#the arcana rewrite

[toothpaste-for-the-skin]

The Fall of Luster Dawn

AU/headcanon where Luster Dawn dies in a battle vs Opaline which also helps kick off some events in g5 (which I’ll explain under the cut)

[everhonest]

BUT THAT'S WHAT MAKES ME THE PERFECT QUEEN!

TO FIX A CRYSTAL HEART / CRYSTAL HEART AU

[more info below the cut]

I'll write a detailed thing +post the other characters designs later but!!

This is my MLP AU staged around the end of G4, and then G5!! It's basically about how Equestria fell into a divided state, and how magic was taken from the ponies.

Essentially, Flurryheart effectively replaces Queen Opaline, in a sense. To properly explain WHY she decided to try and take the magic for herself.

I felt like Flurryheart and Lusterdawn were completely discarded in favor for current nonsensical lore so! Here's to my take on the story. Cozy Glow included :]

[the-other-starstruck]

currently thinking about reworking lucios route after rewatching malacalicos video about him and his route being absolute shit for his character.

i feel like somewhere in there, there could be a really compelling story but the writers just didnt do it justice

lucios character is interesting despite HATING HIM AND WHAT HES DONE TO LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE

hes a brat and a bitch and it isnt appealing, and i dont think he deserves a happy ending. not unless his character really goes through a massive change, but even then he wouldnt come out of it being buddy buddy with everyone.

i sort of want a story for him where mc doesnt stay with him and doesnt put up with his shit, i want a route where we can point out his mistakes to his face and force him to confront them and feel an ounce of remorse.

i dont want him to forgive himself or be forgiven. i want him to sit in turmoil and realize that everything he ever did, the people he hurt, the ones he killed, the countless places he colonized and ruined, all of it was for nothing. he didnt gain power, he didnt get his deals, he died and that was it (in his route, in all the others he turns to the devil). it was all a means to an end.

i need him to be more devastated to find out he killed you after youve spent months together, fought together, and helped him better himself. i need him to be horrified with his actions and just FEEL SOMETHING. ugh

maybe thats all why hes the main antagonist. but good lord i just need him to stop seeing lives he ruined and going "oopsie!! im so silly"

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: "Let's take a moment."

Saw the "How to Cry" prompt and immediately thought of that one paid scene in Nadia's route, after the carriage crash in the forest (book IX chapter 2 for anyone curious) so... Scene Rewrite With My OC time!

2600 words, featuring Nadia, apprentice Chimalus, and their familiar, Skye the bluebird. Starts directly after the crash itself.

Slight mentions of blood and thunderstorms (and people reacting to both lol) but mostly Nadia angst and some fluff.

“Chimalus… Chimalus!”

Chimalus stirred. Someone was calling them. And there was a rather high-pitched sound right in their ear. They felt their brows crease. It took a moment for them to figure out how to open their eyes.

The first thing they saw was a blue and brownish blur. Skye. The bluebird was right in their face, chirping frantically with worry. Then Skye moved aside… and Nadia was right there.

Chimalus thought that the carriage crash must have rattled them pretty badly. They couldn’t think of any other reason for Nadia to look so openly worried.

“Chimalus, are you alright?” Nadia gasped.

Chimalus tried to move. Were they okay?

They didn’t get much chance to find out. Nadia wrapped her arms around them and carefully extricated them from… whatever they were tangled up in. By the time Nadia had set them shakily on their feet, they had enough wherewithal to notice that the collision had thrown them from the carriage entirely. They had crashed into some heavy branches. And belatedly, Chimalus heard the sound of hooves pounding across the ground.

The horses had broken free. Which was technically a good thing… but it did leave them all stranded.

“Nadia…”

Nadia ignored their call… or maybe she didn’t hear it under the crash of the pouring rain. She pressed a gentle hand to Chimalus’ forehead. When she drew back, her fingertips were stained crimson.

“You’re injured!” Nadia’s expression melted into sorrow. “This is my fault…”

Skye chirped sadly. She settled on Chimalus’ shoulder, finding the little gap between their cloak and their neck, and gently headbutted their cheek. Chimalus shakily brought a hand to their own head. There was definitely a gash up there. But they felt mostly steady on their feet. Their vision was as clear as it had ever been. They weren’t dizzy, and nothing felt broken.

“Nadia, I’m alright,” they assured her.

They had hoped Nadia would be relieved. But she looked almost angry.

“No, Chimalus, you are not alright,” she all but snapped. “Come here. Let me help you.”

Chimalus had no chance to protest. Not that they wanted to. Nadia simply scooped them up, carrying them bridal-style. That particular thought made Chimalus blush. They hid their face in Nadia’s shoulder.

Somehow, Nadia managed to open the door to the broken carriage while still carrying Chimalus. She carefully set them down on one of the padded benches. She lingered there for a moment, her fingers trailing along their cheek, before she finally pulled back and sat across from them.

“This is the second carriage this week,” Nadia sighed.

She nervously ran a hand through her hair. Then she shook her head, took a slightly deeper breath, and inspected Chimalus again. One glance at their forehead was enough to send her looking all around the carriage, searching for something. Eventually, she turned to her own torn, rain-soaked sleeve. She ripped off a strip of fabric.

“Hold still,” she said gently. “This may sting.”

She held the damp rag up to the cut on Chimalus’ forehead. She kept it there, staring so intently that Chimalus started to blush again. When Nadia pulled back, the bleeding had stopped.

“There,” said Nadia. “Now you are alright. Though perhaps we should have you see a palace physician when we return…”

“I’m fine, Nadia,” said Chimalus, completely unconvincingly.

Nadia’s lips twitched into a frown. She put a hand on Chimalus’ shoulder, gently easing them against the bench so they were able to rest their head against the carriage wall. Nadia still didn’t look fully happy even after that.

“Nadia, really, it’s alright,” Chimalus insisted.

Sadly, they were clearly trembling a little when they reached for Nadia’s hand. And Skye’s reproachful chirp didn’t help.

“You will be,” Nadia said firmly. “I am truly sorry that you were injured at all.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Chimalus. “Really. That creature…”

They trailed off. They weren’t sure if they wanted to talk about the figure that had appeared before them, the flash of white illuminated by a strike of lightning.

The cause of the crash.  

Nadia’s expression turned more serious, if that were possible. “You saw it as well, then. I thought it was…” She stopped, almost looking annoyed. She stared out the carriage window for a moment before shaking her head. Her expression turned resolute. “We cannot stay in this carriage forever. I… suppose we should start walking.”

Chimalus sat up a little straighter. They were sure that they could get back on their feet. And finding some sort of place where any future thunder wouldn’t make the carriage shake was a very tempting idea. But Nadia didn’t look like she was ready to go.

“Nadia?”

Nadia looked up at them.

“We should take a moment,” said Chimalus. “Maybe the rain will slow down.”

For a split second, Nadia looked curious. Confused. Then a faint blush crept across her cheeks. She knew exactly what Chimalus was hoping for. But she wasn’t about to admit that out loud.

“Well,” she said slowly. “I suppose if you need to take a break…”

Chimalus had to hide a fond laugh. But their smile quickly slipped. Nadia was clearly tense. Her fists were clenched, pressed against her lap. Her mouth was set into a thin, tight line. She stared out the window again, practically glaring at the trees.

“Nadia… are… are you alright?” Chimalus asked.

The answer was obvious. And made all the more so by Nadia’s frown.

Nadia was silent for a long moment. Her expression softened just the slightest bit. And she let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping.

“No,” she admitted. “No, I am not. Everything is falling apart, Chimalus, and it’s only been three months.” She closed her eyes, grimacing. “The court is corrupt. The city is falling apart. Perhaps irreparably so. My sister is here. Portia has been lying to me, and I’ve no idea who to trust. Frankly, Chimalus, I am perhaps a little upset about all these very stressful things.”   

“I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” Chimalus said gently.

Nadia didn’t even hear them. She took a deep, trembling breath. She kept her eyes closed as she attempted to compose herself. It didn’t work. She drew her knees up to her chest and hid her face.

“And now… I have managed to hurt you.”

Her shoulders were trembling. At first, Chimalus thought it might be because of the cold. They sat a little straighter, ready to put their cloak over her, for whatever little warmth a soaking wet cloak would offer.

Then Nadia looked up. A single tear trailed down her cheek, mingling with the rainwater.

“I suppose it’s only fair I pay for my mistakes.”

Words wouldn’t reach her in this state. So Chimalus acted. They slid off of their seat, carefully crossed the carriage, and sat down beside her. Just as carefully, fingers feather-light, they brushed away some of Nadia’s tears. They could only hope it helped. And Nadia felt so cold… but Chimalus didn’t quite dare to huddle closer. It might not have been proper, even after everything.

Nadia made that decision for them. She leaned against Chimalus, hiding her face in their cloak. And she cried.

Chimalus gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They didn’t say a word. Just then, they knew that Nadia needed silent support far more than she needed any sort of reassurance or platitudes. Though that didn’t stop Skye from adorably nestling on Nadia’s shoulder instead of sitting on Chimalus. Chimalus smiled at that. In their opinion, nothing was a better comfort than some extra-soft feathers.

They stayed just like that for a while longer. Chimalus wasn’t sure exactly how long. But eventually, Nadia took in one more shaky breath. And she sat up. She still looked sorrowful. But there was something thoughtful about her expression as well.

“Thank you, Chimalus,” she murmured. She carefully wiped her eyes. “I… I haven’t cried since I was nine. How nostalgic.”

“It looks like you needed it,” said Chimalus.

And it was really no wonder why. Nadia was under an almost inconceivable amount of pressure. She had an entire city to bring back from the brink of destruction, all while planning a giant event, and with many people she was supposed to be able to trust actively working against her. Then there was the debate on whether or not Portia was doing the same. And as Countess, and one who had lived her whole life as a princess besides, she had to put on a show for almost everyone. She couldn’t show weakness. She had to make it seem like she was in complete control.

It must have been exhausting.

Nadia was quiet for a moment, before finally nodding. “You’re right, of course. It’s not as if I am ashamed of my emotions. Quite the opposite, in fact. However… I usually experience them in solitude.”

“Well… nobody else is around right now,” said Chimalus, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “Does that count?”

Nadia gave a soft laugh. “Perhaps. Though one may want to show a bit more self-control in front of a renowned and powerful magician.”

“I wouldn’t call myself renowned,” said Chimalus, embarrassed.

They were more infamous than anything, if the odd looks they still sometimes received from people in the market were any indication. But they decided not to comment on that just then. It wouldn’t help Nadia.

“But either way, you don’t need to put up a front just for me,” they said instead. “You don’t need to be the Countess, or a princess, or anything like that. You can just be… yourself.”

Nadia’s smile was small, but genuine, and perhaps a bit playful. She leaned against Chimalus again, visibly relaxing.

“Perhaps not,” she said. “It may take a bit of practice, opening myself up in such a way. This may shock you, but I am used to doing most things alone.”

“You don’t need to anymore,” Chimalus said softly.

Nadia’s smile grew. It had become the smile that always made Chimalus’ heart pound.

“No… I suppose I don’t,” she said. Then her smile vanished, immediately replaced by a look of frustration. “Well, I might do to avoid giving you any more grievous injuries, lest I find myself alone once more.”

“You won’t,” Chimalus assured her. “I’ll always be there for you.” 

They had no idea what had possessed them to say something like that out loud. Sure, they had thought those exact same words many times. More often than they necessarily wanted to admit. Just the fact that they had said them now made their cheeks flame. But still. Every word was true. 

And despite not being able to give true facial expressions, Skye managed to give them a very knowing look. Chimalus decided to ignore it. 

Nadia must have noticed. Or maybe she just thought that the way Chimalus had managed to utterly fluster themself was adorable. She smiled, giving a soft, humming sort of laugh. And she gently pressed her lips to the edge of the cut on Chimalus’ head. 

“Thank you, Chimalus,” she whispered. “I assure you, nothing like this will happen again. I intend to keep you safe.” 

Before Chimalus could reply, Nadia pulled slightly back. She straightened up her skirts, smoothed down her hair, and briskly wiped away the last traces of tears. Chimalus’ heart ached a bit. They wanted to say so much more. They wanted to keep her safe, too. They couldn’t be the one protected all the time. They couldn’t be another burden for Nadia to carry. They wanted nothing more than to help. 

And to stay by her side. 

At least she was still holding their hand. The two of them weren’t quite tangled up like they had been before, but their hands, resting on the seat in the little empty space between them, were still decidedly connected. 

Nadia gently ran her thumb over the back of Chimalus’ hand. 

“The world always looks a little better after a good cry, doesn't it?” she mused. “I had forgotten... thank you for reminding me.” 

“You’re welcome.” Chimalus’ voice came out a little higher than usual. “I know I always feel better after I let things out like that.” 

“You do so often?” said Nadia, teasing. 

Chimalus played along. When Nadia smiled like that, they simply couldn’t do anything else.

“Oh, yes,” they said with as straight a face as possible. “I cried yesterday.” 

Nadia’s eyes widened. “Oh? Whatever for? I hope I haven’t given you reason to cry...”

“Well, your riding outfit was absolutely incredible,” Chimalus said casually. “You looked so powerful. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I had to let it out somehow, right?” 

They did their best to hold Nadia’s gaze. Nadia was smirking again. It took all of Chimalus’ effort to hold back their own laughter. 

Then Skye gave a decidedly exasperated trill. And Nadia burst out laughing.

Chimalus couldn’t hold it in anymore. They wound up joining her. The two of them collapsed against each other again, their shoulders shaking, though the tears had been left far behind. 

“Well, then,” said Nadia when the laughter had finally subsided enough for her to talk, “if that is true, then you must remind me to talk to my tailor. I’ll get you a suit, too.” She smiled, both playful and somewhat alluring. “You’d look quite ravishing, I think.” 

Chimalus would be surprised if their face hadn’t turned into a tomato at that point. “You don’t need to get me anything.” 

“I would like to repay you for the compassion you showed me today,” Nadia said simply. “For the companionship as well. If there’s anyone I could have utterly broken down in front of, you are by far the best choice. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on... I hope you know that I am there for you as well. And if a shoulder is not enough, then I fully intend to shower you with gifts until you feel better. Including a riding suit, of course. And perhaps a horse of your own.”

Chimalus somehow turned redder. "Nadia..."

Nadia gently kissed their cheek again. “If I can offer you even a little comfort, I will be happy to give it.”  

“Nadia, really, that’s very kind of you, but you don’t need to repay me,” said Chimalus. It was amazing how flustered they managed to get.  

Nadia chuckled. “No, perhaps not. But I would like to. If you’ll allow me.” 

Chimalus met her eye. She was smiling again, far more soft and sincere than the playful smirk from earlier. Chimalus found they loved this smile just as much as the other one. They loved all of Nadia’s smiles. They hoped she had reason to share those smiles more often. 

Before they could say anything more, a clap of thunder shook the air. Chimalus jumped, nearly sending Skye flying. The carriage windows rattled. 

Nadia sighed, scowling at the windows as though personally offended by the thunder. “It seems this storm has no intention of letting up. We’d best go find some real shelter.”  

She stood gracefully, offering Chimalus her hand. Chimalus accepted. They didn’t exactly like the idea of trudging off in the middle of a storm. But they knew there was very little choice. And it helped to know that they weren’t going through this alone. 

Chimalus put up their hood. Skye tucked themself in the little space between Chimalus’ neck and the edge of their cloak. Nadia smiled, more fondly this time. And she gracefully stepped out of the carriage, pausing to help Chimalus down as well. 

The two of them set off. And neither let go of the other’s hand. 

[gloriaglorheart]

Sooo!! I got some more chapters up!!

There are now 15 chapters to my rewrite!

And enjoy this screenshot from the other day lmao

[motherofqups]

Weights & Measures, Chapter 21

I Damn Sure Never Would've Danced With the Devil

CW: noncon/dubcon referenced, images of and allusions to drug use, reliving trauma, allusion to suicidal thoughts, discussion of blackmail and manipulation

[asmo-cosmetics]

i am once again begging y'all to stop glorifying the nix hydra era

[mlpelemental]

The first two episodes! :)

"A New Maretime Bay" - As Sunny and her friends welcome newcomers into Maretime Bay, we explore all the new places that have been built with it. Afterward, conflicts have risen within the town. Sunny and her friends must find a way to fix it.

This episode is very similar to the show's introduction. There wasn't much change besides new buildings and arguments. Though it's not a carbon copy, it's sort of similar and just a good series starter!

"Deputy Dilemma" - After Sunny's ineraction with Twilight, she's up all night worrying. Izzy takes her to Moonbow's Recycling to relax for the day. Now that Hitch is without a Deputy, he's having more trouble dealing with the town. His friends try to help him solve that problem.

This episode delves into more of the backstory of Twilight and the Unity Crystals! Explaining what Opaline's intentions are and where this series is heading.

[brokenhardies]

Foolsuke AU - The Hamburgulars

made in this dollmaker

Yusuke Kitagawa - The Fool

Makoto Niijima - The Chariot

Futaba Isshiki - The Lovers

Akira Kurusu - The Emperor

Goro Yoshida - The High Priestess

Ryuji Ohya - The Hermit

Ann Takamaki - The Empress

Haru Okumura - The Justice

Satoru Yoshizawa - The Faith

(not featured; Violet - The Magician)

@latenitewaffles, @inkwell1013, @mushroomfusion245 @rollthedice-playthecards @thehedgehogat221b @sterling-writes @wonderguards

[devoraqs]

Tide Comes In

Summary: an accident in the Hanged Man’s Realm leads to a major revelation for Alexander and Julian

Characters: Ilyacha (Julian Devorak x Alexander MacRionnag)

Word Count: 1673 (+ illustration)

Content Warnings: Semi-graphic descriptions of drowning/suffocation

___

Twists and turns. Roots that seemed to rise from the boggy soil to wrap at his ankles as he fought his way through. Branches clawing at him, the gnarled wood catching on his clothes. Mud streaked up his boots and sash. His hair was damp and was sticking to his forehead with cold sweat. His heart thundered, slamming against his ribcage.  Alexander had heard of a hostile environment before, but nothing quite as literal as what the Hanged Man's realm was throwing at him. Literally throwing, it seemed.  He didn’t know where Julian was, he didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know where, or when, or why anything was. The hazy red fog cloyed his lungs, and it was becoming harder and harder to see where he was going, where to put his feet lest he trip. And trip he did. 

Whether it was stray root, or a stump, or merely a simple loss of balance in the oppressively dim light and rolling terrain, he felt himself lurch and topple. The dull thud of hitting the sodden forest floor never came.  Instead, a cold splash as he found himself submerged in the icy water, roots and vines grasping for him and threatening to drag him deeper. The smell was foul, the putrid-sweet fetor of stale mud and decay, and strangely metallic.

How? He thought wildly to himself, I’ve waded in this water, it barely comes to my waist!

But he sank, and sank, and sank. The tangled tree trunks on the surface disappeared from view, enveloped by the murky water. He thrashed his limbs wildly, trying to do something, but all in vain. It was as if his arms neither held weight nor carried any force, they passed through the water as through thin air. Silent bubbles of breath blossomed where the water drowned his cry. He sank further. There was blackness above him, around him, pressing in.

Distantly above he could hear a voice, my father's? shouting,

"Someone go after him! He can’t swim!"

He can’t swim. He can’t swim.

I can’t swim.

He tried to magic his way up, or at least stop his need to breathe briefly. The spell sputtered and fizzled out under the weight of water. His lungs screamed for air, he felt so heavy, he couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open anymore, it was so black. So black… so cold… 

Then, something grabbed his wrist tightly. Something warm, and that warmth shot through his body from head to toe. 

In a flash, the inky black became blue. Warm blue, dappled with sunlight. He tasted salt. His left hand was clamped around something metal, a small brass nautical sextant. And his right…

There was a boy holding on to him, a boy with dark red hair and wide grey eyes, kicking his legs hard as he looped an arm around his shoulder. As the boy’s arms enclosed around him, Alexander realised that he was himself a child. Small in stature, smaller even than the boy. The boy said nothing, how could they when they were underwater, but somehow Alexander knew he was telling him,

Don’t worry, I’ve got you.

Something about the boy made him calm, made him trust him. The arms around him were sure and held fast. He knew the face, somehow, like it was one he’d known all his life though he couldn’t yet put a name to it.   The boy’s strong legs pushed them back up and they broke the surface. The blood rushing in Alexander’s ears didn’t quite drown out the cries of gulls and the crash of waves as they rolled against the prow of the ship. He heard voices, on the deck of the ship, crying out in… was that Nevivic? No, that was Nalbe. Or was it both? And then he heard a man’s voice, the same as before, calling his name, “Alexander!” 

My father’s voice. 

Impossible, Alexander didn’t know his father. He couldn’t know what his voice was, couldn’t know that that voice was his. Yet, he did. 

And another voice, a woman’s, shouting, “Ilya!” 

Ilya. Julian. Julian!?

The boy shouted something back to his mother that Alexander couldn’t make out. He craned his head up as far as he could, but the figures were becoming more and more blurry the harder he tried to make them out. They began to fade, the cries distorting as though they were being pulled away. Even the seawater felt as though it were melting away from under him, though he could still feel the boy’s arms around him, solid even as the boy’s visage faded into obscurity,

“Don’t worry, Sanya,” the boy said, clearly, “I’ve got you… I’ve got you…”

Alexander opened his eyes, and Julian’s face swam into vision, “I’ve got you, Sacha, I’ve got you,”

His voice was quiet, yet frantic. He had his arms around Alexander’s waist and hoisted them both heavily onto the bank. Alexander gasped for air and choked as water made its way up his throat with hacking coughs, before slumping over onto the cold, wet earth.  “Sacha? Sacha can you hear me? Are you ok, what happened?”

Alexander blinked, then looked up into the same colour grey eye that the boy had had, the same dark auburn hair rendered darker still with water. 

There was a moment of blank stillness as realisation and understanding dawned on Alexander. He felt heavy, like there was a weight pressing on his temples and chest that had nothing to do with any water he might have swallowed. “Sextant,” he rasped, his voice hoarse,

Julian breathed a heavy sigh of relief and gathered Alexander to him in a tight hug, then paused, “What was that?”

“I had… a sextant in my hand. In the sea… I can’t swim…”

Alexander’s head span, and he found himself clinging to Julian’s shoulders like he had done the boy’s.

“You were the boy,” Alexander said, not quite knowing if he was even making any sense, “you were the boy in my…”

Dream? No. Not a dream.  Memory.

Julian’s eye widened, his mouth falling into a perfect ‘o’,

“My father’s sextant,” he replied, so quietly that it was almost to himself, “and it was dropped over the side of the boat and…”

His eye slid to meet Alexander’s,

“You dove in after it. And I dove in after you. Because…”

“I can’t swim,” Alexander finished.

The weight suddenly overwhelmed him and he sagged against Julian, suddenly freezing and shivering. His head hurt, his teeth chattered. What the hell was going on?

A memory. A memory from his childhood. The first one he had. And Julian was in it. Were they children together?  Were they friends? What had happened? Why didn’t he know him? Why didn’t he remember? Did Julian know any more? The questions swirled and circled in his head. Julian seemed similarly pallid and grave as though he was thinking the exact same things as Alexander was. 

If he focused he could still smell the seawater, feel the shape of the sextant in his hand, see the dappling of golden-white sunlight over the blue water. Where before there had been a gaping void of over thirty years of nothing, suddenly this burned bright and vivid in his mind’s eye. It almost hurt, a twinge just on the periphery of his senses, but it… didn’t. None of the blistering headaches from before, none of the physical pain and nausea. Instead, a queer feeling that churned in his stomach, and the inexplicable sense of self. Shivering, wet, and covered in dirt as he was, he somehow felt more himself now, whatever that could mean. 

He didn’t know how he should feel about any of this. Didn’t know what he should do about it either.  But it could wait. First, they had a job to do. Julian draped his coat over the two of them, the heavy wool and leather slowly but surely sapping the worst of the chill from their bodies. Then, still clinging onto each other, they got to their feet.

They walked slowly in silence for what felt like hours, the greatcoat’s large swath of material seemingly shielding them from the worst of the realm’s flora.  Alexander felt both exhausted and on edge, his hands shoved into his pockets. Then, he felt Julian gently tug his left wrist, coaxing the hand out of the pocket and threading their fingers together. A little spark of the warmth from before pooled in their joined hands, almost imperceptible but certainly there. They both let out a soft sigh before Julian chuckled mirthlessly and said, “It seems that we are three for three on me fishing you out of water, my dear,”

“Huh? Oh, aye. Just now, the aqueduct, and… gods, that was real, wasn’t it.”

Julian nodded, “It’s strange. I’ve always remembered doing that, yet til now it’s as if I’ve remembered remembering it. Does that make sense?”

“Yes and no. None of this makes sense.”

Julian hummed in agreement, his eyes trained on the expanse of dark twisted wood stretching into a red horizon, “There’s a lot that I can’t remember. It’s there, I know it is, but it’s hidden. Hidden, and waiting to be found.”

“If it can even be found,” Alexander muttered. Who was to say that this was not merely a one-off, a chance accident that led to a snippet of a lost past being recovered with nothing else to be found, like the metallic remnants of a comet fallen to earth. All that remains is a fragment, the rest burnt away. But oh, how he wanted there to be more.

“Even if it can’t,” Julian said, “I’m glad we have that, Sanya.”

The diminutive he’d used before, and with as much affection in it now as there had been then. Despite himself, Alexander felt himself smile and something light fizzed in his chest, dispelling the gloom that cloaked him for a moment. He leant into Julian’s side, resting his head in the crook of his shoulder,

“I am too.”

[into-the-daniverse]

Hello it’s been a thousand years (two) but I was thinking about Muriel and what his relationship with Alec might have been like before the plague, with how close she and Asra were she had to have known him

And then because I’m feeling angsty I’m thinking about him carrying her to the shop after Asra brings her back and how he’s the second person to know she’s alive

Idk over the years I think they’re less of a purely romantic ship and just something else entirely but *Benoit Blanc voice* compels me though

[bakuliwrites]

An Exchange- Julian x Bakuli x Lucio

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Tags (for this excerpt): Slightly suggestive, Julian recounting the time he had to dart across the deck of a ship completely in the nude

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Lucio Morgasson x Bakuli Björnsdottir

So, I'm editing a version of End Up Here to feature my fan apprentice, Bakuli. I'm not sure that I'll ever release the full thing, but for fun, I might post some of it on Tumblr from time-to-time. So here's a bit of it from the segment An Exchange in Chapter 8.

Over the next several days, Lucio tries to rid his mind of pointless, wistful dreams, busying himself with concocting plans for his next party. But as soon as he sees Julian and Bakuli, the strange, soft yearnings return. It nearly puts him in a foul mood, but the attention showered upon him by his companions is enough to stave off any potential lashing out on his part. Though as soon as Bakuli and Julian have drifted off to sleep, Lucio’s irritation returns in full force. 

He hates how much he’s enjoying their company. He hates how- fluffy he’s starting to feel about them both. How attached he’s getting. He tells himself he’s doing this to distract them. Not that he thinks either Julian or Bakuli will get to the bottom of what he’s up to and where this plague came from. But still, the threat is present.

Lucio tells himself that all of this is just a bit of fun. He’ll get bored of the two of them eventually. He’s never been one to maintain prolonged affection or interest, with the exception of Noddy. Yet, he finds himself snuggling closer to Julian and Bakuli when the nights get cold, when the anxiety comes creeping into his mind. In his sleep, Julian will drape an arm over Lucio’s shivering torso. In Bakuli’s slumber, she lets out a soft sigh and reaches for Lucio’s hand. 

In their waking hours, Julian is a riot. Lucio can’t remember the last time someone made him laugh like Julian can. In fact, it was probably Julian that last made him laugh this hard, way back when Lucio was still Montag and Julian was still wet behind the ears. 

“The next thing I know, I’m running stark naked across the deck, shielding my bits with a rag while trying to hunt down a cargo crate or a barrel I can duck into before anyone can see me-” Julian is re-enacting, darting across Lucio’s bedroom, holding a kerchief in front of his “bits” to feign decency. Meanwhile, Bakuli is beside herself with laughter and Lucio is practically wheezing, clutching at his sides in pain from all the giggling he’s done. 

“La-” Julian tries to continue, nearly doubling over with laughter, “Lady Delphine pulls off the lid of the barrel and peeks inside to find me desperately trying to cover myself with the rag. I'm sputtering apologies and have got no good explanation for my unfortunate predicament. She merely looks at me for a moment and then- with a smirk, mind you- says, ‘I would scold you for the sheer audacity you have, but you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day.’” 

“My Gods, Ilya,” Bakuli manages, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes with how hard she’s been laughing, “How do you go on after that?” 

“No wonder she gave me a funny look when I mentioned you were coming to that banquet a couple months back,” Lucio posits, recovering his breath after this ridiculous story. This comment just sends Bakuli into another fit of laughter.

As the night winds down and all three of them begin to fall into a daze of exhaustion, Bakuli waves her hand and extinguishes the candlelight. Julian settles in on one side of her while Lucio claims the other. Lucio isn’t surprised that Julian quickly dozes off, his animated storytelling no doubt exhausting. Meanwhile, Bakuli is wide awake beside the Count, her eyes curiously roving Lucio’s face in the silence. It’s a bit unnerving and he’s about to ask if she likes what she sees when she reaches out a hand and tenderly sweeps some of the gilded strands of his hair back.

“Who were you? Before you became Lucio, Count of Vesuvia?” she whispers. Bathed in moonlight, Bakuli’s eyes appear almost green, a lush forest thankful for days of rain. Lucio doesn’t quite understand what she means, quirking an eyebrow up in confusion before realizing that perhaps she's asking what his position in the palace was before he was named Count. 

“Oh, I was Spada’s right-hand man,” he explains, propping himself up on his elbow. But Bakuli shakes her head, the dark ringlets of her hair gently brushing against her shoulders with each motion. Her gaze is utterly penetrating. It spooks Lucio how deeply she’s looking at him, like she’s trying to puzzle out his soul. Like she’s trying to see beyond him in this present moment and figure out the scared little boy trapped in the swirling eddies of snow.

“But who were you? Like what did you do before this and how did you get here?” she specifies. Again, Lucio looks at her with confusion. It’s well known that Lucio, Light of Vesuvia, was a well-traveled, highly respected mercenary before he found his way to Count Spada. It’s common knowledge that he is the reason Vesuvia’s military was and is still so successful. With Bakuli being a Vesuvian citizen, she should know all of this already. And it’s then that Lucio realizes he actually doesn’t know much about Bakuli. Maybe she hasn’t always lived in Vesuvia. Maybe she’s from somewhere else. 

Like under a rock, you mean? a snarky thought pops into his head. Even if she were from elsewhere, word of Lucio Morgasson would have reached her. There isn’t a corner of the world where his name hasn’t been spoken. Before he has a chance to speak, however, Bakuli says something that gives him even further pause.

“I know you were a highly successful mercenary,” she clarifies with a small laugh, holding her penetrating gaze, “I guess what I mean is-”

She pauses, looking nervous to finish her own question. 

“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you,” she finishes, dark brows knit together and forehead crinkling with a sheepish worry, “About your childhood. Some of them good, some of them not so good.”

Lucio’s heart jumps into his throat, vibrating rapidly, fear setting in. Where is this line of questioning going? This isn’t the first time over the last few weeks that Bakuli has, in some way, made him feel- anxious. There have been a couple times where he’s caught the magician staring curiously at him. He’s chalked it up to her somewhat odd personality and introverted nature, but the way Bakuli is looking at Lucio tonight makes him wonder if, perhaps, there’s more to it. 

“Oh yeah?” he tries to say as casually as possible, feigning nonchalance though his mind is reeling, “Do you believe them?” 

He hopes she can’t see how utterly terrified he is. Maybe the Devil was right. Maybe he shouldn’t have invited this magician into his palace, let alone his bed. Maybe she’s fishing for information. Maybe-

“I’m not one to let rumors cloud my judgment,” Bakuli states, the worried look on her face replaced with one of indignance, “Rumors aren’t always fair and, more often than not, they’re untrue. I’ll make my own opinions of you. I was just curious what you thought of them.”

“Ha,” Lucio lets out a false laugh, leaning back against his pillow and smiling mischievously, secretly relieved that she wasn’t more direct, “Well, all the good ones are certainly true. And all the bad? A load of crap. You can take that to the bank.”

Bakuli merely casts a kind smile at him. But the glimmer behind her eyes tells Lucio she’s thinking, contemplating.

“You’re a curious one, Lucio,” she chuckles, leaning towards him and pressing a featherlight kiss to his lips. She lingers for a moment, the pad of her thumb gently smoothing over the angles of Lucio’s cheekbones. Despite her aura of mystery, there’s something about her that Lucio can’t help but like. Maybe it’s the way she makes him feel heard. For as strange as her gaze may be, he can admit to some part of himself that Bakuli makes him feel seen. When he or Julian tell their stories, even if it’s the millionth time she’s heard them, Bakuli still looks at them like they’re the center of her attention. She seems to do this for everyone she meets. Her focus is unparalleled and Lucio finds himself appreciating this.

“Alright, Miss. Bakuli, your turn,” he smirks, beaming impishly and expectantly at his companion, “Who were you? Before you became such an illustrious magician.”

She beams, a bright smile that seems to reach her eyes. 

“No one special,” she laughs.

“Pshhh,” Lucio returns, “I highly doubt that.”

“No, really!” Bakuli insists, absentmindedly tracing Lucio’s collarbone with the tip of her fingernail. The sensation sends delightful shivers through him, goosebumps settling as quickly as they raise with her touch. 

“I want the whole story,” Lucio quietly demands, drawing her closer, “Tell me who Bakuli Björnsdottir is.” 

She glances at him hesitantly, blushing softly, no doubt at the one-on-one attention she’s receiving from The Count of Vesuvia. Lucio likes it when she’s flustered, likes to watch the way she sheepishly glances down and smiles quietly to herself. 

“Alright, fine,” she acquiesces before launching into a detailed account of her life. And for once, Lucio listens, perhaps too tired to interject with his own stories. Or maybe too invested in gauging if there’s anything in her past he should be worried about. Either way, he learns a fair amount about her. 

Bakuli was born in the South, to a tribe not unlike his own, though her mother is Prakran. She spent her early years in the frigid snows of the Scourgelands, before her parents and three other siblings relocated to Prakra, to be closer to her mother’s family. Things were good, until they weren’t. Her parents split up when she was twelve, something she’d made peace with a long time ago, though the mention of it still seemed to bring a quiver to her voice. Her father, a merchant by trade, went back to the Scourgelands, where Bakuli would visit once a year. Their relationship is somewhat strained.

“I love my father, very much,” she explains, eyes downcast at this part of her story, “But he wasn’t always present, even when he was around. Sometimes, it felt like his spirit was wandering somewhere else while his body stayed behind.” 

Lucio doesn’t dare say anything about his own father, pushing the image of a withered Lutz out of his mind. He doesn’t have to think about the man for long, as Bakuli goes on with her tale. 

Lucio learns that she inherited her magic shop from her mother, who inherited it from her sister, who inherited it from their mother. 

“It’s been in the family for generations,” Bakuli explains proudly as Lucio tries to follow the lineage of the shop, his brain starting to hurt, “You should come by to visit sometime. I think I have a couple things there that you might like. I can even do a tarot reading for you,” she adds with a wink. Lucio isn’t quite sure what that entails, but he’s down to give it a go.

Vesuvia was a summer destination for her family, to visit her grandmother when she was still alive. It didn’t become a permanent residence for Bakuli until her mother inherited the shop when Bakuli was fifteen. 

“And I’ve been living here ever since,” she finishes with a smile. Lucio knows there’s more to her story than this condensed version of it. He can see it in her eyes, a lingering sorrow that wavers in and out as she looks at him. But he’s far too exhausted to ask for any further details. And he’s certainly not going to press for more, knowing that it will open the door for Bakuli to question him in return. Lucio is certain that he does not want to share the intricacies of his own childhood with this magician. He’s never even done that with Julian, and he trusts him more than he trusts Bakuli at the moment. 

Their conversation fades to a whisper and soon enough, Bakuli is out like a light, leaving Lucio to stew in confusion. He’s grateful to have gotten a glimpse into the magician’s background. So far, there’s nothing to alarm him. It does sound like she’s come from a background none-too-special or threatening. Still, the feeling of paranoia lingers. Why is she asking him questions about his childhood? Is it genuine curiosity? Or is she trying to dig up dirt on him and spread it around a city that already seems to secretly hate their Count? Is this Aisha and Salim all over again? Or is it something else entirely? Something that scares Lucio even more. 

Lucio pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. Bakuli’s interrogating, her inquisitive gaze, fills him with a perplexing mixture of caution and warmth. He doesn’t dare divulge the details of his childhood to anyone, let alone her and Julian. Yet, he finds himself feeling grateful that someone is paying attention to him. And genuinely so, it seems. 

Have to keep an eye on that one, Lucio notes, tired of mulling over possibilities in his head.

Something has changed. In this small interaction, everything has changed. Lucio can feel it deep in his heart. He can sense it radiating out from the brightness that slumbers beside him, and he’s not quite sure what to make of it all.

[peachypizzicato]

Hi!! Sory to bother you but this letter to dorian is very interesting! Im new to fandom but you mention many things which are annoying me too already. Its so harf to find smth nice to read 😖☹️😑 Sadly Im not much of a artist so i cant "be the change you wanna see" 😅😭 do you write/draw? Im so curios what a story/fanart would look like if done RIGHT for once. Thanks!!

hey anon! don’t worry, you’re not bothering me at all! thank you so much, i’m glad you enjoyed reading my impromptu essay-thingy! i was really hoping it would resonate with people in the fandom, so your message makes me very happy :)

i totally understand the feeling! sometimes you can kinda get lost in the shuffle and it can feel like there’s nothing good- but there’s good things and good creators out there! i honestly can’t really give super specific suggestions on that front, but id say just keep an eye out for anything showing or talking about characters in an unsavory manner (for example, if a majority of the art of ESPECIALLY the brown skinned characters is sexual or suggestive in nature, or if grown adults- julian and muriel most usually- are infantilized or otherwise treated as incapable on their own)

as for doing the story itself right, i actually feel uniquely qualified to speak on exactly that! i had actually started on my own retelling of sorts– before i realized that i had not done NEARLY enough planning and jumping in both feet first had stressed me to the point of burnout such that i had to shelve that whole thing. but i digress! in the meantime, i’ve actually done a bit of that planning stuff retroactively in the form of light analysis. nothing super crazy, mostly reading accounts from other marginalized groups affected by the messaging of the game and taking into account my own knowledge to jot down specific issues with the original and how they could be fixed (its kind of fun actually if you’re into that sort of thing)

without overloading this answer with a wall of literary analysis, many of the most visible problems end up coming down to a choice between specific traits or a specific background, as keeping both causes said problems (for example, will rewritten muriel stay the stoic woodsy wild man or will he keep his indigenous coding? will rewritten julian keep all of his imagery or will he be a recognized jewish character?) many of the routes also face deeper issues that would need a case-by-case handling, but for anyone looking to rewrite them my advice would just be to look at things with a very careful and purposeful eye: why is this event happening to this character? does it play into a harmful stereotype or trope? what can be done instead to add to their character and their arc?

thats just my two cents, anyway! i hope this makes sense and is helpful, thanks again for reading :)

[the-other-starstruck]

got the entire first chapter of lucios route written down!! editing it now :)

im formatting it fanfic style but keeping the writing style (as best i can) and keeping as much of the canon writing as i see fit.

im using my mc samsin in it because i didnt want to put (mc) or (y/n) cause it just pulls me out of the narrative entirely. plus i can make more dialogue and interactions with personality rather than milktoast mc only there to showcase the characters personalities.

[wormtoxin]

in case you’re wondering 70% of what i’m writing lately consists entirely of the following:

[gloriaglorheart]

New cover for my Rewrite!

I just finished making a cover for my ArTw rewrite on Wattpad and on AO3!!

I also havent posted much on my rewrite in a while but currently working on chapter 26 now!!! ^^