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wishchip106 · 12 days ago

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What are so good fanfic recs you have???

here’s a big list of fics i have read and recommend

(if i included all of them this post would be a lot bigger 😭)

The Bird’s Opening by druswriting (M)

Erik knew one thing about the story for sure; even if the Capitol created him, he was no one’s property.

Tessellation by nekosmuse (E)

He had been following Xavier's career for years. He had read and reread and reread again everything the man had written. He had tried, on more occasions than he could count, to recruit Xavier into the Brotherhood, but each request for a meeting had been denied. Aside from his work, no one knew anything about Xavier. Not what he looked like, not the full extent of his power--though from what little they did know, he was by far the most powerful telepath in existence--and not what his intentions were.

The man was a recluse. As far as Magneto knew, Xavier had never once stepped foot outside his impenetrable Westchester manor. And now he was scheduled as the keynote speaker for the largest pro-mutant conference in the world.

Hollow Minds and Dead Souls by helens78 (E)

When Charles and Erik take a portable version of Cerebro out to New Mexico as part of their mutant recruiting trip, they aren't expecting to find out the town's falling victim to an epidemic. But things are far worse than they seem, because this is no ordinary virus. Will Charles and Erik find their way home in time to help save the world... from zombies?

Repeat Offenses by populuxe (M)

“Prickly bits aside—hell, for the two of them, prickly bits included—it almost felt like a date. Which is stupid on multiple fronts. Grudgingly buying your ex a meal after he grudgingly bails you out of jail is obviously not a date.”

Five times Charles bailed Erik out of jail—and one time he didn’t.

Replay by SlightWeasel (M)

After Magneto of an X2-ish future succeeds in the unthinkable, Charles sends his consciousness back to 1962 to guide Erik away from the path that will lead to the genocide of the human race forty years hence.

Charles knows that Erik has always loved him, and intends to use this knowledge + sex to seduce Erik away from his ideals in his youth.

There's no way this well-thought-out, sensible, debugged and 100% bulletproof plan can possibly go wrong.

Special Topics in Mutant Studies by populuxe (T)

The trouble with Charles Xavier isn’t just that he teaches genetics and holds terrible views about mutant rights—it’s also becoming increasingly clear that everyone but Erik seems to love him.

Thou shalt Not Eat Stones by valancysnaith

Two months after Washington, Raven found Erik in a skeevy motel off the Florida interstate.

“They have Charles, Erik,” she said.

The bedframe shrieked. In the bathroom, the showerhead snapped in half and clattered into the tub.

Lucky, Lucky you (i am fortunes fool) by @stinkrat-aleks (T)

Charles buys a houseplant to prove to his therapist that he can take care of something. Single father Erik sells them at the local farmer’s market every Saturday.

Paper Monsters by clocks (E)

Charles meets Erik Lehnsherr, his favorite novelist of all time at a coffee shop, but doesn't know it's him, and Erik just criticizes his own writing in front of his biggest fan.

Hear Me Out by @star-lights-up (T)

Nineteen-year-old Charles Xavier and his friends have been posting their group hijinks on TikTok for two years – though when it started, they never expected to go viral, or to end up making a steady living as content creators. It’s something that comes with a lot of surprises, like when Charles puts a picture of his celebrity crush, the mutants rights activist Erik Lehnsherr on a hear me out cake… and he responds.

in the end, it all comes down to you. (you want it all; you’re all i want) by @mapofyourstars (M)

Steve reaches out to Charles, asking for a partnership between the Avengers and mutants. Given the recent decade of peace between mutants and non-mutants thanks to Erik and the Brotherhood, Charles isn’t quick to accept Steve’s offer. Charles takes Steve’s concerns to Erik, and after involving others pivotal to mutants' safety, Charles and Erik agree to help the Avengers. Throughout this journey, however, Charles and Erik will be forced to make rash decisions that will change their lives' course; acknowledge their past and present, coming to terms with the pain suffered at the hands of the other; and lead others into a galactic battle to save their loved ones and each other.

Incy Wincy Spider by Tawabids (M)

Erik Lehnsherr is a renowned homicide detective, with his husband Charles at home and his partner on the job, Moira MacTaggert. When a twisted serial killer starts targeting mutants, Erik and Moira are the perfect team for the job, especially since Erik himself is the mutant poster-boy of an NYPD trying to improve their image.

But what they don't yet know is that the serial killer is an old soul out of Erik's past, and his next move is to pull Charles into his web.

Rumor Has It by blueink3 (M)

"Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Favorite Mistake by endingthemes (M)

Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

An Ideal Grace by afrocurl, nekosmuse (M)

Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

Boden’s mate by kaydeefalls (T)

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

The Plus-One by populuxe (T)

When Erik grudgingly agrees to play Raven's boyfriend at her terrible family's holiday party, he'd thought the biggest challenge would be staying sober enough to make it convincing. But then he meets Raven's extremely hot—and extremely infuriating—stepbrother, and everything starts to get complicated.

Punnett Squares and Metal Hearts by roseghoul (w.i.p but you should still read it) (M)

Charles Xavier taught biology at Westchester High School and has for the past seven years. If you were to ask his sister, Raven, then she’d say it was a waste of his Ph.D., but he was inclined to disagree. Founder of the Students With Disabilities Club, he’s created a bit of a name for himself at the school, nurturing an environment that encourages learning and acceptance.

Erik Lehnsherr has thirty-six years under his belt, yet not a single one has been spent teaching, despite his Industrial Arts degree. Yet he accepted a teaching position, in the United States, of all places. Desperation for a new life would lead many to do rather rash things. After many months and piles of documents and certifications, he’s now a shop teacher at Westchester High School, and his first year is just around the corner.

It’s a week before the first day of school when Erik meets Charles, and he’s put off by the optimistic man, yet curious to learn more about him. Charles, ever the kind soul, is eager to bring a new teacher under his wing, but his reasons are far from selfless, enraptured by the handsome, mysterious man with an even more mysterious history.

Fallen from the Stars by madmalina (M)

Erik’s only purpose in life is to find and kill the man who had his parents executed—Sebastian Shaw, Captain of the Emperor’s fleet. When Erik gets assigned to a job under Shaw’s command—on the spaceship supposed to take the Crown Prince across the galaxy—he’s sure he’s closer to fulfilling his destiny than he has ever been before.

Charles is apprehensively awaiting the day of his twenty-fifth birthday, when he’ll be crowned Emperor, because not only does he have high doubts about his own suitability for the job, he fears the crushing responsibilities it will bring, and ultimately wants nothing more than to live a quiet and peaceful life.

However, the trip across the planets of Charles’ future Empire turns out differently than they both expected, shedding light on intrigues reaching back decades into the past, and forcing both men to put their lives into each other’s hands, even though their differences are seemingly infinite.

#this took a while to make but here it is #hello to the people i tagged 🫣#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmen #xmcu #fic rec #cherik fic rec #wish answers

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heliads · 1 year ago

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HEY HEY HEY!! can u make a the darkling x reader soulmate au?? one where reader is a powerful grisha and has lived nearly as long as he has? they walked the earth and met each other a few times, not knowing they were the same people. sometimes, a romance almost happened, but because they knew they would outlive them, it never happened. How about aleks meets reader by chance in a village near fjerda and they recognize each other for the first time and realize they are each other's soulmate? ♡ U!!

HEY HEY HEY!! your au is that your scars stay on your soulmate's skin.

masterlist

You would think that the centuries would go by faster once you’d experienced enough of them. When you grow up, it’s like the years pass with greater and greater speed, but there must be a leveling point to that mad exponential curve, because you reached it a long time ago. The decades don’t fly by anymore, they drag like the heels of your boots in the soft mud connecting the Wandering Isle to Novyi Zem.

That particular sinking earth is gone, much like most of the places from your memory. The land bridge between the two nations, which was already tentative at best back when you were born, has long been pulled under the current of the True Sea. Now, the recollections of old work boots falling into dirt have just as much hold as the place itself. Everything you knew is gone, constantly replaced by newer, flashier people and cities.

It haunts you sometimes, more often than not. You lie awake at night with a melody stuck in your head, one you haven’t heard in over two hundred years. There’s no chance that anyone remembers it except you, so you hum it to yourself, wondering if the ghosts of friends past can hear you or if they, too, are just ash and dust by now. Supposedly, they would have been folded into the welcoming arms of the Making at the Heart of the World, but you still harbor a hope that they’re still looking out for you.

Hope is all you have. As if it doesn’t mess with your head to trust your footsteps through a Ravkan town you’d lived in for decades, only to find that it’s doubled in size and population since you were last there. Or, when you finally remember that you owe a neighbor a favor, only to recall that their great-great grandchildren died out a century past. Nothing in this world is yours, not in the way that it was at the start. You can keep reinventing yourself, but it’ll never make anything stick.

All that musing over places long gone, and you still can’t convince the hours of the clock to turn by any faster. You’d like nothing more than for the years to skip by, to finally bring about your end of days or at least a change in them, because if you have more centuries under your belt, it’ll mean you’ll have searched all of the lands as many times as you can, and maybe then, you just might be able to meet your soulmate.

That, of all things, might calm your restless spirit. If it were not enough to have far more centuries in which to live out your life than the rest of the Grisha, you have to do it alone, too, knowing that most everyone you pass has someone out there built for them, someone to keep them company in a way you will never understand, no matter how many generations you live.

You often wonder if your soulmate might be out there somewhere. It’s an easy matter to spiral over. They could have been alive at the very start of your life, and died centuries before you could even meet them. Maybe there were only a few days in which your lives overlapped, or maybe you were born on the exact same day and never knew it until they died and you stayed, relentlessly, alive.

Or, worst of all, they could still be out there now, forever condemned to orbit the land at the other side of you, forever crossing paths but never meeting, always one step behind or hours ahead of schedule. There is, hypothetically, a way of telling if the person before you is your soulmate, but it only works if you have the fellow in front of you and the certainty only mad love can bring you.

In this world, in a world full of pain and pleasure, power and pride, the only way that you know for certain that you are connected with your soulmate are your injuries. They’ll show up on your soulmate’s skin, exactly at the same time and the same places as you receive them. They won’t feel the sensation of hurt as you do, and the bruises and cuts will fade as yours do, but in the minutes and hours in which you are bloody and damaged, they will be, too.

Scars last. That’s how most people know. When you see a childhood injury reflected on someone else’s knee or arm, you can tell it’s them. It’s as if a hook has been pulled through both of you, tying you together in a celebration of glitter and gore. It’s horrific, and it’s love, and no one has dared to mess with the process for the millennia in which soulmates have been around.

Least of all your soulmate. They marked you a long time ago, and although you weren’t there to see it happen, you can’t help but wonder at their rationale now. A scar curls around your left hand ring finger. It looks like a burn, and it must have been a serious one too, judging by the fact that it’s lasted this long.

You can imagine your soulmate somewhere out there, forcing a white-hot band of metal around their finger and keeping it on despite the unendurable pain until they knew the scar would last forever. Imagine what that must mean to them, to you. There is a message that they’re trying to send to you, patterned in the syllables of their scorched flesh: I love you to the point of agony, and past it. What a terrible sort of devotion for a soulmate. What a devastating burden of love for you to bear.

It makes you sick to your stomach, at times, and other days, it just makes you numb. Perhaps this is what you get, the Saints’ way of evening the scales. Everyone knows that the greed of a Grisha never goes unchecked, and maybe this is your diving retribution at last. You strove for too much too quickly, and now you have an excess of time in which you can ponder your failings, all alone for all eternity. It would make a sad sort of joke were it not at your expense.

After all, you should have died a long time ago, soulmate be damned. You started out life as a Heartrender, although you left the typical roles of that particular type of Corporalki behind long ago. At first, you merely shattered bone and spilt blood, but then you learned how to do more. Why kill one man when you can end dozens of lives with just as much force? Then, why kill when you can turn your attention towards yourself, healing not just surface wounds but deeper things, erasing the signs of age and wear until you were just as strong as you were at your prime?

Some would call it immortality. Others would curse it as witchcraft. You don’t need anyone’s misguided explanations anymore, though, your power will long outlive both them and their whisperings. It is power, plain and simple, and it is yours. You don’t just transmutate flesh and bone anymore, you shape life itself. Your life. Your life, extended forever, waiting for a soulmate who can keep up with you or die trying.

At times, you hate it, this prolonged life that you’ve given yourself. At the same time, the thought of dying without accomplishing all that you could is terrifying. The easiest thing to do is to keep living, keep drawing breath and wondering when things will change. If they don’t, well, at least you were here to see it.

After all, have you ever been satisfied with your lot in life? You send a silent plea to any Saints up there, if they're still listening at all or merely content to keep pulling their strings and directing you down darker, rougher roads. Let me rest. Please. They send only one word back, after everything: No.

So you continue your journey. Ravka needs your attention for a time, then you cross the True Sea to Kerch and Novyi Zem, and another century has passed by the time you think about returning to the eastern shores. The Shadow Fold makes things more difficult, certainly, but death is no enemy of yours, so you find ways of crossing, even if they take a while.

This time, you decide to cut through Fjerda on your various journeys. The wintry landscapes take your breath away, as they always do, but it’s a little difficult to marvel at the wonders of the country when they’re so fiercely dedicated to exterminating your fellow Grisha. You take it upon yourself to take out a few branches of the witch hunters, those treacherous drüskelle, and so you have a purpose for at least a little longer.

You get to take action upon this initiative while stopping in a small town close to the Fjerdan border for the night. While attempting to book a room in a local inn, you can’t help but pick up on the uncanny sensation of racing hearts somewhere closeby. You step away from the inn, distracted, and chase the sound of blood pounding through veins until it takes you into the surrounding woods.

There, you stumble upon what had been causing you such an uncanny sensation. A young woman, a Grisha Tidemaker by the looks of it, is attempting to evade capture by two upstart drüskelle captains. She hasn’t yet mastered her gift, and they’re well armed, so the situation is not good, to say the least.

Grisha are your people, even if you’ve become somehow separated from them by your many years. You fling out an arm and the two drüskelle go flying into the distance, clutching at their hearts as they burst in their chests. One more witch hunter materializes out of the gloom, but before he can fire off a round at you, a wave of shadow cuts off his breath and he falls to the ground, choking into stillness. The Tidemaker runs off the second the coast is clear, leaving you alone with this new stranger.

You turn around slowly, but the man emerging from the woods doesn’t seem to be a threat. He’s some kind of Etherealnik, but you’ve only heard of so many Shadow Summoners in your time. Perhaps there’s another one again.

“I came out to help,” he says, voice relaxed despite your hands raised at him in anticipation of a strike, “It appears that you didn’t need it, though.”

He doesn’t seem inclined to attack you, but you don’t trust the way he’s still hanging back in the shadows. You can’t see much of his face, nor his demeanor. “I’m no stranger to the drüskelle. They’ve always been the same sort of fools.”

“Always?” The stranger asks, allowing a note of humor to enter his words, “Have you been around long enough to judge them, then?”

You sigh. “Longer than you’d think.”

Instead of being put off by this, the stranger just grins, moonlight flashing on his teeth. “You’d be surprised what I think. I’m older than I seem.”

You look curiously at him. The man steps out of the shadows and into a patch of moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat. “No. That’s impossible.”

He’s not lying when he talks about being older than his appearance. You’ve seen this face before. Several times, if you’re not mistaken. A rebel against the Ravkan king a few centuries ago. A scholar of the Saints. A son trying to care for his mother. He’s been here whenever you passed through Ravka, but you never dared to assume that he could be anything but a familiar face passed down through the generations.

For some reason, on this night, you stop letting yourself doubt. This is a man who has been alive quite as long as you have, if not longer. Perhaps it’s the unearthly shine of the moonlight on the Fjerdan snow, transfiguring this scene into one of your memories, or perhaps it’s the fact that he’s taken his gloves off so he could summon his shadows, and you can see the imprint of a burn around the ring finger of his left hand.

No. It couldn’t be. After all this time, your soulmate cannot be the same young man you’ve crossed paths with half a dozen times before. What a cruel joke to play.

“Y/N?” He asks slowly, eyes as wide as yours.

You told him your name in one of your lives. He trusted you enough to say his back to you. “Aleksander?”

“Show me your hand,” he tells you, voice as steady as it’s always been.

When you hesitate, he crosses the clearing in a flash, standing in front of you. One of his hands curls around your wrist, holding it still, while the other holds up your fingers to the moonlight. He looks at the burn there, his burn, and at last, he smiles. It’s a proud look, almost vicious.

“You know,” he says slowly, “I always thought I’d marry you. I was a child then, and foolish, but I find I don’t mind the idea much anymore.”

He cocks his head to the side, staring openly at the scar he’d bound to both of you. You had wondered if you would fear your soulmate when you first met him, but instead, you just feel whole. A broken half has finally been reunited with its other part.

“Do you remember when we were both in Kribirsk together?” You ask slowly, haltingly, “I got a house right by the Unsea so I could study it. I think you were there for the same reason. We were the only two people in that whole town who weren’t afraid of it.”

He nods, eyes white with moonlight. “You fascinated me even then. When you left, I didn’t know how to live with myself. I started a whole new life just so the old one wouldn’t have to figure it out.”

You’d done the same thing. It took every bit of strength in you to go. You hadn’t wanted to leave the little house with the captivating man next door, but the other townspeople were starting to ask why you hadn’t aged since you’d shown up there decades ago, and the questions are only ever the start of your downfall. You’d cursed his name and yours in turn for the next few years until the heartbreak subsided.

“Before I left, though. We were alright.” You whisper.

He takes your other hand. “We’ll be alright again. It’s us now. Just us.”

“Just us,” you repeat, and for once, you let yourself believe it. You have it, your soulmate, him.

And at last, after centuries of wandering the land and sea alone, of second-guessing every shadow, of wondering what you did to deserve so much time by yourself without love, you realize that it has come to an end. All of it. There is no more solitude for you. Here by your side stands your soulmate. The long day has passed, and the rest of a quiet night shadows your threshold. It’s time to go home, so you think, but you’re already there.

requested by @cassiecrown, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

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mxnsterbabe · 6 months ago

Text

Male Changeling/Female Reader

SFW

Wordcount: 7,928

Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

One of your favourite clients is a changeling who uses their shapeshifting ability to hide their true form. Each tattoo session becomes a step closer to revealing the changeling's real appearance, and you realise he's more beautiful than expected.

The chime above the door of Ink Envy rang out, signalling the arrival of a potential new client. Izzy looked up from her sketchpad, pushing a wild tangle of dark curls out of her face. As the door swung open, she was greeted by the sight of a tall, striking man stepping into the parlour.

There was something about him that immediately caught her attention. He was handsome in an unconventional way, with a lean, well-proportioned frame that moved with effortless grace. His black hair fell in a straight, sleek curtain to his shoulders, contrasting sharply with her own untamed curls. But what really drew Izzy in were his eyes—an intense shade of violet that seemed to glow in the soft lighting of the studio.

She couldn’t shake the sense that she’d seen him before, though she couldn’t quite place where.

Izzy’s curiosity was piqued, and she found herself thinking, cute.

“Welcome to Ink Envy,” she called out, her voice carrying across the studio. She set down her pencil and stood up, her tall frame giving her a commanding presence behind the counter. “Can I help you with something?”

The man smiled, a small, enigmatic curve of his lips that revealed little but hinted at much. “Hi, I’m Aleks,” he replied, his voice smooth and warm. “I’d like to book a consultation for a tattoo.”

Izzy gave him a once-over, intrigued by both his appearance and his demeanour. She’d met all sorts in her line of work—humans, goblins, plenty of orcs—but Aleks was different. Something about him made her want to know more.

“Alright, Aleks,” she said, pulling out her appointment book. “What are you thinking of getting done?”

“A sleeve,” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. “Something intricate, with natural elements—vines, flowers, that kind of thing. I’m uh, pretty choosy.”

Izzy nodded, appreciating his thoroughness. A sleeve was a major commitment, and she respected clients who took the time to think through what they wanted. “Sounds like you’ve got a pretty clear idea,” she said, jotting down the details. “How did you hear about us?”

“A friend recommended you,” Aleks said, his tone casual. “Kamaria. She said you did an amazing job with her thigh piece.”

Izzy’s face lit up with recognition. Kamaria was a gnoll woman she’d worked with several months ago, who’d wanted a waterfall thigh piece. The memory of those long hours spent inking intricate patterns onto Kamaria’s furred arm brought a smile to Izzy’s face.

“Ah, Kamaria! She was a great client. I’m glad she sent you my way,” Izzy said, feeling a sense of pride. “Alright, let’s get you booked in for a consultation. When works for you?”

Aleks glanced around the studio, his violet eyes taking in the space with quiet interest. “Is there any chance you’re free now?”

Izzy looked at her schedule. The day had been relatively quiet, and her next appointment wasn’t for another hour. “Actually, you’re in luck. I can fit you in now if you’ve got the time.”

He smiled again, that same subtle curve of his lips that made Izzy’s heart skip a beat. “I’ve got time.”

“Great, let’s head over to the consultation area,” Izzy said, leading him to a cosy corner of the studio where a couple of plush chairs sat next to a table scattered with design books and sketches.

Aleks moved with that same effortless grace as he followed her, and Izzy found herself more intrigued by the second. There was a calm, almost ethereal quality about him, as if he belonged to a different world entirely.

They sat down, and Izzy pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, ready to sketch as Aleks described his vision. “Alright, tell me more about what you’re thinking.”

Aleks leaned forward slightly, his intense eyes meeting hers. “I want a sleeve that feels like it’s a part of me,” he began, his voice low and steady. “I’ve always felt at home in nature, you know?”

She smiled. “I get you. So, what exactly are you thinking?”

Izzy listened intently, her pencil moving across the paper as she began to sketch out the elements he described. She could tell that this tattoo meant a great deal to him, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I like the idea,” Izzy said after a moment, glancing up from her sketch. “It’s going to be intricate, but I think we can create something really special. This will be a multi-session piece, though—it’ll take time to get all the details just right, and a sleeve is hard work.”

Aleks nodded, his gaze never wavering. “I’m not in a rush. I want it done right.”

There was a sincerity in his tone that resonated with Izzy. She felt a strong urge to bring his vision to life, to create something that would truly reflect the person sitting before her. “Alright,” she said, finishing the rough sketch and turning it towards him. “Here’s a very basic outline. We can refine the details as we go, but does this look like what you had in mind?”

Aleks studied the sketch for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, he looked up at her, and for the first time since he’d walked in, his smile reached his eyes, softening their intensity. “It’s exactly what I had in mind. Thank you, Izzy.”

The warmth in his voice took her by surprise, and she felt a blush creeping up her neck. “No problem,” she said, busying herself with gathering the sketches. “I’m looking forward to working on this with you.”

They set a date for the first session, and as Aleks stood to leave, Izzy found herself reluctant to let the moment end. There was something about him that intrigued her in a way no client had before.

“Book an appointment with Ceth at the front,” Izzy said softly. “He’ll keep you right.”

“Thanks. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

She watched him leave, the door closing softly behind him, and couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something much more than just a tattoo. As she turned back to her sketchpad, she felt a thrill of anticipation, wondering what the next session would bring.

***

Two weeks passed quickly, though Izzy found herself thinking about Aleks more often than she liked to admit. Something about him lingered in her mind—those intense violet eyes, the way he moved, that strange, shifting quality in his skin. She pushed the thoughts aside, telling herself it was just the usual curiosity that came with meeting an interesting new client.

When Aleks walked into Ink Envy for his first tattoo session, Izzy almost didn’t recognise him. His sleek, black hair, which had fallen past his shoulders during their consultation, was now cropped short, barely grazing his ears. The new style accentuated the sharp angles of his face, and he was stunning.

Izzy raised an eyebrow as she set down her sketchpad. “New look?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

Aleks smiled, that same enigmatic smile that had caught her off guard the first time they met. “Yeah, thought I’d try something different.”

Izzy waved off his concern, though the change did throw her a little. “It suits you.”

She led him over to the chair, her mind racing. He looked different, more so than just a hair change. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she was missing, but she pushed the thought aside as she focused on her work. Tattoos required precision, and she needed to be fully present.

“Alright, let’s get you prepped,” she said, slipping into her professional mode. She handed Aleks a form to sign and gave him the usual run-down—how the session would go, aftercare instructions, and a few tips to make the process as smooth as possible.

He listened quietly, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt a flicker of nerves under his intense gaze. Izzy was used to being the one in control, guiding her clients through the process, but something about Aleks made her feel like he was the one holding the reins.

Once the formalities were out of the way, she snapped on a pair of gloves and began prepping his arm. She carefully shaved the area where the tattoo would go, her hands moving with practiced ease. His skin was just as smooth as she remembered, but this time she could see the muscles beneath, lean and defined. She disinfected the area, the scent of antiseptic mixing with the faint smell of his cologne—a warm, woody fragrance that was surprisingly pleasant.

“Let me just get the stencil on,” she murmured, focusing on the task at hand. She positioned the stencil with care, making sure the vines and geometric patterns lined up perfectly with the natural contours of his arm. It was a complex design, one that required precision, but she felt a thrill of excitement as she imagined how it would look when finished.

Aleks watched her work, his expression calm and composed. There was no sign of nerves, no fidgeting or anxious glances at the needle, just a quiet confidence that made Izzy feel like she was the one being scrutinised. She pressed the stencil down, smoothing it over his skin before peeling it back to reveal the ink outline.

“Take a look,” she said, stepping back to give him space to inspect it.

Aleks glanced down at his arm, his expression unreadable as he studied the design. After a moment, he looked up and gave her a nod. “Looks perfect.”

Izzy felt a flutter of satisfaction at his approval. “Alright then,” she said, her voice steady as she positioned herself beside him. “Ready to get started?”

He nodded again, settling back in the chair with that same easy grace she’d noticed before. Izzy took a deep breath and picked up the tattoo machine, the familiar buzz filling the air as it came to life. She leaned in close, her world narrowing to the point where the needle met his skin.

“So, is this your first tattoo?” she asked, her voice light as she began the first stroke.

“Yes,” Aleks replied, his tone as calm as ever.

Izzy glanced up in surprise. “Really? You don’t seem nervous at all.”

He shrugged slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I have a high pain tolerance.”

Izzy chuckled, but there was a part of her that was genuinely amazed. Most first-timers flinched or tensed up at the initial sting of the needle, but Aleks didn’t so much as twitch. His expression remained composed, almost serene, as she worked.

She continued inking the delicate vines onto his skin, her hands moving with careful precision. But as the session wore on, Izzy couldn’t help but notice how unusually still he remained. Even experienced clients would shift or fidget after a while, but Aleks sat as though he were carved from stone, his face betraying no discomfort at all.

The hours passed quickly, the design beginning to take shape as Izzy lost herself in the rhythm of her work. The vines twisted and curled around his arm, flowers blooming in the empty space. She paused occasionally to check his comfort, but Aleks always reassured her with a quiet nod or a calm smile.

“Still doing alright?” she asked, finally stepping back to wipe down his arm and get a better look at the progress.

“Never better,” he replied, his voice warm and untroubled.

Izzy shook her head in disbelief. “You’re a natural. Most people would be at least grimacing by now.”

Aleks’s smile widened slightly. “I guess I’m just built differently.”

She laughed, though his words stayed with her. There was something about the way he said it that made her wonder if he meant more than what was on the surface. As she looked at the intricate design now covering his forearm, she pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the satisfaction of seeing the tattoo come to life.

By the time the session wrapped up, the initial outline was complete. Izzy stepped back, wiping her brow and admiring her handiwork. The tattoo was still in its early stages, but already she could see how it would come together in the next few sessions. It was a beautiful design, one that she felt proud of—and one that seemed to suit Aleks perfectly.

“All done for today,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of reluctance as she began cleaning up. “We’ll need a few more sessions to finish, but it’s looking good so far.”

Aleks examined the tattoo in the mirror, his expression thoughtful. “It’s perfect so far.”

She felt that same warmth creeping up her neck, but she masked it with a smile. “Glad you’re happy with it. You’re handling this like a pro.”

He met her gaze, those violet eyes holding hers for a moment longer than necessary. “I trust you,” he said simply, and the sincerity in his voice left her momentarily speechless.

Izzy watched as Aleks made his way to the door, the soft click of the latch as it closed behind him echoing in the quiet studio. His words lingered in her mind, reverberating with a strange sense of weight.

I trust you.

He had said it so simply, yet there was something profound in the way he’d looked at her, those violet eyes filled with an intensity that had momentarily left her breathless.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, a mixture of curiosity and something else—something she couldn’t quite name—churning in her chest. The studio, which had felt charged with energy during the session, now seemed unnaturally quiet. The buzz of the tattoo machine was long gone, replaced by the faint hum of the overhead lights and the distant sounds of the city outside.

Izzy shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she turned back to her station, methodically cleaning up. Her hands moved on autopilot, wiping down the surfaces, capping the inks, and sterilising the equipment. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the session in her head—Aleks’s steady composure, his barely-there reactions to the needle, and that odd sensation she’d felt when his gaze had lingered on hers.

The back door creaked open, and Izzy glanced up to see Ceth, Ink Envy’s orc receptionist, emerging from the storeroom. He was a big guy—towering, with greenish-grey skin and tusks that jutted out from his lower jaw. Despite his intimidating appearance, Ceth had a soft heart and a knack for keeping things running smoothly. He carried a couple of boxes under one arm, his other hand gripping a clipboard as he made notes in his looping, precise script.

He looked up from the clipboard, his brows furrowing as he noticed Izzy standing by her station, seemingly lost in thought. “Was that your new client?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet room.

Izzy nodded, flashing a smile as she wiped down the last of her tools. “Yeah, that was him. Just finished the first session.”

Ceth grunted, setting the boxes down on the counter with a thud. “He’s… odd,” he said, his tone cautious, as if he were testing out the word. He leaned against the counter. “Very quiet.”

Izzy couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Ceth’s nose wrinkled, his tusks twitching slightly in a gesture she’d come to recognise as his version of suspicion. “Odd? Ceth, have you looked at yourself lately?” she teased, grinning up at him. “Odd is kind of our thing around here.”

Ceth’s eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, well, there’s odd, and then there’s… whatever that is. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me. Too perfect, you know?”

Izzy paused, her grin fading slightly as she considered Ceth’s words. Perfect was definitely a word she’d thought of herself, but it had been accompanied by a strange sense of unease. Aleks had an aura about him—something polished and refined, yet almost too much so. Like he was a character out of a story, crafted with care but missing the rough edges that made people real.

She shrugged, trying to shake off the lingering doubts. “He’s harmless, Ceth. Just a bit… different.” She leaned against the counter, her wild curls brushing her shoulders as she looked up at him. “I mean, aren’t we all?”

Ceth’s eyes softened, and he let out a rumbling chuckle. “Suppose you’re right, Izzy. Still… just keep an eye on him, yeah?”

“Always do,” she replied, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Besides, I think it’s kinda nice to have a client who isn’t flinching every five seconds.”

Ceth chuckled again, though it was tinged with that same caution. He picked up his clipboard, his massive hands making it look like a toy as he flipped through the pages. “Guess we’ll see how it goes. Just don’t get too caught up in those pretty eyes of his, alright?”

Izzy laughed, a light sound that helped dispel the tension that had settled in her chest. “Don’t worry, Ceth. I know how to keep my head.”

As she finished cleaning up, Ceth’s words echoed in her mind. There was something about Aleks that wasn’t quite right, something she couldn’t put her finger on. For now, she brushed it off. After all, she had a job to do, and Aleks was just another client.

Right?

***

Izzy sat at her station, adjusting her gloves as Aleks settled into the chair for their latest session. The tattoo was now halfway complete, and the colour was starting to look good.

The design had come together beautifully, far beyond what Izzy had initially imagined. Each session revealed more of its complexity, and it seemed to resonate with Aleks in a way that felt almost… personal.

As she prepped her tools, she noticed once again how Aleks had changed since their first meeting. His hair had grown back, longer now, though not quite as long as it had been originally. There were subtle differences in his appearance that she couldn’t quite pinpoint—his skin seemed smoother, his features a bit sharper, more refined. Like he’d lost weight, except only in his face. Every time she saw him, it was like looking at a slightly different version of the man she’d met weeks ago.

“Alright, we’re about halfway there,” she said, tearing herself from her thoughts; and breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “How’s it feeling so far?”

Aleks smiled, the kind of smile that had grown familiar to Izzy but still made her heart skip a beat. “It’s been good. I hardly notice the pain anymore.”

Izzy chuckled softly as she positioned herself beside him. “You say that like you noticed it in the first place. You’re still the calmest client I’ve ever had.”

He shrugged, the movement so fluid it was almost unnatural. “I guess I’m just good at handling it.”

As she began working, the buzz of the tattoo machine filling the room, Izzy decided to push a little further into the quiet mystery that was Aleks. Over the past few sessions, their conversations had gradually become more personal, though Aleks always kept certain details close to the chest.

“So,” Izzy said casually, her focus on the delicate lines she was inking, “you mentioned before that you’re a traveller. What kind of places have you been to?”

Aleks hesitated, just for a moment, before he spoke. “Here and there. A lot of places you probably wouldn’t have heard of.” There was a wistfulness to his voice, as if he was talking about something far away, both in distance and in time.

Izzy glanced up briefly, catching his eyes with hers. “Try me. I’m always curious about new places.”

His violet eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place—a mix of emotions that passed too quickly for her to decipher. “There’s a place… a city of floating gardens.”

Izzy paused, her hand stilling for a moment as she processed what he’d just said. “That sounds… incredible. Definitely not anywhere I’ve heard of.”

Aleks’s smile was faint, almost sad. “It’s… far from here.”

The way he said it made Izzy’s chest tighten, as though he were talking about a place he could never return to. She wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into this strange and beautiful world he was describing, but something held her back. Instead, she simply nodded, her fingers resuming their work with the needle.

As the hours passed, the tattoo continued to evolve, the vines seeming to pulse with life, the geometric patterns aligning perfectly with the natural curves of Aleks’s arm. The room was quiet save for the hum of the tattoo machine and their occasional conversations, but there was a sense of intimacy that had developed between them.

At one point, Izzy glanced up from her work and found herself momentarily stunned. Aleks’s face had shifted—just for a split second, but enough to leave her breathless. His features seemed to shimmer, the sharp angles softening, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. His skin took on a luminous quality, as if he were made of something more than flesh and bone.

Izzy blinked, her breath catching in her throat. As quickly as it had happened, the vision was gone. Aleks’s face returned to the familiar, handsome features she had grown accustomed to, his expression calm and serene as if nothing had changed.

“Is everything alright?” Aleks asked, his voice gentle, though there was a note of concern in it.

Izzy realised she had stopped tattooing, her hand frozen in place. She quickly resumed her work, shaking off the moment of shock. “Yeah, sorry. I just… thought I saw something.”

Aleks tilted his head slightly, studying her with those intense violet eyes. “Saw something?”

Izzy hesitated, unsure how to explain what she had just witnessed. “It’s nothing. Probably just my eyes playing tricks on me. I need to close the blinds.”

He didn’t press further, but there was a knowing look in his gaze that made her wonder if he knew exactly what she had seen. The rest of the session passed in relative silence, though the atmosphere between them had shifted slightly—still comfortable, but with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

When the session finally ended, Izzy wiped down his arm and stepped back to admire the progress. The tattoo was coming together beautifully, the design now wrapping around his bicep and creeping towards his shoulder. As she looked at it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just ink on skin. It felt alive, like it was part of Aleks, growing and changing with him.

“All done for today,” she said, her voice steady despite thoughts swirling in her mind.

Aleks examined the tattoo in the mirror, his expression unreadable. “It’s coming along great.”

She smiled, though her heart wasn’t in it. “Glad you think so.”

As Aleks stood and prepared to leave, Izzy found herself watching him more closely, searching for any sign of the change she’d seen earlier. He looked the same as always—handsome, calm, and impossibly perfect.

“I’ll see you for the next session,” he said, his voice soft but steady. There was an intensity in his gaze that made Izzy’s heart skip a beat, a sense that he was saying more than just goodbye.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “See you then.”

As Aleks walked out the door, Izzy let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. The studio was quiet once more, but the echoes of their conversation and the strange vision she’d witnessed lingered in the air.

***

The atmosphere in Ink Envy was different today. The familiar hum of the tattoo machine was the same, as was the steady rhythm of Izzy’s hands, but there was an underlying tension in the air that made her stomach churn with unease. Aleks sat in the chair, as he had done for each session before, but this time, something was off.

He had always been quiet, reserved even, but today he seemed almost distant, as if his mind was somewhere far away. His usual calm composure had a brittle edge to it, a certain impatience that hadn’t been there before. It was as though he couldn’t wait for the session to be over and to leave. The thought made Izzy’s chest tighten with a pang of something she didn’t want to name—disappointment, maybe, or something more painful.

She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the tattoo, which was nearly complete. The vines had climbed all the way up his arm, now reaching across his shoulder. It was a beautiful piece, one she was proud of, but today, even the joy of creation was tinged with melancholy.

Aleks had barely spoken since he walked in, and every attempt Izzy made at conversation seemed to fall flat. His replies were monosyllabic, his eyes distant, as if he were counting down the minutes until he could walk out the door. It shouldn’t have mattered—it was just business, after all—but it did. It mattered more than Izzy wanted to admit.

“Almost there,” she murmured, her voice carefully neutral as she worked on the final details. The session was dragging on longer than usual, and with each passing minute, the distance between them seemed to grow. “How’re you holding up?”

Aleks didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was flat, devoid of the warmth she had come to enjoy. “Fine. Just… ready for this to be done.”

The words were like a slap in the face, and Izzy felt her heart sink. She forced a smile, though it felt brittle. “Yeah, I can tell you’re eager to finish up. You’ve been a real trooper through all of this.”

She waited for the usual smile, the small flicker of amusement that would light up his violet eyes, but it didn’t come. Instead, Aleks remained stoic, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of the studio. It was as if he was no longer really there with her, and the thought made Izzy’s hands tremble, just slightly, as she continued to work.

It wasn’t until she was nearly done that she noticed something else—something that made her pause. Aleks was flinching, just the tiniest bit, each time the needle touched his skin. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but to Izzy, it was as if the earth had shifted beneath her feet.

She frowned, glancing up at him. “You okay? Seems like your pain tolerance is finally catching up with you.”

Aleks didn’t respond, and when he did flinch again, something strange happened. His skin shimmered, just for a second, like the surface of water disturbed by a breeze. Izzy’s heart skipped a beat, her hands freezing in place.

“Aleks?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. “Are you—”

Before she could finish the question, Aleks suddenly pulled away, his movements jerky, almost panicked. His hand flew to his shoulder, covering the fresh ink as though he could stop whatever was happening beneath his skin. His eyes, wide and filled with something she hadn’t seen before—fear, maybe—flickered towards her.

“I—I need a minute,” he stammered, his voice breaking the calm façade he had maintained for so long. Without another word, he stood up, nearly stumbling in his haste as he rushed towards the back of the studio.

Izzy watched, stunned, as Aleks disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing with a heavy thud. The studio fell into an uneasy silence, the only sound the faint buzzing of the tattoo machine that she hadn’t turned off.

For a moment, she stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the closed bathroom door. What had she seen? His skin had shimmered, and then Aleks had looked at her with such fear, such raw vulnerability, that it had sent a shiver down her spine. Something was wrong—deeply wrong—and it gnawed at her to leave him in there alone. What if he needed space?

She switched off the machine, the sudden absence of its hum making the silence even more oppressive. Izzy took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She gave him a few minutes, hoping he’d come out on his own, but the seconds ticked by with no sign of Aleks. The uneasy quiet stretched on, and the anxiety that had settled in her chest only grew heavier.

Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. Izzy crossed the room to the bathroom door, her steps slow and measured, as if any sudden movement might shatter the fragile calm. She knocked softly at first, her knuckles brushing the wood.

“Aleks?” she called, her voice gentle but laced with concern. There was no answer, only the hollow echo of her knock bouncing back at her. She hesitated, then knocked again, a little louder this time. “Aleks, are you okay? You can’t hide in there forever.”

Still, there was no response. The silence on the other side of the door was deafening, and a cold dread crept up Izzy’s spine. What was he doing in there? Was he hurt? Was something worse happening?

“Aleks,” she tried again, her tone more insistent. “Do you need some water? Are you feeling faint?” She pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear any sound, but there was nothing. “Come on, talk to me. Please.”

The quiet stretched on, and just when she was about to knock again, she heard it—his voice, low and strained, barely more than a whisper. “Go away, Izzy.”

Her heart clenched at the sound of his voice, so unlike the calm, controlled tone she was used to. “I’m not leaving,” she said firmly, pressing her palm against the door as if she could reach through it to him. “Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to go through it alone. Let me help you.”

For a long moment, there was no response, and Izzy wondered if he would simply ignore her until she had no choice but to walk away. Then, she heard a soft, almost defeated sigh from the other side of the door.

“Please, Izzy,” he said, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite identify—fear, maybe, or despair. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Then help me understand, Aleks. I’m not going anywhere. Open the door. Nobody else is here.”

The silence that followed was agonising, but Izzy stood firm, her hand still pressed against the door as if she could somehow reassure him through the wood. She could feel the seconds ticking by, each one heavier than the last, until finally, she heard the soft click of the lock turning.

The door creaked open, just a crack at first, and then slowly, reluctantly, it swung wide enough for Izzy to see Aleks standing in the doorway. Except… it wasn’t Aleks. Not the Aleks she knew, anyway.

What stood before her was something otherworldly, something both beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. His skin, once smooth and human, now shimmered with an ethereal light, a soft glow that pulsed like a heartbeat beneath the surface. It had taken on a silvery hue, translucent in places. His violet eyes, the one feature that remained the same, had deepened in colour, glowing with an intensity that seemed to pierce through her. His features were sharper, more angular, with high cheekbones and a jawline that could have been carved from glass.

There was an alien quality to him now, something that was… inhuman.

Izzy’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was seeing. He wasn’t an orc, or a tiefling, or any other creature she had ever encountered. He was something else entirely—something far more ancient, far more dangerous. Yet, even in his inhuman form, there was a strange, haunting beauty to him that left her speechless.

“Aleks…” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. She didn’t know what to say, what to ask. How could she? She didn’t even know what she was looking at.

He flinched at the sound of his name, as if it pained him, and turned his gaze away from her, his shoulders sagging with a weight she couldn’t see. “This is why I didn’t want you to see me,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a sorrow that pierced her heart. “This is what I really am.”

Izzy took a tentative step forward, her hand reaching out instinctively before she stopped herself. She didn’t know if she should touch him—if she even could. “Aleks,” she said again, more firmly this time, though her voice still trembled. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

His eyes, those brilliant, glowing eyes, flicked back to hers, and for a moment, there was something vulnerable in them, something that made her heart ache. Then he shook his head, stepping back into the shadows of the bathroom, the light dimming around him.

The door began to close, shutting her out, shutting himself away.

Izzy wasn’t about to let that happen.

Before Aleks could close the door completely, she stepped forward, slipping into the small, dim space with him and turning the lock behind her. The click of the lock was quiet but final, leaving them both standing there in the darkness, the tension thick between them.

Aleks turned to her in surprise, his eyes wide and glowing faintly in the low light. His skin, now fully illuminated by its own strange, ethereal light, cast a soft glow across the cramped bathroom. The air seemed to hum with the energy that radiated off him, a soft, pulsing light that shifted and moved across his skin, like moonlight dancing on water.

Izzy took a slow, steadying breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside her. The small bathroom was bathed in a soft, silvery glow that came entirely from him, and it took her a moment to realise something that made her smile despite the situation.

“You know,” she said, her voice softer than usual but carrying a note of humour, “you’ve been standing here in the dark this whole time. The lights are off.”

Aleks blinked, clearly startled by the observation, and then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was hesitant, almost shy, but it was there, and it was enough to make Izzy’s heart skip a beat.

“I guess I have,” he murmured, a hint of warmth returning to his voice. The glow from his skin flickered slightly, as if in response to his emotions.

Izzy felt a rush of relief at seeing that smile, however fleeting it was. It gave her the courage to take a step closer, her gaze steady as she looked at him—really looked at him. “Aleks,” she said softly, her voice filled with a gentle determination, “please let me see you. The real you. No hiding.”

He hesitated, his luminous eyes searching hers, as if looking for something he couldn’t quite find. “Izzy, I don’t… I don’t want to scare you. This isn’t… this isn’t what you think it is.”

Izzy shook her head, her curls brushing against her shoulders. “You’re not scaring me. Yeah, I was shocked at first, but that’s normal, right? I just need a moment to process.” She reached out slowly, giving him time to pull away, but he didn’t. Her hand found his, and she squeezed gently. “Let me see you. Really see you.”

For a long moment, Aleks didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at her with those otherworldly eyes, his expression a mix of fear and uncertainty. Then, with a shaky breath, he nodded. “Okay.”

Izzy released his hand, her breath catching as she took a step back, giving him space. Aleks closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. When he opened them again, the glow from his skin intensified, filling the room with a soft, pulsing light that seemed to reflect the steady beat of his heart.

He stepped fully into the light, and for the first time, Izzy saw him completely—his true form, unmasked and unhidden. He was breathtaking, in a way that was both beautiful and unsettling.

His hair, now a cascade of silver threads, framed his face like a halo, and his eyes… those eyes were the most stunning thing she had ever seen.

Aleks shifted under her gaze, his expression guarded. “This is what I am, Izzy,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. “Not the man you thought you knew. Just… this.”

Izzy shook her head, stepping closer to him again, her eyes softening as she took in the full picture. “You’re still you, Aleks. This doesn’t change that.”

He looked at her, incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “I’m not… I’m not human, Izzy. I’ve been lying to you this whole time.”

“Ceth’s not human either, and I’m not an orc. You don’t see us holding it against each other. Why would I hold this against you?”

He shrugged, small and nervous.

She reached out, her hand hovering over his arm before she gently rested it against his shimmering skin. It was warm, softer than she had expected, and the patterns beneath the surface shifted under her touch, like ripples in water. “You might not be human, but you’ve never lied to me. I don’t know what you are, but I know who you are.”

His breath hitched, and he looked down at her hand on his arm, the vulnerability in his eyes more palpable than ever. “You really mean that?”

Izzy nodded, her heart swelling with a strange mixture of tenderness and protectiveness. “I do, Aleks. You’re beautiful. You’re… incredible. I just wish you could see that.”

For a moment, Aleks said nothing, his gaze locked on hers, as if he were searching for the truth in her words. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he reached up to cup her cheek, his touch so light it was almost a caress.

“Beautiful?” he echoed, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “No one’s ever… No one’s ever said that before.”

Izzy leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. “Well, they should have,” she whispered back, her voice filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. “Because you are.”

Something shifted in Aleks then, the tension in his shoulders easing, the light in his eyes softening. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them until she could feel the warmth of his body.

“Izzy,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and uncertainty. He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, and for a moment, they just stood there, breathing in each other’s presence, the connection between them stronger than it had ever been.

Izzy closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the moment, in the warmth of his touch, in the way his breath mingled with hers. She didn’t know what this meant, didn’t know what the future held for them, but right now, none of that mattered.

Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, Aleks tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against hers in the lightest of touches. Izzy’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat as she realised what was happening. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into the kiss, her hand tightening on his arm as she pressed closer to him.

The kiss was soft, tentative, as if neither of them could quite believe it was real. There was a tenderness to it, a sense of something unspoken passing between them. Aleks’s lips were warm, soft.

When they finally pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Aleks stared at her with wide eyes, his expression filled with wonder and something that looked very much like hope.

“Izzy,” he whispered, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

She smiled up at him, her heart full, her fears and doubts melting away in the glow of his light. “Then don’t say anything,” she murmured, leaning in to rest her forehead against his again.

For a few precious moments, Izzy and Aleks stood there in the dim light of the bathroom, their foreheads resting together, breathing in unison. The glow from his skin, once so intense and otherworldly, began to fade, the silvery light slowly dimming until it was almost gone. Izzy could feel the warmth of his body against hers, the soft pulse of his breath, but when she opened her eyes, she was greeted not by the ethereal, glowing being she had just kissed, but by the familiar face of the man she had grown to care for.

Aleks’s features had softened back to their human form—his skin no longer shimmered with that eerie, beautiful light, and his hair was once again black and straight, falling just shy of his shoulders. His eyes, though still a striking violet, had lost that otherworldly glow, returning to the deep, intense gaze that had captivated her from the beginning.

Izzy couldn’t help the slight pang of disappointment that tugged at her heart. There was something so mesmerizing, so raw and real, about his true form, and now it felt as if it had slipped away, leaving only the familiar shell of the man she thought she knew. As she looked up at him, at the Aleks she had kissed, she knew that the essence of who he was—whatever he was—hadn’t disappeared. It was still there, in the warmth of his gaze, in the softness of his touch.

She smiled gently, her hand still resting on his arm. “Looks like you’re back,” she whispered, her voice laced with both relief and a touch of regret.

Aleks blinked, as if coming back to himself, and let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like that… I just couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

Izzy shook her head, her thumb brushing over his skin in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t apologise. I’m glad I saw the real you, Aleks; but we should probably get out of here.” She let out a small, breathy laugh. “Can’t hide in the bathroom forever.”

He managed a faint smile, a ghost of the warmth she had felt earlier. “Yeah… you’re right.”

With a soft sigh, Izzy unlocked the door and stepped out of the bathroom, coaxing Aleks to follow her back into the studio. The normalcy of the familiar space felt almost jarring after what had just happened, but she knew they couldn’t stay hidden away any longer. The tattoo needed to be finished, and life had to go on.

She changed her gloves, the simple ritual grounding her as she prepared to finish the work they’d started. Aleks sat back in the chair, his eyes still a little distant, but there was a new softness to his expression, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. Izzy could see the way his shoulders had relaxed slightly, the tension that had coiled tight around him for so long finally beginning to ease.

As she picked up the tattoo machine and began working again, the steady buzz filled the room, offering a comforting familiarity. Aleks remained silent, but this time, the quiet between them wasn’t heavy or strained. It was peaceful, almost tender, as if they had reached an unspoken understanding.

With each stroke of the needle, the tattoo grew more complete, the vines and patterns intertwining seamlessly with Aleks’s skin. Izzy was meticulous, her focus entirely on the work, but her mind kept circling back to what she had seen, what she had felt. The way his body had shifted, the way he had looked at her with those glowing eyes, filled with so much uncertainty and fear.

And then it struck her, a sudden clarity that made her pause, the needle hovering just above his skin. His body was inconstant, always shifting, always changing—an existence that must have felt like he could never hold onto anything permanent, anything real. This tattoo… it would never change. No matter what form he took, no matter how his body shifted, the tattoo would remain the same, a fixed point in the midst of all that uncertainty.

Izzy glanced up at him, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. “This is why you wanted the tattoo, isn’t it?” she asked softly, the realisation dawning on her. “Because it’s something that won’t change. Something you can hold onto.”

Aleks’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, he looked like he might deny it, but then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low, almost defeated. “I just… I needed something that was mine. Something that wouldn’t shift or fade away.”

Izzy’s chest tightened with a surge of affection for him, and she felt the urge to reach out and touch him, to reassure him that she understood, that she was here. Instead, she smiled, her voice soft and full of warmth. “Well, you’ve got it now. It’s yours forever.”

He looked at her, something softening in his gaze, and for the first time, he seemed to truly believe her. “Thank you.”

She finished the last few strokes of the tattoo with her usual care, but there was something different in the air now—something tender, something unspoken but deeply understood between them. When she finally set the machine down and wiped away the last traces of ink, she took a step back, admiring the work.

“There,” she said, her voice filled with quiet pride. “All done.”

Aleks looked down at his arm, his eyes tracing the intricate design that now covered his skin. The vines and patterns seemed to pulse with life, as if they were truly a part of him, and he nodded slowly, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “It’s perfect.”

Izzy’s heart swelled at the sight of his smile, the first real smile she’d seen from him all day, and she knew that whatever had happened, whatever would come next, they had both found something they needed. Something permanent, something real.

As Aleks stood, pulling on his shirt with care, he glanced at her, his expression a mix of gratitude and something deeper. “I don’t know what happens next,” he said quietly, his voice filled with an honesty that made Izzy’s heart ache. “I’m glad… I’m glad I found you.”

Izzy reached out, her hand finding his, and she squeezed gently, her eyes shining with a warmth she didn’t try to hide. “Me too.”

For a moment, they just stood there, hand in hand, the silence between them no longer awkward or tense but full of possibility. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they both leaned in at the same time, their lips meeting in a soft kiss.

When they finally pulled back, Aleks looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart flutter, and Izzy knew that whatever uncertainties lay ahead, they had found something special here—something worth holding onto.

#exophilia #exophilia romance #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #tag: male monster #tag: mxf #tag: changeling #tag: sfw #tag: female reader #woops this was supposed to be queued for Friday

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al-luviec · 7 months ago

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pixal design because I haven't drawn her in centuries

#alek art #ninjago #pixal #pixal borg #2024 #she is very tall and built like a board and i love her for it .#also he has a big forehead . love giving ppl big foreheads #im on season 2 as of scheduling this

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mysticstarlightduck · 6 months ago

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Incorrect Quote Tag!

I wanted to do this tag again so here we go! Going with some characters from Supernova Initiative and Scrapyard Boys for this one <3

I had a lot of fun with this lol, enjoy! (:

The Generator

SCRAPYARD BOYS

Quince: What do you want for breakfast? Josh: I WISH TO DEVOUR THE UNBORN. Quince: (Visible Concern) Erin: (Done with Life) ... Erin: He wants eggs.

Rhys: Quince! Help! I’m bleeding… Quince: Oh god… what’s your blood type?! Rhys: B positive… Quince: (holding back laughter) I’m trying to but you’re bleeding-

Adrien: Well, I'm very sorry to hear about your mother. Max: Eh, we aren't really that close. Adrien: Oh, good then. 'Cause she's a bitch.

Any authority figure: Could you be anymore annoying? Valen: Yes.

*Adrien and Rhys are texting* Adrien: Who are you? I think Gwyn changed the names in my phone. Rhys: What did they change my name to? Adrien: Chosen One. Rhys: Don’t change it back. Adrien: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Rhys: I’m the chosen one. Adrien:... YOU SON OF A BITCH! IT WAS YOU?!!! Rhys: Smugly leaves that message On Read

Damon: You’re insane! Josh: I know I am, what’s your point?

Josh: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?Erin: ... Erin: Why are you eating dirt? Josh: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

Kay, after getting a library card: Now I know what true power feels like.

Gwyn: What’s it like being tall? Rhys: Is it nice? Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Adrien: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Thomas: Damon, I swear I didn’t know Emily was coming over. I always ominously clean my weapons on the coffee table like that. It had nothing to do with that!

Luke: You read my diary? Valen: Look, at first I didn't know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

Josh: I'm not funny, I'm just really mean and people think I'm joking.

Gwyn: Why should I make my bed, when I'm just gonna unmake it to sleep in it anyways? Adrien: Why should I feed you if your just gonna die anyways? Gwyn: Gwyn: I'll go make my bed-

Valen: My bad, It’s a knee jerk response. Damon, holding Thomas's unconscious body: WHOSE KNEE JERK RESPONSE IS TO START THROWING BRICKS AT SOMEONE???

Max: What state do you live in? Quince: I live in a state of constant anxiety.

SUPERNOVA INITIATIVE

Artemis: Everyone thinks you suck. Deimos: I think you have the wrong number… Artemis: Kye? Deimos: Nope. I'm Deimos Artemis: Well, you probably suck too…

Meridian, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day? Jack: … Jack: What’s in the box? Meridian: What woul- Jack: (sighs) Meridian, what’s in the box? Meridian: I think you know.

Cassie (in Act 1-2): Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Deimos: ...Yeah? Cassie: Bitch. Jack, stuck in the middle of this situation:... I hate my life

Vesper: Murder literally doesn’t hurt anyone! Jack: What are you talking about? Of course— Kye, holding out a hand to shut Jack up: No, no, wait. She has a point—

Noctus: Meridian is late again. Cassie: How did this happen? I called them at 8 o’clock this morning and pretended it was 11. Aleks: I printed up a fake schedule for them saying we were starting at 9 instead of noon. Vesper: I set their clock to say PM when it’s really AM. Jack: Oh boy. We may have overdone it. *Meridianbursts through the door, panicking* Meridian: WHAT TIME IS IT?

Jack: (hesitant) Have I ever told you that you cook well? Cassie: Awww, no, you haven't! Jack: (nearly in exasperated tears) So why do you keep cooking?

*Artemis and Kye are fighting* Gabi, taking aspirin: I have a headache! Can you guys just be cool?! *Artemis and Kye keep fighting, now while wearing sunglasses and riding skateboards*

Elysia: What’s your biggest fear? Jack: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Elysia, under her breath (confused, never heard that word in her life): You don’t want spiders to get married?

Lyorna, singing, unaware there's anyone nearby: I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need— Kye: An actual family. Vesper: A better love life. Jack: Mental stability. Meridian: *clueless* Bagels?

Aleks: I may be stupid. The Squad: ... Aleks: Oh, did you think I was going to finish that sentence?

Jack: Why were you up yesterday until 3am? Cassie: How did you know I was up until 3am? Deimos (walking in with an absolutely exhausted face and two cups of coffee): Because we all could hear you clapping to that sitcom intro every 25 minutes.

Vesper: Do you want to be the Sun in my life? Deimos: Yes. Vesper: Good, then stay 92,935,700 miles away from me :)

Aleks: That sounds super! Doesn’t that sound super, Noctus? Noctus: No. Aleks: I think I speak for Noctus when I say it sounds really super.

Jack: Yesterday, I overheard Meridian saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Cassie replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Kye: Two truths and a lie, I’ll start! Kye: I’ve killed people, I will kill again, and I hear screams when I'm alone or sleeping. Meridian, visibly nervous: I don’t- I don’t know if I like this game.

Jack: *points at Tarah* A human turtleneck, *points at Kye* a narcissistic monster, *points at Aleks* and literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met. Aleks: And who am I? Describe me now.

*The gang's thoughts on stabbing* Meridian (mortified): Would never stab anyone. Deimos: Would stab someone in retaliation. Cassie: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first. Kye: Would stab without warning. Vesper: Would stab as a warning.

Jack: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Lyorna: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Jack: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to charm me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Lyorna: Is it working?

Kye: I'm feeling it! What am I feeling? Death, probably.

Gabi: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized. Elysia: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to her knees and sob while apologizing profusely* Gabi: That one. I want that one.

Tagging (gently): @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab, @winterandwords, @eccaiia,

@the-letterbox-archives, @illarian-rambling@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart,

@little-peril-stories, @thecomfywriter

@ray-writes-n-shit @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess,

@forthesanityofstorytellers, @finickyfelix @i-can-even-burn-salad

@cauliflowermaterial @thepeculiarbird,

@clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes,

@starlit-hopes-and-dreams @differentnighttale

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

#wip supernova initiative #wip scrapyard boys #writers on tumblr #writers #writerblr #my wips #my characters #my writing #character writing #writing #writeblr

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kieraplaysthesims · 2 months ago

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November 8, 1912

Aleks' calm and steady demeanor shines through as he assists his father, Anže, with his college coursework. Anže's decision to pursue higher education demonstrates his hope for a future away from the demanding life of farming, symbolizing a transformative period for the Janosovski family. The shared candlelight and Aleks' cigarette lend a serene yet focused atmosphere to the moment, highlighting their bond as they navigate this new chapter together.

With Anže now pursuing higher education and leaving the farm's daily operations behind, Mateja found herself navigating a world she hadn’t envisioned just a few years ago. The farm, once a constant source of worry and toil, was now tended by a skilled farmhand who had taken over the heavy labor. Inside the house, the presence of staff had become a quiet yet monumental shift. The butler ensured the household ran like clockwork, managing everything from schedules to supplies, while the nannies were indispensable in caring for the younger children, especially energetic little Frančiška and baby Emil. The gardener’s efforts had transformed their grounds into a tranquil sanctuary, a place where the children could play, and where Mateja herself could find a moment to breathe.

In the kitchen, Mateja stood over the stove, stirring a thick, creamy soup as the aroma of fresh bread filled the air. She savored the rare calm of the afternoon, the kind that had become increasingly common with the household running smoothly. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic years when the farm demanded every ounce of their energy, and there was no such thing as free time. These quiet moments allowed her to reflect on the family’s journey. Anže’s decision to return to school had been both surprising and inspiring. It was a bold choice, a step toward a better future not just for him but for their entire family.

Though she was grateful for the help around her, Mateja couldn’t help but feel a little bittersweet. She missed the closeness that came with the simpler, if more grueling, days when everyone worked together on the farm. But as she watched Katarina and Antonija playing in the garden and Aleks engrossed in his studies, she reminded herself that change was necessary for growth. Their children were thriving—Aleks, now a young man with his own aspirations, helped his father with coursework while dreaming of a future far beyond the hills of Henford-on-Bagley. Vita, though far away and carrying her own burdens, was carving out a new life for herself and her son. Then there was Alojzija, living so close, with her husband and four children of her own. If they moved, August and Alojzija could move into their farm and have space for more children as their house was already bursting at the seems.

#ts4 #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 #the sims 4 #simblr #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 historical #decade: 1910 #decades legacy #decades #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades #janleg #janleggen1

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aggie-postemon · 4 months ago

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The Greater War

Twelve years after the start of the Great War (and ten years since it ended), Alek sits on the throne of Austria. He's got Dylan to thank for it, but even he's not entirely sure why his best friend brought him a country.

Come along for whispered secrets; shouted secrets; courtly intrigue; and, of course, a long-secret romance, revealed at last.

Chapter Two - Three Arrivals and a Return

AO3 | FFN

Alek's conversation with Volger had been both reassuring and disquieting. Volger was so sure that Dylan was totally loyal to Alek, would return no matter what. And yet this secret that Volger had kept - and for a boy he'd not much cared for, at first - sounded large enough to destabilize any loyalty.

Not Alek's. Volger was right. Alek would never abandon the man who'd given him Austria. And he wouldn't have abandoned the man, even if he hadn't given him Austria. Being loyal to Alek was so complicated that Alek was sure he could return the favor: loyalty in the face of complications.

Still. He felt itchy. He felt itchy all through three weeks of royal drudgery. He felt itchy trying to sleep. He felt itchy waking up. He felt itchy all the way down to the hangar on the day Dylan was due to return.

He couldn't be sure of the time, but he'd cleared his schedule for the day. God knew Dylan's absence, Dylan's secrets, were making Alek exceptionally useless anyway.

So, Alek was already in the hangar waiting when Dylan's biplane rolled in through the open doors.

And there was Dylan, climbing out of his biplane, helmet tucked under one arm, lemon yellow hair gleaming in the sunlight that streamed through the doors. He was the most welcome sight Alek had seen in days.

"Dylan!" he said, trying to pretend that he'd only just arrived, that he hadn't been anxiously waiting in the hangar since the early morning.

Dylan flashed Alek one of his more brilliant smiles. "Alek! It's bloody good to see you."

Alek hugged his best friend, buried his face in his shoulder in utter relief that he'd returned.

Alek supposed he could be forgiven for not noticing a second yellow haired man, even taller than Dylan, until he said, eyebrows high on his forehead, "I see we have a royal welcome."

Alek hastily let go of Dylan, who laughed at him. "Jaspert, I don't suppose you remember His Royal Majesty, King of Austria, Aleksandar von Hohenburg. His Princeliness."

Volger could make Alek's titles sound chiding. Dylan made those same titles sound like gentle teasing.

"It's good to see you, Alek," Jaspert Sharp said, grasping at Alek's forearm and pulling him into a one-armed hug.

There was no intimacy earned between Alek and Jaspert that justified the flagrant disregard for the gap in their stations, but Alek figured that Sharp men were just like that. He'd always appreciated that about Dylan, that Dylan just treated him like any other man.

"Jaspert," came an exasperated voice from the plane - though really, it was only supposed to seat two. "Stop acting above your station and come get me out of this death trap."

Jaspert grinned. "Coming mother!"

Mrs. Sharp could not get out of the plane by herself because she was encumbered by a large wooden box, stuffed with hay.

"The Lady Boffin," Dylan said by way of explanation. "She's got a new beastie she wants me to hatch and train."

"Isn't this plane only supposed to seat two?" Alek asked.

"Aye. Which is why Ma's in the cargo space with the eggs. I'd have given her the seat and stuffed Jaspert back there, but Ma insisted. Seems to think he'd break them and get himself murdered by Dr. Barlow."

"All arguments that I am a grown man capable of being careful went unheard," Jaspert said, transferring the egg box to Dylan under his mother's gimlet eye before helping her out of the plane.

"I know you, Jaspert Sharp," Mrs. Sharp said. "You're bad at details, and incubation needs attention to detail."

"I didn't know you were a fabricator, Ma'am," Alek said, feeling slightly bewildered.

Mrs. Sharp snorted. "I keep chickens, young man. Regular chickens."

For all her talk about Jaspert acting above his station, she was certainly happy to make herself a hypocrite.

Alek looked at Dylan for help.

Dylan, for his part, looked torn between humor and misery. "This was the crisis," he said. "Apparently, Ma moved into Dr. Barlow's apartment and refused to leave until I came to get her."

"Also, the eggs. Dr. Barlow was going to summon Darren anyway to come help her finish fabricating the eggs - and get the incubation underway so it might be ready to travel," Mrs. Sharp said. She did that sometimes, called Dylan by the wrong name. "That's how I knew it would be a good time to launch my attack."

"Why?" Alek said, mostly to Dylan.

Mrs. Sharp looked at him steadily. "I miss my child. You've been on the throne of Austria for nearly ten years. If the situation isn't stable enough for me to come visit now, then it never will be."

"Dylan, you can always visit Scotland," Alek said uncertainly. "You're not a prisoner here, you can always take time off."

Dylan raised an eyebrow at him. Mrs. Sharp, though, spoke. "Please, it's hardly your fault, Your Majesty. Dylan comes home precisely as often as Dylan wants to come home. Which is almost never. You'll forgive a mother for taking matters into her own hands."

Dylan put a hand on Alek's shoulder, said, an unusual note of vulnerability in his voice, "You don't mind, do you? Please tell me you don't mind."

Earnestly, Alek put his own hand on Dylan's. "Konopiste is your home too. And any family of yours is family of mine."

Jaspert's mouth fell open. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Alek said, not sure what Jaspert's objection was, and hoping to sound more confident than he felt.

"Does he not hear himself?" Jaspert asked.

Neither Dylan nor Mrs. Sharp answered verbally, but Dylan rubbed his free hand down his ever meticulously clean-shaven jaw. Mrs. Sharp caught Alek's eye and smirked.

Honestly, Alek had no idea what he'd said.

"He really doesn't, Mr. Sharp," said Volger, who'd apparently snuck in when Alek hadn't been paying attention.

Feeling unfairly beset upon by all sides, Alek decided to make a tactical retreat.

"Well, I'll give you all space to get settled. Dylan, you know where the guest chambers are. I'm sure you know best where exactly to put them. I'd love to hear more about the eggs when you have a chance."

Normally, Alek and Dylan spent the day of Dylan's returns together, both taking relief and comfort in being reunited, exchanging relevant intel, and getting Dylan settled back into Konopiste together.

Well. At least they could exchange intel once the Sharps were settled.

Alek peeked into the box Dylan still cradled. Three eggs were nestled into warm hay, fabricated heaters tucked around them, and a thermometer sticking out.

Good memories.

Bovril was getting old these days, but Alek knew it would be thrilled to see the eggs; its own perspacacious grandchildren scampered wildly around Konopiste.

He reached into the box and gave each egg a loving pat - ignoring how Jaspert muttered something into his sleeve - and then fled the hangar. Dylan could handle his family, and Alek would... entertain them later.

"He's going to make an excellent father," Alek swore he heard Mrs. Sharp say behind him. His ears went pink.

Dylan's voice rose in response to that, but Alek had fled too far down the hall to hear.

He became aware that Volger had followed him. "Do they know?"

Volger coughed. "It's not something he could have hid from his family."

"Is that what... all that... was about?"

"Probably," Volger said. "If I'm trying to convince Mr. Sharp to tell you, I'm sure they've been wresting with the idea for at least five years."

"Did she really just say I'd make an excellent father?"

"Yes," Volger said. "She did."

"Why?" Alek demanded.

"Mostly to embarrass Mr. Sharp," he said, and that made no sense. "Also, you are nearly twenty-eight, unmarried, and a sovereign with no heir."

Courtiers had been making noise about that, yes. But Alek just couldn't entertain marriage. He felt spoken for, somehow, by his very country. He'd fallen in love with the Leviathan, and now he was in love with Austria herself. He'd have to get married eventually, he knew that. But. Just. Not yet.

"Why would any of that embarrass Dylan?"

"Well, I imagine she wants to see both of you married. Remarking on your qualities might spur her own child into action, and Dylan sees that motive."

Well. Maybe Alek could see that. A little.

Feeling a little more settled, Alek went to his office. There was a fresh projection of Austria's next harvest yield that he needed to look over, and a petition for tax adjustments. The itchiness in his skin had calmed down with Dylan's arrival, and maybe now Alek could focus on his responsibilities.

~~~

Dylan came to find him an hour later. "Thanks," he said. "Dr. Barlow absolutely insisted I bring them here."

"We have plenty of space," Alek said. "Anyway, Dylan. How are you?"

Dylan grimmaced, and Alek remembered that Dylan's relationship with his mother had always been strained, going back to some conflict that had emerged following the death of his father.

"That bad?" Alek asked.

"No," Dylan said. "Having them here will be an adjustment, but it's been a long time. It'll be good to have them around."

"Good," Alek said firmly, then dove into broader questions about Dylan's trip, about Dr. Barlow, and finally about the eggs.

"They're a new sort of biplane," Deryn said enthusiastically. "But I'm not going to say much - I want you to be surprised when they hatch."

"I look forward to it," Alek said, then, "I want to take Bovril up to see them."

"Yes!" Dylan said. "Let's! I set them up in my chambers. They should hatch in another week and a half, but I'll be stuck on egg duty till they do."

"At least Newkirk won't kill any of these," Alek said.

Dylan shook his head, then grinned. "Blisters, but it's been a while since we've talked to him."

"It has," Alek said. "Did you meet up with any of the Leviathan crew in London?"

"Just old Mr. Hirst," Dylan said. "Retirement suits him. I think I might have run into this utter prat - Fitzroy - on the street, but he was kicked off before you joined us, and he absolutely did not acknowledge me if it even was him."

And so Alek listened to Dylan talk about London as the two of them went to collect Bovril from the greenhouse.

Bovril didn't need them in quite the same way it did when it was young, and it had plenty of its own business to engage in, having been tapped to raise both biological children of its own and a secondary set of egg-fabricated perspacacious lorises. Still, Bovril loved them both and scuttled up the leg of Dylan's trousers to his shoulder the moment they stepped into the greenhouse.

"Mr. Sharp!" It said, still using Volger's sardonic Mister. It sniffed deeply. "Egg!"

"That's right, beastie," Dylan said. "I've got eggs. Not more lorises, though."

Bovril looked around the greenhouse. "Lorises plenty," it said. "Plenty."

"Oh, beastie, you are not wrong. How is the taxonomy coming?"

That's what the lorises were doing. They were young and being taught to sniff out connections by putting together a taxonomic tree of all the plants in Konopiste's greenhouse.

Eventually, they'd be given as diplomatic gifts across the world, as adults, to bypass their tendency to imprint on one single person if handled too young. A joint present from Britain and Austria.

"Taxonomy," Bovril said gravely. "Taxonomy."

Dylan laughed. "Let's get you a break, then. Would you like to come see the eggs?"

"Eggs!" Bovril said, then jumped from Dylan's shoulder to Alek's.

When they entered Konopiste, Bovril took another deep sniff. "Mrs. Sharp and Jaspert Sharp."

"They arrived with Dylan this morning," Alek said as they pushed into Dylan's chambers.

The eggs were still in the crate they'd come in, placed on a table by Dylan's coziest armchair. Might as well make long hours of egg sitting moderately more comfortable. Alek crossed straight to them.

"They're large," he said.

"They have to be," Dylan said. "They're going to be large enough to carry four riders as adults."

"Incredible," Alek said. "God's wounds, I always forget how beautiful fabrication eggs are."

"Aren't they?" Dylan chuckled, then. "Remember when you thought Bovril's egg was creepy?"

Alek traced a line down one of the eggs with his forefinger. "I hadn't fallen in love with the Leviathan yet."

"You were in love with the Leviathan the moment you saw us crash into the snow," Dylan countered.

"True," Alek said. "I just didnt know it yet."

Dylan busied himself with the egg thermometer, and Bovril slid down Alek's arm to inspect the eggs at closer range.

"Good eggs," it said.

"Good to hear," Dylan murmured. "I was worried the flight might scramble them."

"Not on your mother's watch," Alek said. And here, in the space above their eggs, Alek found the strength to. Well. Not quite ask the question he really wanted to ask, but at least to ask around it. "What exactly does your mother want to achieve here?"

Dylan removed one of the little biological heaters from the crate, evidently satisfied with the temperature. "I wish I knew," he said. "But mothers are supposed to confuse us, I think."

Bovril gave Dylan a stern glance, crossing its paws over its chest. He looked back at Alek and made steady eye contact before speaking, but Alek was fairly sure the message was intended for Dylan. "Mr. Sharp," Bovril said, sounding almost exasperated. "Your wife."

Dylan visibly flinched, looked at the loris, looked at Alek.

And suddenly, Alek knew Dylan's deep dark secret. Dylan hadn't left Lilit behind in New York at all. They'd eloped before they parted, and now Mrs. Sharp was trying to persuade her son to do right by his wife.

It made sense - Alex's trusted advisor being secretly married to the woman who all but ruled Turkey behind closed doors would be the sort of thing Dr. Barlow needed to know. If the news had emerged at the wrong time during Alek's fight for the throne, it would have made things very complicated.

Even today, bringing Lilit to Konopiste or sending Dylan to Istanbul would be complicated. But Volger was right - it was a complicated they could navigate now.

Dylan gave a nervous little laugh. "I guess you're probably right, beastie. She probably does want to find me a wife."

Nice deflection, Dylan. Even Bovril was unimpressed, looking between the two of them like they were both particularly stupid. It didn't say anything more, though, just let out a little puff of air and bent back over the precious eggs in the crate.

He's going to make an excellent father, Alek remembered Mrs. Sharp saying, and in this new light it made more sense, how that would be a dig at Dylan. Did Lilit want children Dylan wasn't giving her?

A pit dropped in Alek's stomach. Did Lilit have children Dylan wasn't around for?

He could practically see them, a little boy and a little girl, caught somewhere between Lilit and Dylan's very opposite colorings. Lanky like Dylan, densely built and strong like Lilit. Clever and brave, daring and kind. The best of both of them.

Like both Dylan and Lilit, missing their father.

If they'd gotten right to business, the oldest of them could be nearly eleven, though Alek suspected Lilit would not have had children that early.

God's wounds, Alek was going to be sick.

He's going to make an excellent father, Mrs. Sharp had said. He's going to make an excellent father.

Left unsaid, that Alek would do a better job of it than Dylan.

But Dylan was clearly not fessing up to any of that, and Alek desperately tried to cling to his promises to Volger. That he wouldn't try to figure it out. That he'd let Dylan come to him. That he'd take it well. Or at least try to take it well.

Alek tried to turn it into a pointed joke, said, "Well, we can always invite Lilit to Konopiste if it would make your mother feel better. I always liked you two together."

Dylan turned positively green. "Alek, what are you talking about?"

"The two of you got close in Istanbul. That's all. And I haven't seen you get close to another woman like that since."

Dylan collapsed in his armchair, rifled a hand through his blond hair. "Alek. We were fighting a war together. Of course we got close. The two of you got close, too."

"It wasn't me she kissed after her father died," Alek said, trying to keep his tone sing-songy and light, despite the fact that he still kind of wanted to vomit.

"Alek," Dylan said. "Alek. She sends us a Christmas card every year with Adela Rodgers."

Well, a mother with her husband living across the world would need another adult helping her, especially if she wanted to remain as politically involved as Alek knew Lilit was.

"So she has a roommate," Alek said. "They make sense together. Driven politician and driven reporter, they probably exchange important information all the time."

"Alek," Dylan said, like Alek was a particularly slow dog, and also like he was giving something away he didn't want to. "Alek. They make sense together because they're together."

"What?"

"They're lovers."

"What?"

"Lilit tried to like me in Istanbul because she was trying to force herself to like men. And I suppose she thought I might be feminine enough for her tastes."

"What?"

Alek backed into the other armchair in Dylan's room.

"Lilit and Adela are lovers. Lilit certainly doesn't want to marry me, and I never wanted to marry her, either. I was honestly a little blindsided when she kissed me. She told me the truth of it when we were in New York."

"Really?" Alek said.

"Aye, really. You had no idea?" Dylan looked at him incredulously. "Really?"

"Really," Alek said, weakly. "Should we have sent her a. Well. Not a wedding present, because I suppose they can't marry. But. A joining present?"

Dylan burst into laughter, then. "We did! Remember the set of lorises we brought to Turkey?"

Alek did remember. "That wasn't their wedding, was it?"

"Nay," Deryn assured. "Even you're not that clueless, to miss a wedding you attended. Besides, it was just before Nene passed, so I think you were a little preoccupied with running errands for her while we were there."

Nene had taken immense pleasure in ordering the King of Austria around her deathbed. It had been endearing, honestly.

Alek thought back to the way Dylan and Lilit had interacted during that trip. Trusting. Affectionate. Utterly unawkward. Adela Rodgers had been running around the proceedings, hadn't she?

It was then that Alek thought of another objection: "Feminine enough for her tastes? You were the manliest teenage boy I'd ever met!" "The boy you'd have wanted to be, if you'd been born common," Dylan said, crossing his arms. "I remember. And Lilit saw in me the woman she wanted, if I'd been born a girl." There was a sardonic twist to Dylan's mouth, now, but Alek wasn't quite sure why. "Woman," Bovril took that moment to say. "Mr. Sharp, born a girl." Dylan shot the little creature an absolutely dire glare. "Yes, beastie. Lilit wished I was born a girl." Alek didn't know what to say to any of that. Alek didn't really think there were women like Dylan Sharp. What would such a woman even be like? He thought about it. Actually, probably not unlike Adela Rodgers. Alek could not imagine a female Dylan letting anyone tell him what women were supposed to do. Adela wrote. Lilit led. Dr. Barlow was, well, multi-talented. Alek somehow knew that a girl Dylan would have found a way to fly. Apparently, Lilit had a type. "Huh," Alek said. Bovril had been very distinct. Mr. Sharp. Your wife. That still sounded more like a wife Dylan already had than any prospective wife Mrs. Sharp might try to find for him. "We should invite them both to Konopiste, anyway. It's been nearly as long as Newkirk. We can invite him, too." "A war reunion?" Dylan asked. "Sounds fun. But we can't let Newkirk in before the eggs hatch. If the Lady Boffin finds out I let him within a five mile viscinity, she'll have my head."

"That she would," Alek said. "Soon, though."

"Soon. While Ma and Jaspert are here. They'd love to meet the whole gang."

"Absolutely," Alek agreed.

Alek looked at Dylan and felt silly all over again. Volger had known the secret since before Dylan had even come to Istanbul. If he had a wife - and really, quite a bit of evidence seemed to be pointing there - it couldn't be Lilit.

Jealousy was an absurd thing to feel about all this, right? Still, as Alek imagined a woman who might be Dylan's wife, he thought jealousy might be the right word for the feeling in his chest.

Silly, indeed.

#leviathan series #leviathan trilogy #leviathan fanfiction #dalek leviathan

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mx-lamour · 1 year ago

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5 - Dinner

[The sucessor to #2 - Charmed]

Alek's hunger ravaged him while Sasha Ivliskova walked the halls of Castle Ravenloft. He felt the need to eat both more and more often, to steel himself for the time he spent with her.

He had gotten Strahd positively blood-drunk, too. The blood had to go somewhere. It didn't keep half as well as the meat would have—if there had been any left to store. Better that it went into Strahd than to puddles congealing thickly on the floor.

This meant that they were consistently eating more meals together. Strahd bristled, at first, from the frequent interruptions—frequent still only meaning nightly—but it became difficult to argue against the intrusion once he was well fed. It almost seemed that the thirst had ceased to plague him altogether. He found that his focus on other projects, when Alek wasn't knocking on his door to eat, was much improved.

It did mean that their larder was quickly dwindling, and that Sasha was regularly left unattended, and that there were more opportunities for her to stumble too early upon their true nature, if she thought to go looking for them. But it was the only way that Alek could bear to be near her, and he delighted in her company.

Strahd noticed how Alek was becoming attached to the girl—had been, from the moment he returned with her. It placed a new variable on his experiment that he had not expected, which came in the form of a dark, prickling sensation behind his eyes.

Strahd and Alek began to watch over the girl in shifts, until she became more acclimated to their usual late schedule and would sleep as Strahd did for most of the day.

The daylight… Strahd envied Alek his ability to walk about whenever he pleased, without consequence. Sleep itself seemed to be optional for him; although Alek indulged himself with it often enough, he was not beholden to the pattern of waxing and waning hours to which Strahd was forced to adhere. His limbs did not grow heavy and sluggish as Strahd’s did when the sun rose too high in the Barovian sky, despite the darkness of his rooms inside the castle.

The sun had barely ducked below the horizon, drawing the curtain on a serene day in late summer—Sasha’s first sunset at the castle had not been her last, after all—when Strahd walked briskly into the garden to stake his claim on the night.

Alek and Sasha were strolling together through the weeds, her hands tucked into the crook of his elbow. She gazed up at his handsome, mustached face with rapt attention. Alek smiled warmly down at her, a glimmer of mischief in his gray eyes as he spoke low and conspiratorially about something that had once happened to him, or some rumor he had heard long ago. He leaned in to murmur closer to her ear, his soft smile growing into a suggestive grin.

Sasha’s eyebrows lifted high. A hand flew up to cover a wide smile, which pushed a pinprick dimple into her cheek when she laughed.

A dark shroud seemed to bind itself around Strahd's chest.

Sasha's eyes met Alek's, and her fingers curled absently away from the space between them, their faces hovering so close to one another’s…

Strahd cleared his throat, startling them both. Neither had noticed his approach. “Good evening,” he said smoothly. “I trust you had a pleasant afternoon.”

“Oh, yes.” Sasha's gaze darted briefly from Strahd back to Alek, before falling to the toes of her shoes. Bashfully, she added, “Thank you,” that welt of a dimple still marring her cheek.

The corners of Strahd's eyes tightened as he forced an amiable expression. “Wonderful. But perhaps we should let the good Captain return to his duties.” He said pointedly, “The keep won't mind itself, you know,” but that was hardly true. Sasha took his proffered hand.

Strahd's peaceable facade vanished when the girl was not looking. He all but glared at Alek, as his hand slipped around the girl's shoulders to guide her away. Alek caught the red glint in Strahd's eyes, like hot coals. His brow furrowed slightly. Was something wrong?

That night was not the first time that Strahd had tasted Sasha’s blood, but it was the first time he took so much of her life essence at once, pulling harder and deeper from her veins, just to see how much she would endure. Merely a rational progression of his experiment.

Alek was furious. “Would you have been satisfied if you had killed her?” he accused. “Will you do the same with Tatyana when she comes along—if she does? You’ve hardly been this rough with those who have deserved it.”

“Are you finished?”

Alek’s hand went instinctively to the dagger on his hip. Neither of the men bothered to carry a full sword and scabbard within the comfort of their own abode, but Alek was never without at least a small blade somewhere on his person.

Strahd fixed him with a mute stare tantamount to heckling.

A tense moment passed.

Alek relaxed his grip on the hilt. “Fine,” he said brusquely. “I suppose you won’t be needing dinner, then.”

“No.”

“Wonderful.” Alek swept his arm out, eyes like flint, and stepped aside with militant precision to gesture down the hall he knew very well led to Strahd’s library.

Strahd hesitated, stiffly reeling against Alek’s blatant dismissal. Of course that was where he was headed. In the end, he squared his shoulders and strode forward, past his own second in command. It would be far more humiliating to turn on his heel and slither past Alek another way. Strahd would not rout.

Alek sat on the edge of Sasha’s bed, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. There was nothing much he could do for her, apart from checking that she was comfortable and allowing her to rest. Given enough time, her blood should eventually replenish itself.

He wasn’t sure why Strahd had waited so long to test her like this, and maybe that was why Alek had been angry with him. Strahd’s choices seemed erratic, his mood increasingly hostile. He could only guess at the reasons. Could it be that the girl was too similar to Tatyana? That he had been too afraid of failure? If that was what had stalled Strahd before, then what had changed?

Sasha moaned softly and shifted in her sleep. “Ay, bach,” Alek whispered absently, adjusting the blanket around her. He patted her hand. “Rest easy now.”

Had he only been too well-fed? It seemed ridiculous.

. . .

“How long will it take for her to change?” Alek asked early the following evening, while Strahd carefully sucked the last dregs from the limp body held sensuously in his arms.

“It may have already begun,” Strahd noted, licking his lips. He scooped up the knees of the fresh corpse and laid it down bride-like upon the table.

“Already?”

“What did you imagine would happen?”

Alek stood. “Have you looked in on her?”

“She’s your pet,” Strahd said tersely.

Honestly, the man was becoming more petulant by the day. What were these Barovians putting in their blood?

Alek fled their modest dining room to visit Sasha again. Strahd should be more concerned about her, he thought. This was his experiment. What did he plan to do if the change wasn’t successful? Or—and this had been Alek’s concern all along—what did he plan to do if it was? If Sasha did become like Strahd, what would he do with her then? He seemed equally possessive and dismissive of the girl; it was impossible to read his intentions toward her. Alek had thought he was better at reading his old friend.

Sasha was awake when Alek opened the door to her bedroom. There was a distinct pallor to her complexion, but she smiled at Alek when he entered. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little tired, that’s all.”

Alek resumed his place on the edge of the bed. Sasha touched his hand. Hers was colder than he remembered.

“Yesterday, in the garden,” she said wistfully, “were you going to kiss me?”

Alek chuckled softly, taken aback. “I would have liked to.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well… I thought it might be impolite, in front of Lord Strahd.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Sasha said, with growing enthusiasm. She squeezed his hand tighter. “I must tell you, Lord Strahd has also kissed me…” Pulling aside the neckline of her shift, she touched her throat. “...here.”

“Yes, I know,” Alek assured her.

“And you’re not upset?”

“No… Not about that, anyway.”

An exaggerated look of concern came over her. She seemed entirely too lucid, but her gaze had a far away quality to it. “You are upset!” she cried.

“I’m not upset with you,” Alek said. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Oh, Alek,” she sighed. “Will you kiss me now? I would very much like it if you did.”

There was something odd about her request. An uncanniness which tingled at the back of Alek’s mind, setting him on edge. It felt like a trap.

But the request itself was innocuous enough. And he did want to kiss her. She was a lovely young woman, even in her present state. She posed no threat to him, even if she was becoming a vampire, as Strahd was. Alek himself was no mortal man.

He leaned down to kiss her.

Alek realized, as he bent closer to her, that Sasha still smelled entirely human. His empty stomach roiled, even as his mouth pressed over hers.

A new energy seized the girl, and she grasped his face in her hands, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Alek groaned. His insides coiled in angry knots as he fought back the urge to bite the tongue out of her mouth. With effort, he broke free of her lips.

“I want you, Alek,” she whined, tugging the front of his shirt, trying to draw him nearer again. “Be my husband. Share your love with me.”

Alek swallowed thickly. “I would,” he said, petting her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. “Believe me, I would. But I would eat you up, and not in the most pleasant sense.”

“It can’t be so bad,” Sasha pleaded with him.

“It can.” Alek gently extracted himself from her cloying hands.

The girl’s face contorted in frustration. “Don’t go, Alek, please!”

Her fury was nothing compared to the gnashing maw deep within his gut. “Sasha, you need to rest. Everything will be all right if you rest now.”

“No!” she shrieked. “I can’t stand it!”

Alek did not know what to do. His instinct, really, was to knock her unconscious. But he was already struggling not to hurt her. Hitting her would certainly not have eased the suffering for either of them. “Shall I call Lord Strahd?” he asked instead. “Would you like to see him?”

This calmed her somewhat, though she seemed conflicted. “I want you,” she moaned.

“I know, Sasha. And I’m flattered. Let me call Lord Strahd for you.”

Sasha sighed heavily in defeat. She made no move toward him. “All right,” she agreed mournfully.

“Thank you.” Alek dared to kiss her lightly on the forehead.

Strahd was entirely too smug when Alek returned to the dining room and found him still there, sitting with his long legs propped up on the table. “Go on,” Alek muttered.

“So it has begun, then.”

“I think you should go to her. She is… hungry.” It was the only word that came to mind. Alek eyed the corpse still lying on the table. His stomach seized. “I am hungry,” he amended.

“You did fail to dine with me,” Strahd observed unhelpfully. His mood seemed to have improved, at least. He had apparently retrieved a book from his library and returned with it to the dining room while Alek was away. He opened it now. It was not a spellbook, but instead seemed to be a volume of folklore. “There is no need for me to see her now,” he said. “Let her rest for a few days. It will clear her head—and yours.”

* * * EDIT - Part 2: #6 - Corpse [Ao3 Collection] [prompt list by @syrips]

#vampentine's 2024 #idk i love thier little spats #stralek #strahd von zarovich #alek gwilym #lamour dms cos #crypt 20 lore #sasha ivliskova #i was torn about posting this in two parts but #it's more about the daily habit for me rn

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ljaesch · 8 months ago

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English Cast Announced for the Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture Anime

The English cast has been announced for the Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture anime: Cory Yee is Ash Luca Padovan is Rozé Suzie Yeung is Sakuya Griffin Puatu is Arnold Dani Chambers is Catherine Alan Lee is Tomo-Omi Oda Dawn Bennett is Yoko Araki Aleks Le is Shota Munemori Kira Buckland is Haruka Rutaka The Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture anime is scheduled to premiere on Hulu in the United…

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#anime #Code Geass

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curseofthebloodcountess · 11 months ago

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Blood Countess: A Summary

It occurred to me that other CoS blogs do great jobs at summarizing their campaigns and I never managed to sit down and say what on earth is happening in mine. I'm running a gender-swapped CoS that I call "Blood Countess". It explores Strahd not only as a woman, but as a bereaved mother, a weapon in her mother's quest for godhood, and as powerful a mage and general as "I, Strahd" envisions the character as. I'm going to put the summary below, but also invite people to ask me anything! I've been developing this version of the game for a long while now and I'm dying to talk about it! Thanks for reading!

When my “Blood Countess” game started, I had six players. It was far too many and not everyone’s play styles meshed. Two of the players left after the first session due to scheduling conflicts. Another left after fewer than ten sessions because he caused inter-party conflict. My three remaining players have been phenomenal. I will make a note to say that the player who left after approximately ten sessions left a lasting impression on the game, so he will be referenced as “Aarakocra Ranger”. The others, I will name by their characters, as well as character race and class.

The premise of this campaign is deceptively simple. What if Strahd von Zarovich was a woman? In the CoS community, a very popular fan module, "She is the Ancient” already exists, which does a similar reimagining. However, I excel at reinventing the wheel. I read “She is the Ancient” and found the author’s commitment to avoiding problematic representation simultaneously impressive and bothersome. Although I own it, I set it aside to build “Blood Countess”. The characters who began the game were the aforementioned Aarakocra Ranger; a Reborn Celestial Warlock named Sister Theodora, who was created by the Abbot of Krezk as a potential bride for Strahd; a Half-Elf Grave Domain Cleric named Alistor, who is the grandson of the dragon Argynvost and the love-child of Strahd von Zarovich (here reimagined as a Half-Elf) and Alek Gwilym; and a Human Spirits Bard, who was Actual Zak Bagans from the Travel Channel, who was meant as a short-term character and who would later be replaced by a Human Monster Hunter Ranger, Tam Mantigieri, who is the reincarnation of Sergei von Zarovich.

The party first encountered Ismark Kolyanovich in the woods outside Barovia Village, as they were under attack by a truly ridiculous amount of wolves. Accompanied by several villagers, including a grown Thorn Durst (who is Ismark’s ex-boyfriend and political rival), Ismark helped the party dispatch the wolves and uncover the body of his friend, Dalvan, who was trying to deliver a letter to the outside world on behalf of Ismark’s recently deceased father, Kolyan. The characters convened in the Blood on the Vine Tavern where Ismark and Thorn briefed them on the situation in Barovia Village: Ismark’s father, the burgomaster, recently died of a heart attack while the Kolyanovich manor was under siege by Countess Strahd von Zarovich. The countess has been attempting to woo and/or kidnap Ismark’s younger sister, Ireena, for the last year. She has attacked Ireena a few times, but never successfully seduced her or turned her into a vampire. Ismark wants to take Ireena to the next town over, Vallaki, which is a two-day trip, but there have been mysterious deaths in Barovia Village for the last year and he feels obligated as the burgomaster to put his people at ease before prioritizing his family. He and Ireena also need help burying Kolyan, which shouldn’t be a hard task, but a year ago, Doru Donavich led 75% of the village’s young adults in a rebellion against Strahd and all were slaughtered. Finding strong backs to carry the coffin has been a challenge. The party agreed to help Ismark with all three of his tasks. The funeral led the party to a church in utter disrepair, with a depressed and half-mad priest, Father Donavich. The event was also “crashed” by the countess herself. Strahd offered funeral gifts to Ireena and Ismark and insisted that she would come back to check their progress on solving the murders. During this meeting, several other things of note happened. First, the Aarakocra Ranger demanded that Strahd give him a gift. She cast “Suggestion” on him and commanded him to fly as high as he could for his gift. He flew into the mists, which give levels of exhaustion for each minute spent in them. This led to him falling out of the sky, very nearly to his death, and being immobilized until Thorn’s sister, Rose, used her druidic magic to heal him. It was a terrifying power move. Strahd also scored a Nat 20 on insight checking Alistor, thus realizing the uncanny resemblance between him and his father, Alek Gwilym, and realizing that he was her son. Lastly, when Strahd left, Theo discovered that Father Donavich was keeping his son, Doru, under the church as a vampire spawn. She allowed him to drink from her and the two bonded over being monstrous against their will/nature. Thorn also told Zak about the March of the Dead: the parade of the fallen villagers who reenact their failed rebellion every night.

The party decided to investigate the Donaviches and their role in the mysterious deaths in the village, but they also checked out the Durst Pie Emporium and learned that Rose and Thorn ran a pie shop under the patronage of their godmother, Morgantha. An investigation led them to learn that Morgantha was a hag and the pie flour was made of the ground bone dust of humans. Now that they had two leads, the party had to decide which to pursue when reporting to Strahd. Further complications ensue as Theo, who wears a full habit and veil, grapples with the fact that she was created to perfectly resemble Ireena to placate Strahd. Alistor spent his time trying to hide his holy magic as well as his kindness, which he failed to do. His selflessness impressed Ismark a lot. Theo spent more time at the church, bonding with Doru and the two briskly tripped into something like love… which is complicated by the fact that Theo is both promised to the countess and has feelings for Stella Wachter in her adopted hometown, Vallaki. The Aarakocra Ranger got kidnapped by the hags and Alistor rescued him. Then, the group devised a plan to stage an attack by Doru in Durst Manor to summon the hags and Strahd. They turned the hags over to Strahd for justice and she swiftly killed them. After she departed, Ismark turned leadership of Barovia Village over to Thorn. However, Rose insisted they should bury the hags by the family windmill. Since they would be traveling in the same direction, the party and the Durst siblings traveled together. They made it to Tser Pool and camped with the Vistani. There, Madam Eva insisted upon reading for the characters. She indicated the locations of the treasures they would need to defeat Strahd and hinted at character deaths to come, future allies, and secrets the player characters were trying to keep. Morning arrived and so too did a flood. The Dursts fled in one direction; the party in the other. They took the high road to avoid the swollen river and were ambushed by Rahadin and dhampir soldiers. While they could not defeat Rahadin, they dispatched the dhampir soldiers with surprising swiftness. However, Zak Bagans perished in the fight and the party pushed his body into the river. They continued to Vallaki.

Around this time, the Aarakocra Ranger player had caused problems with every member of the group. He demanded solo sessions, sold the party out, complained that his character was not narratively tied to the game despite not attempting to tie into the story, and refused plot hooks I offered him. He was not invited back. When the party arrived in Vallaki, I ruled that Izek Strazni shot Aarakocra Ranger out of the sky and killed him, believing him to be a spy from the city of Immol. The remaining characters (Theo, Alistor, Ireena, and Ismark) were welcomed into Vallaki with ease. The first person the party encountered upon arrival was Victor Vallakovich, who presented them with exposition about the town: the Festival of the Blazing Sun and Feast of St. Andral were due to fall on the same day in three days, but, more importantly, Theo’s adoptive father, Father Lucian Petrovich, had died during Theo’s absence from town. The funeral had already happened and Lucian’s former acolyte (and suspected biological daughter), Zinnadia Swilova, had taken over the Church of St. Andral. Theo, grief-stricken and rage-fueled, immediately booked it to the church to take over the services. It was awkward, but a very powerful moment for her. The party also met Tam Mantigieri at the Blue Water Inn. Before this - and don’t quote my timeline - Tam was making his way from his home in Mount Baratok to the town of Vallaki. On his way, he discovered a kidnapper with two children he intended to drown: a Vistana girl named Arabelle and a Dusk Elf boy named Kian. Arabelle is the daughter of the Vistani leader, Luvash, and the Vistani offered Tam a reward for his service. Kian is the first Dusk Elf child anyone has seen in three hundred years. Tam returned him to his mother, Patrina Velikovna, and though grateful, the Dusk Elves have little to offer him. Tam, modest by nature, insisted there was nothing he wanted from them. He immediately charmed the party and volunteered to help them solve the mystery of Lucian’s death, which seemed to be foul play. Because Tam and Theo are from Vallaki, they didn’t meet NPCs so much as interact with neighbors, friends, and enemies. Tam revealed that he had been in love with the coffin maker’s daughter, Valeria, before she left Vallaki to marry a wealthy man in Immol named Vasili von Holtz; before that, he had been romantic rivals with Nikolai Wachter over Elizaveta Vallakovich, the Vallakoviches eldest child who disappeared two years ago, right around the time Nikolai Wachter Sr. died of a mysterious illness. Tam also enjoys teasing Victor, who is Theo’s best friend and adoptive cousin. Izek Strazni has a crush on Theo that won’t quit. The Wachters, local menaces, were showing their out-of-town cousin, Lavinia around Vallaki, which prompted suspicion from characters who hailed from Vallaki. Theo sent letters to the clergy of Barovia to inform them of her father’s death. She did not expect to hear back.

The party began their investigation of Lucian’s death at the Church of St. Andral. There, they discovered that the bones of St. Andral were missing, signs of a struggle (not a suicide) in Lucian’s office, and a vampire spawn in the coffin in which Lucian was meant to be buried. They at first suspected Zinnadia of the death, but after she helped them fight the vampire spawn, they figured they should do more research. They went to the coffin maker’s shop. There, Theo discovered some (but not all) of St. Andral’s bones and Alistor discovered a room filled with vampire spawn. Panicking, Alistor set the building ablaze and evacuated. The coffin maker, Mr. Vander Voort, did not escape, but Valeria did and reported to the burgomaster immediately. The party, who received invitations to various events, including “craft time” for the impending festival at Vallakovich Manor, used it as an excuse to come in and begin exploring. Alistor really enjoyed it! The other characters? Not so much. Alistor also caught the eye of a local nobleman, Rafael Buckvhold, which inspired the first stirrings of jealousy in Ismark. Meanwhile, Theo discovered that Lucian was alive and being held prisoner in a makeshift jail cell in an upstairs closet of Vallakovich Manor. She asked Victor to distract everyone (which he did, using Hypnotic Pattern), while the party smuggled Lucian back to the Blue Water Inn. There, Lucian revealed that for all his and Vargas’ political differences, the final nail in the proverbial coffin was Lucian’s discovery that Vargas was having an affair with Zinnadia Swilova, Lucian’s daughter, with the intent to promote her within civil service (possibly to baroness if Lydia met an unfortunate demise). The brothers-in-law fought and Lucian lost, ending up as a prisoner in his sister’s home. The party planned to stage Lucian’s return from the dead as a miracle and sought to find the remaining holy relics for the church.

The next day, they spent time at Wachterhaus and learned the details of Stella’s condition. Victor (accidentally!) made her think she was a cat. Fiona wants retribution for her poor Stella. Nikolai and Lavinia watched the party closely. The party decided to snoop and broke into Stella’s room and discovered her state was worse than they thought. They knew they would need a “remove curse” spell to put her right. Ireena and Theo also stole into Fiona Wachter’s room and stole an iron lockbox. Theo tried to open it, but it was trapped and so it knocked her unconscious. Ireena was able to put her right, using her paladin abilities, but Nikolai Wachter caught them. They admitted to wanting to help Stella. He said that if they could do that, he would help them with whatever they needed. What the characters didn’t know was that Fiona and Lavinia both heard them stealing the lockbox. Moreover, what the party suspects but does not know is that Lavinia is Strahd in disguise. She wants to get close to Alistor and/or Ireena for vastly different reasons, but cannot bring herself to speak to Alistor for fear of getting him killed. He is her last scrap of humanity that she didn’t know she still had. The party smuggled the lockbox out of Wachterhaus and returned to the Blue Water Inn. They discovered the remaining bones of St. Andral inside and a letter from the burgomaster of Immol, Dagmar Olyavna, proposing an alliance with Fiona if she takes over Vallaki, as well as thanking her for the item exchange. It is now clear that Dagmar has the Tome of Strahd. Theo relayed what she and Ireena discovered about Stella to the party and Alistor announced that he has a brother in Barovia (specifically Argynvostholt) who may be able to help cure Stella. They resolve to go to Argynvostholt after the festival.

That night, the characters have strange dreams. Tam dreams of being a man called Sergei von Zarovich and meeting a beautiful woman named Tatyana, who looks just like Ireena. Theo has her first dream ever of a blond man smuggling babies out of a castle. Alistor has a nightmare vision of his goddess, taunting him. Alistor and Ismark, who are sharing a bed, are awoken suddenly by Alistor’s night terrors and the party assumes they are having sex. This becomes a running joke but it’s painful because Alistor and Ismark would very much like to have sex with each other.

On the day of the Feast/Festival, the party stages Lucian’s reappearance in society as a miracle, and the townsfolk believe he is a saint. The festival itself is… odd. The party overhears the bard Rictavio telling a gruesome story about Strahd’s defeat of the Order of the Silver Dragon, which makes Alistor doubt that his brother and grandfather (Grand Paw) are alive. Izek meets Ireena and Theo at the same time and cannot tell who is his “true love”. He and Ismark almost come to blows because Izek will not stop harassing the girls. Vargas calls him off. Because Alistor killed all the vampire spawn in the coffin maker’s shop and Theo reconsecrated the church, they circumvented a larger attack. They accomplish some tasks in town for a day and then set out for Argynvostholt. Along the way, they come across Valeria von Holtz’s impaled body in the woods and are ambushed by one of Strahd’s brides/generals and her lieutenants. Alistor goes down but is revived. The characters barely escape with their lives and they reach Argynvostholt… which is in ruins. Undaunted, the party continues. There, they see a time- and war-ravaged castle that was once beautiful and briefly encounter Argynvost’s ghost. They seek out the fallen knights and Alistor is reunited with his twin brother, Godfrey, who has become a revenant. Godfrey explains the fall of Argynvostholt and the sorry state of the Order. Still, it is a bittersweet reunion, as neither thought they would see each other again. They spend the night catching up while the other characters explore the ruins and meet other fallen knights.

In the morning, there is a delivery to Argynvostholt: a coffin with Tam’s name inscribed upon it. Upon opening it, a swarm of bats fly out. When they fly away, a horse and rider, pursued by Vistani on dire wolves, appear. The woman on the horse rides with an attache, who turns out to be a very frightened Victor Vallakovich. His teleportation circle worked! And it teleported him to the gates of Ravenloft as Ezmeralda “Ez” D’Avenir was fleeing the vampires inside. She rescued him and rode a stolen horse to Argynvostholt. The Vistani who pursued her are led by Arrigal, Luvash’s brother, and he claims that he has come to mete out justice for Ez’s horse theft. The party refuses to give her up to Arrigal and in exchange, she reads their fortunes (a refresher course for the players). Stressed, Tam angrily hacks the coffin to bits, which alerts the hostile revenants to the party’s presence. Godfrey kicks them out for the time being to protect them. On their way back, the party examines Valeria’s corpse and discovers that she is a dhampir in the service of Strahd’s army, as evidenced by the brand of the von Zarovich crest on her side… in the same place that Alistor was branded with it as punishment by a commanding officer during his time on the Material Plane.

The party returns to Vallaki and receives letters. Theo receives sympathy and tenderness from Doru about Lucian’s death, so she writes to him to clear the misunderstanding up. She receives a strange, doomsday-esque letter from the Church in Immol as well. Alistor receives an invitation from Rafael Buckvhold to join in on making masks for the next festival: a masquerade. He agrees to come and Rafael kisses him in the garden and invites him to bed after arts and crafts time. Upon noticing Alistor’s brand, Rafael assumes Alistor is on the same side as the Buckvhold family. Tam confesses his dream to Ireena and they have a conversation about past lives and nightmares, which brings them closer together. Alistor comes back to the inn and tells Ismark he slept with Rafael, which Ismark tries to act normal about. Alistor also hears a creepy song from Rictavio that reminds him of his nightmare. At the church, Izek proposes to Theo. Theo writes to Doru to ask him to either pretend to be (or really be) her fiance to deter Izek’s advances. The next day, Alistor buys Godfrey a costume for the masquerade, so they can smuggle him into town to heal Stella. Tam and Theo go to lunch at Wachterhaus and learn Lavinia has left for the time being and Lady Wachter thinks the party should aid her in “getting rid of” Izek. Ismark receives a letter from Thorn detailing the situation in Barovia Village: people are getting weird without cannibal pies and Doru is refusing to feed, which means he is acting erratic. Thorn confesses to missing Ismark and tells him that Rose abandoned him. Ismark is conflicted about this letter. Meanwhile, Theo gets two letters. One is from the Abbot, Lucian’s father and her creator, expressing detached remorse for Lucian’s “death”. The other is from Doru, over-enthusiastically accepting her proposal. He writes her the horniest, most vampiric love letter and she is smitten. Ismark is uneasy but unsure how to tell her. Alistor and Ismark talk and are interrupted by Victor Vallakovich, who tells them something weird is happening at his house - that he thinks he heard his mother talking to his deceased sister. They join his investigation and discover that Lydia’s study is a cover for a Ba’al Verzi assassin’s headquarters. They find ciphers and letters, an eerie mirror that reeks of conjuration magic, and a dagger that, upon unsheathing, they realize is cursed. Alistor devises a plan: he teaches Victor the “spare the dying” cantrip and asks Ismark to stab him. It turns into a profound (and horny) bonding moment between Alistor and Ismark, which Victor takes as confirmation that they are sleeping together. Ismark stabs Alistor to death and Victor brings him back. Covered in blood, Alistor and Ismark return to the Blue Water Inn. Theo is at the church, which means Alistor and Ismark interrupt a nice moment between Ireena and Tam. Urwin draws them a bath (they take turns) and the two groups fill each other in on what they are experiencing. Sensing unresolved tension between Alistor and Ismark, Ireena elects to stay in Tam’s room with him. Alistor and Ismark have an intimate and vulnerable moment where they talk about how much they trust each other and how relieved they are that Alistor is okay. They embrace and the only thing that keeps them from kissing and falling into bed together is their certainty that Ireena will come in any moment. She doesn’t.

The characters are again plagued with weird dreams. Theo dreams of the blond man again, this time in a war tent, but the dream warps and twists every time she breaks immersion to talk to him. Tam has a nightmare of his and Ireena/Tatyana’s death, narrated by the same voice that tormented Alistor’s nightmare before. Alistor, however, dreams of his grandfather’s ghost. Argynvost tells him how proud he is of him and how grateful he is that he is home. Morning finds Ireena at the window, charmed and bitten by Strahd. Tam is freaked out and tries to keep her safe as the party ventures back to Argynvostholt to deliver Godfrey’s costume. Along the way, they are attacked by needle blights. Once back at Argynvostholt for the night, Tam insists that Ireena should sleep in a windowless room. When she thinks that’s odd, he announces that the whole party should sleep in a windowless room! He, Ireena, Ismark, and Theo do so. Alistor goes to sleep in his childhood bedroom. While Theo sleeps, she hears the voice of the blond man ask, “Ilona? Are you at Argynvostholt?” He tries to ask if Argynvost is there if there are children there, but she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The dream fades out. The voice of The Morning Lord comes through and speaks to her. Theo is momentarily certain she is speaking to her god, but he slips up and sounds a little too human. She’s aware she’s in the presence of something holy, but something feels off. The conversation is cut short. Unable to sleep, Theo goes to find the knights, only to learn that Vladimir Horngaard keeps a night watch. Godfrey and the other nights help defend her. This occurs every time someone comes up the stairs during the next hour. Vladimir clearly does not remember Godfrey, only referring to him as a “soldier”. Theo joins the revenants and learns to play dice games from them. Godfrey sends the resident squire, Arthund, to hunt game for breakfast for their guests. Alistor gets up, has a confrontation with Vladimir, and then goes to the roof to talk to one of his old friends, Damian, about what happened between Godfrey and Vladimir and also to help him repair a broken ballista. While talking, Damian asks Alistor to deliver a wedding ring he fashioned for his beloved, Dame Almathea, to the memorial crypt for the Order of the Silver Dragon in Immol. Alistor agrees. Meanwhile, Tam comforts Ireena, who is cured of her charmed condition and is angry with herself. Arthund returns with a goat he killed and he is determined to impress Godfrey with his kill. He then confesses he doesn’t know how to cook and so Tam, Ismark, and Ireena take over. Ismark gathers everyone for breakfast. Over roasted goat, the knights tell the party their unfinished business. Sir Erich wants to hunt the roc of Mount Ghakis. Sir Robern wants to find out what became of his family. Dame Ragnelle wants her art returned from Ravenloft to Argynvostholt. Arthund just wants to be a hero. Godfrey takes Alistor aside and tells him that Argynvost’s skull has been taken as a prize by Baba Lysaga and he wants it restored to the mausoleum. The party agree to help all of the knights. On their walk back, Tam discovers a bundle of clothes, which the party surmises belongs to a werewolf. In leaving it alone, they are allowed to pass safely onward. They agree to visit the Dusk Elves because they are meant to have one of the items they need to fight Strahd (the Icon of Ravenloft).

Upon arriving at Huldefolk, the Dusk Elf settlement, the characters realize they are being watched oddly. The guards outside Patrina’s home ask Alistor who his mother’s clan is. He does not know his mother, but he can name Alek Gwilym as his father. This causes gossip to kick up and the elves search for his mother. Tam insists upon speaking to Patrina. She reluctantly allows the party into her home, where the other characters meet her ten-year-old son, Kian, who is studying to be a mage. Tam tells Patrina that he and Ireena are having unsettling dreams about lives together and Patrina confesses that one of the reasons she took to Tam is because she believes he is the reincarnation of Sergei von Zarovich. She declares that Ireena must be Tatyana and she is very sorry. Theo and Alistor examine the religious statues Patrina keeps and learn of the Lady of Shadows, also known as The Raven Queen, who was Queen Ravenovia von Royen von Zarovich in life. Alistor hates this, but Tam hates all of it so much that he goes outside to throw up. Ireena follows him. Patrina explains how Ravenovia ascended to godhood and the party detects resentment, maybe even hatred in Patrina’s voice. She tells Alistor that if they do not find his mother, out of respect for his father’s memory, she will claim Alistor for clan Velikov to give him permission to visit and remain in Huldefolk. As the conversation unfolds, it becomes clear that Patrina knows who Alistor’s mother might be but will not say. Theo asks Patrina about the prophesied item. Patrina eventually confesses to having the Icon of Ravenloft and needing it to protect Kian. She admits she has a dangerous mission at the Amber Temple she intends to complete to save her people, but that she cannot bequeath the item to the party until it is done because it is her only insurance for Kian’s safety from Strahd. The party agrees to help her with her mission in the Amber Temple in exchange for the item.

They return to Vallaki and Theo tells Ireena she has something important to tell her. She takes a drunk VIctor as moral (or “amoral”) support as she confesses that she looks identical to Ireena. Ireena seethes that the Abbot created Theo without considering her as her own person and she seethes that Strahd wants to harm them both. She insists that Theo is still her friend and that it isn’t her that she is mad at. Meanwhile, Ismark shares his letter from Thorn with Alistor, asking what to do. Alistor insists they should tell Theo. Tam sits in the bar with a bottle of wine and tries to ruminate on what he learned about Ravenovia. On a Nat 20, he accesses Sergei’s memories of Ravenovia: how hard it was to secure her love, how she pushed her children, how she drove her children apart. He feels sick. The characters decide to call it a night. Tam and Alistor stay at the inn. Theo, Ireena, and Ismark go to the church, which is now Hallowed ground. Ireena and Theo decide that everyone in the party should match someone else in the party to throw Strahd off everyone’s scent.

That’s where we ended tonight. It’s been WILD and it continues to get more and more interesting. There are a lot of miscellaneous facts I’d like to share, but they are spoilers and it’s almost 6 AM as I type this. I’m DELIGHTED by this game! Thank you for reading!

#curse of strahd #cos #g: blood countess

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