby nails the challenges of intimacy and romance in this depressing age of Tinder. Would it be wrong to end a life of monogamy and leave m husband for her?”

A follow up book is not out of the question Not for a while, though: Rosie’s busy during festival season, and there’s a long-term partner and resultant house purchase to consider

“It’s great to receive messages from people who have read the book and say it’s made them rethink their own relationships and where their boundaries lie in terms of fidelity,” she says.

“What a lot of people don’t realise is that I’m now in a monogamous relationship. They assume that because I’m asking the question, I’m on a constant polyamorous adventure!”

Which does sound rather exhausting. Has she ever been a fan?

“I think polyamory has advantages. My friends who have polyamorous relationships make the idea work for them in the way that the partners communicate. I learned a lot from them, curiously; these are ideas I can take back into my personal life.”

She seems pretty chuffed with her current monogamous adventure, I observe. “Yes I am. I’ve put up with a lot of uncomfortable situations in the past. I think life is calmer and more contented now. These days if I want to have something that fuels that creative spark, some kind of questioning impulse, I look outside of my personal life to the wider world – in the sense of, ‘What on earth is going on out there right now?’

“Relationship-wise, I’m settled and I get on with my partner really well. We’re buying a place together and I guess I’ve got to a certain point in my life where I’m keen to embrace that chocolate salad.”