#they really said return to monke and meant it

[royaltea000]

Hmmmm…monkey

[beebotea]

☁️ ˖⁺ lonely together — geto suguru

pairing: geto x gn!reader genre: fluff, a smidge of angst word count: 1.8k cw: post hidden inventory arc, reader is referred to as “darling”, morally gray reader, slightly suggestive joke at the end (idk geto insinuates u shower tgt), geto calls non-sorcerers monkeys i.e.: “i can fix him.” nah. he's perfect as he is

“so if youre lonely, no need to show me. if youre lonely, come be lonely with me.”

“suguru!”

you called out from the bottom of the hill, staring up at the entrance to the temple you had seen pictures of in yaga’s office. a board filled with pins and red rope connecting to other pictures related to geto suguru’s disappearance.

the man dressed in monk’s clothing with cascading raven hair done into a half-do stopped and turned towards you.

you noticed how his eyes widened upon seeing you. he looked healthier since you last saw him.

“suguru! did you sleep well last night?”

“it was enough. shouldnt you be preparing for your mission?”

“suguru! i got us some snacks from the bakery on the way home! do you want to try them with me and gojo?”

“no, it’s alright. im going to take a shower and rest in my room. you two go ahead without me.”

“suguru! i havent seen you in days, come out of your room, please? i miss you. everything’s been so boring lately…”

“im a bit tired. i have a mission tomorrow morning. goodnight.”

“suguru. tell me whats wrong… you havent hugged or kissed or even looked at me in weeks.”

“i dont really want to talk about it right now. i need to go soon, y/n.”

“be safe.”

“suguru? so it’s true?”

“it is.”

“youre leaving us?”

“i have to. dont you think we, those who are gifted, deserve more than the reality we live in?”

“what?”

“i want to thank you for worrying about me all this time and trying to make me feel better. i’ll miss you, goodbye, y/n.”

you remember returning to your dorm that day in a daze, tears long dried during your walk home, pondering his last words to you. apparently he’d been a lot more harsh on satoru than with you or shoko in his parting words.

you wanted to hate him for leaving you and everyone behind as if none of it ever mattered. as if everything he’d said to you in the past few years was a lie.

it had always been the four of you. but now, more than ever, you felt alone. you, satoru, and shoko all had a void that no amount of cigarettes or alcohol could fill. nothing could make you forget how warm the world used to be. how beautifully the moon used to glow. how bright the stars used to shine. now, all you could see was the vast darkness in between.

although your time was spent with two others as often as you could make possible, you felt inexplicably lonely.

we deserve more?

for the first few months, you were convinced he’d gone crazy, lost his mind, didn’t know what he was thinking.

but the more missions you took and the more casualties you witnessed, you started to understand what he meant. jujutsu sorcerers walk on a thin sheet of ice separating them from life and death. all the work they do and all the sacrifices they make for nothing more than monetary compensation.

we must protect those who cant protect themselves, satoru had said. but who was there to protect us? you thought in rebuttal.

haibara yu was only 17 when he passed. amanai riko was 14 when she was assassinated. gojo and geto were 18 when they were hunted and barely survived.

was it really all that worth it?

you remembered walking through the next few months of your last year in high school barely responding—as if it all went by in a blur.

nanami dropping out of jujutsu high, gojo mastering his domain expansion, shoko getting into medical school, you receiving your sorcerer’s license. did any of that mean anything if you all just died soon after?

the only thing you could recall clearly from your last year was bejng called to yaga’s office and offered a job as a teacher at the school.

you remember getting a glimpse of his board, filled with intel and pictures noting geto suguru’s activities. you recognized the temple and the trees surrounding it in a picture.

it was near your childhood home in the mountains where an old religious took base.

“i’ll have to decline, principal yaga.”

“dont get me wrong, you’ll still be sent on missions, you wont be cooped up here all the time. you’re a first-grade sorcerer after all—“

“really, principal yaga. i dont want to be a teacher here.”

“y/n?” suguru didnt take his eyes off of you as you bolted up the staircase, wrapping your arms around his shocked body.

“i missed you.” you smiled at him, feeling him instinctively wrap his arms around your waist as you pulled away.

“how did you find me?”

“i have my ways.”

he let out a gentle chuckle, one that youve been wanting to hear so badly for the last 14 months. “of course you do.” he tucked a strand if hair behind your ear, reminding you of the sweet and gentle young man you fell for in the beginning of high school. he took a moment to take in your appearance. he hadn’t seen you in so long and would be lying if he said he didnt miss you as well.

“i missed you too, y/n. why are you here?”

“well—”

“if youre here to convince me to come back. its not going to work.”

“wasnt really planning to.” you shrugged.

“oh?” he raised his brow, taken aback by your response. it was almost as if a weight was taken off his shoulders. it was hard enough to push you away once, a second time would probably break him entirely.

suguru couldnt help but let out a relived sigh, showing you the smile youve been dreaming of since he left. “so if youre not here for that, then i take it youre still sooo in love with me then arent you.”

“hey! im still mad at you, dont act all normal with me just yet.” you rolled your eyes, playfully swatting him on the shoulder. in all honesty you should be a lot more upset, livid perhaps, by the way he left it all behind. leaving your life without so much as saying ‘i love you’ or even sharing a kiss in the 3 weeks before his sudden rampage driven departure. but the thing was, your mind couldnt seem to care anymore. your tears and anger had long run out the first three months. your grieving had come to an end almost a year ago and now, you couldnt help but just be happy to see him again.

“right. im sorry.” he never took his eyes off of you as he spoke. “i didnt want to leave so abruptly like that. its just— i dont think i could stay in that world and continue to be happy.”

“i don’t completely understand what happened, suguru, but i know how you feel…” he nodded at your reply and began to guide you into the building.

“i wouldnt change anything even if i went back. except, maybe wait for you to come to the same realization. but believe me when i say this, ive always loved you. it just didnt feel right to say anything when i couldnt even love myself.” he said, holding your hand as the two of you walked through the traditional temple halls.

“was it lonely?”

“a little at first. but not so much anymore. ive found a new family and now with you by my side, i think i can finally call it complete.” he smiled at you, stopping by two large doors at the end of the hallway. “i want you to meet them.”

“theyre in there?” he nodded.

two months had passed since you arrived on the doorstep of his temple. two months for you to feel at home and with purpose beside your new family. two months was all it took for you to be completely by his side at all times, not that it was difficult. sure he was a bit more cruel and less kind to non-sorcerers than he had been in the past. but really, who was to blame him?

in any case, you knew that you fell in love with how he treated you and how he made you feel. him being relentlessly kind to others back then had only been a bonus, really. you couldnt care less about how he treated those ungrateful animals anymore anyways.

“y/n-san! geto-san said he’s too busy to take us to the shopping district right now! we really wanted to buy new shoes this weekend.” mimiko pouted at you, bursting into your room without knocking, barreling straight into your arms and sending the brush out of your grasp.

“cant you two wait a little bit longer? then all four of us can go to town together.” you opened your arm to welcome nanako as she dejectedly followed behind her sister.

“y/n’s right you two,” you looked up to see suguru standing at the doorway, fondly smiling at the spectacle before him. “i have maybe three more clients, a shower, and then i can take us all there, alright?”

the girls perked up at his voice, cheering and running over to him.

he took a step back from the running children and held his hands up to stop their advances. “no, no, dont get too close. i still have the monkey smell on me. i cant get you two dirty, now can i?” he looked back up to where you were sitting at the vanity. “y/n, dear.”

“yes, suguru?”

“would you like to help me with my last few clients? its awfully boring without you, you know.”

“do i have to?”

“well, if youre there then i mught be able to finish even earlier than expected and we’ll get to leave sooner too. right girls?” he winked at mimiko and nanako.

they excitedly nodded and begged for you to go with him. “yeah! please, y/n-san! we’ll be good while you’re helping out!”

“alright, alright, fine. i’ll go. but no playing on my phone alright? i bought you two plenty of nice books the last time we went out.”

“we promise!” they pushed you out of your own room and towards geto before slamming the door behind you.

suguru let out a soft chuckle as you walked towards his extended arm and linked your arm with his.

“hmph. using the girls against me. you play so dirty, suguru.”

“well how else would i get what i want darling? and besides, that just means you’ll have to rid of the monkey smell by taking a shower with me.”

“perv.”

the world you lived in had started to feel lonely. those worthy of suguru’s new world were few and far between compared to the vast population of animals surrounding you. but right now, your heart feels full. even if the world outside your paradise is bleak and lonely, the least it could do was to let you stay with your perfect family and be lonely together.

a/n: yeah best reality is when geto is happy and gojo is happy and everyone is happy because no one turned evil… but if evil why pretty? our boy can do no wrong!!

[rain-world-headcanons]

I like the idea the ascension isn't just death. Looking at some of the endings, it looks as if the scug is getting what they desired.

Surv and monk wanted their family

Hunter wanted to go back nsh and to be free of the rot

And artificer just wanted to see her kids again

Its diffrent in every accession ending, which makes believe that accession isn't really leaving the cycle but restarting it( new game plus ). Monk and surv could possibly be reborn as new slugpups, hunter was cured of rot and returned to nsh, and arti is just an echo( that ending isn't the accepted canon its fine ).

Though what about the ancients and SOS?

Well for the ancients, remember I said isn't JUST death, well yeah the ancients are actually left the cycle, the reason being this is because they had already finished thier purpose, there wasn't much more they could do in this world, so they were allowed to ascend, until the world resets( and yes they get to chill in wherever rw afterlife is )

And in this house we hc SOS became saint. Though more on that, the reason SOS became saint was because of none of the others figuring the triple affirmative out, the iterators were already meant to acesend, their creators had already acesended, at this point, so should they.

Though the reason saint didn't acesend was because thier purpose wasn't done, they hadn't finished the mass acesenion( theoretically ). Saint can ascend, they just need to complete thier purpose.

-

[empressofthesunwriter]

Yin and Yang: Book 1.03

Balance is a key aspect in the world, so why shouldn’t the Avatar have an opposite?

In a world where Raava and Vaatu merge with humans, the Avatar and the Daimon try to keep the peace between the four nations.

Aang and Hua are the current incarnations, but wake up 100 years in the future.

How will these two learn all four elements in one year and defeat the Fire Lord?

Book 1.03: The Southern Air Temple

Water. 

Earth. 

Fire. 

Air. 

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. 

Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar and Daimon, masters of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed them most, they vanished. 

A hundred years passed, and my brother and I discovered the new Avatar and Daimon, an airbender named Aang and an earthbender named Hua. 

And although his airbending and her earthbending skills are great they have a lot to learn before they’re ready to save anyone. 

But I believe Aang and Hua can save the world.

A few days had passed since Aang and Hua were broken free from the iceberg, which had been their prison for 100 of years.

Together with the water tribe siblings Katara and Sokka the Avatar and Daimon had begun their journey to master all four elements to end the long war the Fire Nation had started.

The first main goal was to reach the North Pole to find a waterbend master.

However, it didn’t mean they couldn’t make some stops.

Aang and Hua had been gone from the world for so long, anything had changed, they needed to see and learn how to move in this new world.

Also, they had important things to check.

So their first stop was the Southern Air Temple, Aang's birthplace, to look for other airbenders and maybe find out what had happened.

The quartetett one flying bison and a Kyuubi had camped yesterday on this tiny piece of island and were making anything ready for their journey to their destination for today.

Hua had a bad feeling in her stomach, as she helped Katara put their luggage in Appa's saddle.

She remembered with clarity how Gran-Gran, Katara and Sokka's grandma, had told them how no one had seen airbenders for 100 years.

She knew it was nearly impossible to meet up again with old friends and mentors, like Monk Gyatso, they were for sure dead, but Kanna's information and its implication, worried Hua.

Deep down she had a feeling if airbenders were still around, they wouldn’t be open about it and the other possibility…how Aang and her (even if she was only a quarter airbender) were the only airbenders left gave her a bitter taste in her mouth.

Other than Aang who was so sure to find his old home full of living airbenders, Hua had a strong feeling they would only find one thing there.

Death.

The black-haired girl shuddered.

It felt like yesterday as Monk Gyatso explained to her some only Daimon-related quirks.

Her Daimon spirit was born out of chaos and darkness, it meant she had a kind of radar for darker things more than Aang as Avatar, who flourished in order and light.

Destruction, pain, and even death gave her a thrill but also made her feel sick.

When she heard how no airbender had been seen for 100 years, a voice inside her said: they are dead.

Call it instinct or her weird Daimon Darkness-Radar, she knew it was true.

Hua had tried to warn Aang, to not get his hopes up, but sadly he didn’t listen to her.

He was too optimistic.

Typical Avatar.

“Wait 'til you see it, Katara!”, Hua heard Aang talk, returning her from her dark thoughts. “The Air Temple is one of the most beautiful places in the world!”

“Aang, I know you're excited, but it's been a hundred years since you've been home.”, reminds him Katara cautiously.

The waterbender looked at Hua, who gave her a tiny nod. 

Other than her counterpart, Hua didn't get her hopes up.

"That's why I'm so excited!", told Aang giddy.

"It's just that ... a lot can change in all that time."

"Katara is right Aang.", agreed Hua. "I have a really bad feeling about this. You shouldn't get your hopes up."

This made Aang roll his eyes and jump down from Appa's head.

"You and your bad feelings. You need to be more optimistic.", tutted Aang, which angered the Daimon.

She was not a little child!

"It would help you to be more realistic, Mr. Avatar. You can't live with your head in the clouds all the time!"

"I'm an airbender, it's in my nature."

"Yeah, that's your excuse for anything!"

"Children!", got Katara between them. 

She had a tired and annoyed look on her face. 

No wonder, since she and Sokka joined them, she had to stop the Avatar and Daimon regular from arguing.

"Not this early in the morning, please."

"Sorry, Katara.", they chorused together.

How synchronic they could be, when they didn't want to smash heads with each other, would astonish Katara forever.

Since neither Aang nor Hua wanted to give Katara any grief, they decided to drop the matter, for now.

Hua called for Jaiyi, who had been playing with the waves.

While her Kyuubi joined her and Katara on the saddle, Aang got Sokka out of his sleeping back, pretending there was a prickle snake in it.

They were ready now!

***

Serenly Appa was flying through the Patola Mountain range.

It's a great day for flying, musses Hua, as she sits beside Sokka and Katara on Appa's saddle, having Jaiyi in her lap.

Her nine-tails currently getting pats from her and Katara, as Sokka's stomach growls loudly.

The three females look at him in a deadpan.

Really?

He was hungry again?

They had breakfast about an hour and a half ago.

How was this possible?

"Hey, stomach? Be quiet, all right? I'm trying to find us some food.", grips Sokka with one hand his growling stomach and with the other reaches for their food bag.

His tongue out of his mouth full of anticipation, as he starts to go through it. 

He looks surprised for a moment, but quickly turns the bag upside down to pour the contents into his hand. 

Only a few crumbs land on his glove.

"Hey!", the water tribe warrior shouts, pointing an accusing finger in the direction of his companions. " Who ate all of my blubbered seal jerky?!"

"Oh. That was food? I used it to start the campfire last night. Sorry.", tells him Aang happily.

Hua makes a facepalm, Jaiyi just deadpans more and Katara can only shake her head.

Meanwhile Sokka nearly cries and whines about why the flames smelled so good last night.

"The Patola Mountain range! We're almost there!", announces Aang with excitement.

Katara and Hua look at each other, silently agreeing and they crawl towards Aang.

"Aang, we need to talk.", begins Hua.

"About what?"

"About the airbenders."

"What about 'em?"

"Well, we just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless.", tells him Katara. Sadly her hand goes to her chocker. "They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people."

In compassion the earthbender wraps an arm around Katara's shoulder, giving her a squeeze.

The older girl had told her this a few days ago, when they had bathed in a hot spring together, enjoying some time away from the males. Both had cried together for their dead family and comforted the other.

Still, Hua would always comfort Katara when she needed to, like Katara did with her.

However, this does not have the wished effect on Aang, because he just cheerfully says how the airbender probably escaped and how you can reach only one of the temples with a flying bison and he doubts the Fire Nation had.

So no worries.

For that Hua flicks the back of his head.

"Hey! What was that for?!"

"You are an unsensible brat, you know that?", hisses Hua. "Katara tells you her mother was killed and not even some condolences from you! What a great friend you are."

This makes Aang blush in embarrassment.

"Katara I-"

"Aang, Hua, it's okay, don't start to argue again, alright?"

"But-?"

Suddenly Jaiyi lets out a warning yip, as Appa starts to climb higher and higher the mountain. The only one who isn't screaming in surprise and tightly holding onto the saddle is Aang since he sits on Appa's head and holds the reins tightly.

After a few seconds, they break the cloud and there is it...the Southern Air Temple in its glory.

"Aang, it's amazing!", shouts Katara.

"Ha, I forgot the bumpy ride, but for this visual it's all worth it!", musses Hua, still holding Jaiyi tightly to her chest, as the nine-tails make an agreening sound.

"We're home, buddy! We're home.", says Aang with happy tears in his eyes to Appa.

A while later Appa lands them on one of the landing platforms of the temple and the humans with Jaiyi make their way towards it.

Of course, Aang was in the lead, Hua and Jaiyi behind him, making Katara and Sokka take up the rear.

With only a half ear Hua hears how Sokka wants food and Katara scolds him for it, reminding him how they are the first outsiders at the temple.

Since they touched down, the Daimon feels sick to the stomach. 

It's like she can taste the decay in the air.

Hearing screams of pain and plaids of mercy.

This is a graveyard and nothing more.

How she feels bad to think this about the temple.

Her point is only proven when Aang tells the others where he played airball with his friends, where the bison slept and trails off to admit how everything changed and only weed is remaining.

They quickly approach Aang. 

To lift his spirits Sokka plays with him airball and gets absulty demolished.

At least the Avatar is again in a good mood.

But poor Sokka who landed hard in the snow.

Hua has Jaiyi in her arms, looking at how Aang lets the airball twirl in his hands, wondering when she will be apply to do this, as Katara calls for them.

The younger ones walk towards them, only to see how Katara buries Sokka with snow.

"What's up?", ask Hua confused.

"Uh ... Just a new waterbending move I learned."

"Nice one! But enough practising.", exclaims Aang. "We have a whole temple to see!"

The airbender walks away and Hua follows after a second.

She has a feeling about what Katara and Sokka found and wants them to see, Hua tastes and feels it in the air, but maybe, just for a few minutes more, she can lie to herself.

Even if it was for a short time, the Southern Air Temple had been her home, it's already breaking her heart to see it so empty.

Hah, she is such a hypocrite!

Telling Aang he needs to face the truth when she is here trying to ignore it.

Jaiyi licks her cheek, trying to lift her spirits. In thanks, she gives her a kiss on the head.

For a few more minutes she will be just a girl, who returns home, then she will face the truth, she promises herself.

They reach the courtyard where Monk  Gyatso statue stands. 

"Hey guys!", Aang calls back to the water tribe siblings. "I want you to meet somebody!"

"Who's that?", asked Sokka.

"Monk Gyatso.", answers Hua, a tear slipping down her eye. "When I was brought to the Southern Air Temple he became my guardian. He was already Aang teacher and mentor, so I was his charge also."

"He was also the greatest airbender in the world and taught me anything I know.", adds Aang.

Together Aang and Hua bow before the monk both loved like a father/grandfather, remembering times long ago…

***

Hua is swinging all alone on a swing in a beautiful courtyard of the Southern Air Temple. She can see some bison calves eating grass and a few flying lemurs are sitting on the tree, where the swing is tied.

Her heart is heavy, but she refuses to cry.

“Of course, you are here.”, she hears the gentle voice of Monk Gyatso behind. “You want to tell what happened, Hua?”

She turns her head to the monk, stopping her swinging.

“Aang is an idiot and nothing more. I can’t believe he is supposed to be my other half.”, she grumbles.

Monk Gyatso frowns, stepping beside her. 

He pats her gently on the head.

It helps a little to feel better.

“Talk with me Hua, what happened?”

“I don't even remember anymore, we always are at each other throats for stupid things.", she admits quietly. "The Avatar and the Daimon are supposed to be a team, but Aang and I hate each other guts. It makes me feel like a failure. I'm more and more sure that the monks and the earth priests were wrong about us."

"Now, Hua, the only thing that they did wrong was telling you both your destiny and making you meet now and not at sixteen. But we can't concern ourselves with what was. We must act on what is.", Gyatso tells her calmy.

"I try, but I'm not really good at this. Will I be ever ready? Can Aang and I become friends or are we doomed to hate each other?"

"Your questions will be answered when you're old enough to enter the air temple sanctuary. Inside, you will meet someone who will guide you on your journey. Normally you would be brought to an Earth Temple Sanctuary, but the elders and our priests had to mix up anything.", was the last thing the monk huffed irritated.

A little smile forms on Hua's lips.

"I hope you are right because if not, I will bury Aang alive."

This makes both of them laugh.

"Give it time, little flower.", reassured her Gyatso. "You both were always friends in any of your lifetimes. You will find a common ground."

"Well, if you say so."

"Now, how about a hug? I can see that you need one.", smiles Gyatso grandfatherly at her.

The young girl grins and falls in the comforting embrace of the monk, who was more like a grandfather, than a teacher to her.

***

Aang and Hua are still bowing before the statue of their shared guardian, as Katara puts a hand on each of their shoulder. On the floor between them is Jaiyi, who snuggles the Avatar and Daimon to her best abilities.

"You must miss him.", says Katara in understanding to her two friends.

They confirm and start walking.

"Where are you going?"

"The air temple sanctuary.", begins Aang and Hua ends the sentence with:  "There's someone we are ready to meet."

Aang and Hua enter the hallway, Jaiyi following after them. 

Katara looks questioningly at Sokka, who just shrugs. 

They both start walking after the Avatar and Diamon.

The round symbol of intertwined air currents, the national symbol of the Air Nomads is largely embedded in the floor, surrounded by two square shapes that form some sort of sun together.

The quartet and nine-tailed fox have reached the entrance of the air temple sanctuary. 

The door supports a combination of metal-coloured pipes and three, blue, rolled-up, pipes that are similar looking and arranged like the symbol for airbending. 

The large wooden door is framed by the branches of an old tree standing on the left of it and the hallway is illuminated by sunlight that falls through little, round windows.

"But Aang, Hua no one could have survived in there for a hundred years.", protested Katara sceptically.

"It's not impossible. We survived in the iceberg for that long.", reminds Aang.

"Good point."

"Whoever is in there, will help us to become a fully realized Daimon and Avatar.", explains Hua.

Eagerly Sokka steps forward, with a hungry look in his eyes.

"And whoever's in there might have a medley of delicious cured meats!"

Full of anticipation and longing, Sokka charges at the door, but it will not budge and he simply smacks into it, head first. 

Hua, Katara and Jaiyi try not to laugh, but tiny giggles escape them.

The water tribe warrior quickly turns around and puts his back on it, trying to push the giant door open. 

When the door does not move, he sighs, slides down to the floor, disappointed, and rests against it.

"I don't suppose you have a key?", he ask towards Aang and Hua.

"The key, Sokka, is airbending.", simply states Aang.

Aang gets in position as he takes a deep breath. 

He spreads his arms and thrusts them forward, sending an air current into both of the tubes on the door. 

The air follows the path of the right air current as it travels through the pipe. The wind makes one of the blue curled tubes turn around. 

When it does, the tube changes colors to purple and the wind blows out like a horn. 

The process is repeated for the other two blue tubes as well. 

When the three blue tubes have turned and become purple, the door unlocks and it slowly starts to open.

Light penetrates the dark room. 

The doors sway open.

"Hello?", calls Aang into the room. Slowly stepping in. "Anyone home?"

The others follow behind him.

Inside the room there are a large amount of statues of people, lined up in a circular pattern.

It's always two statues beside each other, nearly every one of them holds hands, but there are a few who just stand beside each other.

"Statues? That's it? Where's the meat?", groans Sokka in disappointment.

"Who are all these people?", wonders Katara.

Aang and Hua look pensive at the statues around them.

"I'm not sure. But it feels like I know them somehow. ", states Aang.

The Dsimon nods.

"I have the same feeling, hey look!", she points at a female statue. "This one is an earthbender."

"That one's beside the earthbender is an airbender.", says Aang.

"And this one's a waterbender, who holds hands with a firebender. Never thought I would see that.", musses Katara before she realizes. "They're lined up in a pattern: air and earth, water and fire, earth and air, and fire and water!"

"These are the Avatar and Daimon Cycles!", shout Aang and Hua together.

"Of course. They're Avatars and Daimons. All these people are your past lives, Aang and Hua."

"Wow! There are so many!", exclaims Aang.

"They go till the highest point of the room!", notes Hua. "I wonder why some hold hands and others not."

Katara lets out a hum, then snaps her fingers.

"I bet the ones who are holding hands were couples and the ones who don't were friends."

"Huh...makes sense.", mumbled Aang, looking like he bite into a lemon. 

He feels deep down that Katara is right.

He so does not like this!

Hua is right behind him making a yucky sound, stating: "I can't believe we were that often a couple! I can see maybe ten or so who were only friends."

However, both start to follow along the circle, looking at the statues.

Meanwhile Sokka of course doesn't believe this reincarnation bullshit and Katara has to make clear how every Avatar and Daimon after they die gets reincarnation in the next nation in their cycle.

Transfixed the Avatar and Diamon stand before the last two statues in the room.

A male Fire Nation Avatar holding hands with a female Water Tribe Daimon.

It's strange, but Hua has a feeling the beautiful aged elderly lady statue is calling for her.

Like she had met an old, dear friend, the presence is calm and comforting.

She hears the whisper of crashing waves, the soft and cold touch of snow ...

"Aang! Hua! Snap out of it!"

Abruptly Hua and Aang get shaken from their daze by a worried Katara.

"Huh?", both chorused intelligently.

"Who are they?", wants Katara to know.

"That's Avatar Roku, the Avatar before me."

"And she is Daimon Lixue, my predecessor."

Sokka joins them jokily stating: "Aang was a firebender? No wonder I didn't trust you when we first met."

"I think I heard about Lixue.", mubles Katara. "Just I can't remember all about her."

"She was from the Southern Water Tribe, no wonder you heard about her.", explains Hua.

"You were one of our tribesmen? Really?", say Sokka in disbelief. "Way to return back home and lead firebenders to us."

"Sokka!"

"What Katara?!"

"You know what I mean! Don't play dumb!"

Her brother just gave Katara a big grin. 

The waterbender huffs, before she notices something.

"There's no writing. How do you know their names?"

Automatically the current Avatar and Daimon look at each other and shrug their shoulders.

"We just know.", they chorus.

"You two just couldn't get any weirder.", bemoans Sokka with crossed arms.

All this Avatar/Daimon mumbo-jumbo was so not his thing. 

He liked a scientific explanation for the world.

The quartet and Jaiyi startle and stare with big eyes in front of them when they hear something. 

They turn around. 

A blue light on the floor comes in through the door. A long-eared shadow of another being that is approaching moves over it. 

Hua hides with Jaiyi behind the statue of Lixue, as the others scatter to a hiding place.

She sees Sokka, who is holding his club ready for everything

The shadow is creeping closer. 

"Firebender.", whisper Sokka. "Nobody makes a sound."

"You're making a sound!", grumbles Katara irritated.

For that, all shush her, even Jaiyi!

The shadow has reached the bases of the statues and reveals a small figure standing in the doorway; it chitters.

Eh, what?

Confused Hua and Jaiyi look around their statue, like Aang and Katara, while Sokka has still his club raised, but doesn't use it.

Before them sits a flying lemur.

The animal moves his large ear and blinks at them.

"Lemur!", shouts Aang excitedly.

"Dinner!", shouts Sokka hungrily.

"Don't listen to him. You're going to be my new pet."

"Not if I get him first!"

Sokka stretches his hand while he excitedly lunges himself at the animal from behind the statue. 

Aang runs up at the lemur as well. 

The lemur arcs his back in fright, his ears, hair and tail standing upright as the snatching hands of the boys draw closer. It startles, quickly turns around and makes a break for it. 

The water tribe boy misses the animal and falls down, while Aang nimbly avoids tripping as well by using Sokka's head as a stepping stone. Quickly Sokka gets up and runs behind Aang and the lemur as they exit the sanctuary.

Now only the girls and the kyuubi remain.

Katara and Hua find each other eyes.

"Boys.", they both exclaim tired, as Jaiyi makes an agreeing sound.

"I'm not running after them.", makes Katara clear and steps to Hua and Jaiyi.

"Me neither. Shall we look around more, maybe we find something interesting."

"Sure."

So the girls and Jaiyi look around the room and the statues. 

Only a few minutes pass, and as the girls and Jaiyi stand again before Avatar Roku and Daimon Lixue Roku's eyes begin to shine!

"What the?!", shouts Hua surprised.

They look around the room and see how all Avatar statues light up.

"Spirits, this isn't good!"

"Hua, we need to find Aang!"

Immediately Hua lets Jaiyi down and the floor and commands: "Girl, find Aang, fast!"

The kyuubi doesn't need to be told and follow Aang's smell.

Behind her Hua and Katara follow her through the whole temple, as they see a large tornado.

"That must be Aang!", yells the Daimon.

Soon they reach the tornado that Aang has become and Sokka who is holding on to a rock.

"What happened?", yells Katra over the wind, trying to not get blown away.

"He found out firebenders killed Gyatso!", explains Sokka.

"Oh no! It's his Avatar Spirit. He must have triggered it! I'm going to try and calm him down!"

However, she can't even make a step forward as Hua's hand stops her.

"Hua, what?!"

Whatever Katara wants to say, she forgets it the moment she looks back at Hua.

The Daimon's eyes are shining in a burning orange as she speaks with a thousand voices: "Stay down. It's too dangerous. I will calm my other half."

So Hua has entered Daimon State, it was maybe better if she talked to Aang. 

Sokka thinks the same and grips his sister and Jaiyi, holding them protective to his side.

"Well, do it! Before he blows us off the mountain!"

From the Daimon comes only a nod, as she makes her way over to the enraged Avatar.

With ease, she bends away the currents and flying debris.

When she reaches finally Aang she takes his hands in hers.

The Avatar looks full of anger and pain to the Daimon.

"My Yin, don't lose yourself in the pain. I know how you feel. I loved Gyatso and the other airbenders too. They became my family far from home. Your pain is mine. You are not alone. You have me, I will always be by your side!"

"Always, my Yang?", asks the Avatar also with a thousand voices in one.

"Till the last star in the universe dies out. This is our eternal promise."

"I remember."

"We have a family. Katara and Sokka are our family. The loved ones we lost, get reborn in new loved ones."

Finally, the winds calm down and the Avatar descends back to Earth. The two half embrace each other tight and kneel down on the ground.

Slowly their eyes return back to normal, however, they don't let go of each other.

Right now, only their other half can understand their pain and anguish.

The water tribe siblings and Jaiyi join them.

Katara embraces the two young children like a loving mother, while Jaiyi licks their cheeks and Sokka puts each a hand on their shoulder.

"You both are not alone, me and Sokka are your family now.", reassured Katara.

"Katara and I aren't going to let anything happen to you two. Promise.", swerves Sokka.

"I'm sorry.", sniffles Aang.

"It's okay. Don't worry.", mumbles Hua back, rubbing his back in comfort.

"It wasn't your fault.", adds Katara.

"But you girls were right. And if the firebenders found this temple, that means they found the other ones, too. I really am the last airbender."

"Don't forget me.", reminds him Hua gently. "I'm just a quarter airbender, but it still counts."

A little wet laugh escapes Aang and he buries his head deeper into the Daimon shoulder.

For now, the storm was over.

***

They, Aang and Hua, are back again in the sanctuary, looking one last time at Avatar Roku and Daimon Lixue.

Katara joins them, saying: "Everything's packed. Are you two ready to go?"

"How are Roku and Lixue supposed to help us if we can't talk to them?", wonders Aang.

"No idea.", admins Hua, picking up Jaiyi, and cuddling her to her chest.

"Maybe you'll find a way.", stays Katara optimistic.

They glance at each other when they hear something behind them. 

Turning around they see the flying lemur standing on its back legs in the middle of the doorway. 

The animal reaches Sokka's feet and drops the load he is carrying: a variety of fruits. 

The lemur quickly dashes away as Sokka sits down and starts to stuff his face with the fruit, taking large bites of two different pieces of fruit. 

Amused Hua, Jaiyi, Aang and Katara smile at Sokka.

"Looks like you made a new friend Sokka!", tell him Aang smiling.

"Can't talk! Must eat!"

The flying lemur climbs onto Aang and hides behind his head, his tail curled around Aang's neck. 

Seems like someone wants to go with them.

The group makes their way back to Appa, with their new lemur friend.

Aang has a hand on Appa, while the lemur is sitting on his arm, as they look back at the Southern Air Temple in the distance.

"You, me and Appa; we're all that's left of this place. We have to stick together.", tells them Aang, before he turns to the others. "Katara, Sokka, Hua and Jaiyi say hello to the newest member of our family."

"What are you going to name him?", asked Katara curious.

Sokka is about to take another bite of the peach he is eating when the lemur jumps to him, stealing the fruit and returning to Aang.

He starts to nibble it with gusto.

Well, this gives Aang an idea for a name.

"Momo!"

Sokka still stands there, mouth open and hand in front of his mouth, ready to take a bite, however, he has no peach anymore. 

The others start to laugh upon seeing Sokka's expression.

After that, they mount Appa and fly away from the Southern Air Temple.

Dusk is settling as Aang looks with Momo at how his old home become tinier and tinier.

In silence, Hua with Jaiyi joins them.

The girl pats his shoulder, giving him a little smile, which he returns.

And so the Avatar and Daimon look together at how the Southern Air Temple vanishes behind clouds.

A silent sentinel of a chapter in their lives.

Previous

Next

[wordrew]

Artefact: Pendacour, Testament of the Phoenix (Tome) Session 1

Lately, I have been increasingly interested in the world of solo RPGs as a way of exploring game design and as a creative outlet. Over the years, I have managed to collect a number of solo RPGs, but I have never actually played any of the games I own. I decided to finally start by picking up the one I have been most intrigued by, Artefact, a game created by Jack Harrison and published by Mousehole Press.

In Artefact, you become a sentient magical item exploring the item's history from creation through its line of Keepers - what a fucking rad idea! So I grabbed some candles and my new soloRPG journal and dimmed the lights down really low - this was going to be some intimate gaming time sans interruptions from the fam.

To start your journey in Artefact, you must first decide on what type of item you're going to play as - for this first experience, I decided to be a Tome based on its tagline - "A receptacle of knowledge, lost or forbidden." If you've ever gamed with me, you know that I love the trope of lost or forbidden knowledge. My characters are always seeking.

After choosing your item type, you follow a creation process which is unique for each item. For the Tome, you give the item three Traits, draw a picture of it, and name the chapters within. This happens before you start answering the Artefact Questions (which includes giving yourself a name), but I went right into naming since one had already manifested itself.

I was now Pendacour, Testament of the Phoenix. I was penned in the stale air of the now-lost temple of Saint Melacour, by the fanatical monk, Pendax. Since I skipped the three Traits portion, I will stop here and return to what I was supposed to do first.

As an aside, I (Drew) am finding that soloRPGs are a bit of the Wild West in terms of how they are intended to be played or used. From the information I've gathered on social media and places like itch.io, soloRPGs are meant to provide a general guide on how to play the game but openly allow for players to deviate whenever and however they like. For me, naming comes first. Almost always. Names have power, and they serve to help me really embrace whatever character I am writing (even if said character is, in fact, a magical Tome). Often times, I will have a character's name in mind before I begin "rolling them up."

Back to me, Pendacour, and my Traits, though. Artefact gives each item type a list of suggested Traits, which is a useful starting point. In fact, reviewing the list now offers some other intriguing options outside of the three that I embraced. My first trait is Blessed, followed immediately by Divine. In the end, I decided that they were synonymous enough for me to combine these traits. I then embraced Loyal and ultimately decided I was loyal to Saint Melacour and those who embraced His path. Finally, after synonymizing Blessed and Divine, I embraced Eager as my final Trait. We'll get to Eager in a later post...

Then I outline my chapters:

On Saint Melacour

His Blessings Upon Us

Invocations for Channeling

Offerings, Rituals, and Prayers

To Know His Presence

How to Live to Honor Him

Remembrance of Those Before

The final step before diving into the Artefact questions is to draw a picture of myself and give it some brief descriptors.

So my styling is a purple-dyed leather tome with a fiery silvery-orange/red ball of flame. The flame has stylized wings and tail of a phoenix embossed in gold. I have metallic corner protectors made of ornate, filigree gold, and several ribbon place markers. I am colorful and regal and of superior craftsmanship. I am a labor of fanatical love, but that story will have to come later...

[illtakeyoutowonderland]

The one (Part 4)

The one where she started to understand

Sihtric x Reader

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

"We are trapped" Aethelflaed said breaking Y/N trail of thought

"We are alive" Uthred said as he and the others gathered the dead men weapons "And they are 12 o 13 men less"

"But we are trapped under a wooden roof"

"What do you suggest then, Lady?" Finan asked "That you give yourself over?"

"Yes" 

"No" Y/N stated

"Haesten's right." Aethelflaed said looking at her friend "Why should I live while so many others have died?"

"Haesten has never spoken the truth in his life!" Uthred said

"I barely know him but that does sounds like Haesten" Y/N said as Osferth standed next to her

"Do not say such thing. Never" Uthred continued looking straight at Aethelflaed and something the way he said it made Y/N believe it was more than friendship between them "Or those men have died for no reason"

A few hours passed before anyone dared to say something. The men took care of the dead bodies and now the entrance was empty again. Y/N sat the whole time on the floor in a corner thinking about the recent events and trying not to lose her mind 

"How you feeling?" Osferth said as he sat next to her offering a cup of water which she gladly accepted

"What year is it?" She asked him instead

"Uuhm...I'm not sure" He gave her a confused look

"Who's the king then? Aethelflaed's father"

"That would be King Alfred" He made an uncomforatble face and looked away

"Does she have any siblings?" 

"She does" He said and saddness covered his whole face "Edward"

Those names sounded familiar but she wasn't sure yet "Anyone else?" She insisted and Osferth took a deep breath

"Leave baby monk alone" Finan said "Enough with these questions"

"I'm just trying to understand what's going on and where the hell I am"

"Then ask me" Finan said as he grabbed himself a drink "No need to reveal the whole man's family tree"

"What...?" She looked between Finan and Osferth "Wait are you her brother too?"

Four hands reached her mouth to shush her "No need to yell woman"

Y/N rolled her eyes ignoring him "Are you?" Osferth nodded and looked away sadly "But she doesn't know" She looked over to her friend who was talking to some nuns 

"And she can't never know" Finan stated giving her a stern look

"Oh" She said realizing what they meant "Oh! I'm so sorry Osferth I wouldn't have asked if I knew" She turned to looked at the man

"It's okay, Lady" He said softly "Not everyone knows"

"I won't tell a soul" She said reaching for his hand "I promise" She smiled at him and he returned it with a nod

"Osferth" Sihtric's voice suddenly broke their moment "Get up your arse and go help Uthred" He looked over Y/N and their entangled hands and he said "Now is not the time to hold hands with strangers"

The nerve of this man. Stranger he had called her. After everything that happened with Haesten and how she bought them time to think of a plan as she risked her life for them. Y/N got up as Osferth went to find Uthred "What is his problem?" She asked Finan who was finishing his drink

"I think you are" He said with a smirk and she rolled her eyes and went to find something to do.

A few hours passed and there wasn't much to do but wait. Y/N had already help the nuns found safety in some room but leave them alone since she wasn't in the mood to pray like them. She found herself  seated once again in the same corner than before, this time she had took one of the furs she had given to Finan last night to cover herself and did the best she could to ignore all the voices around her. She wanted to help but she couldn't do anything really, and she was more than scared but it wasn't like could just go home.

She focused on her breathing, trying to beat her uprising anxiety when the warmth of her new cocoon relaxed her body and she was suddenly once again in her home, with her friends and their drinks. She was once again in her bathroom looking at herself through the mirror, this time along with the amount of trees she could see the fire comin from some fortress. Once again the rain had started when ther other self grabbed her hand "Wake up!"

Y/N opened her eyes with a jolt, once again. She was getting tired of these dreams, always the same.

"You saw it, didn't you?" Skade said to her from her seat at the table and the rest of the group turned to look at the both of you "The fire. You saw it" But Y/N said nothing, she only stared at her half annoyed half scared that Skade was right

"What fire?" Uthred's voice joined. Skade kept her gaze on you saying nothing "Y/N" His voice was stern and she looked at him as she stood up from the floor "What fire?"

"How should I know?" Y/N shrugged as she passed by them, not sure why she lied, only to find Sihtric staring at her intensely 

"She is hidding something, Lord" He said not moving his gaze from her

"She has a name" Y/N rolled her eyes "And she is tired of all this" she whispered to herself

"All doors have been blocked on the outside apart from that one" Finan came in to the hall and pointed to the main entrance

"Will they set a fire?" Aethelflaed asked standing from her seat and everyone gathered near the door. Y/N joined next to Osferth

"Not yet. He will want you alive" Uthred stated

"We should fight, Lord" Sihtric said and Y/N panicked "We should open the doors and fight"

"And die?" Osferth replied half mocking him half asking seriously

"It's as good as plan as any" Finan said to this

"Dying is not a plan" Y/N said looking at Uthred "It's like the opposite of a plan. It's stupid"

"Osferth and Y/N you will open the door on my word and retreat" Uthred stated "We form a shield wall and then we negotiate"

"Negotiate?!" Sihtric asked

"It's best than dying" Y/N said to him and he gave her a look and they both rolled their eyes at each other

"Haesten will want his prize. To the door!" Uthred said and everyone got into position. Y/N following Osferth's lead. Uthred got close to Skade and they talked about something but noone could hear ir. 

Aethelflaed gave them a look and then looked at her friend. They both nodded at each other and smiled as to reasuring each other, when Uthred ordered to open the door and a shieldwall was made.

"I count a few more than thirty of the bastards" Finan said after peaking from the shields

"Fight, Haesten, and you will lose men" Uthred said loudly so he could be heard from outside "Many men, I guarantee it"

"I have many man" Haesten said confidently

"But you have just he one life "Said Finan "And I plan to take it"

"I will not leave without her, Uthred" Haesten stated "I may loose men, but you will lose everything, and the bitch will still be mine"

"Then take her, because tat is what you will have to do" Uthred "Or we can strike a bargain" He said and Skade rolled her eyes "One woman in place of another"

"I am in no need of a nun" Haesten replied "Or the cheap version of a dane" He said in reference to Y/N

"Seriously?" She whispered to herself and  Osferth gave her an apologetically look

"Who is this woman?"

"Skade. The seer" Uthred gave the order to Finan and Sihtric to open the shieldwall so Skade could be seen "She is yours. In return, you and your men ride clear of this place and do not return"

"She is not yours to give. She belongs to Bloodhair"

"I belong to the man I choose" Skade stated and Y/N could feel nothing but respect for her. She was creepy and probably poison to everyone but at least she knew she deserved to chose and speak for herself "The man who has the will to lead, to conquer. Bloodhair is not that man" 

"She has seen Alfred's then and in battle" Uthred explained "Her man will benefit from that death, greatly"

"Uthred, you cannot bargain with this sack of chicken shit" Finan whispered and Y/N could do nothing but agree

"Do we have an agreement?" Uthred asked "Skade in place of Aethelflaed?"

"Agreed" Haesten said "The seer is mine"

"Then step back and she will walk to you"

Skade turned to look at Uthred "And you are cursed once more, Uthred of Bebbanburg"

Bebbanburg? Cursed? What the fuck?

"Open, let her pass"

Bebbanburg as in Bamburgh?

"Your life is not your own, Lord" Sihtric said as a few pieces started to fall into place in Y/N's mind and suddenly everything started to make sense.

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

I wished I could write as fast as my imagination goes

I'm loving this story my mind has created. Hope you are enjoying it too 💜

[spacemonkeysalsa]

God of Ambivalence

A tiefling Artificer splits a large stone on a beach to discover a one handed-wizard inside.

Pairing - Male OC/Gale (and some Shadowheart/Lae'zel which I mention because as of chapter fourteen there are more scenes of the two of them together than my main couple, but that's because I love me a slow burn and full disclaimer this is like an actual novel)

Chapter fourteen spoiler - A tiefling, a wizard, a githyanki monk and a cambion in disguise run into a fey creature who is interested in acquiring a new warlock.

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

Read Chapter Five on Ao3

Read Chapter Six on Ao3

Read Chapter Seven on Ao3

Read Chapter Eight on Ao3

Read Chapter Nine on Ao3

Read Chapter Ten on Ao3

Read Chapter Eleven on Ao3

Read Chapter Twelve on Ao3

Read Chapter Thirteen on Ao3

Read Chapter Fourteen on Ao3

Or read Chapter Fourteen below

There was probably only a hair of difference between Erakis and Elion when it came to height—Elion’s horns helped. All the same, it seemed like Erakis had longer legs and could outstrip all of them with humiliating ease. He was far ahead, finding paths that Elion’s eyes couldn’t see, and guiding them through the underbrush with no small amount of impatience. The journey to meet with his ranger friend and to use her portal was only meant to take a day—but was that according to his personal pace? If so, they’d have to make camp well before they got there.

Gale was predictably in the rear of the group, still recovering, in spite of what he said, and in spite of what the cleric had insisted. At certain times there might be a full quarter mile between Erakis and Gale, with Elion and Xan hovering in between to keep the group from splitting completely.

They talked, mostly of the wilderness around them and what they were seeing. Elion could feel the subject of their poor pace bubbling closer to the surface as each of them took it in turns to let their anxiety get the best of them and glance back over their shoulders at the wizard.

“Seems like your family is close with Arabella. Has she always stayed in this area?”

“Not at all,” Xan shook his head. “I understand that my moms met her in that druid’s grove near Moonhaven, but she’s nomadic. I’ve known her my whole life, but only for a few days at a time, and never in the same place twice.”

“Your whole life? I thought she was younger than me when I first laid eyes on her.”

“Something to do with her nature. Chosen of someone. Of something. We can only speculate. She started as a normal tiefling. Then changed. Rolan’s the same.”

Being a tiefling on its own was complicated. People were already frightened of them on sight—of the implications. Rolan and Arabella had the power to isolate themselves as needed. It was hard not to be intrigued by that. “You traveled around a lot too?”

“Had to,” Xan admitted, a little grim quirk lifted one side of his thin mouth. “When on Toril, I’m something of a novelty. That’s fine for a short time, but a novelty in one place too long becomes a pariah. On other planes, the same became true, and this world held me all the more.”

“I know that feeling,” said Elion, “not really belonging anywhere.”

“In spite of insistences.”

“Constant,” Elion groaned. “I can hear my mother’s voice now. She was always telling me I belong anywhere I stand. I wanted to believe it.”

“You’ll go see them, while in Baldur’s Gate? Your parents?” Xan asked.

“I think I must,” Elion both looked forward to it and dreaded it. Six months was the longest he’d ever gone without seeing his family, but the circumstances of the present reunion were not ideal. They hadn’t parted on the best terms and he would have deeply preferred to return with something more impressive to show for his time away than a few new muscles and a very disappointed master. “They’ll be a little insufferable.”

“They’ll want you to stay.”

“Yes.”

“Will you?”

“I don’t know,” Elion paused a moment to spare a glance back at Gale, but was reassured to notice that the wizard seemed to be improving his pace, gradually. Perhaps he’d gotten a second wind. “What do you think? When did you leave home? Really leave?”

“In a sense, I never did,” Xan admitted. “And in another sense, I never really had a permanent home to begin with, in the Faerûn tradition. The little cottage where my grandfather lives would be close. But, I have spare memories of living there with him, and both my mothers—more distantly, my grandmother. The githyanki may never know peace and independence, but it won’t be for lack of effort. That effort has taken me from one plane to another at frequent intervals, since I was old enough to remember,” Xan admitted, frowning. That much, Elion had surmised, but hearing Xan say it with all the weight of his life behind those memories made Elion appreciate that he’d had a relatively eventless upbringing, it also made him feel very young. He supposed he was, but it was easy to forget that, being a member of a species with such a short lifespan to begin with. He’d felt ancient ever since he realized his life was a quarter over, at best, and he felt it had barely started.

Xan smirked, “It seems like the first time I left home I must’ve been very young. Just the day before my mother had been chasing me around the garden in play,” he stroked his little beard and recalled with a note of laughter, “she used to remove her false eye and hold it out in front to frighten me. I’m still not sure if she can actually use it to peer around corners like that, but she always acted like she could.”

Up ahead, Erakis had stopped walking, but Elion had the sinking feeling it was not because he was waiting for them to catch up. The man’s massive back bent as he crouched low. He seemed tense, and Elion quieted his footfalls. Xan was sure-footed, but seemed to follow suit, turning to swiftly and silently throw a gesture at Gale.

It could be any manner of beast, or an ambush, or some spectacle. Not for the first time, Elion thought how foolish it was that they ever thought that they might make it to their destination in a single day, without any upsets, detours or disasters. That simply wasn’t how these things worked. Erakis wrapped one large hand around the polearm of his spear, which did nothing to assuage Elion’s concerns. “Should we wait?” He caught Xan’s arm.

“You stay here, keep out of sight. I’ll make sure he doesn't need help.”

Xan moved like a scuttling reptile, silent and so fast it made Elion feel a little dizzy to imagine moving under his own power that way. The Monk reached Erakis so quickly that Elion had to privately acknowledge, somewhat sheepish, that if Xan and Erakis had traveled on their own, they probably would have reached their destination already. The two exchanged a word, seemed to be arguing. Xan gestured in front of them and gave a shrug. Erakis rolled his entire head and beckoned for the other two to approach. It was safe, apparently.

When he reached them, he saw that the hold up was just a small group of travelers ahead on the road. They were in some distress, having broken a cartwheel. They appeared to be nothing more than a little human family, with two young children and an old granny snoozing in the back of the lopsided cart. A man was trying to dig beneath the cart, perhaps hoping to get under it enough to put a new wheel on, but where they’d get a new wheel, Elion couldn’t say.

“Just some travelers in need of aid.”

“I could probably fix the broken wheel—or if not, I’m sure Gale could conjure a new one,” Elion suggested.

Erakis looked like he wanted to protest, but didn’t seem to be able to form the argument. Sensing his unease, Xan said, “They don’t really look dangerous. And it won’t take long to give them a hand.”

“Do as you like,” Erakis’ mouth, jaw and throat were all tight as he turned away.

For the life of him, Elion couldn’t discern what the problem could be. He suspected that Erakis was already annoyed with them for taking longer than expected, but maybe he could alleviate some of that irritation if he just showed off how simple it was to repair the cart with the tiniest bit of magic—or even just basic engineering. Elion had both skills at his disposal. 

The family hadn’t noticed them yet. They were still far enough back and mostly veiled by the brush. The mother looked to be close to tears as she distantly begged her children not to wander far from the cart. It may be a simple enough thing for Elion to fix, but they were clearly out of their depth, and probably exhausted from travel. No reason not to lend a hand when it cost them so little. He might even be able to have it all sorted before Gale caught up with them.

He raised his hand to call to them, when suddenly Xan grabbed him by the arm to stop him. “Wait!” he hissed. “Where’s the wizard?”

Elion whirled around, but Xan’s concern was well founded. Gale was gone. He’d been back a ways—but not far enough for them to get split up naturally. There was now no trace of him at all on the trail.

“Godsdammit,” murmured Erakis and he let out the deepest of sighs.

“Godsdammit,” Xan echoed with marked more enthusiasm.

Elion saw a moment later that they were both facing the direction of the road ahead again. The family had vanished, along with their cart and the tracks Elion was sure had marked the mud behind it. All of it had been an illusion, and a powerful one.

#

The first thing Gale became aware of was that he was missing time. That thought struck him before he even knew where he was, before he fully took in the view, floral and herb scent, and humid weight of the muggy air around him. It was dark, but not in an ominous or underground way, more like a well insulated chamber with the curtains drawn over what few windows it had. There was a little candlelight for convenience, but the glowing embers in the fireplace were about as much extra warmth as one could stand during these summer months. The chamber, wherever it was, would serve better in winter. Gale was setted at a low table, his knees jutting up to his chest. He held a cup of tea in his good hand, his new prosthetic listing to repeatedly tap the side of the tin cup with a faint chiming song. It was the ringing in his ear that seemed to draw him to his senses.

Something was very wrong. The last thing he remembered clearly was walking along that narrow pathway out under the blazing sun. Elion and Xan had been ahead of him, Erakis shaming them all, far ahead. Then.

Lilac? Did he recall the strong scent of lilac? And a laughing voice.

He looked around the small chamber for some anchor of reality, but there was nothing familiar, and nothing to pin his location.

He wasn’t alone, however.

The woman was busying herself, arranging something on a plate. She appeared young at first glance, though her movements were a bit too smooth, a bit too poised. She delicately stroked a variety of nuts, simple biscuits and dried fruit into place with the deliberate and thoughtless movements of someone who had long ago learned to disguise their lack of vigor with a touch of maturity and grace. Her face though, turned to the side, was youthful, and her skin was clear and perfect, what of it he could see. Down her back she had a braid knotted at even intervals and adorned with silver trinkets that matched an overbright sheen in the corner of her eye.

He felt like he’d been here for some time. The acrid hum of fey magic buzzed in the air, more apparent than when Arabella had unfolded herself from nowhere. Whatever he’d gotten himself into, and however it had happened, he needed to be careful. And, probably not drink the tea in his hand.

“I’m afraid my offerings are rather meager today,” the woman apologized as she set the plate before him on the table and stroked crumbs off her apron before sitting down beside him. Her voice didn’t sound like a woman of nineteen either, but the glamor was very good. He couldn’t find the edges of it. Couldn’t begin to guess what she really was. “It’s this time of year, nothing has quite sprung to life yet, and the winter larder and pantry are all but spent. Give it a few days and the whole of the land will start to awaken.”

An anxiety gripped him as Gale had to suppress the urge to ask about the others. It was grim arithmetic, but he did it in an instant, had to think of it. If he’d been taken by some fey creature, which seemed confirmed by his present situation, then it was all but impossible she’d simply left his companions out on the road, unbothered, where they might yet come search for him. In all likelihood, she had them in some kind of confinement, intending to use them for leverage.

But, leverage to do what? What did she want with him?

He wasn’t above sacrificing a moment’s peace and decorum to demand answers, but she spared him by addressing his unasked question with the smallest of smirks on her too pretty, and too predatory face. “Now, I’ll be quite honest with you, lad. I’ve  interviewed likely candidates for a pact before, but I’m well out of practice. I hope you’ll go easy on me.” Her violet eyes had an undulating warmth to them, more like the embers in her fire than sunlight, but with the smallest hint of blinding fury.

“A pact?” Gale’s concern ebbed, then redoubled. A fey creature soliciting a warlock was it? Interesting. “I’ll admit, I’ve never seriously considered a warlock’s pact.”

“That word seriously does quite a lot of work in that statement though, doesn't it?” she teased, and her chiding wasn’t a shot in the dark. There was such confidence behind it that Gale had to narrow his guesses about her true nature down to fey creatures with some natural divination ability. She could see a portion of his past, in all likelihood, maybe even pick up traces of dark things from his mind and private memory. Alternatively, there was the time he couldn’t remember. Had she drawn some secrets from him while he was entranced?

“I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, all their trembling warnings about the intoxication of power. Wizards like you pursue it as a life’s work. It’s an obsession. Those are the highlights of the lecture, are they not?” the woman rolled those purple eyes as she took a sip of tea from her own cup. “Oh! And the self destruction and misery that it leads to, of course.”

“Of course,” Gale had indeed heard this lecture—in a number of different languages, in fact. “But there are marked differences between what drives one to dedicate themselves to the study of magic as a wizard, as opposed to what drives a warlock to pursue power.”

“True,” the woman conceded, “I have my own understanding of those differences—but what do you think they are?”

“The effect of mastering magic is part of the appeal, part of what drives the obsession,” Gale didn’t like to follow this thought to its logical conclusion, because it had some rather bleak implications for his melancholic disposition, but it was also observably true. It wasn’t just magic that was his obsession, it was the continual pursuit of the unobtainable. “I would never describe myself as a patient man, but a warlock’s pact is certainly something of a shortcut, and one that doesn't appeal to me. I’ll take the long road, thank you.”

The woman let out a quick bark of laughter that turned into a giggle behind her hand, “the long road? You could cast fireball by the time you were eight.”

“True enough. That’s an unnerving little trick, you know? Peering into my past.”

“I am well aware,” the woman smirked, “but it's as natural as breathing to someone like me. How considerate are you, when it comes to suppressing all the things you know so that the people around you feel more comfortable?”

She had him there, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“The truth is, you are remarkable, and under better circumstances, I don’t think you could be tempted by even the most reasonable of pacts. But. Your circumstances,” she gestured to him, one long finger nearly brushing across his prosthetic. “If left entirely to your own devices, perhaps you could have overcome the frequent pitfalls of power’s endless pursuit. You might’ve been the exception, and not just another Karsus. But, you do have such circumstances, don’t you? You were interfered with at every turn, one might even say that you were pushed to ruin. Dragged there.”

“One might,” he’d had those thoughts himself, during the darkest nights alone in his tower, when he felt fragility and mortality most keenly. When time seemed to gush rather than seep, and he feared he’d face an ignominious end before he ever got another chance at greatness, or redemption. “But, it hardly follows that I should—”“—oh, I think it does follow.” The woman’s flare of excitement gave him pause. “I think it’s the most natural thing in the world to recognize that even with a shortcut, you still might face inevitable defeat by your own ambitions. As natural as death itself. You are no ordinary dreamer. The unobtainable heights you seek require every scraping advantage you can grab onto, while you still have hands.” She shrugged, “Or, while you still have one left.”

[twistedisciple]

Before the Scars

Bishop Mastery drabble: 682

cw: gore

Everyone had to be good at something. Otherwise, you would die. Get thrown out, technically, but in the snowy wilds of Elusia, everyone knew what that meant. Back then, fear had not yet hardened and calcified into a defective, useless organ inside of Griss. It used to pump his blood so full of adrenaline that he’d spend his nights praying that Lord Sombron not abandon him, spend his days with a desperate sleeplessness in his sunken eyes. 

Like the other monks in the monastery, he’d been taught magic under the priests’ whips, and he’d watched the older cohorts split into two groups as the years passed: those that were awarded some modicum of prestige and a minor title within the church, and those that turned into grey monuments in the snow, fingers and toes blackened, eyes frozen wide open, waiting for a spring that would never come for them. Death did not scare him, and indeed the fear of death was counted among a handful of cardinal sins, but the souls of those that had succumbed as the defects had were trapped within the rejected flesh for eternity, never to decay, never to be a vessel for their lord’s power, their existence immortalized in a pillar of shame. Eternity was a long time, Griss knew that, but he saw it hurtling at him faster than he could run.

Each day, angry red welts were added to his arms and back, and each day he had nothing to show for them. Sometimes, he could conjure a little bit of a breeze, enough to sway the scraggly grass under his feet. Sometimes, a spark. But always the whip’s fierce lashing. He lacked focus, one of the priests said. He didn’t know how when he prayed every night. He kept praying, because there was nothing else he could do. The flagellum had even started to lose its edge.

Torn flesh fascinated him. He ripped his own open, stitched it together in pretty red zigzags, dug his fingers into the wounds of others, plucked out splinters and fragments of bone like an archaeologist, and closed them all up again. Curiosity cultivated an uncommon fearlessness which bred an even greater curiosity for all the different ways the body could be bent and broken, the sensations that came with it. How it could be put back together again. His own. Others. It didn’t matter whose, in the end.

No great epiphany had preceded the glow of the Heal staff under his palm one morning in the monastery’s iron-scented infirmary. It’d been abandoned by one of his fellows for just a moment, and Griss had swept in to prod at the swelling around the patient’s mangled elbow, searching for a source like an explorer charting the frontier, ignoring sleepy moans of discomfort even as he pressed his thumb hard against a lump and pitched the cries louder. Then it gave. The cries subsided. The fever heat cooled. The man treating him returned and chased Griss away with a few solid strikes from the staff’s blunt end.

It came with no fanfare, this talent. From that day on, he intuited his way around a variety of staves without picking up a book, driven by a curiosity toward the flesh and a resonant listening gifted to few - a kind of perfect pitch that he would never recognize as a gift until years later, with Zephia’s observation. He could recognize each staff by a series of shapes. Heal was a single, simple triangle. Recover was a red thread, three loops, ringed by seven triangles. And these were inarticulate instructions his body simply knew. A gift he learned to take for granted.

His lessons with the priests and their whips never stopped though, and neither did their criticism. There was nothing special about learning to use a staff, but there was nothing really special about learning to cast spells either. These were givens. The expected minimum to allow one shelter within Lord Sombron’s grace. Everyone had to be good at something, after all. Otherwise, you would die.

Griss did not fear death, and he never would again.

[cloudyswritings]

Iterator OCs and Worldbuilding

Basically just the follow up to my post last night.

So just for some worldbuilding these fellas are a Local group on the other side of the continent from Pebs n Co.

Applied Blasphemy: They have a really interesting backstory, see the ancient city built on top of them was primarily one of religious fundamentalist who believed in ascension without the use of void fluid. Basically it was a conclave of monks. The leader of this city/conclave was one of Blasphemies closest companions and the two often debated the nature of reality and the soul. Of course Blasphemy being a fuckoff big supercomputer generally won the debates so one day, 8 Droplets upon a clear lake(said leader) made a wager with Blasphemy. He bet he would be able to retain himself even through reincarnation and swore to one day in the future return to Blasphemy so the two of them could have one last debate. This, of course, meant that droplets would no longer be pursuing ascension, which saw him publicly executed by his order. This act of blasphemy is actually what prompted Applied Blasphemy to give themselves that name, before that they went by Worthy Desires.

Age of Storms: Highly grumpy and irritable he’s the iterator furthest from the local group, though technically he’s still a part of it. He’s actually built up in the mountains and was built with the reduced water availability in mind. His puppet is teal and has a silver crescent on the forehead. He likes painting though, and he's covered his puppet room in his works, being up so high gives him a great vantage point for landscape painting.

Speaks Through the Clouds: He's excellent at finding loopholes in his programing, he used this to screw with the ascension of the ancients who built him and as such has a city full of echoes stuck on his can. When they were alive his population treated him poorly and the animosity was mutual. Still as time wears on he's come to regret his actions and has become one of the kindest iterators for miles. Now he spends his time researching methods to lessen the suffering of his echoes. His puppet colors are gold and deep blue. He likes long term plans and has patience remarkable even for an iterator. Basically he's the uncle Iroh of the group

Signals Lost in the Night: They’re an iterator from the time when the ancients were planning out the location of Iterators to maximize their longevity. This means that Night was specialized to perform a function in the broader network of Iterators. They were specifically designed to be a node in the global radio/signal network and as such have highly advanced long distance transmission and telemetry capabilities. They’re an absolute gossip as a response, and their structure has a suite of purposed organisms that both act as and repair radio systems. They’ve been working on creating a more efficient means of communication, especially because other communications Iterators specialized like them have begun failing and are a relative rarity now. Their puppet is deep purple with pearlescent white accents. The Watcher might be one of their messagers that was dispatched to repair the communication arrays by Pebbles. They are also the eldest of the group and as such are the leader.

Built Slightly Sideways: She was, as name suggests, built at an angle. It was a flaw that the person who designed her left intentionally in the hopes it would highlight that even the ancients weren’t infallible in their constructions. She and Peerless Architect share the same rift lake(albeit a small one). Due to her construction flaw her superstructure is constantly at risk of tipping and falling into the lake. Instead of despairing however she’s decided to find joy in every moment of life and works on her pet projects far more than on solving the great problem. She and Peerless are both crushing on eachother but argue constantly.

Peerless Architecture: She’s built across the lake from BSS and is massive even for a late gen iterator. She’s got highly enhanced structural supports on her can and has a corrosion proof outer surface. She spends most of her time working on the great problem and has been generously described as a hardass. She’s not as perfect as she outwardly appears however, and recently has had an experiment backfire on her, though she’s told no one yet.

Dreaming Deeply: He’s the youngest of this local group and is prone to flights of fancy, they're especially interest in the study of the psychology and social structures of slugcats and other such organisms. Has been experimenting with inducing dreams in Iterators recently. His puppet is bright blue and orange with white accents.

[folklorianhaze]

Baby, Just Say Yes

Pairing: Gwyn x Elain

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: One Shot, Fluff, Alternate Universe — Modern Setting, Taylor Swift’s “The Eras Tour”, Gwyn is a swiftie, Elain is a swiftie, Marriage Proposal, Gwyn is afraid of crowds

Word Count: 2702

Summary: A short one-shot inspired by @just-a-fangirlmore’s Tumblr post (thanks for letting me write this!): “Modern AU in which Elain and Gwyn are girlfriends and both are swifties and so Elain proposes to Gwyn during Love Story at the Eras Tour.”

Read it on AO3 here!

“You’re not nervous about tonight, are you?”

Elain Archeron poked her head through the doorway of their hotel room’s tiny bathroom, watching through the mirror as her girlfriend ran a curling iron through her coppery hair. The air between them was thick with the sweet-sharp scent of hairspray, the room still slightly misty from the shower they’d taken together earlier. 

Gwyn’s brow was furrowed in an expression of concentration so intense it nearly bordered on achieving serenity, like a monk meditating upon a rock at the edge of an ocean. This was the first time in a while that she’d done anything with her hair or makeup more elaborate than the basic cleanliness and professionalism required by her job at the library, and Elain could tell that Gwyn wanted to make sure it was exactly right. Much like everything else in the woman’s life, she always seemed to put such pressure on herself even over the simplest things. Though Elain had always found that passion and drive about her endearing, something about it twisted at her chest just a bit, too.

Gwyn’s bright, clear eyes twinkled as she met Elain’s gaze in the mirror. “A little,” she finally admitted, though her voice sounded freer from anxiety than Elain had heard it in days. “But if I don’t brave these crowds for Taylor, then I don’t think anything could get me out of my house again,” she added with a self-deprecating little grin.

Elain smiled in return. “You’re going to love it — don’t worry,” she encouraged. “And don’t talk about yourself like you’re some sort of hermit. It’s not nice to make fun of the woman I love.”

Gwyn released the clamp on the iron, letting a fresh curl bounce its way down her shoulders. “I guess you’re right.” But when Gwyn’s eyes found the mirror again, Elain could see the faintest traces of worry there. “You really think it’ll be okay? I won’t be overwhelmed by it all?”

Elain slid fully into the room, padding across the tiles to stand behind Gwyn and wrap her arms around her lithe waist. Reeling her in close, Elain nuzzled her chin against the curve of Gwyn’s neck, the smooth tickle of her still-warm curls brushing against Elain’s cheeks. She felt Gwyn laugh, felt her hands come to settle over where Elain’s encircled her waist.

“I think you’ll have an amazing time,” said Elain at last. “And I’ll be there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

And she truly meant it. She’d known for months now how much this night would mean to Gwyn; she’d been in disbelief that Elain had even managed to get tickets in the first place, and hadn't been able to wrap her head around the fact that they’d be attending until now. This was the music they’d bonded over in the earliest stages of their relationship, the lyrics that had slowly brought them together, and to be able to experience this show as a couple would be a night Elain would never trade away.

As ecstatic as Gwyn had been when she’d found out they were going, though, she’d been equal parts terrified by the notion of being around so many people, in such a bustling and busy atmosphere, all at once. She’d always been a bit of a homebody, and due to the sort of unbearable trauma that turned Elain’s stomach just to think about, Gwyn had always taken comfort in one of the few places she felt safe apart from her own home — the library at which she worked. Elain had asked her, over and over, just to make entirely sure — would she be okay at an event like this, would she truly feel comfortable?

And Gwyn had nodded her head resolutely, determined to allow herself one night of fun in spite of her anxieties.

It was that bravery — that display of courage and determination in the face of something as daunting as healing oneself from a pain so deep — that Elain loved and admired so much about her. That made her want to make this night as truly magical for Gwyneth Berdara as she deserved.

It was that bravery that had inspired Elain Archeron to take a bit of a leap of faith of her own tonight, she realized, as she reached into her pocket and pressed a reassuring hand against the tiny box sitting inside. She couldn’t let the nerves show, even as they tangled her stomach into a complicated knot within her. She could do this — in fact, the question practically burned where it sat on the tip of her tongue, practically begging to be asked. 

But she could only silently hope for the best, could only do her best to make sure she could convey all the love and affection that weighed on her heart.

She could only hope that when she asked, Gwyn would say yes.

***

Gwyneth Berdara was nothing short of overwhelmed.

And she would never in a million years have imagined that she might think to use such a word to describe an experience in a positive way, but here she was, and yes — she was beginning to think it was the good sort of overwhelmed she was feeling right now, as the music pounded straight through her. 

As she and Elain had approached the stadium earlier, Gwyn had watched the mighty structure loom in the distance like a slumbering dragon (only the dangers would be tightly-packed crowds and booming noises rather than fire and brimstone.) Adrenaline and perhaps a bit too much caffeine had whetted her anxiety into a sharp edge, and she’d clung tightly to Elain’s hand as they walked, hoping her palms weren’t too humiliatingly sweaty. Elain’s dark eyes — that lovely, rich brown, so easy to get lost in — had kept finding her, kept sending her assessing glances as they drew closer. Are you still alright? She’d seemed to say. You don’t have to do this.

And Gwyn had known that Elain’s silent offers were sincere. In spite of all the money they’d spent to get here, all the hassle it had been to even get tickets in the first place, all the months of anticipation leading up to this moment . . . if Gwyn had truly been too uncomfortable, too afraid to go forward with it, Elain would have understood and they would have been able to go right home. The thought of that was a safety net to Gwyn all day long, enough to keep her from spiraling entirely into a panic. But then again, that was what Elain had always been good at doing — making sure everyone around her, but especially those she loved, felt safe and at ease, at home with her.

Perhaps it was because of that security that Gwyn had been able to face today as strongly as she had. True, the process leading up to actually getting into the stadium had made her chest clench a bit — it had been years since she’d been in a crowd of this size, and all the different faces, the bits of conversation floating through the air, the humid heat of the summer day, had been a dizzying and disorienting experience. But when they’d gotten inside and gotten matching light-up bands secured around their wrists — Elain’s own arms jangling with the copious amounts of friendship bracelets she’d come intent on trading — the tight knot inside her had eased, pushed back even more when they’d at last made it to their seats.

She hadn’t realized they’d be quite so close to the stage, and had found herself scarcely able to take it all in.

Elain had given her hand a reassuring squeeze, grinned at her as the pre-show music blasted through the stadium. “I love you,” she’d murmured. “You ready?”

Gwyn had given a quick, shaky nod, not entirely sure if she could never be ready for a night of this magnitude. But it was hard to ignore the energy around her — indeed, it proved more and more difficult to be truly nervous at all as the excitement began to turn to something bubbly and light in the pit of her stomach. This was — fun. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she’d let herself go out and forget her troubles and just . . . have fun, with the woman she loved at her side.

And of all the people who could possibly have attended with her tonight, she found herself immensely grateful it was Elain. She looked nothing short of stunning in the rosy golden light of the steadily-approaching sunset, the little bits of gold in her light-brown hair gleaming where they caught the light. The two of them had both gone all-out and decided to dress up for the occasion, but Elain had truly pulled out all the stops. Having enlisted the help of both Nuala and Cerridwen, she’d replicated one of the dresses from the ME! music video with painstaking attention to detail — a black, sleeveless bodice that clung to her curves, falling into a skirt of fluffy white tulle bursting with flowers. Simple, but eye-catching. 

Gwyn’s costume leaned more toward comfort than elegance, but she’d chosen it herself and she loved it for its simplicity. She sported a long, drapey white tee shirt, with A LOT GOING ON AT THE MOMENT emblazoned across the front in bold, black lettering. And, of course, sparkly black shorts and a matching hat. 

A lot going on, indeed. She practically felt as if her heart might break free of her rib cage and burst its way out of her chest.

But once the anticipation had finally come to a head and the show, at last, began in full, Gwyn found it easier and easier to let go of the anxiety that had clung to her all afternoon. There was something about the teeming energy of the crowd, the way she could get utterly lost in it all, that helped her relax all the more. And this show, this music — these songs had meant so much to her for so long, healed her at a time when she’d felt her loneliest. It wasn’t long at all before Gwyn had shed her worries entirely, and she and Elain were arm-in-arm, dancing to the beat, singing along with their cheeks pressed together.

“This is everything — everything I thought it would be and more,” Gwyn stammered to Elain in between songs, her voice nearly drowned out by the music, the clamor of the crowd. “Thank you for being here with me,” she added anyway.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. And no one else I’d rather be with,” Elain answered, and Gwyn knew she meant it.

The evening descended into a blur of color and light and sound. The music thrummed into her, the bass tremoring right through to Gwyn’s very bones. She’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t film too much of it, that she’d try her best to be as in the moment as she possibly could, and she was glad of that decision as she danced and laughed and truly let her hair down for the night. She couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d allowed herself to feel . . . free like this. When for once, the weight that usually pressed down onto her shoulders didn’t feel quite so impossible to bear.

It’s fearless, Taylor sang, her voice reverberating throughout the stadium, and yes, Gwyn finally thought she understood what that meant.

She couldn’t help but notice a change in the atmosphere between herself and Elain, though, as the opening chords to Love Story echoed out. Not necessarily in a negative way, but . . . she’d noticed Elain becoming increasingly quieter. More subdued. Almost as if, strangely, she’d absorbed all the worry and anxiety Gwyn had been carrying around all day and had now taken it into her own body. She smiled when she caught Gwyn’s eye, but something in it was slightly strained. Almost . . . nervous. And now, even in the darkness, she could see the faintest blush staining Elain’s cheeks and the tip of her pert nose.

Perhaps she was simply overthinking things. After all, Elain hadn’t seemed so on edge before the concert. Had something happened to upset her at all?

It took no time at all for her to receive her answer.

As the song swelled to its climax, the music first pulling back for an instant as the narrator in the song pleaded for her Romeo to come save her, then building as the pleas grew more desperate, Gwyn felt the softest brush of a hand against her shoulder. Just as the music burst into the magical, celebratory final chorus, Gwyn turned in the direction she’d been tapped, eyebrows raised and curious . . . 

. . . and came to face Elain, slowly sinking down onto one knee in front of her.

A ring in her hand, extended towards Gwyn.

Marry me, Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone — the music, the whirl of color, Elain’s eyes staring directly into hers —

“Elain?” Gwyn breathed, unable to find the proper words for anything else, unable to stop the shaky smile making its way onto her face. 

There were excited murmurs in the crowd around them, people sitting close by who had seen and now gasped in barely-concealed excitement. But for the first time, Gwyn found herself not caring in the slightest about the crowd around her. No, at the moment, focusing entirely on Elain wasn’t difficult to do at all.

This — this was why Elain had been so beside herself, so increasingly nervous as the night went on. As if she’d somehow thought — as if, in any world, under any circumstance, Gwyn’s answer would be anything but a resounding yes.

“I love you so much, Gwyn,” Elain said to her, raising her voice over the music. “And I’m so proud of you for doing this today. Please — if you’d please marry me —”

“Oh, get up here and kiss me already,” Gwyn interrupted before Elain could say another word, her voice trembling with shocked laughter as she helped Elain to her feet. 

And with hands that shook just as hard as Gwyn’s, Elain slid the ring onto the redhead’s finger, the two of them gazing with unrestrained amazement into each other’s eyes. Just as Gwyn had requested, Elain wasted no time granting her that kiss; the two of them melted into each other, hardly remembering there was a world around them, hardly hearing the applause and congratulatory cheering, hardly even hearing the music play anymore. There was a roaring in her ears that Gwyn thought might be her heartbeat.

“Yes,” Gwyn whispered when they at last drew apart, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Elain’s ear. “Yes, Elain — of course.”

“You’re sure?”

“Easiest decision of my life, really.”

Elain seized her in a fierce embrace, as if she could barely believe it, laughing into Gwyn’s shoulder as a tiny smattering of people in their immediate area offered their polite congratulations.

“You know, I really should thank Nesta,” Elain confessed as the song came to an end, the performers onstage beginning the transition from one era to the next with practiced fluidity. With a conspiratorial grin, she added, “She’s the one who gave me the idea to propose like this in the first place.”

Gwyn chuckled, the sound breathless, as if she’d been swept up into the skies itself. Of course Nesta would. Something in her chest twisted at the thought — the realization that she finally had friends in her life who cared so much for her, who knew so well what would make her happy and wanted that for her so much. She’d never . . . Gwyn had never imagined she’d have a life like this. Any of it. Elain, or her friends, or even the ability to leave her house and intersperse with crowds on this level at all.

And now . . . now it was like she’d finally made it. Like that part of her she’d once felt was so dark, something to fear and shy away from . . . now, it was finally beginning to truly heal over.

“Don’t just thank Nesta,” Gwyn said, lifting Elain’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. And with an amused little smirk, she added, “Thank Taylor Swift.”

[booksofstars]

I know you like rainworld, but I have genuinely no idea what in the world it is.

Care to give an explanation of it? A passionate fan seems like a good person to ask.

ok so im terrible at explaining BUT i love rambling. so lets get into it!

rain world is a survival simulator. at its core, this is the game. you play as a slugcat (the stories of which vary based on the campaign). the goal of the game, really, is exploration. survival doesnt truly matter until either crossing through a gate into another region or in ascension endings.

generally, the story revolves around the iterators, though some downpour scugs have stories more focused on them. through taking pearls (which have information on them) to looks to the moon (an iterator), you learn more about the past of this dangerous world.

iterators were built by the ancients, a society now gone due to their attempt to escape the cycle. the iterators were created for this purpose; to find a solution that would allow the ancients to ascend without going into the void sea (the classic route). after the mass ascension of the ancients, an iterator named sliver of straw gave the triple affirmative, declaring that the solution had been found. heres the issue, though: she died right after. so? the iterators are left to speculate. this is the catalyst for the story you slowly learn about, or even contribute to, throughout the game. throughout the game, you can visit the iterators five pebbles and looks to the moon and learn their stories. the rest of the local group of iterators includes no significant harassment, seven red suns, chasing/gray wind, and unparalleled innocence. only the first two are ever depicted in game, though they cant be visited. they get splash screens!

the general gameplay loop involves exploring, perhaps collecting pearls or other items to take to looks to the moon if you reach her, eating to sate hunger, and returning to a shelter in time for the end of the cycle. at the end of each cycle comes the rain, caused by the still-standing five pebbles, a grouchy iterator who gives you the mark of communication, allowing you to talk to him and looks to the moon, his big sister. this rain is deadly; it will kill you after a little while. there are many regions to explore, all of which are accessed by finding and entering through karma gates. karma increases with each successful cycle, and decreases when you die. there is no penalty for losing karma; you will simply be unable to move on until you replenish it through a few cycles. karma flowers prevent this from dropping for a single cycle. the goal, once karma 10 is reached, is to either ascend in the void sea, or reach the campaign‘s specific ending (which typically doesnt actually require karma 10! only ascension does).

in the base game, there are three slugcats to choose from. monk (yellow, "easy" mode), survivor (regular mode), and hunter (hard mode). now, these scugs do have their own stories, though monk and survivors are somewhat similar (they are siblings, by the way)! when i say monk is easy mode, take that with a grain of salt. rain world is a very cool game, but it isnt easy. especially on console.

there is also a dlc, rain world downpour. it adds the slugcats artificer, gourmand, rivulet, spearmaster, saint, and inv (who is actually a bonus campaign meant as a developer easter egg. also they have a dating sim). these slugcats each have their own tales to tell, all at different points in the timeline. they are unlocked progressively as you complete campaigns! i wont be spoiling them, though!

the order of slugcats in the timeline is as follows:

spearmaster

artificer

hunter

gourmand

monk & survivor

(big timeskip)

rivulet

(big timeskip)

saint

like i said, i wont be outlining the stories, because its really fun to piece together yourself! rain world is about survival and discovery, after all. id absolutely recommend it if you have the patience! also, i should note, downpour also provides a cheat menu that makes the game somewhat easier.

happy sluggying!

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 19

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: Caught In The Hands Of Fate

Notes: I just realized I have to proofread three chapters again soon ;_;

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  19 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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After going to your room and stuffing the satchel with the socks under your bed and out of sight, you went out to find Lancelot and see how things were going with Neia and Percival.

You weren’t ready to see those socks again, in truth you hoped not to see them again. The one who they were meant for had suffered a horrible faith and they only reminded you of it.

Anne would not have wanted you to think this way, but you couldn’t help it…

You stepped into the stables again and found it void of the Feys you were looking for.

The laughter of children came from nearby and you followed the sound.

There they were, Neia on her horse and Percival was walking beside her and held on to the reins.

Lancelot stood against the wooden fence that surrounded the meadow.

There were goats and cows running through the grass, as well as some other horses.

You stopped next to him on his right and leaned on the fence to watch Neia and Percival in the meadow.

The Ash Man was curious how it had went “Have you spoken to Gawain?”

You gave a nod “Gawain said he’ll talk to the others about it.”

What…

He hummed, took a step backwards and walked slowly to stand on your right instead of your left side.

There was another very quiet hum and then he took you off-guard when he leaned in and blatantly smelled you.

With widened eyes you stared at him utterly confused “Why did you… what was that for?”

A Fey scent he recognized was all over you.

Had Gawain truly found it necessary to do this?

Part of him knew it had been done on purpose to mess with him and his heightened senses, yet part of him severely disliked how another’s scent was over you now.

He held his tongue, knowing how it could come across if he mentioned it.

You saw the slight narrowing of his eyes and the change in them “Alright, spit it out.”

He proceeded with caution, but knew the annoyance was still detectable “You smell different.”

You pushed for an answer “Like what?”

It came out a bit short “Like Gawain.”

The scent was so strong that he had thought it was Gawain approaching him.

And there it was. Did he really think you would not notice the difference in him when he was jealous or insecure?

The truth was nothing to feel guilty or bad about “He told me something personal and I hugged him.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the fence “What did he tell you?”

Did he think Gawain had declared his love for you or something of the sorts?

While sighing, you answered “If you want to know, you will have to ask him yourself. I don’t believe it was meant to be told to others. It was personal, Lancelot.”

The Ash Man was quiet for a second, then looked at you.

It was better to warn him of the tragedy in the knight’s past “It was something that happened in his past. He lost someone.”

Realization washed over him, you two had shared your grieve and he had misinterpreted it “He told you this?”

You nodded “Yes. Just… be considerate if you ask about it.”

He fidgeted with his hands “I will not ask. If he wishes to speak of it, he will do so when he feels comfortable.”

It wasn’t forgotten how quick he was to fear the worst “I wish you weren’t so worried that I would prefer another over you.”

Right away his full attention was on your face “I am not.”

It was not meant to be accusing “Don’t lie. I can tell.”

Lancelot sighted quietly, remorse present in his eyes “I am sorry.” there was a short pause “You could have someone who has no trouble being with you the way you would want them to be. Someone who would not have asked you to wait.”

So that was what bothered him…

You took one of his hands and brought it to the mark on your arm “Lancelot, we spoke of this.”

The gesture held more meaning then you could bring into words.

The mark was still there and the love for him was too.

You saw him struggle to meet your eyes “Look at me…” finally he did “The mark is still there, is it not? I do not want someone else, just you. You’re all I want.”

Now those weeping eyes did not leave yours and you were certain that if you had not been out in the open, he wouldn’t have held back the way he was doing now…

The tease fell from you “If you want me to stop smelling like another, maybe replace it with your own scent again.”

His hand curled around your lower arm and you felt the mark tingling in excitement.

The idea was terribly inviting…

You took his hand off of your arm and moved it around your form while you leaned into his side “This is a nice way to start. I can use the comfort.”

He did not need an explanation and brought it to your shoulder to keep you close.

This was nice…

Especially when he proceeded to start and rub along your back a bit.

Only when the children threatened to look your way did he fold his hands together behind his back. Still, you remained close at his side.

Then with a cheeky smile, you leaned even closer and sniffed him yourself.

It was meant to be an inside joke between the both of you. But he genuinely smelled good, your heart took a leap and the mark’s response was just as strong.

Never did you expect the response it send through your body.

Dammit…was this a Fey ability you were not aware off?

Was it just him? Was it the Ash Folk blood that ran through his veins? Or did the mark connect you to him so strongly that even his scent was enough to fuel you with desire?

Your whole body had warmed up and you dropped your eyes to the grass, too flustered to let it show.

He was aware something was happening and looked at you curiously because he had no idea what exactly it was.

Percival had seen you sniff his tall friend and loudly pointed out your odd behavior “What are you doing?”

Of course the twit next to you turned his head to the side to prevent himself from laughing.

You mumbled through your teeth “Of course he never sees you do it…”

He swayed and bumped into you lightly “Years of experience.”

His attention was pulled away when he saw Neia try to dismount, like he had taught her, but the girl was clearly frightened.

He called out for her to wait and went over to them.

Percival was doing his best to explain to her how she should do it.

Lancelot was quick to reach up and pluck her from the horse, then safely set her down on the ground.

Neia however did not let go off his hand and the poor Ash Man did not have it in him to pluck her hand from his own.

If he didn’t learn to do so, he’d be walking around with the girl for the rest of the day, you were sure of it.

Actually, you wouldn’t mind seeing that happen.

Percival was grinning up at him, oh how amusing must it be for him to see the former fearsome ‘Weeping Monk’ with a little Fey girl attached to his hand.

A look for guidance was send your way and you just grinned back.

Even from this distance you could see him roll his eyes a bit.

He bend down, picked Neia up and carried her out the meadow “Percival, will you lead the horse back to the stable?”

The boy was already pulling the horse along “Sure. I’ll take Spot back.”

Neia went ahead and put her small fingers to those ashen markings again, half expecting them to come off his skin like they haven’t been their since he was born.

The second Lancelot was in front of you, he put her down and she gave the biggest pout “Y/n will take you and Percival to your lessons.”

You glared at him and his way of shoving the responsibility onto you.

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he fought the smirk.

It vanished completely when Neia questioned him “Are you angry? I’m sorry…”

The question came out of nowhere and took both of you off-guard.

He was at her eye-level not a second later, uncaring if he had just knelt down into a bit of mud.

Neia rubbed along her right arm to sooth herself again.

Rarely he heard the whispers of the Hidden, yet now he heard their faint voices.

The way the girl kept rubbing at her arm each time she was nervous or upset…

It just seemed…off…

He was distracted by it “I am not…” instinct led him to reach for her right arm “May I?…”

The girl let him hold her arm and got very quiet when he began to roll up her sleeve.

The sleeve was not even at her elbow and you covered your mouth from sheer shock.

His heart sank at the sight of the old scars.

Her arm was littered with them, the result of leather that had struck her skin countless times.

There were so many… too many.

He needed a moment to collect himself before looking at her face again “Who did this?”

It surprised even himself how calm and quiet he managed his voice to be.

At first she shook her head and fell silent.

You knelt beside her and put an arm around her for comfort “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid, they’ll never hurt you again.”

Lancelot gently moved his fingers over the scars “Neia…”

She answered his question “Papa did.”

It dawned on you that you had only ever seen her mother and she had never said a word of her father.

To hear how a father was able to hurt a child like this set his blood to boil “Is your father alive?”

If he was, he would rectify that.

Little Neia shook her head.

It was a relief that the bastard was gone.

If the man had not been gone yet, he would have been soon enough.

You saw Percival walk over and Lancelot rolled down her sleeve again.

The boy had seen it anyway and stopped next to Lancelot “What’s on her arm?”

He did not want the girl to think she had to hide them “Those are scars.”

Percival was clever and stopped himself from asking further.

The boy was often bold and brash, but never when it came to things like this.

The young knight took Neia’s hand and therefore relieved Lancelot of his duty “Come. Let’s go to the lesson.”

The girl looked rather giddy all of a sudden when the boy held her hand.

It did not go unnoticed by you or Lancelot and you shared a look.

Still, rattled by the revaluation, your voice wavered “Good plan, Percival. Come, sweetling.”

Neia was quick to lock her hand with yours and let you walk both her and her young knight to their lessons.

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  In the dinning hall, you stood and watched a Tusk Folk Man and Faun Folk woman entertain the children in their lessons with an animate story.

Seeing Percival and Neia laugh at the story warmed your heart.

How could you not have seen the silent suffering Neia had gone through?

Even now, as she mourned her mother, the girl hid those feelings.

But Lancelot had seen through the facade, perhaps it was because he knew what it was like to mask true emotions so those around him would never know.

A light tap on your shoulder broke your attention away.

Arthur stood beside you now “Keeping an eye on Percival, eh?”

It wasn’t a real question, mostly a jest “Why should I?”

He kept his voice low “Anything that shines like steel isn’t safe around him. I have to say, the boy has an eye for treasure and weapons.”

“Are you accusing him of something?” You arched a brow.

Arthur squinted his eyes, smile breaking out “Not at all.” then nodded at the group of children “That girl, Neia?”

You gave a nod.

He crossed his arms in front of him “Do you know that she doesn’t talk to anyone? Just Percival, Lancelot and you. But no one else.”

What?

At that, you paid some attention to the group and saw that she indeed did not interact with anyone else but Percival. Neia even looked down when another child tried to speak to her. And when the Faun Woman tried to get her to interact, the girl scurried back.

“Did you see that?” Arthur blurted out at the sight of it.

“Maybe she is just shy.” You found yourself not truly believing the words yourself.

The violence she had suffered made her wary and you held yourself back from going over there and taking a seat next to her.

Arthur’s smile had faded and you didn’t have to say a word, he knew something was wrong.

You did not make him ask “She has scars on her arm. When her father was alive, he hurt her.”

He discreetly pointed at her “He hurt her?!? But she’s… she’s so small. What sort of bastard would do that?”

It wasn’t a real question, it just sounded so surreal that a person could hurt a child “Like you said, a bastard. Did Gawain ever tell you about her mother?”

Arthur gave a nod, recalling the tragic information “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to live with her mother, while her mother was…”

Dead… the woman had passed on and Neia had been looking after her mother who would never wake again.

You blinked faster, struggling with the memory of the day you had stepped foot in Neia’s home “I can’t begin to imagine how many children are out there who are living through such horrific things. And it must be worse with this war going on.”

He sighed, agreeing with that “Speaking of war. Gawain told me that you want the Abbot to be dealt with.”

You guessed he would share his dismay regarding it “I know you are against it.”

Arthur debunked that idea “I was against Lancelot acting reckless. But he went off and tried it anyway. He and Red are lucky to be alive.”

“So, you’re not against it?” You asked.

He shook his head “Not if it’s safe. We have lost enough people, but I agree that the Abbot needs to be dealt with.”

You told Arthur what you did not dare tell Lancelot “There is a way that does not involve other people. I could do it alone.”

As a result, his voice went a little louder “Absolutely not!”

Reasoning with him would be easier than with the stubborn Ash Man “When the Trinity Guards found us in the forest last night, they said that the Abbot wanted me alive. I could use that to our advantage.”

He took hold of your elbow and led you out of the room “I wasn’t aware you had run into them. Neither of you looked wounded, so I guess they have been dealt with?”

You nodded “Yes. It’s where we got the new horses from.”

“Of course Lancelot would fail to mention it to Gawain and I.” Arthur rolled his eyes a bit in frustration “But why would Wicklow want you alive?”

“I’ve been told I can be quite charming.” You deadpanned and saw him slide his eyes to you “Alright, it’s because Wicklow wants Lancelot. Either to kill him for betraying the Church or because he wants to force him to hunt the Fey again.”

Arthur was pensive “Handing yourself over to the Abbot isn’t safe, y/n.”

You walked beside him “I think Gawain wants me to infiltrate the church in Helgenstone dressed in my tunic I still have from the abbey.”

He readjusted his jerkin “How would you even manage to get Wicklow away from his guards? They follow him around all the time.”

It was a valid concern “Perhaps Gawain will have an idea.”

He turned to face you again “Well, whatever Gawain decides, you can count on my help.”

It was a relief to hear it “Thank you, Arthur.”

Lancelot entered the hallway and approached you and Arthur on sight.

“Did you speak to Gawain?” Arthur questioned him immediately.

The Ash Man nodded “I did. He is still deciding over it. Red caught wind of the idea and is hounding him over it now.”

Arthur sighed and walked past him “I’ll go and see if I can help.”

While passing him by, Arthur amicably patted Lancelot on the arm. The look of sheer surprise by the Ash Man was missed by Arthur.

You looked down the hallway, at the door of the dining hall where the children were still laughing at the story told. An idea had popped in your head, but you would need some items for it.

Lancelot touched your arm to draw your attention “What has you distracted?”

You made a request “I would like to go into the forest and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. It won’t take long, I just want to pick some flowers.”

It had piqued his curiosity, he had never seen you walking around looking for flowers before “Flowers?”

You hummed “To braid in Neia’s hair. It’s fine if you don’t want to come along.”

It was almost amusing to him “The last time you touched a flower in the forest, it nearly burned your skin.”

Well, it was no lie… “So, you’ll come?”

He tilted his head a bit “Of course. Shall we walk?”

After agreeing to walk, together you walked towards the forest.

  No horse was needed because you didn’t have to go deep into the forest to find pretty flowers.

And he even helped, that heightened sense of smell of his was coming into handy to find flowers that were safe.

Most of the foraging was you pointing at a flower and him giving a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“How did you know about Neia?” You asked while plucking a flower from a fallen branch it was growing on.

The explanation was simple for him, having had the same experience “I also feel my scars when I think back of my upbringing. That is what happens with her. If she is reminded of her father’s anger, she can’t help but sooth the scars.”

It was heartbreaking to hear it “I really didn’t know she had them…or that she was treated that way.”

He did not put any sort of blame on you for that “Neither did I. What baffled me most was that she was not afraid of me anymore so quickly.”

You frowned “Because you are being kind to her.”

It was the example he hoped to use “Exactly. We reached out to her and she has not strayed away from us nor Percival.”

The girl had sprung to form an attachment to the first who had been kind to her, but she remained withdrawn to others…

You began to understand what he tried to explain “I never see her talk to others beside us, not even with those she has lessons with.”

He gave a nod “It will get better for her in time. She will not grow up at the mercy of a whip. Not anymore.”

Not like him he meant…

The words were dipped in admiration “You’ve always been protective of the little ones.”

There was only determination in his tone “I could not save my younger brother and I will be dead long before I do not try what I can to save other children from the same fate.”

A silence fell and when he did look at your face, he must have seen the affection in your eyes.

It made you drop your gaze to the ground.

Upon seeing it, he did the same.

After collecting enough flowers, you stored them in the small basket you had brought along.

The walk back was pleasant and you often walked against his side “Have you ever considered becoming a father?”

He kept the close distance, the sword at his side bumped into you “I do not know if it is even possible, if there has ever been a child from Ash Folk and Manblood…”

It was information he would never come to know as long as no other Ash Folk were there to speak of it.

Unless…

You pulled him out off his wandering thoughts “And between different Fey species?”

He considered it possible “That is more likely.” then muttered more to himself “But you are not Fey.”

It had been said so quiet that you had not heard it well “What?”

He said it a little louder “You are not Fey.”

You couldn’t resist to act a little cheeky now “Oh, so you would pick me to be mother of your children? Interesting.”

His throat bopped at what it also meant.

Children were the result of physical intimacy.

The Ash Man shut down, like he had crossed a line and been too forward.

So brave, but when it came to the topic he shied away.

By suppressing your own shyness, you hoped to ease his a little “Let me know if you ever wish to begin with finding out if Ash Folk can reproduce with Manbloods.”

You bit your tongue and directed your eyes at the sky after that bold statement.

His momentarily blank expression changed into a smirk, then he took hold of the hilt of your sword and pulled you closer by it.

It had you giggling softly before a laugh slipped out.

By doing so, he also left himself vulnerable to your shenanigans.

You’d stolen his sword quick as a whip and placed the basket down.

Taking a few paces backwards, you saw the blue of his eyes darken.

Slightly his head tilted and you knew he was willing to indulge you in this foolery.

It was a dare leaving his lips “Go on then, see if you can handle such a sword.”

Your brow arched high “I can.”

In truth you struggled to keep the sword still instead of swaying it round and about.

He drew his short sword, the look of a wolf on it’s hunt was present in his eyes.

To your own amazement, you blocked his first strike.

Well… that was what you though at least.

Somehow he had managed to grab hold of the crossguard on the longsword where your grip on the hilt was far less firm.

The sword was out of your hands with a single tug at the crossguard, he sank both swords into the soil, freeing his hands.

He would collect them later.

Lancelot stalked closer, sly smirk only getting stronger “At least your confidence is not lacking. Your swordsmanship on the other hand…”

You took a step back for every step he took to close the distance and you drew the sword that rested at your side.

It went so fast…

Almost like he knew you would be drawing your own sword as well.

He took one large step closer, sank down and grabbed the sword by the flat of the blade, his hands slid across the steel while he moved forward.

The sword was stolen from your grasp before you even knew what was happening.

The last thing you felt before losing your balance was him grabbing the back of your knee.

You sank to the ground.

It had been his intention.

He had discarded your sword right away “Careful.”

By holding on to his shoulders, you avoided a fall.

Now you sat on your knees in the grass and he was sitting the same way in front of you.

“Are you bloody mad?!?” You squeaked out.

He brought his hands to your waist and held on “You started this. Did you consider it wise to challenge me with the sword?”

The kneading on your waist chased the wit right out of you.

He hummed knowingly at the lack of an answer, seeing the effect he had on you now.

Was he able to sense the way the mark was tingling all over your arm?

You tapped on his shoulders playfully, then sneaked your hands beneath the hood to lace your fingers in his locks “You didn’t have to bring me to my knees-” and fired another tease at him “If you wanted that to happen, you only had to ask.”

The momentarily confusion as to why he would want you to kneel lasted only three seconds, then he leaned a little back.

You felt a little guilty for teasing him with it, but it was also meant to show him that he did not have to be uncomfortable about the topic with you.

He had heard of these… things happening.

But to hear you speak so boldly of it was unexpected.

A hand left your waist and went to hold the back of your neck.

He studied your expression, letting his gaze roll down from your eyes to your mouth a few times “You have been acting quite promiscuous to me.”

Your eyes dropped down from his gaze, shy smile growing “I can’t help it. Sorry.”

His thumb traced below your bottom lip “Do not be sorry.”

When he leaned in, you leaned back “People could see us.”

It halted him “Still worried what others might think if they knew?”

You feared they would become far more vigilante towards him “I see how difficult it is for you to be accepted among your people. I don’t want to make it even harder. They know Father Carden was my uncle, they don’t think much of me either because of that.”

Lancelot lowered his hands to your waist again and did not bother to pretend it was not with lecherous intend “I would not be here now if it were not for you. I would have bled out in the forest. I will not let the opinions of others keep me from you.”

You heard the way his voice had lowered and felt the greedy hold he had on you.

He wasn’t just holding on… he was feeling.

There was a moment where you could sense something was about to happen, it occurred only seconds before he moved and had you with your back on the grass beneath him.

Still kneeling beside you, it was clear that he felt quite comfortable in this mystical forest.

You were looking around to see if anyone else was near, half scolding him for his impulsiveness “Goodness! Lancelot!”

He was leaning over you, gaze roaming over your form, hand brushing your stomach “Fear not, there is no one.”

Your eyes squinted up at him “What do you think you are you doing?”

His gaze caressed your features and body like a gentle wave, while he rubbed along your stomach “I am…curious…I think.”

The way he could not stop staring was enough to make one nervous.

“Curious about what?” You asked, genuinely curious what he was curious about.

Those weeping eyes searched yours while he traced a finger over the lacing of your dress, they stayed on yours when he undid the knot that tied the laces together.

Your chest heaved for air and you fidgeted with some strands of grass beside you.

The lacing was undone for a little more than an inch.

It was enough to offer him a view, the same one he had caught a glimpse of in the inn.

This was not the time or place, but he was slowly losing the fight against the desire that continued to fuel.

As if he meant to thank you for allowing it, he tenderly pressed his lips your temple.

He touched nothing more, the titillating view was already more than he’d dare to ask of you “If I wanted you to stop having another’s scent, I would have to replace it with mine.”

You gawked at him “So you just decided to handle that here in the forest?”

Wickedly he grinned “Yes.”

He brought his nose down to the crook of your neck to inhale your scent.

Breathing normally became a challenge “And opening my dress helps this how?”

His hand slid under your back, warm breath ghosted over your neck “Forgive me for not having a proper excuse.”

You wouldn’t let him off the hook just yet “I’ll forgive it if you tell me what the improper excuse is.”

Instead of answering, the stubble of his beard moved along your skin and passed your collarbone.

With his bottom lip he felt the warmth of your bosom and the quick rise and fall of your chest.

This was not the time or place…

He pressed his aching lips to what was uncovered.

That warm alluring scent, which covered your skin, awoke a hunger in him.

In return you curled your fingers in his hair and kept him close.

He saw at as encouragement to keep going.

It were his thoughts that he let out while coming up to touch his lips to the shell of your ear “If I die in Helgenstone, I will have this to keep in my thoughts in my last moments on this world.”

Did he truly consider it a possibility??

It had sounded so normal for him… as if he did not fear the prospect of death anymore.

But it wasn’t normal to you, you were not raised in battle and the possibility to die in one.

You found yourself holding on to his shoulder, petrified at the thought that it might cost him his life “If I do it alone, no one else will have to sacrifice themselves.”

He stopped and locked eyes with you “What?”

He had heard it and was giving you the chance to reconsider.

But you didn’t “Gawain was right. Enough have suffered, especially the Fey. I could do it, I can deal with the Abbot alone.”

Lancelot was out of your hold and on his feet right away, not believing his ears, he faced away from you.

You inelegantly got up from the grass as well, your clothes a mess “Lance-”

“I do not want to hear it!” His voice was sharp and he turned to look at you “Do you believe I would stand aside and let you risk your life? Never.”

There was a long pause and he drew a couple of breaths to calm himself.

The question came out much softer “Where is this coming from, y/n?”

“My kin did this to the Fey, I-…” You fell quiet.

Lancelot was able to guess what was causing this “The faults of your uncle are not yours to bear.”

The words were forced out of you “And yet I bear them.”

Who was he to makes these claims while he himself had caused so much suffering?

Perhaps… it had made him the person who was able to see the difference.

The difference between kindness and hate.

He sought your presence once more and took your hands in his “You’re nothing like he was. He felt no guilt over what he did. And here you are, among my kind, helping.”

Your shoulders shrugged, throat closing up from emotion “Helping with what? I haven’t done a thing to earn my place here-”

He cradled your head and silenced you “Tell that to Neia, the child who lives because you saw her in a crowd of people and choose to help while others ignored her existence.” his face was close to yours “Tell it to Percival who would have watched me die if you had not found us.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses touching and the intimacy of it had the love for him flourish further inside of you.

Others could see…

Heaven you wanted him…

He showed more restraint than you, well… maybe his eyes did not.

They dropped from yours down to your chest and it reminded you that he had unlaced some of your dress.

You brought a finger under his chin and tilted it up a little until he met your eyes again “Rude.”

His face flushed a bit and for a second he had the look of a guilty young boy “I-”

You didn’t let him apologize for it “You were the one to open it, be a dear and close it for me again.”

He matched your playful politeness “Can it wait?”

The smack against his arm made a laugh fly out of him

Out of actual politeness, he did do as ask asked and closed the laces “You are not the only one with a personal vendetta against the Abbot. The man tried to have me killed the night I left with Percival. I have not forgotten his arrogance and the desire I had to erase it from his face.”

Preferably by bloodying it up.

The knot in the laces was tied again “You are not alone in this, y/n.”

You did not want to argue over this, not when this had been such a lovely walk mere moments ago.

So you nodded and tried to draw him closer just when he took a step back.

He tsked you right away “We are not alone anymore.”

With a discreet head tilt, he pointed out the other Feys foraging the woods too.

Fine then.

You picked up the basket again that you had filled with flowers and grabbed the sword from where it had fallen while he collected his own from where he had planted them.

While doing so, you noticed the way the group of Feys where looking at you.

Not a friendly look, no, it was one of disgust.

It came as another reminder that even you could not erase your connection to Father Carden, to them you were an invader, a trespasser…

Lancelot was Fey, in time he would find his place. He was Ash Folk, a kind born to protect the Fey with their magic.

But you… you would always be Manblood. No mark would ever change that.

He was more distant now that others were there to see it, but not distant enough to not walk closely beside you when returning to the city.

                                          ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

  Upon the sun’s departure and the moon’s slow arrival there had been no news from Gawain. The Green Knight must have decided not to act on the opportunity in Helgenstone, or perhaps one of the others had talked him out of the idea.

Now you sat in Neia’s room, braiding the flowers you had picked into her hair as best as you could. Percival was even helping by sorting out the, according to him, disgusting flowers from the pretty ones.

Yes, the boy was strong of opinion and you tried not to take it personal.

“This one stinks.” He held one up.

Lancelot would have disagreed…

“That one then?” You pointed at another flower.

Percival handed you the other one, approving of the idea.

Neia couldn’t stop touching her hair in excitement and multiple times she ‘commanded’ Percival to hand her the small hand mirror.

Of course the boy sighed and rolled his eyes, still he indulged her wish every time.

At some point her eyes had caught sight of the bangle on your arm and you handed it to her for a bit so you could work on her hair without her constantly fidgeting with it.

To your silently amazement, the flowers you had picked kept their beauty, as if their health remained the same when in connection with Fey kind.

You’d never seen her so happy and all it took were some flowers in her hair. All the flowers where white, like she had in her hair the day you met her.

She held up the bangle and asked “Where did you find it?”

Percival answered it “Lancelot gave it to her.”

You confirmed it was true “Percival is right. Lancelot gave me that bangle.”

Neia was pensive “Like you gave me your necklace?”

You hummed agreeing and added the last flower to her hair, you almost asked her if she had indeed sold the necklace, but her situation had been so dire that it was a given.

After fidgeting with the bangle a little more, she handed it back to you.

Well, actually she took it upon herself to put it over your hand and around your wrist again.

Then she noticed the mark on your arm “Fey marks?”

It had her so very confused to see those marks on a Manblood.

Percival, the cheeky rascal, chimed in “Lancelot gave her those too.”

This time you squinted your eyes at him but his grin did not falter “I wonder, does the Ash Man tell you secrets, Percival?”

The shit-eating grin on his face should have been a warning.

Percival thought he would surprise you with the news “He fancies you.”

Neia’s mouth dropped open at the claim and then she looked at you for your reaction as well.

You saw a chance and feigned to be surprised by the admission “Really? What makes you think that?”

The boy believed he had a chest filled with knowledge no one else knew off.

But nothing could have prepared you for the secret he so bluntly decided to share.

Percival casually answered “He stares at you a lot. And at your bottom.”

Right away you covered Neia’s ears “Percival…”

A big grin was plastered on his face “What? It’s true. And he gave you a mark and jewelry.”

Your face was burning from his bluntness “Just…I…”

Without knocking, the door creaked open and Pym tripled into the room.

“Oh, here you are.” Her attention fell from you to the flowers in Neia’s hair “Ooh, that looks nice.”

Neia beamed with pride over her freshly styled hair.

Pym struggled a little to walk into the room with the food she had wrapped up in linen.

Of course Percival was quick to help her.

“One for each of you.” She quickly told the boy.

He handed Neia one and Pym handed you the other.

She plopped down on Neia’s bed “I thought you might be hungry and brought you some bread and fruit.”

It had been a good guess, you were indeed quite hungry “Thank you, Pym. I haven’t really eaten anything today.”

Neia took a bite from her pear and pleaded “Can you read us a story before we have to sleep?”

You were about to agree to it, but Pym made the sacrifice instead.

“I’ll ready you a story.” She told Neia, then said to you “You can go and rest if you want to. I know you weren’t able to sleep last night.”

You asked “Are you sure?”

Pym had no problem entertaining the children “I’m sure. Go on, off you pop.”

Before doing so, you gave Neia a hug. Doing the same with Percival was a bit of a challenge and the boy rolled his eyes, as if it was just to indulge you that he’d allowed it.

Heaven forbid one might know that he loved it…

“Goodnight.” You told them, telling Pym “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, then pointed at the food in your hands “Eat your food.”

Your smile matched hers “I will.”

By the time you reached the door, Neia had already pulled a book from under her pillow and put it in Pym’s hand.

You went over to your room and snatched the satchel from under your bed to get the socks out of them. Anne would not have wanted them to go to waste…

Then you returned to Neia’s room, finding Pym busy reading the story Neia had requested and clearly adding some commentary to it when she disagreed with the actions of the characters in said book.

You went over to Pym and placed the sock next to her on the bed “Maybe you can use these?”

She glanced down for a moment and back up at you “Oh, wow. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” You were glad to hear that she seemed happy to have them “I’ll leave you to it now. If you need me, I will be in my room.”

Neia waved at you as you left. Percival laid draped over the foot of the bed, eyes up at the ceiling while listening to the story.

  The moment you were back in your room, you put the food Pym had given you into the now empty satchel along with a flask of water.

There wouldn’t be much you would need, the most important thing was the sword and knife at your side.

You did change into something more suitable for what you were about to do. Trousers and a shirt would be more comfortable than a dress for this. Luckily you found those in the old closet as well, the trousers had a stain or two at the legs. The shirt had a tear at the elbow.

Under the clothes, you discovered a long sleeveless leather vest, it fitted well over the shirt you had on now. And it would keep you warm along with the cloak.

Lastly, you pulled the tunic you had worn at the abbey from the closet.

It was strange to see it now, strange to know that the place and people you had called ‘home’ for a while was now gone.

The veil and coif were neatly folded between it, a sign of the respect you had for the women you had met there.

You would wear it one last time, one last service for the ones who had lost their lives.

After packing up the satchel, you put on your cloak and sat on your bed until all sounds in the hallway and outside dimmed down.

The dark of night cloaked the halls of the fortress in it’s shadows, while passing Lancelot’s room you removed your bangle and hanged it on the brass doorknob. If you were not to return, he would know that you had understood and accepted the risk of your actions.

As discreetly as one could, you made your way through the castle.

Once at the stables, you attached your satchel to Llamrai’s saddle and mounted the horse.

You hoped to reach Helgenstone in time, Wicklow would be there at noon.

Tomorrow the lands would be rid of a monster, or the kin of one.

        Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me​ @linkpk88​  @fxrchxldws​  @elenaoftheturks​ @slytherlight​ @beananacake​    @crystallizedtime​  @moonlightaura03​  @angrygardendeer​  @have-aheart​   @5am-cigarette​ @arcanenature​  @thewinterskywalker​ @notyourwildestdream​ @coloursforyourportrait​ @koressecretidentity​ @nike90​ @n1ghtlux​ @rachlovesactors​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​ @morena-doing-stuff​  @the-fangirl-diaries​ @gipsydanger17​ @heavenly1927​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan  @rainyv-skies​

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

[artemispanthar]

I'm glad you are reminiscing about Monk because it's one of my favorite shows and I almost never hear anyone talk about it. You're making me want to do a rewatch of my own

I was super into Monk when it was on (technically I watched the first season or so when that aired and then returned a couple seasons later, but I was a consistent weekly watcher from like season 4 on), so much so it was like an identifiable trait of mine lol people would get me merch as gifts. It was a really popular and successful show when it was on but yeah no one ever talks about it nowadays. I've already completely gone through the tags lol

I'll be honest, I was avoiding rewatching for so long because it meant a lot to me as a young'un and I thought it probably didn't age well at all so I didn't want to taint those memories. I only decided to actually do a rewatch since they're making a movie (which comes out in like 2 weeks!) And obviously I wanted to see that so I needed a refresh of the series. It actually holds up pretty well, I was avoiding it for no reason lol

You totally should do a rewatch! I'm kind of hoping the movie reignites some interest in the show and more people rewatch. In part so there's more discussion/content/I don't have to be the one to make the gifs and also in part because they've said if the movie does well they want to make more and I think that would be fun

(also if Monk is rebooted with movies and Psych continues with the movies they could potentially do a legit crossover like I always wanted!)

[taliesin-the-bored]

for the ask game, 💚💛😤🗡️ !!!

I started writing this and realized that my quest/story arc answer could also work for the sibling dynamic one and vice versa, so the first two are both for both.

I’m very fond of The Story of the Crop-Eared Dog—which is to Arthurian lit what Lilly Onakuramara is to the Barden Bellas, only less important—and its weird anticlimax in which the sidekick shows up and reveals that he’s achieved their key goals by killing a vast number of people, including all of the naked monks on the Island of Naked Monks, then defeating but sparing the main antagonist. (The antagonist—the Knight of the Lantern, henceforth known as Lanny—is Alastrann’s—the sidekick’s—younger half-brother. Alastrann’s earlier speeches concerning Lanny can be briefly summarized as, “My baby brother is sooo talented and amazing, but he destroys everything he touches, so I’m going to kill all his friends and steal his stuff and hope that solves the issue.” Somehow, this works). There’s a lot more to unpack there, but it’s a complicated mess. A charming complicated mess.

Arthur’s sudden ascent to greatness, and the barriers that likely creates between the (formerly unwitting) foster brothers, has its own sort of pathos, but their dynamic in Cullwch and Olwen is heartbreaking and seems to get overlooked. (They aren’t referred to as brothers or foster brothers there, but I’ll count it anyway). They have a falling out over an extemporaneous song with which Arthur ridicules Cai’s tactics on a specific killing errand. It might be meant as a joke, but it angers Cai so much that he leaves, never to return or aid Arthur again. The twist is this: it’s already been said that when Cai is killed, Arthur avenges him by killing not only his killer but also his killer’s brothers. Arthur’s vengeance is brutal and unfair and a mark of extreme grief; clearly, he never stopped caring about his friend/brother, even though he was never able to make up with him in life. 

Your Most Specific Nitpick About Your Fave (anything from "Gareth would not have a beard" to "this is basically a different guy"):

One of my faves is Dinadan, and an adaptational/fandom nitpick of mine is when he gets shipped with random people. I personally headcanon him as aroace. There are some texts where I can understand reading him as being gay and having feelings for Tristan, but writing about, say, him and Mordred makes no sense to me and I find it aggravating. Aroaces (and aspec people in general) have such little representation as it is.

Who Are You Betting On In This Month's Tournament?

Assuming that Lanny is out of town, I’ll place a small bet on Dinadan. He doesn’t win often, so I could get great odds for him, and when he does win, it’s very funny. I also really like Dinadan.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

I'd love to hear about An Inconvenient Union and the Geraskier werewolf AU!!

An Inconvenient Union is the original novel I've been working on since October. It's a m/m fantasy romance about a monk who has to impersonate his prince half-brother when his brother disappears right before important treaty talks with an enemy kingdom, only to end up betrothed in his brother's stead to the commander of said enemy nation's army.

Here's a snippet:

To Niko’s surprise, Commander Calaxis tipped back his head and let out a bark of laughter. “Where did you hear that?”

Niko blinked. “Rian.”

“And what did he tell you it meant?”

“Good day, my friend.”

Commander Calaxis shook his head. “You should never repeat anything you hear any of the guards saying to each other, especially not Rian. It’s most likely obscene and it’s definitely rude.”

“Ah,” Niko said. “So…”

“You just told me to go fuck a goat backwards.”

“Wonderful.” Diplomatic relations were off to a delightful start. Niko opened his mouth, desperate to find an excuse to return to camp and drink however much fresseberry mead was necessary to forget this conversation.

“Evos,” Commander Calaxis said.

“Pardon me?”

“Evos,” the commander said again. “It’s the word you’re looking for. It means ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ in Fae. If you’re greeting a person with a position of authority—a commanding officer, the Liege, a parent—you want ‘savut.’”

“Thank you,” Niko said, starting to turn away, face flaming. “I’ll keep that mind.”

“And if you’re greeting or parting from someone dear to you, you say ‘te ne vriss.’”

Niko paused, because the timber of Commander Calaxis’ voice had changed. “What does that mean?”

Commander Calaxis tilted his head to the side, considering. “The exact translation in Dulish would be ‘I’m with you.’ It’s not just a salutation, but a way to say that you missed them or will miss them.”

Niko wondered who the commander said ‘te ne vriss’ to, and then reminded himself that it didn’t matter. “Alright,” he said with a laugh. “No more vocabulary lessons from the guards.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Commander Calaxis said dryly. “Or next, you’ll be telling the Liege that they look like a sow’s inbred bastard and then we really might have a war.”

A snippet of Geraskier werewolf AU under the cut to spare my followers' scrolling fingers:

Geraskier werewolf AU is the fic I've been working on since the fall where Jaskier and Geralt get married as part as treaty negotiations between rival werewolf packs, but Jaskier isn't actually a werewolf, unbeknownst to his new husband. Am I a sucker for the arranged marriage and identity porn tropes? Who can say?

Ciri is asking him something. He forces himself to pay attention. “What was that, my dear?”

She gives him a deeply skeptical look and he reminds himself to dispense with pet names until she knows him better. “Are you any good?”

Jaskier shrugs in a show of modesty. “I haven’t had any complaints. Except for my next-door neighbor, but I think he’s unfairly biased against midnight concerts, personally.”

“Well, luckily for you, Geralt loves midnight concerts,” Lambert says, grinning the grin of a little brother fucking with an older sibling.

The dark look Geralt shoots at Lambert confirms Jaskier’s suspicion. “Hm.”

“Do any of you play?” Jaskier asks hopefully. He’s found that music is one of the easiest things to bond with another person about. Everyone has at least one popular artist they despise or one song that they drop everything to dance along to every time it comes on the radio.

“Lambert sings beautifully in the shower.” Aiden nudges his husband with a lopsided grin.

Coën’s lips twitch. “Uses his shampoo bottle as a microphone and everything.”

Lambert scowls at his husbands. “You like it.”

“I don’t,” Renfri says. “I can hear it from the other side of the fucking mountain.”

“And what about you?” Jaskier asks Geralt as the four of them begin a raucous debate about Lambert’s musical capabilities.

Geralt shrugs. “Not one for music.”

Of course he’s not. Jaskier smiles wider, hoping to hide his internal grimace. “So, you won’t be joining me for my midnight concerts, I take it?”

“No.”

“Don’t take it personally.” Lambert turns away from bickering with Renfri to clap Geralt on the shoulder. “Geralt’s too busy with Roach to develop a taste in music.”

Ask about my WIPs!

[blackchrysalys]

Living Samadhi AU

The samadhi fire was alive but unfortunately heaven was oblivious about it and it had only one purpose: to spread and burn.

When wukong was in the furnace he only had the samadhi fire for company

though at first it tried to burn him to crisp, it later saw an opportunity; an opportunity to burn heaven with the perfect one to execute it.

at first wukong thought he was going insane, hearing whispers ranging from 'you couldn't protect your people' to 'its all heaven's fault'

though a few days (he thinks, time's hard to tell here) later he finds out that the fire is apparently conscious and wants to help him. That he wasn't going to die.That they could both be friends sharing a common goal: To burn heaven down

Hey the fire even agreed, that maybe he should return the favour. They deserved it after all. Especially the jade emperor.

The Jade emperor didn't deserve his throne, monkey king was way better than him after all.

The fire even gave him a gift, fiery eyes to see through lies and illusions ensuring he'd never be tricked again.

When wukong got trapped he did wonder what happened to his 'friend'.

When wukong became a monk he'd never thought he'd see the fire again

Yet here it was, controlling wielded by his nephew, ready to traumatise him again(hey he never said his friend was pleasant).

He really didn't want to face it again. It looked even scarier than before. Please don't make him go against it. But that would mean leaving the tang monk in their clutches. Besides the great sun wukong can't die, right?

Thankfully Bodhisattva guanyin came to the rescue. Hopefully he'd never have to face that ever again(the samadhi fire did not like him anymore).

Why was it everywhere?! First the boy and now an entire mountain range(now he knows how red son met got the fire). How the heck did it even manage to get here. Yeah he kicked the furnace but seriously?! Thankfully the fan from princess iron fan worked and he didn't have to jump in again.

Though this fire felt...empty. A husk of what it once was. It seemed the spirit had already moved on.

He tried to warn people about it but everyone called him delusional. No one believed it could be alive but they did believe it was dangerous once the demon bull king asked for help.

It was exhausting to seal the fire, but hey nothing the monkey king can't do. Just had to hold on a bit longer...and ignore the whispers he heard from them(please shut up). No else heard the whispers

He only meant to lighten the mood (and distract himself from the whispers). Why did it have to go after his master? Why did it have to be sealed in his companion Ao lie? Thankfully dragons had an affinity for fire so it didn't seem to bother him much (plus it was just a small part).

Hopefully that was the end of it. It wasn't.