#that what do you want me to be nearly killed me

[callmegallifreya]

I shall tell you a secret about your wool, your cashmere, the delicate fainting fabrics two whom heat is a death knell.

Necromancy is real.

Also, your dead wool may be better for it.

Also-also nobody here has actually said how to clean it without killing it so I'll add that too.

So - within reason, the doll's jumper is not going back to an adult, but hear me out here.

If you have washed your jumper a tad too warm, or on a normal wash setting, and perhaps it is now of a more suitable size for a child, a lot of the shrinkage may be caused by felting.

Felting is when the wet fibres, with the scales that make up the outer layer lifted by detergent and heat, lock to each other like tangled christmas lights. The more you agitate them, the more felted they get. This is why the delicate cycle on your machine doesn't so much churn up your woolens as it does let them soak and gently wavepool side to side occasionally to circulate the water.

Felted or boiled wool has no gaps. When all of the fibres have locked together it is windproof, nearly waterproof, and will never unravel. You can cut a hole in felt and it will only get bigger if you tear it bigger. Depending on the degree of felting it may be thicker now too.

With that out of the way, what is the necromancy side of this?

Well, if you get it wet again, depending on the level of felting, your wool will stretch right back out.

If you see a new wool garment, you'll see the washing instructions say "reshape when wet". This is because just like your hair, if you let it dry in a funny position it'll stay that way. We've all accidentally let one dry on a radiator or over a corner and ended up with a very odd shaped bit of fabric.

Felting is just a very funny position for wool. It's basically matted, wet hair.

I've seen recommendations for using hair conditioner and other products here to help loosen it up, which I haven't tried - certainly give it a go, especially if your jumper is more delicate or only a little felted. It may come back to life with no/very little further intervention. I've had great results with sheer brute force.

Disclaimer: I am a limp noodle and my idea of "pull hard" is not the same as everyone's.

Get that jumper absolutely drenched in your solution of choice (I do it after a wash so woolite, there are lots of guides and recommendations online for best results), grab it on opposite sides and pull. Enlist a friend for even better (and more even) results. Pull in the direction of the knit and across the knit but not diagonally if you can avoid it.

There will probably be concerning ripping noises if there's any more than a tiny bit of felting, like velcro pulling apart. It's fine. Keep pulling. (Steady pressure, don't yank)

Don't forget to do the arms in both directions too, you want them wide enough to get your own arm back inside them.

Stop when your clothing is the size and shape you want it to be. You can even try it on to be sure and wear it like shrink-to-fit jeans since wool is marvelously insulating and will be warm even when wet once you get over the problem of putting on a cold wet jumper.

Now, this is not a total fix - if you only a little shrunk it, it'll be good as new. If you shrunk it a lot it's probably gone down a couple of sizes even after you've stretched it back out like you're trying to tear it in half. You also need to remember to do this after every time you wash that particular garment. But hopefully some of you will save and wear some beloved items that you thought were gone forever.

Have fun!

Oh, and to clean your wool: -Pick up a wool-specific detergent (I use Woolite, there's lots) - and either

a) bung it in your machine on a delicates/wool cycle and be done with it, reshaping whilst wet and drying flat so the weight of it doesn't stretch it in funny ways over your airer (do not tumble dry, see felting above) or

b) hand-wash, which is a whole lot of swishing and squishing it about in a sink or bucket with the detergent and water at a comfortable temperature for you to stick your hands in. Avoid scrubbing on or with anything (no brushes, no stain remover balls, none of that) and if you have a stubborn spot grab two sections of the fabric and rub on each other like you're charging a defibrillator - as little as you can manage until spot is gone or you start to worry about the texture changing (felting again). A scrub with your hand from the inside can also sometimes get a stain loose by forcing the detergent up behind it and if you do felt it it's not as visible. Rinse a lot and wring out hard, then reshape and air dry it flat.

Here, a cheater course on caring for natural fibers!

1. Wool. Treat it like it has the delicate constitution of a Victorian lady and the conviction that baths are evil of a 17th century noble. (If I get in WATER my PORES will OPEN and I will CATCH ILL AND DIE.)

2. Cotton; easygoing. Will shrink a bit if washed and dried hot.

3. Silk; people think it’s like wool and has the constitution of a fashionably dying of consumption Victorian lady, but actually it’s quite tough. Can be washed in an ordinary washer, and either tumbled dry without heat or hung to dry.

4. Linen; it doesn’t give a shit. Beat the hell out of it. Historically was laundered by dousing it in lye and beating the shit out of it with wooden paddles, which only makes it look better. The masochist of the natural fiber world. Beat the fuck out of it linen doesn’t care. Considerably stronger than cotton. Linen sheet sets can last literal decades in more or less pristine shape because of that strength.The most likely natural fiber to own a ball gag.

[sierrale8ne]

christmas eve aubrey griffin, ayanna patterson, paige bueckers 🎄

sfw // kissing, sexual innuendos, cute christmas fluff

kalena speakss 🪽! i recommend having this song on loop while reading, it really works wonders on the heart strings 🥹 merry (early) christmas eve and happy holidays to all my amazing followers and moots.

🏷️ @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersbitch @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @ohbueckers @rosemariiaa @bucketbueckers @janaelalfysblunt @tndaqlifwy

ayanna and kelli’s christmas eve 🎞️

“Lay your head on me, I got you baby.” justin bieber 2011

“I can’t believe you made me put these on.” Ayanna groans, walking down the stairwell of my parents home in plaid pajama pants and a red, ugly, Christmas sweater with gingerbread men on it.

She looks adorable, her skin glowing from the light of the fireplace and the television.

“I didn’t make you do anything. You have free will.” I shrug from my place on the couch. White fuzzy socks cover my feet as I tuck my legs up on the couch. It’s barely even chilly, but the holiday spirit makes me pile on all the layers.

“Kel, this shit is ugly.”

“You wanna take it off?” I comment, looking over at her suggestively.

“In your parent’s house? Nah, I’ll be aight.” Yanna looks at me astonished, pulling on the tight coil that falls over her forehead. She huffs, sitting next to me on the couch.

“That’s what I thought.” I reply, pressing play on the movie in front of us.

It’s Are We There Yet, which I refuse to accept as a Christmas movie, but since Yanna sucked it up and put on the matching outfit, I guess I can be a good girlfriend and watch her poor choice of a movie.

She pulls on the lever that makes the seat recline, giving me all the space to get comfortable in the space between us as we cuddle.

“I missed you so damn much, pretty. You don’t even know”

I’m taken aback by her sudden show of affection, but it makes me smile. And that pretty word nearly makes my cheek turn as read as the sweaters.

“Me too.” I nod, looking away from Nia Long on the screen and up at my girlfriend. “The team was getting too comfortable with my baby. Needed you to come back.”

Yanna laughs in between kissing my forehead. “I thought I was getting replaced by med school exams.” She says back.

I really didn’t realize just how much we’d been busy. UConn and Harvard weren’t too far away, the distance could’ve been worse. But from chasing a national championship and trying to become a doctor, her and I just had so much going on.

It’s really a Christmas miracle that I get her all to myself for a few days.

“Y’sure I can’t give you my gift tonight?” Yanna asks me. I laugh, pausing the movie that obviously neither one of us was paying attention to anymore.

“Girl, no!” I exclaimed.

“Please! I’ll give you another tomorrow.” She attempts to negotiate. I want to say no, knowing that if my mom were to hear that I’ve changed her very serious Christmas plans, she’d probably kill me.

But it’s Ayanna, and she looks so convincing with that pretty and perfect smile that I just can’t say no.

Which is exactly how I find myself with my legs crossed, giggling as she hands me the medium sized Tiffany & Co box. It isn’t wrapped, which lets me know she was planning on giving it to me when we were alone rather than when our families were around.

“NIL money getting you right?”

Yanna grins at me as she shrugs. Trying to look nonchalant about it, but I know her better than that.

“Something like that.”

I untied the white ribbon on the box, revealing the gold Tiffany Hardware Wrap Necklace that I had saved in my phone for months.

“Were you in my search history?” I ask, incredulously, looking at her astonished. “It’s beautiful.” I pout, tears rimming my cheeks from the gesture.

"I needed some inspiration for your gift because you always say you have everything you need and not what you want," Yanna explains, cutely rubbing the back of her neck.

"I do have everything I need and want," I smile. I put the lid back on the box, holding it close to my chest as I lean into her.

My arm wraps around her neck, inhaling the scent of her body wash. Her lips press to my clothed shoulder, hugging me back like any second I could evaporate into thin air.

"I have you," I mumble almost inaudibly, but knowing her she obviously hears me. I hear a small laugh escaping her lips, breathless nearly.

“You got me, baby.” She confirms, kissing that spot on my shoulder again. “Always.”

aubrey and shayne’s christmas eve 🍪

“You leave some cookies out I’ma eat ‘em all.” justin bieber 2011

“Stop it!” Shayne exclaims, swatting Aubrey’s hand away from the recently decorated sugar cookie she just placed down.

It was the couple’s second christmas together, and this time Shayne insisted that they had to decorate cookies on Christmas eve.

Making them was messy, flour and sugar all over the kitchen counter. Then as soon as they were out of the oven, Aubrey went out of her way to reach for a piping hot cookie, just to end up burning her finger and crying like a baby.

“I just wanna see your work!” Aubrey explains, pushing the girl off to the side by her hip. She looks at the cookie, a snowman with a big top hat, and she snickers. “Why are his eyes melting?”

Shayne rolls her eyes at the loud laugh that escapes her girlfriend. “Then you make one! Here.” She says, placing a similar cookie on a plate.

The two hum along to the christmas tune playing on the TV, sugar and cinnamon and vanilla shifts through the air, along with the occasional poking fun of each other’s cookies.

“See, mine looks good.” Aubrey says lifting her gingerbread man up towards her face.

Shayne pulls a face, and every bone in her body is telling her to tell the girl how ugly her cookie looks or something of that nature. But she was right, it actually looked cute.

“It does, baby. Hol’ on let me get a picture of it.” She digs in the pocket of her christmas tree pajamas for her phone. It took all of five seconds for Aubrey to take a giant bite of the head of the gingerbread man. “Are you serious?”

“It was too tempting.” Aubrey explains, crumbs fall from her mouth and green frosting decorates her lip.

“You could wait two more seconds?” Shayne laughs, snapping a photo of the girl’s off-guard face with her decapitated gingerbread man.

She shakes her head back and forth, the curls on her head moving with. “Shouldn’t have left me alone with these cookies.” Aubrey shrugs, eating the rest of it.

“C’mere.”

“What?”

Shayne drops the bag of colored frosting on the counter taking a step closer to her girlfriend. Aubrey had this glimmer in her brown eyes that made her knees knock. Tracing the slope of her nose with her eyes and the sharp line of Aubrey’s jaw.

Shayne’s hand meets Aubrey’s cheek before nudging the corner of her lip with her thumb. “You have frosting on you, dummy.” She sucks the bright green frosting off of her finger, before mushing Aubrey’s face to the side.

“Wait, wait.” Aubrey urged. Her hand reaching for her girlfriend’s wrist and pulling her back.

She slides her hand behind her neck and pulls Shayne into a kiss. Lips softly meshing together as her mouth sucks at Shayne’s bottom lip. They hum as they pull apart, frosting from Aubrey’s mouth staining their lips.

“I like spending Christmas with you, Shay.” Aubrey admits, kissing the girl’s temple.

The admission makes Shayne smile like a school girl and she snakes her arms around Aubrey’s waist, the material of her button up pjs riding up just barely.

“Same time next year?”

“Absolutely.” Aubrey nods eagerly, dipping her head to plant kisses across Shayne’s jaw. “Y’know what else I think?”

“What?” She sighs, slowly getting distracted by the feeling of her lips.

“You should let me eat another cookie before we go to bed. Know what I mean?”

Shayne snickers at the insinuation, pushing her hands to the athletes chest. “And this is when I walk away from you.”

“Shay, c’mon!”

paige and jolene’s christmas eve 🎄

“Kissing underneath the tree. I don’t need no presents girl, you’re everything I need.” justin bieber 2011

“Ma, c’mere!” I call out, stand in front of Jo and I’s tree with my hands on my hips. The pines were decorated in white lights and gold ornaments, Jolene put on some candy canes on it too.

She trudged into the room, her thick socks softly padding against the ground with each step she takes. She wears a plaid onesie, her recently straightened hair tumbling down her shoulders.

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to show you sum.” I reach my hand out for her and she takes it, stepping over the stack of our presents and over to me.

Confusion covers her face, I can assume she’s regretting leaving me alone in the living room with our tree. “Should I be nervous?” Jo laughs, pushing her hair behind her ear. “You know I don’t do surprises.”

“I know.” I nod. She hates surprises, mostly stemming from her hatred for being left out of the loop. “It’s not anything major, I just want to get all sappy and shit.”

She smiles that addicting smile of hers that makes my whole body feel like it’s on fire. I almost forget how long we’ve really been together when she looks at me like that, because every time it feels like I just met her when It’s really been years.

She drops our hands, instead wrapping an arm around my waist and leaning on my shoulder. “Show me.”

I reach behind the tree, looking for and spotting the sphere shaped ornament. It’s clear, a collage of images of the two of us filling the space.

Jolene lets out a gasp as she looks at it, and I remind myself to tap myself on the back for my unofficial gift to her.

“I’ve spent every Christmas with you since we were in eighth grade.” I say, letting the ornament spin on my finger for her to see every image. “It’s crazy, ‘cause we grown as hell now.”

She laughs, “yeah, super senior.”

“Chill out. I’m getting sentimental.”

“You’re right, my fault.”

I point a a random picture before looking at it. “This was my first Christmas in D.C. You flew all the way out there to see me, and I remember telling my dad that I thought our Christmas streak would be broken and then you showed up.”

“I’ll always show up.” She murmurs, following my finger with her eyes.

“Then there’s last year in Minnesota. When we got snowed in, but I swore I wasn’t gonna go without spending my day with you.” The memory flashes in my head of how hard she laughed when she opened her front door and saw my body completely engulfed in snow.

“You walked two and a half blocks for me.” She reminisces along with me before taking it into her own hands.

“I guess what I wanna say is that, I can’t imagine not spending the holidays with you, Jo. This ornament represents all the Christmases of the past, and I wanna keep doing it ‘til I’m fucking 90.”

“And what happens at 91?” She asks. Jolene takes it upon herself to hang it up on the perfect spot, conveniently right where there was a gap between the other ornaments.

“I might be able to go a few more years after that.” I shrug. “You’re my gift every year. Ion need shit else as long as I have you. You’re everything I need every single year.” I admit.

Her smile illuminates in the lighting of the Christmas tree and she cups my cheeks, pulling me down to her height and kissing me without any more words. There didn’t really need to be anymore words, everything that was left unsaid was understood.

It’s so damn tender, soft and sweet like I’ve never felt before. Even after nine years of being able to call her my girlfriend. She licks at my bottom lip, parting them before slipping it into my mouth.

“‘M gonna marry you one day.” She mumbles into my mouth, and I nod, gripping her hips in an attempt to keep us both from falling into the tree.

I pull back, but not before placing another slow peck to her lips. “I love you, Jo.”

“I love you too, 5. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, mama.”

[speakergame]

Progress Report - 12/25/24

Hello and happy holidays!

It’s been a while, huh? 😅 my apologies for disappearing on you all. Long story short, I had a severe case of tendonitis in my shoulder, and have spent the last few months heavily restricted in my ability to type or do pretty much anything on the computer. And since I’m left-handed, and it was my left shoulder, writing the old fashioned way wasn’t much of an option either. It’s been absolute hell for me, to put it lightly.

I’ve finally recovered enough to be able to get back to work… slowly. More slowly than I’d like, honestly, but it is what it is. I’m trying my best not to overdo it and set my healing back. It’s easier said than done.

Besides the speed, however, work is actually going really well! Well enough that I have the next update very nearly ready to go. I have a really bad, game-breaking bug lurking somewhere in my code that I’m trying to unravel, but once I’ve found and squashed it, I’ll be able to roll the update out to patreon 😁

Beyond that, I also have a couple mini-stories planned (akin to the Spooktacular from a couple years back), the first of which is written and mostly-coded. I wanted to have it ready earlier this month, but again, work is slower than I want it to be. In addition, I want to roll out an updated version of the Idle Hands prologue/demo to my lovely and infinitely patient patrons, and I really hope to finally, finally release the first episode of Partially Stars.

Most of all, I hope to start being more active again on tumblr and to stop disappearing for months at a time. That’s my number 1 goal for 2025.

So that’s everything I’ve got for y’all for now! I’m gonna go back to fumigating my code so I can kill this bug, and with luck I’ll have something fun for you all very soon.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, happy Wednesday to those who don’t, and a Happy New Year to everyone. Enjoy the liminal week remaining until 2025, I love you all, and thank you as always for reading 💙💙💙

[magicfaealaric]

“He was just trying to look out for you. The same thing your father and I are doing. You had fun together.” She said earnestly. “And he’s a prince.. not a street kid turned servant actually servant was a rise in his station and he has us to thank..”

Alaric squeezed his hand not looking up as frost formed on the side table

“He froze our entire kingdom! He destroyed buildings, pieces of history nearly killed your father more than once and me.. and he was fully aware of what he was doing.” She glowered. “The prophecy the real prophecy did say.. his heart will turn to ice my son.. and that’s all I wanted was to protect you… he is not kind.. nor were his parents.”

Alaric didnt ever grow up with much... in fact he lived on the streets since he was a child and would stay in little abadoned buildings he saw. He tried to never steal instead would try and work only most places were afraid to hire him, not with the rumours of who his parents had been or at least his mother. "into dark magic so she was, a sorcerer" said another. "Can you believe her husband almost worked in the castle kitchen...? I heard their spawn even used to play wiht the prince.. disgraceful." They would say. There was one small llittle place barely staying open itsself that would give him anything left over. In return he would help with repairs. Alarics father wasnt father of the year up and leaving when he didnt want to sahre his wifes attention but he did teach him some things. His little shed had a whole in the roof but he didnt mind, Alaric loved watching the stars and when he had more energy painting them.

A loud eruption in the streets and suddenly a banging at his door sent him suddenly falling out of bed and rushing towards the opposite wall just to get a glance out of the window. Heart pounding he clutched his chest and stiffened before starting to barricade the door with anything he could find, iced objects suddenly flew across the room his hands quivering. "BY ORDER OF THE KING OPEN UP IMMEIDIATLEY. the king?? What did the king want with..

"BY ORDER OF-" enough of this" Anorther said and kicked the door down. Alaric fell back against the wall. "Grab him.. hes to be taken straight to the king.. this is the one... he owes the kingdom a great deal.. thinking they could rob the kingdom.. marry off to nobles.. pathtic. He'll do well as a servant." Alaric didnt understand a word of what they meant and yelped as he was grabbed. "Restrain him.. we dont want him possibly trying to escape or hurt our prince."

The queen knocked gently on Ferre's door. " I do hope you are up by now.. its nearly 9." She chided. "Its a beautiful day come down darling." @combeferre-the-mothman

[newtonsheffield]

omg baby neddy and Edwina concerts 🥺 do any of the other kids take an interest in music? Is Ben hella jealous because he can't compete as an uncle against an electric guitar? Does Edwina have a video of Anthony pretending to be a rockstar for blackmail that she ends up sharing anyway bc she cant resist? Down the line, if Josie never caves, does she give Edwina the ultimatum of garage studio or moving in with her (we know the obvious choice)?

Little Neddy is too young to really play the guitar but he likes to stand in front of Edwina who holds down the strings and he strums a little. He also likes to stands in front of Edwina’s band and dance while they play wearing his little blue duffle coat.

Edwina loves having this over Benedict. Benedict can add all the pages he wants into Hairy Maclary, can he let Neddy play the drums? Can he sing the Daddy and Amma song? No. Useless.

Edwina’s also… a liiiitle bit aware of how pictures of her with Neddy on Instagram usually gets her DMs absolutely flooded with invitations of all sorts.

Josie knows how to kill two birds with one stone, meanwhile. She has plans drawn up for her own house to have the garage converted to a studio but she thought it’d be funny to ask Edwina.

“So I’ve decided you can have your studio.”

Edwina nearly fell off her chair, “What?!”

“You can have your studio or you can move in with me.”

Edwina paused, narrowing her eyes at her girlfriend.

“Stop thinking about it.” Josie sighed, “Just move on with me.”

Edwina sighed, stepping into Josie’s arms. “Being married to a politician is going to ruin my reputation.”

“Who said we were getting married?”

Edwina rolled her eyes, “If we’re living together we’re basically married. Get used to being my wife.”

“You could just ask me.”

“Nope. We also need to get you a new oven. Because I cannot cook on that monstrosity.”

“Yes, Honey.”

[dodger-chan]

On this, a totally normal day, please enjoy this short scene featuring demon Steve Harrington:

“They’re con artists,” Steve asserted, rolling his eyes. “They’re nothing I need to worry about.”

It wasn’t that Eddie thought Steve was wrong. He’d read a book about their involvement in that possession and murder case in Connecticut five years back. It had certainly read more like fiction to him.

It was just that demons tended towards overconfidence. Or at least Steve did. Maybe that was more of a jock thing than a demon thing.

“You’re bound to the mortal plain by a two-bit ring from a Crackerjack box,” Robin snarked. “Forgive me if I’m a little concerned.”

There was that, too.

“I’ll have you know that ring cost me fifty cents. It’s solid nickel,” Eddie joked. But he kind of agreed with Robin. The ring was a flimsy object, and entirely incongruous with Steve’s preppy look. Even if the couple weren’t practiced demon killers, the ring would be an obvious target.

“So that’s why my finger keeps turning green,” Steve mused. “Look, I can’t let this stand, but one of you can wear the ring until they’re gone, okay?”

-------

Which was how Edde found himself twisting his old ouroboros ring around his finger, sitting in a diner booth across from Robin. Stealthily watching the demon hunters eat their lunch. Waiting for Steve to arrive. The wait wasn’t long, but it was tense.

Steve ignored them when he walked in, only paying attention to the couple seated behind them. Robin leaned forward and stole some of Eddie’s french fries.

“I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered. She was only half joking. They weren’t supposed to be there; Steve didn’t want either of them associated with a demon. But Robin was not about to let Steve face even fake demon hunters completely alone. And - coward or not - neither was Eddie.

He shushed her, keeping an eye on Steve as he sat down at the hunters’ table.

“I read the contract you signed with Susan Mayfield. Book rights to her daughter's story for a flat fee? Seriously? My deals are more fair.” Steve was facing away from them, so Eddie had to imagine the smug expression on his face. The older couple looked confused.

“Your deals?” The man asked, like maybe he hadn’t put it together yet.

“I’m sitting here right in front of you and you still have no idea.” Steve shook his head. “And you call yourself demon hunters. I knew you were just con artists.”

Understanding dawn on the woman first.

“You’re the demon,” she said, fear in her voice. “The one who killed those kids.”

“I am a demon. But no, I haven’t killed any kids in Hawkins,” Steve corrected. “Those three dead kids, the Mayfield girl’s injuries, that really was a human. People can be evil all on their own, you know.”

“Why should we believe you?” the man asked. He didn’t appear as afraid as his wife, but Eddie was an expert on posturing. The guy was about thirty seconds away from shitting his pants.

“Believe, don’t believe. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to keep you from writing your little book and ripping off the American public with your absolutely true demon stories.” Eddie would bet good money Steve was rolling his eyes. “I’m here about this.”

Robin nearly turned around to see what Steve was holding even though she knew what it would be. Eddie kicked her ankle and she turned back.

“You see,” Steve went on, “I made a deal with the Mayfield girl’s brother. It means I owe her a certain amount of protection. So this contract you sweet-talked her mom into signing? We’re going to rework the terms. I’m thinking percent off the gross?”

-----------

Notes:

"that possession and murder case" refers to the Arne Johnson murder trial, where the defense tried to argue the killer had been possessed by a demon. The book was titled The Devil in Connecticut and published in 1983. It's also the inspiration for one of the Conjuring films.

Allegedly (and I'm not doing enough research to confirm it because this six hundred word story has enough notes already) the Warrens paid people flat fees for the rights to their stories and then made bank themselves off of books and films about the 'hauntings' and 'possessions.' Frankly, everything I've read about them makes them sound like unscrupulous con artists.

"two-bit ring from a cracker jack box" is a reference to a Firesign Theatre sketch (The Further Adventures of Nick Danger) released in 1969; Robin knows it from her parents.

Two-bit means cheap in general, but also two-bits refers to a quarter, so when Eddie says he paid fifty cents for the ring he's saying it cost twice as much as Robin implied (still pretty cheap)

I doubt Eddie knows for sure what alloy any of his rings are made of, but cheap jewelry often contains nickel, and nickel can turn your skin green.

"percent off the gross" is revenue percentage rather than a percentage of the profit, so Max can't be cheated out of money via creative accounting.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 28

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Face The Raven

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  28/47

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You stopped fighting, your body came to an abrupt halt and it made him move his hand away from your mouth. In the darkness you could not see his eyes past the gap in the helmet he wore, but he stood so close that your nostrils vaguely caught his scent. That awful plant’s effect had also been weakening your heightened sense of smell. “Lancelot?”

Those candle holders proved to be an enemy to him when they stood between you and him. The sight of one in your hands made his head hurt at the memory.

He nodded, his hold on you changed drastically, he cupped your cheek and rubbed your arm. “Are you hurt?”

“You’re alive…” Seeing him alive and well had a strong reaction in you, you threw yourself into him, embracing him with all your might. First you felt him tense up, but he quickly relaxed and brought his arms around you to reciprocate.

He knew he should make haste before they found the dead guard down in the dungeons. But this… was hard to deny himself of.

It felt so serene to hold him in the dark, to feel his chest move with each breath he took, if only it had been in a different location.

“I’m so happy to see you.” you murmured against his shoulder.

Slowly he began to loosen his hold. “I feared the worst…”

So many scenarios had run through his head whilst searching for you. He feared Aldith had taken you to the paladins, or worse, Abbot Wicklow.

“Please, Lancelot, don’t let go of me yet.” Your hold on him got tighter, you didn’t care that it would betray how vulnerable you felt in that moment.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, what you had said must have meant more to him than you had expected. That light scratching at your scalp of his fingers was ridiculously comforting, it was such a good feeling especially when he included the back of your neck.

You forced your wandering thoughts back together. “They have Percival, they’ve been keeping him locked inside the dungeons. If I didn’t obey Lord Leoric, he said he’d hurt him.”

“He is safe.” he hushed. “Percival has never set foot in this castle.”

You leaned back to look at him, ignoring the urge to rip that helmet from his head. “What-… he was never really here?”

Lancelot shook his head, understanding why they had wanted you to believe this. “He was with me. Currently he is waiting for us outside.”

“They lied to make me obedient.” you scoffed bitterly. “But I am glad that it was a lie. Unfortunately they used that lie to make me drink some of that plant’s sap that they used on me before.”

“What?” he grew gravely concerned, just days ago it had nearly killed you. “Are you ill? What is it doing to you?”

“It’s to make me too tired to use my magic.” you explained. “My father learned about my ability to create fire, but I don’t think they know just what that green fire truly is.”

“He is here?” he asked, “Aldith is here?”

It was a sickening thought that you were in the same building Aldith was in. “Yes. Ravenwick is no longer safe. After your indiscretion towards the Church, the Trinity Guard went to Ravenwick, no doubt to see if we would show up there.”

“My ‘indiscretion’?” He was smiling under that helmet.

Hearing that slightly playful tone was like a salve to your mind. “You know, that time you humiliated the Trinity Guard in front of Abbot Wicklow.”

He nodded a few times, chuckling warmly, then pointed at one of the chairs. “I found your clothes by your scent, they are over there. I believe they will be more comfortable to ride in than that dress.”

You were sure glad to hear that. They had found and taken your clothes away even though you had hid them. And a dress was not very handy if it would come to battle, you didn’t want to trip over the fabric of it. “How did you even find me?”

He sounded like it was such a normal thing to remember a small detail like that after so long. “You told me once that Aldith knew someone here in Morrowstead who was interested in you, I simply sought out the wealthiest person here.”

It left you near speechless. “You remember that?”

He nodded, then steered you by the arm towards where the clothes were. “We should leave. Percival is waiting by the horses in the forest. Go and dress yourself.”

That was a risky thing. “They could find him!”

“He’s not alone.” he said. “Fear not. The boy is safe.”

Who was with him…? “Not alone?”

The sound of footsteps approaching the door made your heart jump into your throat. “Dammit. You need to hide!” You quickly grabbed the stack of clothes, pushing them into his hands, then took him by the arm and rushed him towards the bathing area behind the curtain, whispering, “Don’t come out until he’s gone.”

That curtain was only just closed behind him when the door opened and Lord Leoric walked in, looking a bit surprised to see you there.

“Still awake?” he questioned out loud and placed the candelabra he carried on the table. “That spares me the trouble of waking you. Come here.”

You feared what would happen if Lancelot was found, this place had to house many guards and no one could fight off such a large group of them if they were to attack, not for long at least.

Lord Leoric watched you approach and made you halt when you were halfway there. “Did you bathe tonight?”

That answer came fast. “Yes.”

“Good.” he said, getting closer. “I could not sleep. My study keeps me awake. I came to find answers to some of the questions I have yet to solve.”

Gods… what did he want now? More Fey Fire? Or were you going to have to drink more of that plant’s sap?

He stopped a few steps away. “I see no Fey marks on your face, while the Weeping Monk apparently had ones beneath his eyes. How come you do not have them?”

Your back was facing the direction of the bathing area, and you could only hope that Lancelot was staying hidden. “Mine are different. They are hidden.”

“Hidden where?” he asked.

You dragged a finger from beneath your eye and over your cheek. “Here. Sometimes they show themselves. But I have no control over it.”

You considered it unwise to give him too many details about the Ash Folk. An Ash tree was one of the things that would certainly cause your markings to appear. Why? you did not know. And you certainly didn’t want to be experimented on to find out.

Lord Leoric hummed pensively. “Are there other places where they would show?”

“No.” It made you wary.

“I should not trust you to speak the truth. You would lie to spare yourself.” He crossed his arms. “Take off the dress and then turn slowly. I want to see if what you say is true. You can dress again once you have done that.”

There was absolutely no way that you were going to oblige, and he couldn’t use Percival to blackmail you to do it. “No.”

The reaction was expected, but he was displeased nonetheless. He grew agitated quickly. “Must I call upon my guards to help you?”

Something dropped to the floor with a loud metal sound in the bathing area and caused you to jump a little. Your reaction to the noise may have been what made Lord Leoric not view you with suspicion. The Hidden’s whispers warned you of the storm about to break loose from behind the curtain. And in that moment, you were counting on it. This sadistic bastard asking you to undress was the last straw. Study or not, this was madness.

“Go and sit on the bed.” Lord Leoric commanded as he drew his sword. “Do not move from there!”

You walked to the bed as he approached the bathing area and sat down, with patience and odd curiosity you watched him move the curtain a little and step behind it. Somehow you weren’t worried, not even when more sounds of falling items reached your ears. That Lord was not a good swordsman, he held his sword wrong, you knew because Lancelot had told you many times when you did it yourself. The bathing area grew eerily silent and only then did you feel how your heart went a little faster. The curtain opened and Lancelot stepped out, taking off the helmet and putting it down on the dresser. Even as he stood in the shadows you could see that his hands were unsteady. You rose to your feet, it was all your legs managed at the sight.

He tapped the top of the helmet with his finger once, fixing his eyes on it. “That shard was meant for him, was it not?”

“It was.”

“Good.”

Slowly you approached him, feeling the adrenaline radiate off of him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” He turned his eyes to you. “Did he behave this way towards you before?”

You knew what he was worried for. “I’m quite certain that he was only interested in studying me. But he went to cruel measures to do so. He even made me bathe constantly, like I was drenched in something vile. Like he wanted me to be just perfect for him.”

“The only one bathing now is him, in his blood.” He deadpanned, not caring if the jest was inappropriate. That bastard had been inappropriate too.

Hearing him speak of the dead in such a way was not what you expected, your mouth was a little agape. “Lancelot.”

He bit his lip for a second, but knew you did not expect for him to feel regret for saying it. “I will not pretend to have respect for a dead man who locked you away in here. I have been here for hours, I have heard the guards speak, I know he was trying to learn all about our clan through you.”

Seeing him so protective, and knowing he went through the trouble of even coming here to help, had made your heart wrap him inside of it warmly again. As he continued to quietly utter his dismay over what he had heard about your treatment there, you reached out and took hold of his hand, cradling it inside your own. He fell silent mid-sentence, his hand was completely still.

“Are you certain you are well?” he asked, worried by the gesture.

“I am now.” Your eyes met his. “I was just thinking how grateful I am to know someone like you. Not many would do all that you have done for me. I am a little overwhelmed by that knowledge.”

He felt his heart increase it’s pace. Drawing air into his lungs felt suddenly quite a task. This was not the time to let himself be distracted and risk making a mistake.

His free hand closed what was the entanglement of your hands together. “Even if you were not my wife, even if you still hated me, I would still do it all for you.”

“I know.” Even to you, it was freeing to admit it.

His voice was somewhat unsteady. “We need to leave. I have found a path we can take. One moment, I will fetch your clothes.”

He went to get the clothes and handed them to you. You would have went to the bathing area behind the curtain to change clothes, but…

“Could you… uhm…” You made a circling motion with your index finger.

He immediately turned around and took some steps further into the room to give you the space and privacy. You changed into your clothes quickly, then grabbed your boots from where they stood at the end of the bed.

After you were done, you approached his side. “Back in my ‘filthy’ clothes.”

He frowned. “They are not filthy.”

You could not resist. “Did you sniff them to be sure?”

He had walked right into that one and rolled his eyes a little, shaking his head at the blatant attempt to get under his skin. “No.”

Why had that sounded like a lie?

“Ready?” he asked.

You nodded and allowed him seize your hand to guide you along. He picked up the satchel from the bed and handed it over, giving you a moment to put it on.

And so began the journey through the castle together, his more advanced sense of smell worked to his benefit. He was so calm and calculated, so certain of what he was doing. You trusted him effortlessly because of it. He only let go of your hand when it was necessary, then blindly fished around for it again until he found it. Just once did you mess with him a little by moving your hand just out of his reach when he was blindly fishing for it with his, near instantly he turned his head to look at you, worried until he saw the little grin on your face. Your hand was caught by him in a demanding way after that and it took everything not to laugh at his response. It was clear to see that he was once responsible for protecting Father Carden, he knew where to stand and how to walk in a way that shielded you the most from the threats of potential danger.

Almost did you come into sight of some guard patrolling, but he was quick to move you into the shadows again. The guard had noticed a shadow moving on the ground and drew his sword, he called out a name that you assumed belonged to one of the other guards. Lancelot moved his arm, maneuvering you to stand back and against the wall behind him. If he drew his sword, the guard would hear. He reacted when the guard came to pass the corner you both were hiding behind. Lancelot immediately tried to disarm the guard, but the man was build much broader than he was and managed to slam him with his back into the wall. Lancelot sank to the floor down to one knee, he was disoriented.

You weren’t going to stay in the shadows and sprung to action. The guard was broad, but that didn’t stop you from coming up behind him and grabbing hold of his helmet to yank him back with it. He angrily stumbled backwards until the helmet came loose and in a spur of the moment you struck him in the face with it. The guard bled from his nose but it was not enough to knock him down. There, on one of those fancy low pillars, stood a candelabra. You grabbed it and used every bit of your strength, that the plant still allowed, to hit the guard over the head with it. The force of the blow had even you stumbling to the side, the guard fell to the ground with a loud thud, he was not getting back up any time soon after that. You hurried over to Lancelot who had tried to stand but sank back down again.

You rubbed his back and realized that the scars must have been hurting after he hit the wall with his back. “Lancelot, are you alright?”

He winced a little, taking a few deep breaths. “Just a moment.”

When he sat upright a little more, stretching his back, you cupped the side of his neck, it instantly made him fix his attention on you.

Worry flooded your eyes. “Do they hurt?”

He knew what you had meant. “It will pass.”

You let your hand slip down to rest on his chest while he took a brief moment to recover.

His eyes fell on the candelabra, then back on you. “Thank you.”

You withdrew your hand. “I wasn’t going to let that bastard murder you.”

His features softened, a gentle smile played on his lips. He rose from the ground and collected your hand in his own, then started to walk with you through the castle again, resuming the path to freedom.

“We are almost there,” he whispered.

And then a bell rang through the castle, followed shortly by more of them. They must have found Lord Leoric and sounded the alarms. Lancelot walked faster, leading you hallway to hallway until you reached a door that was easily overlooked if one did not know it was there.

He had to duck to pass through the doorway and after you did so as well, he made certain that the door was closed. A narrow stairwell led down into the catacombs beneath the castle, it was unnerving to be there but the Ash Man paid no mind to those long dead. A set of very dusty old stone steps led up to a trapdoor, it’s lock had been forced open by him earlier. You followed him closely up the steps at his request because he feared someone might come and steal you away from under his eyes again. The moonlight that met your face held the place under a mystical glow. He supported you by the elbow as you stepped out from the trapdoor and unto the grass.

“We need to make haste.” He looked in the direction from where the bells sounded.

With that, you agreed. Together you hurried towards the forest, it was necessary to get out of the open grass field fast, those keeping watch on the castle’s walls could detect two people rushing towards the woods at any time. The sound of galloping horses was heard just as you reached the trees. Lancelot came to a sudden stop and pulled you with him into the narrow open space of a rock formation that was overgrown by moss and ivy.

“We are close. But I believe the guards saw us heading here.” he whispered in a nervous manner. “We wait here for a moment.”

Just as he had spoken you could hear horses slow down behind the rock formation. Lancelot’s hand went to the pommel of his sword, his other took hold of your lower arm, but his eyes were fixed on where the enemy could appear from. The tension of being caught had you breathing shakily, if they found you here… after that… Aldith…

Lancelot turned his head to face you upon feeling the tremble in your arm, his hold on it changed to a comforting one. He spoke with his eyes in that second, telling you that it was alright, you managed a small smile that lasted only a blink. He listened intently to his surroundings, and then the horses galloped away again. A breath of relief was released by you.

“Come.” He gave a soft tap against your arm with his fingers, urging you to follow.

The small stop in the running had given you some time to catch your breath and now you walked through the forest at just a slightly rushed pace. The walk did not last long anymore and after a few minutes Lancelot came to a halt at another rock formation. He took off the plated piece of armor that had been part of his disguise and discarded it.

“Born in the dawn?” he spoke in a normal tone.

Percival darted out from behind the rocks, saw Lancelot, saw you, and a blink of an eye later the boy was embracing you. “You’re alive!”

You knelt down to his height and reciprocated the warm welcome. “It’s so good to see you. I was so worried about you.”

The view behind Percival caught your attention, a man dressed in armor came from behind the rocks, holding the reins of Goliath and two other horses. Percival stepped back and saw you look at the man.

“Lancelot? Who…” you looked at him to see how he reacted to this man’s presence.

“He’s the Green Knight!” Percival announced with a hint of pride. “He’s my friend.”

Lancelot walked over to the knight. “Lord Leoric is dead. Her father is here and I believe he forms a threat. There are guards scouring the woods for us.”

“Then we should leave before they find us.” the knight said, handing the reins to Lancelot. The man approached you and introduced himself to you formally. “The name is ‘Gawain’. You must be y/n, friend of Percival?”

You watched him give a polite inclination of the head. “I-… yes. I’m y/n. I’m sorry, but I thought the Green Knight was captured and killed by the paladins.”

Gawain could hear the confusion in your voice. “I was.” He looked down. “A dear friend of mine gave me a second chance at life, one I will not waste. But that is a story for another time, because we do not have time right now.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see how Lancelot seemed to be rather relieved that this man was here, as if he had already formed a strange bond of trust with him. It greatly confused you how this knight, Gawain, did not seem to have ill intent towards Lancelot. You could tell that Gawain was Fey, Sky Folk by the scent of him if you really focused. And somehow you got the feeling that he looked a bit familiar, but you couldn’t recall ever even meeting him before.

“Percival, ride with me now.” Gawain beckoned for the boy.

Percival walked over to him but he did not reach the knight, an arrow flew just passed his head and the next moment Lancelot had grabbed him, shielding him from the threat with his body. There was barely a second to react when another arrow planted itself into a tree just beside you.

“We are under attack!” Gawain shouted.

All began to try and run from the direction the arrows were coming from, moving between the rocks to reach a more densely grown part of the forest. That chance was taken from you when the face of the one who had been a part of those abducting you appeared in front of Lancelot and Percival, bow in hand and aiming right at them. Percival had ran a bit up ahead of Lancelot.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.” Kazamir mocked them, then looked at you and Gawain. “That goes for you as well. Move and an arrow goes through that boy’s skull.”

Lancelot and Gawain were examining the situation, but their plan to defend themselves evaporated when they saw that others were walking up to Kazamir. Aldith walked into sight, along with some of his men that you recognized from Ravenwick. Lancelot was visibly trying to resist the urge to grab hold of Percival and get him out of harm’s way, but Kazamir was clearly hoping he would do so, it would be the reason to send an arrow through him. All four of you were kept under the threat of an arrow being send through you, bows and arrows where being aimed at all.

Aldith looked towards Kazamir, fury blazing in his eyes. “I thought you said the Weeping Monk was dead, Kazamir!” He noticed how the sellsword was trying not to look at him. “You were going to sell him to Lord Leoric behind my back, were you not?!”

Kazamir gave up on pretending. “I am a sellsword, Aldith. You of all people must understand that coin speaks loud. And Lord Leoric would have given me more coin than you could.”

“And now?” Aldith demanded to know.

Kazamir held no shame. “Lord Leoric is dead. Your offer is highest again.”

You were not surprised in the slightest. Aldith was no saint and neither were the people who he chose to surround himself with.

Aldith gave Kazamir a nod and got closer in your direction, sword in hand, your sword. He commanded one of his men, “Grab her,”

The sellsword grinned at Gawain as he walked past him to reach you. You saw Lancelot take one step when the sellsword roughly grabbed you by your arm and twisted it behind your back, a sword was held to your throat.

“If he moves again. Kill him.” Aldith had seen the Ash Man’s reaction and spoke to him, “I would say you did me a favor by killing Lord Leoric, now I can sell her off a second time. You however, are too much of a risk to be left alive.”

Percival had a murderous glare, much like the ones Gawain and Lancelot had. The sellsword returned with you to Aldith, and you couldn’t bear to look at Lancelot or the others, knowing what they may witness from your father’s behavior.

Aldith moved past his men to reach you. “After all these years, you should know by now that you cannot run or hide from me. Did I not teach you this?”

You forced your eyes away from him and to the grass beside him, a response he did not like and it made him grab you by the chin. He held the point of your own sword against your throat.

“You will choose in what order they die.” Aldith found joy in his sadistic ways. “Name the first.”

You spat in his face, not caring about the retaliation that would surely follow from him. And indeed his favorite retaliation towards you came in the form of a hard slap across your face that send you straight to the cold damp ground. The taste of blood filled your mouth and you spitted it out, your teeth had broken the skin inside your cheek. Aldith reached down to pull you back to your feet, undoubtedly to just send you back to the ground again.

His hand never got close enough.

An intensely bright green fire erupted from all around. Had the plant’s sap worn out? No… no this couldn’t have been your doing. This fire was brighter, stronger and more ruthless than it had ever been. The Hidden let their presence be known and it seemed even those of Manblood heard them now. Chills ran over your spine, your markings rose to the surface of your skin. Chaos erupted, steel collided with steel.

Percival ran over to you, shaking your shoulder, and helped you up from the ground. “Get up!”

The flames were everywhere, two of the sellswords were rolling over the grass in agony to extinguish the flames who only engulfed them more violently. It was hard to see who was where, and even Percival had not let go of your hand as he struggled to see through the bright flames that contrasted against the darkness of the night.

And then you saw Lancelot, fear slammed into your heart at the sight of him in a viscous fight against Aldith. His markings were glowing a deep fiery crimson beneath his eyes. Percival saw it too, then spotted Gawain fighting two of the remaining sellswords. What neither of you saw was Kazamir approaching fast, you barely had enough time to avoid being grabbed. And as if it was instinct, you pushed Percival out of harm’s way. Kazamir lunged at you, aiming to hit you just as Aldith had done but you evaded it. Suddenly he sank to the ground, yelling in agony. Percival stood behind him, the small knife in his hand was bloodied from stabbing Kazamir in the buttocks. You reached for the knife, Percival already anticipated it and handed it over quickly.

You send that knife deep into Kazamir’s eye and swore to remember getting Percival a new one instead. “That’s for murdering Amelia, you scum!”

Kazamir fell face first into the grass and you ignored the sick feeling it caused in your stomach. Percival was looking at you with wide eyes, you on the other hand were looking where Lancelot and Gawain were. Gawain was fighting the last sellsword standing. Lancelot was still in combat with Aldith. Through the Hidden’s whispers you could sense his rage, the uncontrollable fury that was causing him to be reckless and unfocused. They were warning you of the danger that the Ash Man refused to acknowledge.

You picked up Kazamir’s sword and handed it to Percival. “Stay here!”

Percival nodded, then looked rather impressed with the blade he had been handed, it had been quite some time since he had held a sword.

Aldith was taking advantage of the blinding rage Lancelot was in, he even laughed as he parried the attacks. Aldith drew a dagger as he locked crossguards with him, your dagger. You foresaw what he intended to do and grabbed Aldith’s arm, preventing him from sinking the dagger into Lancelot. Lancelot was quick to steal the sword from Aldith’s grasp and discarded it to the side. Aldith tried to grab you, to use you as a shield, but that attempt received a gruesome reaction. A bone cracking sound sounded as Lancelot twisted Aldith’s arm and then dragged him away from you by the limp hanging limb. Lancelot threw Aldith to the ground and took one step back, trying to regain control over the storm raging inside of him. Two seconds passed and he kicked Aldith back to the ground when he tried to get up. He briefly looked at Gawain to see if the knight needed aid, but Gawain was just pulling his sword out of the sellsword’s guts.

“Lancelot.” You stepped to his side, holding up a hand to make him halt. His eyes were so dark and intense that you feared he would not listen.

Instead his eyes fixed on your face right away, before you could say a word to calm him and make him regain control over his anger, he reached out and cupped the side of your neck. His markings returned to their ashen-like state.

He was trying to see the damage that Aldith had done to your face. “I am sorry.”

He swore to protect you against him, that Aldith would never lay a hand on you again, and he had failed.

You were trying to understand what on earth he was apologizing for.

Aldith scoffed, mocking him as he tried to get up from the ground. “Pathetic fool.”

Percival pointed the sword to Aldith’s nose, Gawain proudly stood beside him and kept a watchful eye on it.

“Aim at his eyes, boy.” Gawain encouraged and saw Percival follow the given advice. “Good lad.”

You took Lancelot’s hand from your neck. “I need your sword.”

Lancelot did not react, not knowing why you were making that request. You reached for it and took it from his hand, slightly surprised by how he did not prevent it. Aldith watched you get closer to him, the sword restless in your hand. You hated how your hands were unsteady, it shouldn’t have been so hard to do what had to be done.

Aldith saw the doubt in your eyes. “First you kill Cassian, your own brother, and now me?”

Gawain tugged at Percival’s jacket, moving him out of the way. Lancelot did not take his eyes off of the threat on the ground for even one second now.

“You sold me. You sold me.” you gritted out, tears burning in your eyes. “After everything I did for you and Cassian, after all I suffered through at your hands, you sold me! You hounded me through the lands when you could no longer lay claim on me and you’ll try to do it all again and again.”

“You owe me a debt!” Aldith spat out. “My son is dead because of you!”

You refused to let him put the blame on you again. “He would have been alive if he didn’t treat me like I was cattle to sell!”

“You are nothing more than cattle to sell with that filthy blood inside of you!” he shouted back.

Lancelot took a step forward, you stopped him by holding a hand in his path. This was not his duty or responsibility, this was you taking back the control over your life that had been stolen from you.

Your grip on the sword tightened. “I am Fey. I am Fey! I won’t hide my nature any longer. My mother was of the Ash Folk, her blood runs through my veins, and I’m proud it does!”

Aldith began to get up from the ground, Gawain wanted to stop him but you gestured for him not to do so, he had no weapons in reach anymore. “Your mother was weak, just as you are!”

Inside you had shut down any form of bond there may have been to this monster. All you could see was the threat he posed, to you, to those close to you and to all the Feys unfortunate enough to cross his path. He was the darkness suffocating the light out of you, leaving you in ruins over and over again, haunting your dreams and poisoning your days.

“Enough of this.” you adjusted your hold on the sword. “If you reunite with Cassian in the burning pits of hell, tell him I hope he burns as well as your sellswords just did.”

The cold comment took even Percival by surprise, the boy looked at you impressed and approvingly. Lancelot’s eyes were different now, his gaze swiftly moved over you.

“You!-” Aldith moved fast.

But the steel in your hands was quicker, it was just as you had imagined it happening. With one swift swing of the sword, the edge of the blade cut through Aldith’s throat. Aldith stumbled to the side in shock, his hand flew to his throat, he tried to speak but all words drowned in his blood. He stumbled all the way to a tree and leaned against it for support until his legs gave out under him. His body shocked a few times, then he was completely still. Lancelot was looking at it happening, processing how quick that had just all played out before him, as were Gawain and Percival. You walked over to Aldith, breaking your wrist free from Lancelot’s hand as he tried to prevent it. Aldith laid facing away from you and you walked around him to see his lifeless eyes. You need to see them, to know that it was truly over, that fleeing from him was over.

“It’s over.” you quietly spoke, hearing how monotone your voice was.

Lancelot had picked the sword, that had been stolen from you, up from the ground and walked over to you with it. It was Gawain who found the dagger that had been dropped to the ground in the chaos of the fight, he gave it to Lancelot who brought both weapons over to you.

“It is over.” he agreed, offering you the weapons.

With unexpected steady hands you took them, handed him back his sword, and returned your own sword and dagger to the belt at your waist where they belonged. The flames had almost completely extinguished, another proof that they lived only at their creator’s will. You were quiet when stepping away from Aldith’s corpse and going into the direction of the horses more.

Gawain was the first who dared to ask, “Are you alright?”

“I just killed my father.” you told him.

The knight send a sympathetic look. Percival came to your side, standing a little against you but not fully daring to intrude on the silent air you kept around you now.

Lancelot stepped to your side as well. “You made the right decision.”

“I know.” But learning to live with it would take time.

“We should go.” Gawain looked at Lancelot. “The fire will have drawn attention from afar.”

Lancelot noticed that questioning look the knight send him and knew he would have to explain himself later. The knight tapped Percival on the shoulder and gestured towards the black stallion with a small white pattern on it’s back.

“But we have three horses. I rode the mare here.” Percival scrunched his nose.

Gawain sighed and steered the boy towards his horse. “Y/n will ride the grey mare. We have Gringolet to carry us.”

Percival sighed in defeat, grumbling his inaudible disappointment. Gawain took the sword from the boy and helped him up on his horse making sure that the boy was seated safely. You went to the grey mare, brushing a hand along her neck. Lancelot stopped close at your side, again trying to see if your face had sustained damage from being hit. You didn’t feel very alert or present, it was a quiet state of shock that you hoped to hide. But it seemed that by hiding it, it got more obvious.

“It will just be a bruise.” you did not make eye-contact with him.

He was forward with voicing his concern, “I worry most about the state of your mind right now.”

You shook your head, taking in a deep sharp breath through your mouth that filled your lungs to the brim. “It should not have been so simple for me to make the choice to kill him, and yet it was.”

He spoke quietly, seeing how Gawain and Percival were waiting. “Aldith chose to keep hunting you and you had the right to react to it. You were defending yourself, he was always the one attacking.”

That was true… Aldith wouldn’t have mourned you or felt sorry for your death for even a second.

“You have a conscience.” Lancelot said. “And compassion. There is no shame in feeling it.” He patted the saddle of the grey mare. “Go on.”

As you hoisted yourself into the saddle, he stood near in case you would accidentally misplace your foot in the stirrup. It was a small gesture, but it once again showed his caring nature. Such a small thing and still it was enough to feel a bit better, to allow yourself to feel that all would be well again in time, maybe not now, but it would be. By reaching down just a little, you were able to touch his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. The moonlight touched his face when looking up at you and you couldn’t deny that that sight made the beat of your heart change it’s rhythm. The Ash Man snapped his eyes away, quickly moved to Goliath and hoisted himself into the saddle. Lancelot shared a look with Gawain, who nodded in return. Together you began to ride through the forest, away from Morrowstead and to a destination no one was certain of yet.

Taglist:

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[ask-the-crimson-king]

The thing is, Magnus very nearly took that fate.

From Fury of Magnus:

But it never came.

The Legions reached the edges of the galaxy, and Magnus swelled with pride as Horus Lupercal and his Sons of Horus raised the Emperor’s lightning-bolt banner on the last world to be brought to compliance.

This never happened, he said, his mind one with his father.

+No, but it should have. It so very nearly did.+

Magnus’ mind flew back to Prospero, and he saw the world he knew and loved, its people flourishing, even passing on what they knew to visitors from all across the Imperium. His mind circled the planet, seeing fresh cities and arcologies, wonders he had never known, structures that bore all the hallmarks of Perturabo’s wondrous designs.

Where am I? he asked, not finding himself within the Pyramid of Photep or any of the other cities of glass and gold.

+Look to Terra,+ said his father.

Back to the birthrock he flew, and there, deep in the heart of the world, Magnus found himself in the great cavern of machines, sat upon the same Golden Throne upon which he had so recently seen his father.

Fear touched Magnus as he remembered seeing a vision of this, his physical body ravaged and husked out by the unimaginable cost of maintaining the portal.

I have seen this, he said. It will kill me.

+Look closer, my son.+

The vast doors before the throne were open, and a beatific light issued from what lay beyond. This was not the vision of his doom he had been shown, for here his face was serene and vacant, merely a vessel of flesh and blood. His subtle body was entirely absent. His father felt his confusion.

+Your spirit is by my side, as it is now. We fly the Great Ocean as explorers of the furthest reaches of consciousness. Masters of time and space. As we always dreamed.+

Why show me this? It never happened, and only twists the knife of regret deeper.

+The past is set, but not all futures are lost, no matter how broken they appear. This future, or at least a version of it, can still come to pass.+

The Emperor then goes on to explain to Magnus that a vision of the future, where things are mostly happy, is still feasible. Magnus only needs to come back to the Emperor's side, and do one last thing:

To have meaning. That was the last missing piece.

Then why do I hesitate?

‘There’s a price, isn’t there?’ he said at last. ‘No matter what the poets say, forgiveness isn’t free. It always comes with a price.’

‘It does,’ agreed the Emperor. ‘And it is a heavy price, but a necessary one. Your mind and body are still your own, but the warriors of your Legion are damned. In truth, they were damned the moment the first signs of the flesh change became manifest. Their bodies carry the seeds of their own destruction, and no gene-craft of mine nor the Selenar can undo it. You can come back to me, but your Legion cannot.’

Magnus felt a cold hand squeeze his heart, but his father was not yet done.

‘But I will build you a new Legion, a mighty host of warriors greater than any now living. Plans are already in motion to bring about their inception. Soon, you will command warriors the likes of which the galaxy has never seen, whose flesh will be flawless, whose fists are steel and whose hearts are armoured in adamantium!’

‘You would give me a new Legion?’

‘I would, and they will be the pride of the new Imperium.’

Magnus said nothing, picturing this fantastical new future, one in which his Legion sons were free of corruption, free of the fear that dogged their every step. Free from the dark shadow within them all that threatened to consume them.

[. . .]

It was all he had ever wanted… And yet…

‘How could I fight at your side, knowing I had condemned my sons to death?’ he said. ‘I would look upon these new warriors and see in them the faces of my betrayed Legion. What kind of father would I be were I to forsake them? How could you ask this of me?’

‘It is the only way, Magnus. In truth, your sons are already dead. Within no more than a few years rampant mutations will overtake even the strongest of them. One way or another they will die.’

‘I… I cannot abandon them, father,’ he said, his hands clenching into fists. ‘Their fate is not yet set. I will find a way to save them. I must.’

‘Please, brother,’ said Vulkan, taking a step towards him. ‘Come back to us, I beg you.’

[. . .]

Magnus turned back to Vulkan and said, ‘Would you sacrifice them [the Salamanders]? Would you betray even one of them for your own desire?’

‘I could not,’ he said, his deep tones heavy with grief and his right hand sliding down to the warhammer Urdrakule at his belt.

Magnus felt the end of his staff transform, becoming a bladed spear-tip once more.

‘Then why would you believe that I could?’ he roared.

They moved at the same instant. Magnus’ arm drew back to cast his staff at the Emperor. It was the perfect throw, his aim true and deadly. All his fury was bound into this strike.

Fury that his father had put this awful choice before him. Fury that He believed it was an offer Magnus would ever accept. But most of all, it was fury that he almost had.

So, he nearly did take up the position on the throne, in the name of a better future. I agree that people saying this is selfish are being kinda. I don't know. Lame? About the complexity of the situation surrounding his choice, but ultimately he chose to stay with his Legion and his Sons.

‘If I must be damned with my sons I will be full damned, brother.’

(◔_◔) "Magnus was selfish, he could have sat on the golden throne and rule humanity!"

The wonderful fate set by the emperor in question:

free png for reaction image purpose:

[buriedinmyownfeelings]

…I’m being very normal about this thanks for asking

[datcravat]

Kimberly Street Fighter 6 makes my gay brain go brrr

prints | patreon  

[bread-wizards]

I think that Orym actually does doubt Imogen, but this isn't a thing that is unique to Imogen. Orym doubts all of them to an extent, because paranoia is something he struggles with (and this is continuously reinforced by the story).

It's not a 'good' thing that he should never get over, nor is it an immoral character flaw that proves he actually hates Imogen. However it's also not something I think he can get over as long as the threat of having to possibly fight his friends exists.

"I have all the faith in the world in you guys, all of you. And I have also spent time thinking how to neutralize each of you."

[oceans-beloved]

Meme dump yayyy🥳✨️

(off to make more now muhahaha >:3)

[flufflecat]

Today I got to have an entire 3 message long dm convo with Alex Hirsch. I am never getting over this high.

[fallloverfic]

I love singNsong again reminding people in Side Story that Dokja wanted other people to read TWSA (he wrote reviews and comments! It was his first wish), and he only stopped bothering because people harassed him for it. He didn't gate-keep the story. When he's avoiding talking to Sangah about it at the beginning of ORV, it's because he knows what happens when he tells people about the story, not because he's gate-keeping it from her. He notes he's not proud of his hobby (likely because he's been bullied all through his life, including for reading the thing he loves): he finds it embarrassing to talk about, and better respects her studying Spanish in her free time (learning another language is a generally accepted thing in society). He assumes she won't care or will look at him funny (or worse) for when she learns about the novel he's into.

Basically anyone writing "let's gatekeep ORV" posts because of the anime announcement or because they dislike the manhwa or some other weirdness, y'all are the villains in the scenario.

The literal climax of the story is about sharing ORV with as many people as possible. What story were y'all reading?

[warblogs17282]

Reminds me of someone else we know from s2 e7 tbh.

But in all seriousness, this post has me wondering what Andrealphus' and Striker's relationship is like following the trial, and what Striker's relationship with the public is following the trial as well.

With the latter of which I have gone into a bit of depth about within this post: (And read Anemicjellyfish's reply as well, she points out the wanted posters)

I'm still operating under the assumption that Blitz is still a very well-known imp a month later after the trial, although the lack of emails a month later does kind of blow a hole in that theory.

Based on what I wrote in the linked post above, I have two theories of where their relationship can go to.

1: Striker's standing with the public gets fucked naturally, meaning that the only person that would reasonably hire him would be Andrealphus, because otherwise he'd wouldn't really have any other consistent ways of earning money.

2: Again, assuming that Blitz is still a very well-known imp following the trial, maybe Andrealphus has the footage of Striker straight up lying (even in the public's perspective, which is something I cover in the post above, this reblog makes no sense if you haven't read the linked post above), which obviously led to Blitz nearly being executed. So maybe he's holding onto that footage to use as an insurance chip to ensure that Striker follows along with his schemes.

Which, as you've pointed out, Andrealphus now has quite a major motive for wanting Octavia out of the picture, which might be where Striker comes into the picture again, although I will admit that would be a little repetitive considering that we've already done a similar dance with Stella hiring Striker to kill Stolas already, but he's the only reasonable theory I have at the moment.

Is anyone else worried that this

Is the beginning of Andealphus deciding that something needs to be DONE about Octavia?

Presumably, the time when she comes of age and her psychopathic uncle loses power is looming (whether that's at 18 or 25 or whatever...). And I think it's possible that he would be fine with that if Via were able to be molded and used as a puppet for some time. (Although his ultimate goal is clearly to be SEEN as powerful. Did you see all those ice sculptures he made of himself?)

But Via is not moldable. Not in the way that Andrealphus needs her to be- she'd need to be easily intimidated, and she'd need to value conformity, because that's honestly all that he and Stella have when it comes to getting her on their side.

Stella let Stolas raise Via. Stolas raised her to think for herself, to pursue her own interests, to speak her mind, and to love herself. And among other great things, that produced a snarky kid who can't be easily bullied.

So Andrealphus leaves the scene upset.

He goes from speechless to falling back on classism to malice very quickly. I think that "you will regret this" applies to every single character present.

But even more, I think he's starting to see Via as an obstacle, and this will only increase as they keep spending time in the same household.

Octavia is not safe, and this will be a huge threat in Season 3.

(@akirathedramaqueen your fic hits all the notes)

[ruvviks]

introducing night city's second worst family (please for the love of god click for better quality!) // most of them belong to @reaperkiller =^) diana "vulture" crane >> a high profile fixer from city center's velvet harbor; stays out of the family business and with that avoids most of the drama that comes with it maxwell crane >> diana's ambitious younger brother and ceo of the spaceship elysium; competitive and brash and generally doesn't get along well with others kinsley osborn >> maxwell's wife and ceo of the spaceship elysium; idealistic and somehow still believes that arasaka doesn't own them (they do (but they're also getting fucked over by cobra cybernetics)) jesse colton >> the youngest of the coltons and the only bearable one; doesn't want to be involved but loves to create family drama on purpose to make everyone else worse william colton >> the oldest of the coltons and ceo of cobra cybernetics; sweatiest sack of potatoes of a man you've ever met and that's all you need to know about him luiza colton-vidal >> william's wife and oldest sibling of the vidal family; absolutely here for the money but she's good at keeping up appearances (and yes she gets william killed (it takes everyone almost a year to figure that out)) alana cartier >> brilliant arasaka scientist and head scientist of arasaka's serpent projects; used to be married to sebastian vidal (luiza's younger brother and main test subject of project cobra) andrew colton >> the middle sibling of the coltons, alana's husband, and head of arasaka's special programs branch; he's the cause of everything that happens in the story