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anwenevergreen · 3 years

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The last dream of my soul

The Dream faded before her eyes. Auroras, mists and echoes danced one last time in the light as she blinked the remnants of the vision away.

'It was wonderful to see you again, my friend.'

'Thank you, Sieran... Thank you... for everything.'

The apparition evaporated with a smile, leaving in its wake a faint scent of oleander, and an evanescent shine of gold and blue.

“You did it!”, the rough edge of Rytlock's voice cut through the reverie and anchored her back to the present. “Two dragons down, four to go.”

“We did it.”, she repeated incredulously. “Mordremoth is dead.”

“Truly dead. I can't hear its voice in my head.”, Canach said, a weight lifting from his shoulders and a shadow vanishing from his eyes. “It's completely gone.”

“And we sylvari are still here. Still... us. I wasn't sure...”

The dragon was defeated.

Around them, the jungle was silent, the leaves no longer rustling with whispering voices and threatening presences. The entanglement of lianas holding Trahearne loosened, sagging across the short rock promontory as the tendrils below withered and stilled.

“Rytlock, Braham, help me.”, Anwen called out, the three of them dragging the barely conscious form of the pact marshal over the edge and onto solid land.

She unsheathed her sword and cut through the coiling vines holding the pod and weighting it down, careful not to attack the pitcher trap or its stalk yet. There was no saying how much of Trahearne was connected to it, but the plant was already wilting and time was running out to find out.

“Anwen, I... My sword... Caladbolg is nearby.”, he rasped, feebly reaching to an alcove in the entanglement of pernicious plants where a faint light emerged, beyond the curtain of thorns. “It was a gift from the Pale Tree. I am connected... bonded to it. Only its power can free me from this. Please...”

She nodded intently, and rushed across the promontory, searching through the dying brambles for the claymore, a prickling pain biting at her fingers when she finally found the hilt, thorns and rosebuds wilting on the guard, the blade profoundly embedded in one of the dragon's giant vines – shattered but still deathly sharp.

“I found it!”

Sword in her hand, fire at her fingertips, she slashed the stem at the base, cauterizing the cut on impact and moving on to the hem of the trap before it, too, wilted. She carefully peeled the teeth away from his flesh, finding the plant's resistance gone, and the wounds shallower than she feared. What worried her, however, was the viscous acrid liquid seeping out of the pitcher. She slithered her blade in, careful not to harm Trahearne, and cautiously sliced the envelope's length, a massive quantity of blighting fluid erupting from the cut. She repressed a gag, a distressed wail dying in her throat when the destroyed pod revealed deep chasms of blighted flesh and a yet deeper intricacy of vines fusing him to the plant, the main one deeply embedded in his spine.

She crawled up to cup his face, the pain twisting his features fading slightly as she traced a Signet of Mercy on his chest. But it was only a brief respite. Until she could safely deliver him from the clutch of the dying jungle, he was but a flame on the shore, and the tide was coming.

Hand trembling, the fire in her heart revived, she traced a glistening sigil in the air, trusting her powers to spare what remained of him amongst the carcass of the dragon. A protective dome surged around her, cleansing the last remnants of the fluid and rending the tendrils off his flesh.

A gasp died in his throat, chest heaving as a constellation of healing lights dawned under her touch.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”, she whispered over and over again, his entire body shimmering with evenstars. “It's over, please, hold on.”

“Anwen.”

A flicker of clarity returned to his eyes as he took her hand, holding it to his chest in a gentle but firm grasp.

“It's too late.”

Grief obscured his features, a sombre resignation hardening his gaze.

“Caladbolg. Take it. Use it... on me. Kill me.”

“Never. Not if I can save you.”

“You already have.”

His voice grew distant, exhaustion seeping through the shadow of his smile.

“Anwen. My body is broken. My mind won't hold fast against the assault of the Dragon.”

“What?”, she breathed incredulously. “No!”, she cried. “No, Mordremoth is dead. We've destroyed it! Destroyed its mind from the inside.”

“But I still hear its voice. One last hateful vestige... a terrible seed planted deep in my mind. You must kill me, Commander.”, he said, the sudden formal use of her title drowning her in cold horror. “Before that seed grows. Before it has all been in vain. Before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost. Strike me now. Let me die while I still am some semblance of myself.”

“No.”, she repeated, her voice strangled as tears grew, cold in her eyes. “You are the strongest-willed person I know, you can resist it. You must, Trahearne... Please...”

Her voice dimmed to a murmur.

“Dearheart...”

His expression was one of endless regret when he removed her hand from his chest, and wrapped it around the hilt of the sword.

Anwen blinked, a weight unlike anything she had ever felt oppressing her chest and suffocating her. She turned to her friends behind, their features drawn by exhaustion and darkened with forlorn dismay – the unfairness of yet another battle lost to win the war, the striking horror of what he asked, in the light of her confession.

“Could you give me a moment?”, she begged. “A moment of privacy. Please.”

Jory and Braham were the first to stand back, soon to be followed by Canach and Rytlock. Caithe lingered just a moment, stricken by grief, her glow dimmed with the shadow of memories too painful to ponder – the mourning of Riannoc, Faolain, and now Trahearne taking a visible toll on her.

“Caithe...”

She came to, as awaken from a dream – from a nightmare.

“I will not let this all be in vain.”, Anwen promised softly. “Please, leave.”

The firstborn retreated in the shadows, addressing a silent farewell to her brother, and disappeared down the path.

Sword in hand, Anwen turned back to Trahearne. A faint comforting smile briefly enlightened his features, the last traces of purple vanishing from his glow, fading to a dim molten yellow.

“You once told me our fates were bound together...”, she whispered, laying her forehead against his. “I'm not leaving without you.”

“You must. I hear Darkness call to me. But you... You will not join her yet. Another call is more beautiful.”

She knew those words. They were engraved in an etched tablet, in the archives of the priory, salvaged from the depths of Orr – a tale as old as time whose last rhyme was tragically lost when the ancient realm succumbed.

It was Trahearne's favourite.

And how fitting it was. A necromancer whose wyld hunt was to restore life in the domain of undeath, a scholar whose favourite poem was about resisting the sweet embrace of death, a soldier whose youth was reaped by a war beyond him, and whose story would be cruelly abridged.

“Dreamless sleep awaits... Strike now. Kill me... Kill me. Kill me!”

A second voice rumbled within his, sharp as scythes and cold as death. Anwen staggered away, and crawled back in terror as the voice drowned out his, an ardent glow overtaking the sweet honey of his eyes, pure hatred twisting his features in those of a monster wearing the face of someone she loved.

“Kill me!”

The dragon's cruel laugh echoed under the canopy.

“Strike now.”, it taunted. “And despair.”

Seizing Caladbolg, Anwen leaped to her feet, her eyes ice-cold, a silent fury brewing behind them, an unbroken determination fuelling her strength anew. She raised the sword high, her wrath drawing in fiery letters a signet in the air and stabbed.

The thorn of the Pale Tree dug in the earth, a radiance spiralling from the broken blade, runes glowing with untamed power flowing through its veins and tracing on the ground around them an unwavering Symbol of Resolution.

The mirthless smirk faded from the face of the creature hiding behind Trahearne's eyes as a burst of white-hot flames engulfed them. The dragon writhed in agony – its roar dying in an excruciating scream.

The signet gleamed, a blinding light radiating from the runes as the fire died, extinguished by the power infused in the consecrated ground. It had only lasted a second, but had been enough. A faint glimpse of hope, shimmering behind pain and confusion, piercing through the dark veil of the dragon's presence.

The fiery glow returned within a blink.

“You cannot destroy me.”, the dragon snarled, the thunderous rumble of the dying jungle resounding deep in its voice. “I am the future. I am this world.”

“You are a figment. The memory of a nightmare.”

A darkness lingering beyond the edge of slumber, but which would not subsist should the sleeper awaken. Trahearne was still there – still fighting to regain the light. Her fires were his beacon, as they were the dragon's pyre.

Another burst of flames. Another scream. And a flicker of determination that was unmistakably Trahearne's enlightening his eyes as the dragon trashed, its hold on his mind weakened by its desperate attempt to escape the pain.

The signet pulsed again as a wave of healing light followed the extinction of the fire.

“I am power itself. I am life itself.”

“You are at my mercy. And I have none to spare.”

“Bold words. But empty ones.”

She unleashed another conflagration, drowning the world in flames.

"To deny me is to embrace oblivion!"

The dragon's control waned, its presence leaving a trail of corruption in its wake, and the blight receding with every second under her fire.

A hand that was no longer Trahearne's broke through the brazier and locked around her throat.

Horrified clarity enlightened the Marshal's eyes, the veil of the dragon's possession completely lifted leaving in its stead the horrifying reality.

She felt the skin against hers transform from the rough bark of Mordremoth's corruption to something worse, the limb losing its shape to wrap around her throat tighter, suffocating her. Seizing her chance, Anwen grabbed his shoulder, leaning her entire weight on the articulation to concentrate the fire there, her other hand outstretched, desperately reaching for the hilt of the sword buried in the earth nearby. A gasp died in her throat, blood and sap flowing down the vine, when thorns pierced her chainmail.

A familiar shadow invaded her vision and unsheathed the sword from the earth. The blade sang, as it slashed through the air, severing the corrupted limb right off the shoulder.

Trahearne was free.

Summoning the last of her strength, Anwen cauterized the stump and ripped the tendril off her throat – a blinding pain drowning her and smothering her fire.

The jungle shrieked in a long wailing complaint as the vine writhed uselessly against the blade impaling it, embers running along its evershifting bark, simmering white and blinding till its very core was but a barren husk of scorching cinder and ash. A burst of energy surged through Caladbolg and into the earth, a shudder running through the very veins of the world, and then only remained silence.

An unlikely bearer lifted Caladbolg from the ground, and rushed to her side, applying pressure on her aegis-sealed wound and calling out for help, an expression of livid stupor darkening his face.

'Canach, bearer of Caladbolg, slayer of Mordremoth and savior of Firstborn Trahearne.' There's a nice ring to it.', she pondered, amusement drawing an exhausted smile on her face. 'And I certainly won't let you live that down.'

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#trammander #trahearne lives au #trahearne #heart of thorns #trahearne x f!human commander #tw violence #the cover will change when I get back from my week end #but I wanted to post the chapter and couldn't wait ^^#edited ending

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

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Soulmate au! tattoos - Harry Hook x Reader - Oneshot

Small spin on two soulmate au ideas that got sent in, name tattooed somewhere on the body and whatever is drawn on the skin shows up on the other, and im including tattoos (except those don’t disappear so if your soulmate get a tattoo you get one too and unless you get it removed it's there to stay)

soulmate au ideas from anon and @harryhasmehooked

tattoo designs/ideas borrowed from @kindofchaoticgood

Everyone was born with their soulmates name tattooed somewhere on their body, on their wrist, on their collarbone, on the back of the neck, anywhere really. Another thing was that whatever your soulmate had something written or drawn on their arm, it would show up on your body as well.

Many soulmates found each other by communicating with a pen and writing their information on their skin, others liked to make it a hunt and only give hints to their soulmate.

Then there were the tattoos. and not the ones that one was born with. The ones that someone got willingly inked onto their body.

If someone got a tattoo, that same tattoo would appear on their soulmate's body, but unlike when they simply wrote on their arm with a pen, it wouldn’t disappear unless they got it removed.

Sometimes, people gushed over their soulmate's tattoo and proudly wore them, others hid their tattoos away in fear they would be judged.

Usually, the ones who hid their tattoos either had a good reason to hide them or were just ashamed of their soulmate's choice of art.

You weren’t one of those people.

Around the time you were 11 or 12, small temporary tattoos began to appear on your skin, first just little inked ones that would easily wash off, but soon little stick and poke tattoos started to appear, they would fade after a while but they were cute and you retouched them on your own when you could. Some were little music notes, others resembled constellations, and one, which was your favorite, was a small hook nestled in the crook of your palm.

The first “real” tattoo showed up several months after the first poke and stick tattoos, your cousin had joked about how cliche it was and your soulmate must be a pirate or something, a skull with crossed swords on the right side of your chest.

Your parents had pretty much freaked out, you only being 12 and already having a tattoo but you brushed it off and admired it every day, writing on your arm to ask your soulmate where and how they had gotten the tattoo.

Unfortunately, you had never gotten a response.

The next tattoo to appear, on the left side of your chest this time, was a ship sailing into the horizon. Again you asked them where and how they had gotten the tattoo, along with asking the name of the ship, once again there was no response.

Only a week later a new tattoo showed up, this time on the inside of your left arm, written in slight cursive were the words “No grave can hold me down” you had traced the words the entire night into the next morning.

Soon after that, another tattoo showed up, this one on the back of your left hand, depicting three swords crossing their blades.

Your cousins always teased you about how pirate-like your soulmate's tattoos were, but you laughed at the slight irony of it since your soulmate might have been a pirate after all.

Considering their last name was “Hook” it was a pretty good chance that they had followed their dad's footsteps.

“Harry Hook” a name that drifted through your dreams, you always imagined what they would be like, hopefully, nothing like James hook.

It was years before a new tattoo showed up, when you were 16 and attending Auradon prep, after King Ben had invited four villain kids to Auradon, curling black inked words on the inside of your right arm ‘death before disloyalty’. You had no clue what it meant, but it clearly had a deeper meaning.

Throughout the years you had no luck in attempting to contact your ‘Harry Hook’, you had either sent a simple ‘hi’ or a small little note mentioning one of the tattoos. It was always no response. Though you got little notes from them that were rare and never had anything to do with what you sent him. Just little ‘hello’s and asking your name, but every time you responded, nothing came back.

you had mentioned it to Evie, who was in your art class, who said that because of the barrier, it prevented soulmate magic as well, meaning Harry hadn’t ever seen your little notes and didn’t even have your name tattooed on him somewhere.

Evie was also the only one who knew of your soulmate's name that was willing to tell you about him, being the least…biased against her fellow vk. Mal, Jay, and Carlos all seemed to have some sort of grudge against him and always badmouthed him when the topic of Harry came up.

Though thanks to Evie and her thankfully amazing art skills, she had depicted Harry for you, she had said it wasn’t perfect since she was more of a concept artist than one who practiced realism, that was more Mal’s thing, but you could tell she was just being modest.

Black fluffy hair, ocean blue eyes always lined with liner, plump lips that Evie said were always in a sharp smirk, a jaw that could cut someone. He was perfect, and you hoped you could meet him soon.

Three months after the vks had come to Auradon, a new tattoo appeared; this time of a solid black anchor on your right forearm. You traced it constantly with your finger, wondering what this one meant, just as you did with every tattoo appearance.

Soon after that, a swallow appeared just above the crook of your right elbow, and a lioness with a language you couldn’t speak written under it appearing on your left wrist.

Then a watercolor lily on the side of your right forearm, then constellations started to appear on your back, you had Evie take a picture each time one appeared, smiling as yours appeared among them (star sign, like Virgo or Capricorn)

Around April, another tattoo appeared, again on your right forearm, this time of a treble clef symbol with a series of notes within the loops. You wondered what the song was, humming it under your breath as you tapped out the notes on whatever surface your hand was resting on.

It was several months later before another tattoo appeared, and it was the most beautiful one yet. Swirling turquoise tentacles curled around and down your right arm, starting from your right shoulder and ending just below your elbow.

You had started wearing sleeveless tops more often, wanting everyone to see the masterpiece that was curled around your arm.

Once you turned 18 you started to decorate your skin as well, your first being a watercolor compass on your left bicep that melted into waves as it drew away from the middle.

Next, you got one with a moon theme on the back of your neck just below your hairline, reaching down your neck and connecting with the constellations on your back.

After that you got a skeleton hand on your right hand, then the map of Neverland on your thigh, then the north star on your ankle.

You were almost covered in tattoos, to which some people gaped and gasped, but you paid them no mind, your tattoos were your only connection to your soulmate and you couldn’t wait for the day that he would finally see your combined works.

Harry didn’t know if he had a soulmate or not, the barrier prevented any type of communication through writing on their skin or their names being tattooed on their body.

So Harry had gone his entire life without knowing the name of his, possibly non-existent, soulmate, and no matter how many times he had tried to talk to them, there was never any response.

He always did wonder though, if he had a soulmate, what they thought of his tattoos. Did they like them? Did they wear them proudly? Did they hide them? Did they get them removed? He would probably never know.

Until one day, only a couple days after the four traitors had invited four new vks, he was outside of the barrier.

The blank spots on his skin bloomed to life, a watercolor compass on his left bicep, a skeleton hand on his right hand, Gil told him about the moon tattoo on the back of his neck, the tingle of magic on his thigh and ankle told him there were new tattoos there was well.

He stared at the new tattoos, smiling slightly at the realization that he did have a soulmate. His smile dipped a bit as his left wrist started to burn slightly, and he ripped away the old bandage that covered his scar from years ago, eyes widening as the curving letters of his soulmates started to appear.

‘(y/n) (l/n)’

Harry stared at the name, not realizing everyone was moving towards Auradon till Gil gently pushed at his shoulder to get him to move “oh” Harry muttered, catching up with Uma and smirking as she stared at the large tattoo sleeve on his right arm.

“you are such a dork” she snorted, pushing at his arm and looking at his hand “didn’t think you were one to get a skeleton tattoo”

Harry just held up his left wrist with a grin “Oh holy shit!” Uma laughed, grabbing onto his hand and examining the name “(y/n) huh?...nice name” Mal yelled at them to catch up, making Uma glare at the girl. “hold your pants princess were dealing with some shit back here!”

Uma and Harry shared a look ‘we’ll talk about this later’ and followed after the other vks, Uma continuing to poke and prod at Harry's new tattoos.

Harry stood awkwardly in a quiet corner at Mal and Ben's engagement party as everyone else danced in the middle of the large garden. He swirled the pink lemonade in the small glass cup and took a careful sip. He let a small smile grow on his face as Gil and Uma spun around on the dance floor.

He glanced down at his left wrist, flexing it a bit as his soulmate's name shined lightly in the sunlight. He let out a sigh and took another sip of his drink, he had no idea where his soulmate was, they could be anywhere really, in Auradon, or maybe on the other side of the world.

“I like your tattoos” a voice spoke from beside him, and Harry glanced at them for a moment before looking back at the dance floor.

“Thank yeh” he muttered back, pausing as he went to take another sip of his drink. He whirled back around, eyes widening as he really looked at the person who had complimented him.

They were covered in tattoos, ones that matched his exactly, on their right arm were turquoise tentacles, an anchor, a swallow in flight, a watercolor lily, a treble clef with music notes, and…his name on the inside of your wrist. “Harry Hook…right?” you asked nervously, tapping your foot against the ground.

Harry looked down at his wrist again and looked back at you “aye…(y/n) (l/n)?” he asked softly, smiling as you grinned and nodded.

“That would be me, it's nice to finally meet you Harry” you held out your hand, your grin widening as Harry eagerly took it. “Come on, let's talk”

“Okay,” Harry muttered, sharing a smile with Uma and Gil as they pointed at your tattoos with wide grins “let's talk.”

You tugged Harry out of the garden party, your hands tightly intertwined. Just below your intertwined hands at the wrists, the tattooed names glowed for a moment then shimmered to a shining, just visible, gold color.

A symbol that one's soulmate had been found.

-end-

another short but sweet oneshot! probably didnt make complete sense but im just wanting to get back into writing since ive been feeling a bit of a block with my main stories, so if anybody else has anymore soulmate au ideas send em in.

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @remembered-license

@random-thoughts-003 @verboetoperee

@rintheemolion @jatp-rules-my-life

@thecaptainsgingersnap @imtryingthisout

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #soulmate au #tattoos

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star-puff · 4 years

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asterisms, for remembrance

oikawa + constellation

word count: 564

event masterlist

soundtrack: orion - 米津玄師

yes i know i said semi-hiatus but please the brainrot never stops. oikawa tooru has too much power over me i can’t resist.

“It’s a good spot for a date, right?”

Oikawa had driven you both to the middle of nowhere, a place far away from city lights and the rush of loud cars. You take a deep breath in, smelling the pine from the forest nearby, a cool breeze that floats by—gentle, comforting.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” you say, teasing. “But we had to drive all the way out here for what, exactly?” You shift your weight from side to side, soft grass rustling beneath your feet.

He pokes your side, drawing a small giggle from you, and points upwards. “Look.”

You follow his finger to the sky, and a soft gasp escapes your lips. Above you is what seems like a never-ending milky way, radiant and bright, and you stare at it wide-eyed. On this cloudless night, away from the bustle of everything, the stars shine incandescently by their lonesome.

“How did you find this place?” you ask, awed.

“Oh, here and there.” he waves off, taking out a blanket and laying it on the ground, patting the space next to him once settled. “Pretty though, isn’t it?”

You raise a brow, sitting beside him. “It wasn't one of those online forums for alien watching or something, right?”

“It’s pretty though, isn’t it?”

Muffling your laughter, you reach for his hand, playing with his fingertips. “Pretty like you?”

He hums in contemplation, his other hand reaching to pick at the frayed threads of your sleeve. “No,” he decides, shaking his head. “Pretty like you.”

Stars twinkle above, interwoven in the atmosphere by some heavenly constant. Jokes land a little softer than usual, words chosen carefully instead of the regular banter you two often participate in. There’s something untouched in the space between you, words unspoken in fear of breaking this fragile peace, this weakly tied daybreak. And yet, you do anyway.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whisper, voice trembling.

Oikawa’s smile stills. The night sky waits, a silent, yawning void that leaves you both unsure of what to say next, how to fix something on the verge of shattering, like porcelain moments between the fall and the ground. The fingers you’re holding onto seem like they’re about to disappear before your eyes, solid hands turned to dust. Argentina has never felt so far away.

His hand leaves your sleeve, instead pointing to the sky once more. “You see that?”

You squint, following his finger to the three stars, arranged in a line. “Orion's Belt?” You’d listened to enough of his excited space-related talks to know what one of the most iconic asterisms looked like.

Oikawa nods. “Also known as the Three Sisters, the Three Kings, it's the easiest way to find Orion in the sky. It's also," he begins, connecting the dots between each star, "is a constellation visible in both hemispheres."

"So when you look up in the sky and see Orion," Oikawa says, slipping his hands back into yours, "know that I've seen it, too. And when you try to find it but you can't, know that I'm seeing it and I'm thinking of you." He holds them to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles with such tenderness you want to cry. “So that we’ll never be apart, even if we’re far away.”

Dawn breaks like this: slow, deliberate, sun peaking over the horizon in a way where you can only see its colors in Oikawa’s eyes.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #oikawa fanfiction #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #hq imagines #hq fanfic #meg writes #one(shot) with love

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pumpkinpot · 3 years

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Hoshi

A/N: this is part of the Citrus Dome Sci-Fi collab. this is also pure fluff. no smut, no real angst. just spooky summer vibes and poly love. I hope you enjoy. (I’m sorry for grammatical errors in advance.)

synopsis: since beginning your relationship with Katsuki Bakugou and Ochako Uraraka you’ve developed a love for exploring abandon places with them whenever you three have time to explore. This time, so happens to land on a derelict observatory. (additional head canons for this story on my tik tok under pumpkinpots)

“It says here it was abandoned in the mid-nineteenth century due to the spike in light pollution with the growth of the city,” you say, pointing to the dome at the peak of the building. “All of the mobile telescopes were transferred to the university's observatory, while this placed rotted away.

Uraraka half listens, levitating sheetrock from the doorway and discarding them in the nearby field.

“Why just abandon it?” Katsuki asks, fiddling with varying lenses in his camera bag. “Couldn’t this have been a museum or something?”

“Yeah,” you agree, shifting a glance to make sure Uraraka doesn’t need help. “It looks like it was bought by a merchant in the eighties who wanted to turn it into a house, but he was indicted for tax evasion before the renovations ever finished. It hasn’t been touched since.”

He scoffs with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Rich idiots.”

Uraraka brushes specks of dust off her palms across her cut-off shorts before urging us alone. “Shall we?”

It takes two and a half pushes to nudge the door wide enough to squeeze through. The observatory opens to us with a groan of whining metal and the scratch of loose dirt on concrete.

Centered in the main foyer, a gaping mural of blue and white cobblestone depicts a dusty map of astrology stars.

Katsuki has to be coaxed with a promise to be flashed to pose under the Taurus constellation for a picture, meanwhile, Uraraka floats just above Pisces with a cute puffy cheeked expression.

Names, small sayings, and symbols decorate the wall in vibrant graffiti, the place a cocktail of color and wild Ivy.

"It's a lot more lit than I thought I'd be," Uraraka says, stuffing her flashlight into her bag.

Katuski keeps the light attached to his camera lit as he weaves in and out of rooms, zooming in on old books and broken equipment.

We follow him through a puzzle of what seemed to be living quarters and small classrooms, ending in a half oval auditorium.

At the center of the stage a white globe balances on a pillar of cement.

“What’s this?” Uraraka asks.

You touch where someone had attempted to derail the sphere like a baseball before trailing your eyes above the layered seating. “It's a projector ball. Technicians would likely project light from there into the ball to make it seem like the planet or star they were studying. That's why it's,” you knock on the sphere's cool solid surface. “Crystal.”

Uraraka shines her phone’s light into it, the shattered pieces reflecting shapes in a dim glow.

Katsuki points the camera into the orb, the bluish tint reminds you of the similar one in the abandoned lighthouse you’d explored with them two years ago. Though that one would have lit from the inside.

Quickly you explore the base and second levels, eager to get to the actual observatory. It's evident where the renovations to make this a home had been started and never finished. Small cracks in the floor, sealed with caulk, loose wooden planks pillaring knocked in walls.

It could have been a beautiful home, you think to yourself.

Up the second flight of stairs gradually more and more light fills the space until you are bathed in the orange glow of early dusk. A large open scare slits the dome, edging with rust and ivy. The circular room holds nothing of true value, nothing left behind but broken tables and a ladder to the viewing balcony tailing the opening of the dome.

“The big telescope that would have been here-” Uraraka says, fiddling with the screw holes in the floor, “- would have been a refracting telescope. It uses small bits of glass to magnify what you’re looking at, then is bent back through the telescope hitting the eyepiece. The other kind is a reflector,” she continues, “It's got a primary mirror at the bottom of the lens into a second mirror than a third eyepiece mirror. This one is mostly used to see the different parts of a star to see what it's made out of.”

Katsuki and you exchange looks of pure astonishment. "how do you know all this?" you ask.

She fishes a gum wrapper from one of the holes, tossing it to the side. “Before I was accepted into UA I was really considering going into astronomy. I thought it fit so well with my quirk, but the courses were too expensive.”

"More expensive than UA?" Katuski asks, refocusing his camera.

She nods, seeming just as dumbfounded as us.

“Do you think it could work on my explosions?”

“If you were in space maybe,” you hypothesize, “but in that case, we probably wouldn’t see it for a long while.”

He seems semi disappointed as if his evening plans had been somehow derailed.

You run your hands across the walls of the dome, dusk sun baking its metal frame like a soup pot.

For a moment you just watch them. It’d been so long since the opportunity arose for the three of you to go exploring. With you still temporarily stationed in the American hero commission and those two workings in Japan it was rare to find time to skype let alone go on adventures. You were lost in the bliss of having your partners so near without having to scream about a lost wifi connection when your hand hit something protruding from the wall.

“What are these?” you ask, inspecting circular gears attached to a crank.

“It looks like the wheel to turn the dome,” Uraraka says.

Katsuki zooms in on the puzzle of rigid plates. “This bitch turns?”

“Yeah, that slit doesn't move so the dome has to, to accommodate where in the sky they were looking.”

Katsuki fingers the gears a moment, mapping its track all across the sphere. He traces along the parts not layered in rust until he’s back at the start. “Do you think it still works?”

“Not without some serious lube and strong arms.”

“We’re one for two,” you suggest.

Katsuki hands over his camera to Uraraka, positioning himself opposite you to push the lever, while you pull left.

At first, the dial stays put, its stance unforgiving, but after a bit more pull than push a deafening whine reverberating through the entire observatory.

No visible move happens until the second crank roundabout when the shift of light against concrete becomes clear.

Katsuki’s eyes light with sheer amazement as the entire dome rotates around you. We are halfway through a full rotation before Uraraka shouts for you to stop.

You push on the lever stilling its movements as quickly as you can.

She holds a finger head tilted to the side. “Do you hear that?”

Your breath balloons in your chest as you lean in closer. The tiniest of whimpers echo around the dome from the viewing balcony.

One after another you file up the ladder, hopping on the edge of the dome. Balancing on the concrete crease between the moving track and the rest of the building you search for the sound.

“Here!” Uraraka yells from the other side.

You sprint as much as you dare, teetering along the two-story edge.

She squats over the body of a squirming animal, a tuft of fur caught in the track of the dome's rotation. She coddles its little frame, before reaching a hand out to you. “Y/n, your knife-”

Hesitantly you hand it over. She snips away the stuck pieces muttering thanks that none of the actual tail got caught. She folds the blade back into itself, pinching leaves and sticks from the animal's fur and tossing them over the side.

She holds it up, floppy ears and a black nose making it a nearly recognizable creature. A puppy.

He looks to be light brown, but that could be the soot.

Katsuki checks around the dome for any signs of a litter or mamma, before joining us with a shake of his head.

The pup squirms and with an open mouth, letting all sorts of noises tumble from his dirt-covered tongue.

Uraraka floats the puppy to the floor of the dome, as we file down the ladder. You empty the contents of your water bottle into a cup for drinking and the rest onto its back for cooling.

His fur peaks through white and brown spotted under layers of grime.

“Well,” Uraraka says, “we’ve been talking about wanting to expand our family.”

“I suppose there’s no better place to start,” you add, both of us looking to Katsuki for consensus.

He passes glances between the three of us. “Fine, but I get to name it.”

“Alright, but we get veto power.”

“Explosion-”

“Veto,” you say in unison.

He looks around puffy-lipped. “I didn't even get to finish.”

“Explosion nothing,” Uraraka clarifies.

He’s silent for a long moment looking around the space. “Hoshi?.”

“Star?” you confirm.

“This observatory was used to study the stars, wasn’t it?” He bats.

You and Uraraka exchange a satisfied, yet surprised look. You hadn’t expected something so- normal. This is after all the same man that made you name your golden pothos “boom boom boi” in his honor.

“I like it,” you say.

“Approved,” adds Uraraka.

We better take our picture before it gets too dark,” he says, turning away so you can’t see the blush on his cheeks. He switches out his filming camera for a smaller polaroid, propping it up on the edge of a broken table.

He runs back as the timer ticks down. He slides to your right side, Uraraka on your left. Their arms link behind you as you hold Hoshi up to your mid-chest. Clicking down from five you all give your cheesiest grins. A rectangular card spits from the bottom of the camera.

Ochaco shakes it a few times, swapping you a picture, for a puppy.

You wait for the picture to pixelate before opening the ninety-cent notebook of film slips and position it in the next available spot.

Urarka’s cut-off shorts and Katsuki's tanned shoulders are a stark contrast to the puffy blue coat and chunky knit beanie from the last abandoned mansion expedition last time. Before that, the three of us accidentally matched our windbreakers to Midoryia during a tour of The Ghost Candy Shop in Kyoto. We look like a group of tourists.

The small book seemed to be filling quickly despite the rareness of time to get away. Memories pile up from when it was just Uraraka and Katsuki to when you became a staple to their adventures. They’d given you responsibility for the book to garner your importance to them in their relationship until the reasoning for the gift became nothing more than routine. You were theirs, and they were yours.

Now a new member had sprouted in your little family, and if you squinted, you could imagine the rest of the pages being filled with the pup in aged years to maybe more as time goes on.

Right now, you were happy with the three and a half of you.

#bakugou x reader #uraraka x reader #bakugou x uraraka #ochako x reader #mha x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x y/n #Uraraka fluff #mha fluff

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duchesschameleon · 3 years

Text

what if - chapter 7

summary: a long lost letter leads to an adventure in Italy for three people who find love and healing along the way. a letters to juliet au

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 3142 a/n: okay, the last three chapters are big ones, so buckle up! the whole fic is written, I’m just working through editing and cleaning it up. there’s no warnings for this one (I think, please let me know if I need to add any!) so enjoy! please throw a comment or a reblog my way if you like it!! and as always, thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo for being the best beta

what if masterlist

You wake up the next morning feeling both refreshed and almost hungover. Your throat is dry and eyes are scratchy from the crying but you also feel well rested and definitely a bit lighter. You get ready slowly, taking your time to make sure any traces of your crying are gone.

It’s later than normal when you join Aaron and Dave for breakfast. They’re sitting at the normal table, but Aaron looks tense. He can’t stay still, fidgeting in his seat. When you’re close to the table, he stands and pulls out your chair for you. You blink at him as you sit down, surprised by the gesture.

“Aaron, don’t you have something you want to say?” Dave asks once Aaron’s sat back down in his chair.

He shoots a dark look at Dave before clearing his throat. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday -”

“In the eyes Aaron,” Dave interrupts. Aaron sighs and shifts in his chair so he’s facing you.

“I want to apologize for yesterday. I was out of line,” he says, brown eyes locked on yours. “I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t mean it, and I’m truly sorry.”

You nod and take a sip of coffee before responding. “Thank you, Aaron.”

It’s really all you can say, now that the truth is out there. Aaron knows about your partner, you know about Haley. You both know loss and you know that both of you don’t want to put Dave through it again.

Conversation is stilted for a few more minutes, even with Dave’s best efforts to get something rolling between you and Aaron. Things finally settle into something comfortable when you bring up your search for Carolyn. There aren’t many left on your list, so you and Aaron choose a few near each other for the day.

It winds up being a short day of searching and not a successful one. Lunch might be the most interesting part of the day, at a restaurant that you would never expect to find nor to like so much. It’s a family owned restaurant just off the main road connecting some of the small towns near Siena. You probably would have driven past it, Aaron too, but Dave has an eye for these things. For the small things that turn out to be magical, with delicious food and great wine.

“The gift of old age, of slowing down,” Dave jokes when you bring it up. You feel your cheeks heat up, embarrassed at inadvertently calling Dave old but he tuts at you. “None of that, it’s all about the experience of life. You’re young, focused on going places and doing big things. You’ll learn to appreciate these small things, spontaneous things, in time. I’m just here to help you find them now.” He winks at you, raising his wine glass in a toast that you reciprocate.

“To the finer things,” you say, clinking glasses with Dave.

“To appreciating life, la vita bella,” Dave adds, pulling back from Aaron’s glass.

“La vita bella,” Aaron whispers as he shifts to clink his glass with yours. You take a sip, holding Aaron’s gaze. He looks away after a few moments, when the air feels too thick between you two. It’s a stark difference from that morning, and a testament to how far your tenuous friendship with Aaron has come.

A week ago, you wouldn’t have imagined being so comfortable in his presence but now, you find that you don’t mind being around him. You actually like spending time with him, and you know that you’ve already forgiven him in your head for his words yesterday.

It’s a thought that sticks in the back of your head for the rest of the day, how you have forgiven him. Even if you aren’t fully certain why. You know that you hadn’t told him your full story, even when the perfect opportunity presented itself as you explored Siena two days earlier, so it wasn’t his fault for not knowing you had experienced the same loss he has. He was scared for his friend, his mentor, and you can understand that. But there’s something more to it, you just can’t put a finger on it. Instead, you shove it all to the back of your mind and focus on the remaining Carolyn’s for the day.

It doesn’t take long to rule them both out and you find yourselves back in Siena by mid-afternoon. You head to your room, eager to work more on the story and see what you have so far. Aaron and Dave spend some time poolside and try to convince you to join them, but you stick to your plan.

You sit back in the desk chair, looking over what you have. You know it’s solid, that you’re building a compelling narrative. But you’re missing an ending.

You know there are still Carolyn’s left on your list. You also know that there’s a chance Dave’s Carolyn did leave this area. There’s a chance you won’t find her on this trip, or ever. You hope that isn’t the case, you want Dave to find her and have his happily ever after, but you know that the chances of that happening are dwindling.

There’s a knock on your door, pulling you from your downward spiral. You shake the thoughts from your head as you unlock the door and pull it open.

“Uh, hi.” Aaron says, hands in his pockets and rocking slightly on his feet. “I-we just wanted to see if you were joining us for dinner.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance at your watch. Well, shoot. You’d been up here for longer than planned and sure enough, it’s well into the evening and time for dinner.

“Give me five minutes to change, I can meet you downstairs,” you say, closing the door as you turn back into your room. You hear Aaron huff out a laugh and roll your eyes, knowing that means he’ll be right on the other side of the door waiting for you.

And sure enough, when you pull back the door Aaron is there looking at his watch. “Five minutes on the dot, I’m impressed.”

You roll your eyes in response as you lock the door and turn towards the elevators. The two of you walk in silence to the hotel’s restaurant where you find Dave waiting at a table. There’s already a bottle of wine on the table, from the local vineyard that supplies the hotel with all it’s wine, and three glasses poured.

“I would like to propose a toast,” Dave says, once you both sit down. He faces you, raising a glass in your direction. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done for a complete stranger. It has been the most incredible adventure to be here again in Italy and to have met you.”

You smile at Dave, heart warmed by his words. “Thank you for letting me tag along, it’s been the greatest week.”

Dave smirks at you over his glass. “I think you’ve done a little more than tag along,” he notes, eyes flicking over to Aaron before winking at you.

After that, the conversation flows easily between all three of you as you share stories about your loved ones, reliving adventures with them. It’s a night filled with laughter, with memories, and a few tears. But it’s enjoyable. Things feel more relaxed, you’re comfortable with Dave and Aaron. Which is shocking given that a week ago you barely knew them and argued with Aaron constantly. Crazy what a week in a car searching for a woman can do.

Later that night, you’re out stargazing aimlessly. On the outskirts of the city, you can see more stars than you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s gorgeous and given the fact you aren’t tired yet, you find there’s no harm walking around the hotel grounds.

On a grass covered hill, you find Aaron laying on the ground. As you get closer, you see that he’s looking up at the stars, silent and pensive. He looks almost peaceful, tranquil. It’s a different look from the relaxed smile you’re used to seeing as he drives around Tuscany.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask, standing over Aaron.

He starts and leans up on his elbows, nodding. “No, not at all.” You lay down beside him, staring straight at the sky. You can feel the warmth from Aaron’s body, see his eyes flicker over to you in your peripheral vision.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many stars in my life,” you whisper. Your eyes sweep over the constellations, taking in the sheer number of stars in the sky.

“It’s incredible,” Aaron replies and you turn your head to look at him. “I only see stars like this when I take Jack camping. It’s not often unfortunately, but we always spend at least one night stargazing way past bedtime.”

You smile and turn your head back to the stars. It’s incredible to see the night sky so full of light and dimension. You’re used to the flat black of New York, the buildings providing all the light and color. This is something completely different and makes you feel so small.

Aaron clears his throat, and you can tell he’s getting ready to say something so you turn your head back to him. He says your name, almost whispers it, and pauses. “I - I wanted to apologize, again, for yesterday. I really am sorry. I was out of line, and I want you to know how sorry I am,” he says, brown eyes full of remorse.

You suck in a breath, trying to find the right words. “Apology accepted, Aaron. Truly. You didn’t know. I could have, probably should have, told you before but,” you take another breath, forcing yourself to slow down, “I was scared. Telling you felt big, it felt scary. It felt like, almost like it was more real than it has been,” you admit. Aaron had been a person who didn’t know - who didn’t give you the look of pity and sadness whenever he saw you. And when he told you about Haley, you knew he probably would never be that person. Telling him then, became an even more daunting task. As if he would truly know you, truly understand just what you were feeling. The pain, the grief, the way it feels never-ending and like an ocean you cannot cross.

“I know what you mean,” Aaron whispers. “When you tell people, you have to face it all over again. It’s like picking at a scab.” You huff out a soft laugh at his choice of analogy but nod before turning back to look at the stars. You’re both silent, just looking at the night sky. It’s a comfortable silence, finally. You feel yourself relaxing into the grass and just enjoying the moment, enjoying Aaron’s company.

“Do you think she’s out there? Carolyn?” Aaron’s question cuts through the silence, makes you think.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “She’s out there somewhere, I have to believe that.”

“Am I wrong to want Dave to stop, to call this off?”

“No,” you say slowly, “he can’t go on forever. No one can. You have to stop at some point.”

Aaron lets out a sigh. “Then why do I feel like Jack on Sunday?” he mumbles. “It’s nearly time for school and I don’t want to go.”

When you turn your head to respond, you meet Aaron’s eyes. They’re warm and open, filled with wonder. You hold his gaze for a moment before his eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up to your eyes.

And then you’re both slowly moving in, and your lips are touching. You’re kissing Aaron. His lips are soft and gentle as they move over yours. One of his hands holds your chin in place, keeping you still as he deepens the kiss. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you open them. You lose track of time, kissing Aaron, reaching out an arm to wrap around his back and pull him close to you. He shifts, the hand on your jaw moving to wrap around your shoulders, his other down your back and rolling you so you settle on top of him. Your lips move together, exploring each other, until you pull back for a much needed breath.

You’re still holding Aaron, still resting on top of him, when it hits you. You were kissing Aaron. You roll off of him, laying on your back again. The tension that had been so present your first few days with Aaron is back, the air tense between you. You stay still, mind racing as you process what just happened and what to do next. Aaron’s just as still and silent beside you, neither one of you daring to speak first.

After a minute of silence, you make your decision. You sit up, take a breath, and then stand to walk away, leaving Aaron on the hill without saying a word.

You don’t look back, focused on making it to your room. You miss the way Aaron sits up, watching you walk away. You miss the way his jaw drops as he processes what just happened, the kiss, the situation, the fact that he kissed you a day after finding out you’d lost your partner only months before. You miss the figure in a window overlooking the hill moving his hand to let the curtains fall back into place as he smiles and shakes his head.

Sleep comes to you in fits that night, the kiss replaying over and over again in your head as you toss and turn.

Logic had made you walk away without a word - you’d recently lost your partner, you live in New York, Aaron lives in DC. Someone would have to give something up for the two of you to be together. And what would everyone say about you finding someone so soon? It’s been four months, that has to be too soon.

But in your heart, you know it’s not. You know that you can’t put a timer on recovery, on grief. And you certainly can’t predict when you’ll meet someone you fall for.

Finally, sleep overtakes your brain and pushes all thoughts of Aaron, of kisses, of relationships out of your head. You’re leaving tomorrow, heading back to Verona and that’s that.

---

“Good morning,” Aaron says, taking your suitcase from you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Alright,” you respond.

“Good.”

You stand at the trunk of the car, unsure what to say next when thankfully Dave comes outside. Aaron walks past you to help Dave with his suitcase, giving you a moment to take a breath and push down all the thoughts of last night.

You walk away from the trunk and give Dave a hug. “Good morning,” you say, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He returns the favor and gives you a little squeeze, helping ground you. “You know, the stars looked amazing out of my window last night, did you get to see them?”

“Yeah, they looked incredible,” you say, pulling open the back door of the car. Dave says your name, stopping you from sliding into your seat.

“Do you mind sitting up front today? I want to stretch my legs a little.”

So you walk around to the passenger seat and settle in, quickly glancing at Aaron as he climbs in. Your heart clenches, knowing what you want but also knowing it’ll be impossible to take.

For someone who wants to stretch his legs, Dave spends a lot of time leaning forward between the front seats, snapping along to the radio and singing in Italian. You have your arm propped up on the door and keep looking at the window, at the scenery passing by. It’s bittersweet to be leaving Tuscany, going back to Verona and then New York in a few days, but as you told Aaron last night, you can’t keep searching forever.

Aaron’s driving on the winding road to the highway when Dave all of a sudden sits up and starts tapping on Aaron’s seat. “Look, it’s the vineyard that the hotel stocks! C’mon, let's go see it. It’s our favorite wine.” Aaron slows the car and turns into the vineyard, looking around to see if there’s any signs about tours or visitation.

The road in is lined with trees and bushes and you can see people in the field working. Aaron’s driving slow, still uncertain if you can even be here, when Dave starts again.

“Stop the car Aaron, stop the car,” he says, moving to unbuckle himself. He’s opening the door as Aaron’s coming to a full stop and looking at one of the women working in the vineyard. You and Aaron climb out the car, following Dave and wondering what is going on.

“It’s Carolyn,” Dave says. He’s looking at the young woman working the field, a woman who could not have been alive in the 60s.

You and Aaron share a skeptical look before turning back to Dave. “Alright, let’s get you in the shade,” Aaron says, trying to steer Dave towards the trees. It hits you then, what might actually be happening here and you approach the woman.

“Uhm, tu sai dove Carolyn Bartolini?” you ask, stumbling over the Italian for ‘do you know where Carolyn Bartolini is?”

“I am Carolyn Bartolini,” the woman responds.

Aaron rushes over to you, saying your name as it falls into place for him. “This is - it’s her granddaughter,” he says, as another woman approaches you.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Aaron says, turning to the new woman, “do you know where Carolyn Bartolini is?”

The woman nods, “I am Carolyn Bartolini.”

“Do you also have a mother named Carolyn Bartolini?” you ask, a smile breaking out on your face.

“Si, she left to go riding a little while ago. Can we help you?”

Aaron introduces the two of you and explains that you’ve been looking for her mother, that Dave knew her long ago.

“Aaron, let’s go,” Dave says, calling the two of you back towards the car. “Let’s go, this was -”

“Dave, Carolyn’s here!” Aaron interrupts. “She’s out riding, but she’s here.”

“Then let's go before she gets back.” For the first time, Dave looks apprehensive, scared almost.

“Dave, we’ve come all this way and she’s here! Come on,” Aaron protests.

“I’ve been ridiculous Aaron, you’ve been saying it all along. I knew Carolyn when I was a boy, I was barely 16. I’m not the same person anymore, so let’s go before she gets back.”

“Dave,” Aaron starts.

But then you hear horseshoes. You see Dave turn his head a little, a wondrous look in his eyes. You turn to see what’s going on behind you and you see her.

Carolyn Bartolini.

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner @kelstark @hurricanejjareau @oreogutz @whentheautumnleavesfall

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #letters to juliet #letters to juliet au #romcom au #my writing #what if tag #fic stuff #charlie rambles

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years

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Trinkets, Valuable, 9: More useful than simple baubles touched mystery, these items have either a clear purpose, a reliable ability or are made from a fairly costly material. The items could fetch fair prices to collectors of the strange, jewelers, antique or art dealers or simply to barter with if the owner is short on actual currency.

A collection of mink furs and lightweight silver plating expertly tailored to resemble a suit of plate armor. This was either created as some sort of artistic expression or for a foppish noble who wanted to play at looking like a knight.

A tiny adamantine box filled with curiously strong mints that refills every week.

Portable Shade: A circle of black silk three feet in diameter, but can be folded up into the size of a handkerchief. When unfolded, the material floats into the air and hovers over the bearer's head, moving as he does but no more than 30 feet per round. It automatically tilts to block the sun's rays, providing all the benefits of a parasol, but leaving the bearer's hands free for combat or spellcasting. Folding up a portable shade (An action equivalent to drawing a weapon) ends its effect.

A whale shaped, crystal bottle filled with ambergris.

An ivory signal horn that produced a clear, even, high note. The noise isn't loud, exactly more like it makes everything else quiet around it so that it's instantly the only sound in the area and everything resonated with its pure, simple strength. It is natural and perfect, blowing a single note that sounds like a grand chord before fading away like it had never been.

A large gear of solid iron, enchanted to turn constantly by means of a circular magical diagram inscribed on its face. Although it turns slowly, it does so with apparently unlimited torque; it will turn at that constant rate no matter how much resistance is put on it.

A gold pocket watch with an acorn engraved on the cover. On the inside of the cover will be an illusionary image of the most heinous deed the bearer has ever committed.

A heavy stock business card, coated in wax and decorated with a stylized gold trim. Precisely calligraphed words at the bottom detail how the bearer is a member of the imperial household of Yaret and is entitled the protection of the Yaret name. There is a red thumbprint is the center of the card and the entire object looks impressively difficult to counterfeit. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize the house of Yaret as an ancient noble family with significant political clout.

A shimmering violin carved from elderwood. The instrument has a deep amethyst luster and golden inscriptions in an elvish script. The story tells of a tryst between the God of Forest, and the Mountain Goddess.

A golden falcon statuette encrusted from beak to claw with rarest jewels.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A tiny adamantine box filled with curiously strong mints that refills every week.

A whale shaped, crystal bottle filled with ambergris.

A gold pocket watch with an acorn engraved on the cover. On the inside of the cover will be an illusionary image of the most heinous deed the bearer has ever committed.

A golden falcon statuette encrusted from beak to claw with rarest jewels.

A bundle of excellent quality, thickly furred otter pelts tied together with silken cords and wrapped in a protective oilskin case.

A single bone earring that when worn, allows the bearer to speak the language of the undead, but only to say: "I don't actually speak Necril. I only know that sentence, and this one explaining it.” The bearer is not granted the ability to understand the language and doesn’t comprehend what they just said unless they are already fluent.

A light blue orb that is cool to the touch and floats and glows when it's thrown in the air. It hovers five feet off of the ground, shines with the intensity of a candle and always appears to have small snowflakes orbiting it. The floating and light effects cease functioning when grasped or stowed away.

A decorative Random Sword with a hilt consisting of a round pommel, a flat grip and an arched crossguard. The grip is rectangular in cross-section and its hard edges make it difficult to handle and impractical for fighting, which is indicative of the sword's purely ceremonial usage. The pommel and the crossguard are made of silver, while the core of the grip is a brass chest encasing the tang of the blade. All parts of the hilt are covered with golden plates, which are engraved with rounded styli and decorated with niello that contrasts against the golden background.

A pair of silver goblets, decorated with a relief depicting two figures whose arms are entwined, each holding a goblet in their hand and drinking from them. The goblets are identical in appearance, even to the well-trained eye.

An indigo silk purse that belonged to a noble lady. It is intricately crusted with diamonds and sapphires in the pattern of the constellations.

A humanoid skull, which has two large, precious green jewels embedded in its eye sockets and similar gemstones for teeth.

An electrum cylinder the size of a man's thumb, engraved with geometric patterns. Holding it, one can feel a faint magnetic tug towards their head. If released near a person's face, it begins orbiting their head about a foot away until it's caught and stowed away.

A jeweled, ivory hair comb that resembles a great horned owl. Its golden topaz eyes appear to wink under moonlight.

Redhot Hammer: A set of smith's tools that have been enchanted to be able to work metal as if it was red hot without actually needing a forge or changing the temperature of the metal. A bearer proficient with blacksmithing tools does not require a hot forge to work metal but would still need a stump, pile of bricks or an anvil to hammer atop of.

A silk fan that entertains both its bearer and onlookers as it flutters. The fan's animated images show a flowering tree's blossoms first budding, then blooming, then blowing away in a breeze. The bearer is magically refreshed by the slight, fragrant gusts that come from this accessory.

A well-polished silver bowl, the bottom of which has a mirror-like quality. If the blood, hair, or skin of a creature along with a measure of pure rainwater is mixed in the bowl the mirrored bottom with reveal that person's deepest fears and anxieties.

Dragpipes: A set of bagpipes where the bag itself resembles a dragon’s skull. The horns are exaggerated to form the reeds while the player blows through the mouthpiece connected to the back of the neck. The instrument can be played like traditional bagpipes but it can also convincingly mimic the roars of various species of dragon if the bearer is proficient with mundane bagpipes.

A hand-sized black jade casket, lined with gold-shot red silks cradling a jade mushroom.

A carefully-coiled vine of white bleeding-heart, preserved in spirits within a globular glass flask. If used to strike an undead creature, the blossoms will cause damage double that of holy water and then fade into motes of light.

An egg shaped mask cut from an angular, opalescent crystal.

An opaque glass bottle sealed with wax filled with Feywine. Developed centuries ago by an elven wizard and alchemical hobbyist, Feywine is made from grapes grown in the Prime Material Plane combined with ones grown in the Feywild. Sourcing transplanar produce is difficult in the best of circumstances, and combined with the time dilation effect that travelers to the Feywild often experience, the handful of artisans who make Feywine can do so only occasionally. Feywine is dark purple in color, nearly black, but it shimmers when poured as if reflecting bright light. In a glass, it sparkles as if it were full of starlight. Feywine is simply delicious, supernaturally decadent, with a nose of leather and moist earth and dark, fruit-forward flavors.

Box of Smoking: A hollow cube of cedar one foot long on any side with a latched top. When up to two pounds meat and a pinch of salt are placed within and left for one hour, the box's magic smokes it to mouth-watering perfection.

A glittering silver dagger, with a jeweled golden hilt. The object is purely a showpiece and is an unbalanced, unsharpened, unwieldy weapon would be more of a hindrance than help in combat. It would look dazzling if worn on the hip to a formal event which is likely its intended use.

Reusable Writing Tablet: A rectangular slate tablet one foot by half a foot in size that can be drawn on simply by tracing a finger or stylus over the surface. The tablet creates clean white lines in contrast to the grey slate and can be wiped perfectly clean by shaking it vigorously for a few seconds.

A spherical astrolabe, small and brass, inlaid with gold leaf, without a stand. It has six rings, and none of the celestial details thereupon correspond with the earth's night sky. It has a loop upon which it might hang from a cord or chain.

Scarf of Illusory Strands: A bountiful scarf made of long, extremely fine strands of spider silk expertly woven together. Certain strands of the scarf can be tugged to alter the coloration of the scarf, which can change both color and pattern as well as produce a soft bio-luminescent glow of any color desirable.

Captain's Cat: A life sized, black ceramic cat that will animate into a semblance of life if a drop of blood taken from the captain of a ship is smeared on its forehead. The construct will then prowl the ship, until it hunts down and kills one mouse or rat and takes its kill back to where it was animated, whereupon it will return to a statue. The cat can be animated one per day and items like this are typically found on waterborne vessels.

Garment of Lust: A short generic tunic of filmy, expensive material, rumored to have been created by a goddess of desire and love. When worn, the garment transforms into any body garment (dress, lingerie, etc.) desired by the bearer, but it will always be provocatively cut, near diaphanous, or otherwise obviously sexually appealing. Though this item looks unsturdy, it is quite strong, and has the added side benefit of keeping the wearer comfortable in warm or cool weather, but will not protect from natural or magical extremes.

Saddle Blanket of Comfort: A well-made horse blanket with simple but colorful designs. If placed on a suitable mount (Donkey, riding dog, gryphon, goat, etc) the fabric automatically resizes to fit the creature and the material adjusts its own temperature. No matter what the environmental temperature is, the blanket will become either up to five degrees warmer or colder than the standard body temperature of the mount currently it. The mount will naturally make use of the blanket to find a temperature most comfortable for itself without any additional instruction or guidance. For some strange reason, the blanket's magical properties cannot be utilized by humanoids of any sort. Perhaps the creator was more fond of animals than people.

Dawa’s Scrollcase of Safekeeping: An embossed brass scrollcase decorated with scenes of everyday life in Hu Shan, a famous monk of a holy order dedicated to the documentation and preservation of knowledge. The twin endcaps are inset with alternating ivory and malachite wedges. Any item placed in the scrollcase is impervious to fire, moisture, and the effects of aging.

A large, artificial nose made of pure silver, etched with the image of a charging bull on the exterior. The interior of the prosthetic that directly touches the skin, displays celestial runes within an inverted five-pointed star.

Fork of Toasting: A fine silverware dining fork, that would be quite at home on a noble’s feast table. The first time per day that the fork is struck against a piece of glass or fine ceramic less than a cubic foot in size, the object reverberates much louder than it should, gaining in frequency until it shatters. Knowledgeable PC’s will remember stories of objects like these created by disgruntled servants, spiteful nobles and minor trickster gods who for one reason or another wish to upset the toasting of high class society.

Krakenesque Quiver: A sharkskin quiver worked with intricate designs of a monstrous squid destroying ships and eating sailors. Any ammunition kept within it, is sheathed in an illusion causing it to appears as one of the squid’s writhing tentacles. As soon as it’s removed it returns to its normal appearance.

Cerulean Candle: A foot-long blue wax candle, that’s engraved with flowing letters and decorative golden emblems. Creatures sleeping within 30 feet of its light experience unfamiliar but joyous dreams, clearly from the life’s of other creatures. The candle will burns indefinitely, never consuming its wick or wax and can be extinguished and relight as often as desired.

Shadowdancer: A one-foot-tall pink quartz statuette of a masked, dancing succubus. It somehow remains clearly visible in darkness, though it appears to shed no light. If the statue is held and moved about, it causes all shadows within 60 feet to dance about as if they were cast by flickering candlelight.

A brass oval that always displays the current temperature with a moving set of lines.

Eau de Faerie: A crystal nebulizer with a pink bulb that mists a pleasant floral perfume. The scent of the perfume lasts for one hour after application and makes you irresistible to pixies, sprites and other fey creatures. These creatures can smell you from up to 50 feet away and will attempt to touch you, unless you have shown yourself to be a threat to them. Goblins, hobgoblins, bugbears and other natural enemies of the fey can also smell the scent from 100 feet away, but they will become furious and attempt to seek out the source of the scent and destroy anyone wearing it.

A rusty old fishing hook which becomes a grappling hook when submerged in water for more than a few seconds. It reverts to its smaller form after being dry for one hour.

A pair of heavy earrings each bearing a sapphire carved in the shape of a leaping fish hanging inside a golden hoop.

Dwarven Mastbreaker: A particularly mischievous item that resembles a collar for giant animals and is comprised of two large halves, hinged in the middle. It is masterfully sculpted out of bronze and decorated with several dwarven runes. When clasped around the mast of a sailing ship, the runes glow orange and a soft humming sound can barely be heard as the device slowly spins around the outside of the mast. After one minute, the device will have cut through any mast, causing it to fall, possibly on the ship itself. The object was designed for sabotage but it can be used in a more mundane setting to cleanly cut down large trees in a single minute without much effort. The mastbreaker will function twice per day and it can be stopped at any time by unclasping it from the mast or tree it’s attached to.

An ornate chest made of solid gold, banded with silver, filigreed with platinum and encrusted with precious stones. Inside it is a stone tablet engraved with the words "The real treasure were the friends found along the way."

Animal Caller: A small carved wooden oval, with a hole at both ends and a piece of sinew strung across one of the holes. When the name of an animal is whispered into it and the bearer blows into it the Animal Caller will perfectly produce the mating call of that animal. The item is indispensable for use by hunters and rangers however it does have a niche use at confusing keen eared bird watchers.

A pair of wire and glass spectacles that fits most humanoids. While worn, the bearer is able to see musical notes as they emanate from musical instruments, creatures or objects. In additional the spectacles impart the bearer with the ability to read the notes and comprehend which notes are which.

Blanket of Warmth: A soft fur blanket makes whoever is touching it comfortably warm. The material magically eliminates sweat, and bodily odour on the area of the body it covers. No matter what the environmental temperature is, the blanket is always five degrees warmer than the standard body temperature of the species currently using it. ---Note: A human's average body temperature is 37° Celsius or 98.6° Fahrenheit.

A long, sleeveless surcoat covered in the holy symbols of the elven pantheon, embroidered with threads of precious metals. The garment is intended for ceremonial wear by the highest clerics. Stoles of four different colors accompany the garment, corresponding to the four seasons.

Decanter of Decanting: A crystal decanter that holds one gallon of liquid when full. When used to pour a liquid or powder, the bearer can always stop pouring at precisely the amount desired (Unless there is not enough to begin with), down to a single drop or grain. These are often used by alchemists, potion makers and mages when preparing concoctions that require extreme precision. The bearer gains advantage on any checks made to mix or measure exact portions of ingredients.

A Randomly Coloured crystal collar that has no obvious means of opening. When placed near a creature’s throat and the command word is thought, the object liquefies, flowing towards the victim's neck entirely then solidifying. The fit is tight, causing the creature some discomfort, though not enough to cause any harm or penalties. The bearer can never remove the collar, however any other intelligent creature can remove it by simply touching the crystal and thinking of the command word, causing it to liquefy and reform in the other creature's hand.

Flask of Scent: A clear crystal flask filled with a clear liquid that can absorb the strongest scents of its immediate surroundings and distills it into perfume. Once absorbed, the liquid will retain the scent indefinitely within the confines of the closed flask or until the bearer pours liquid onto another object which replaces that object’s smell with the absorbed scent. This effect is temporary and wears off after 3d4 hours. The flask must be filled with pure alcohol in order to be able to absorb a scent and can only absorb a single scent or environmental scent every 24 hour period. When found, the flask contains the following random scent: (Roll 1d6 to determine): 1. Fresh wildflowers 2. The smell of an exquisite perfume 3. The smell of deliciously cooked meat 4. The smell of a sexually active animal (Imperceptible by most races) that can act as a musk lure 5. The smell of hideously spoiled dairy 6. The smell of feces.

An elegantly curving silver clasp wraps its way around an orange-red gem, which has been polished to a near-perfect smoothness by the flow of time.

Matchmaker's Band: A gold Claddagh ring, crafted in the shape of two hands clasping a heart. If the wearer places it on their left hand ring finger they are aware of any creatures within ten feet who would make good romantic matches (Either with the bearer or with each other), as well as roughly how good together they would be.

A crystalline human heart wrapped in gold barbed wire.

A bundle of insulating yeti pelts tied together with seal sinew cords and wrapped in a protective oilskin case.

Malleable Symbol: An undistinguished lump of indeterminable material that radiates divine potential. By concentrating on it for one minute, a creature who worships a deity may transform the lump’s shape and material into a masterwork holy symbol of their God. The symbol reverts to its nondescript lump form after being away from its bearer for 24 hours.

A golden mask resembling a stern face, glowering at the world.

Sanguine Veil: A simple veil, made of blood coloured silk and decorated with small red gemstones. If the bearer bites a creature through the veil they deal damage and drink the blood of the target as normal but the bite leaves no mark of any sort. The victim will experience an orgasmic rush when the bearer bites into their flesh and repeated attacks over a period of time may lead to an addiction to being bit in this manner. Knowledgeable PC's will recall that objects such as these where extremely popular with vampires and certain demons such as succubi for a length of time before the only artificer capable of creating them died of blood loss.

A flask of a silver mithril alloy that uses a crystal prism as a stopper. It is covered with concentric circles engraved with astrological symbols, representing the influence of the stars.

A mithril piton set with a flawless crystal embedded into the spike just below the striking end. Several golden runes are inlaid down the shaft.

A gold comb, with a tail cast in the shape of a swan’s head and neck, its wing revealing the teeth of the comb.

A torc made of mithril and gold twisted together in an intricate pattern capped with balls of leaded glass.

A fist-sized gemstone that glows with an internal light, illuminating the cloud-like formations within. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as fire opal.

Wands of Dueling: A lacquered wooden box on the lid of which there is an image of two wizards holding wands pointing at each other. The inside of the box holds two wands and a note with simple instructions. One wand is black with three red gems on the bottom, the other white with three blue gems. While a pair of individuals hold these wands they engage in a competition by having one wielder request a duel and having the other accept. The wielders then engage in a battle of wills (Making opposing intelligence rolls) and the winner’s wand launches a bolt of arcane power at the losing duelist. This deals no damage but causes pain similar to a potent static shock. Afterwards the one of the gems of the winner’s wand lights up. The duel is a best of five competition and when a player wins, their wand creates a small victorious melody.

A pair of ruby-studded gold bangles, the interior engraved with tiny flowing script too small to read with the naked eye.

A fist-sized spool of fine silvery wire, thinner and stronger than anything you’ve encountered before. You get the feeling that it would be more likely to cut you than to break if you put your weight on it.

A square foot pane of amethyst quartz with a gold symbol representing chaos in the middle of it.

An elegant, polished driftwood sculpture depicting a griffon and small dragon mid-combat. The intricate detail and delicate features demonstrate a mastery of the craft, even to a layperson.

A finely sculpted marble bust of a middle-aged, balding bureaucrat. The moment that you make eye contact with the statue, it acknowledges your presence with a wink.

A brilliantly coloured bright silk tapestry animated to depict a quiet wooded hill overlooking a pond. It is incredibly relaxing to gaze upon.

A well carved, half walnut prosthetic foot complete with carved toes set with gold nails.

The skull of a sphinx set with a gold torc depicting a sphinx being pulled apart by wild elephants.

A burial linen containing a silver and gold funerary mask depicting a raven.

A pair of loaded dice made from platinum that jingle melodically.

A rose water sprinkler made from ornately woven gold and agate. It contains an unidentified substance that does not smell like rose water.

A beautiful silver pocket watch whose face is studded with a glorious profusion of detail: two extra dials, a moving star chart, the phases of the moon.

A weatherproof scrollcase containing a legal deed for the ownership of a tavern called the Knotty Pine in a nearby province.

A matching set of eight ivory figures. When left together and unattended, they will shift positions and poses. They will remain in their new pose until they are observed and then left unattended again. These poses are always scenes from a famous tragedy written long ago. Once complete, the figures simply repeat. If any figure is removed from the set, they all stop working.

An extravagant crystal decanter filled with a rich amber liquor

Coin of False Fates: A common looking silver coin that when flipped and called in the air, always lands on the opposite side called.

A rolled coil of fine, dire spider silk rope, 50 feet in length and woven so closely that it seems like a solid, flexible cable.

Fool's Ace: An unassuming card that to the untrained eye, is a faded ace of any suit. However, on further inspection, the "A" is actually a small rune which creates weak illusions. By tapping the Fool's Ace against another card, the rune changes that card into another ace- and any card touching the changed card is also changed, turning the entire hand into all aces. The illusion is broken by taking the cards affected by the magic and shuffling them. These cards are used for cheating in games, but there has been the occasion where a Fool's Ace has been implemented where the goal is to find the original card before the entire deck becomes identical and has to be re-shuffled.

A masterwork lute made of ceylon ebony wood, with a fingerboard of rosewood. The base is constructed of ancient mahogany, while the face is of the now-extinct cradlewood tree. The edges of the sound hole is a deep green made from powdered jade which has been epoxied into the depression. Within the jade is fine gold inlay in elvish script that reads “Sil vyrdaes sai tyli sil shys bethaendrol amon si vyrdaes sai tyli caethiel” (The power to move the world begins with the power to move hearts). Knowledge PC’s will recognize the instrument as the one played by Ilestria a bard of great renown.

A fire opal that seems to glow with an inner fire, scattering the light across its many intricate facets. Whoever cut this stone did so with an expertise that is nowadays rarely seen.

A clay statue, in the form of a man with a Phrygian cap, an elongated chin and nose and a sardonic expression. His eyes are cut glass which resemble gems and down his chest and stomach are three other cut glass imitation gems. Knowledgeable PC’s recognize the image as one of Phuukh, an ancient god of trickery and jest. Some hieroglyphs are scratched on his back and legs but apart from that, there is nothing of interest on the statue. Inside the clay, however, are three real gems, a piece of diamond, a topaz and a sapphire. They can only be obtained if the statue is broken and when it is, a peal of mocking laughter will ring out and slowly fade away.

A large iron box inside which can be found seven bolts of expensive silk dyed in rare colours. The box has three locks and sealing material set into the edge of the lid to prevent moisture and pests entering and ruining the contents. The box is not currently locked. On the side of the box are the remnants of a customs seal that shows the box was last used six years ago and gives partial identification of the shipper.

An ivory-inlaid snuff box. A knowledgeable PC can determine that the decorative crest of a boar smashing a ship belonged to the infamous privateer Sir Brutus Blackwater. To the right expert, such a piece of history could fetch quite a hefty sum.

A solid gold wine chalice encrusted with a diamond and ruby rim.

An intricate mechanical clock with the inner workings exposed. Every day at noon the gears shift into a new configuration but the clock continues without missing a beat.

An embroidered indigo silk robe with cloth-of-gold panels, blue gem-beaded sleeves and mink trim. The beads are lapis lazuli and there are 50 on each sleeve. It is suitable for a tall human woman and fit for nobility.

Victory of Elora: A large and intricate tapestry showing the life of a great human cleric named Elora. A piece of the tapestry has been ripped out, what it missing is unknown, although Elora is shown with child in the next panes, so it’s possible it to have been censored by an overzealous inquisitor. The tapestry is very valuable, the missing piece would make it nearly priceless.

A strange coin that seems to be an amalgamation of copper, silver, gold, and platinum, shaped into the image of an eight pointed star. The faces of the coin both depict a warped, tentacle creature of aberrant origin.

A heavy silver chalice. It is engraved with a myriad of blasphemous obscenities and polished to a fine finish. It is cool to the touch and the unholy object is a hateful mockery of the communion cup that holds consecrated wine in some religious ceremonies.

A set of noble's clothing spun with gold and silver thread adorned with malachite and red quartz stones.

A silver statuette of a saint that unscrews to reveal a hidden flask filled with holy water.

Last Words: A scrimshawed bone bracelet, enchanted by an unknown restless spirit that often whispers indescribable commands to its bearer. Should the bearer rest a hand upon a dead creature, the bracelet whispers the last words they spoke before their death.

An illustrated map of hell drawn on vellum fashioned from the skin of an angel.

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darkpoisonouslove · 4 years

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Ranking the Winx Club Finales

I recently finished my rewatch (and first watch of a season and a half) of Winx Club and wrote out my thoughts on all of it. However, to send off a year that was in experience a lot like watching this series - meaning, generally frustrating and downright disappointing whenever I got excited over a thing with a few highlights that actually stuck the landing - and to get out any remaining feelings over the series, I have decided to rank the finales from least to most favorite. I just have a lot of rage to spare over season 8′s finale and needed an excuse to do so. Plus, I am being thematic here goddammit! Here we go:

8. Season 8

Yeah, I really spoiled that already. To sum it up:

But let me elaborate. Like I already said, this finale enraged the living fuck out of me. I just cannot comprehend whatever possessed them to write a finale so, so... excruciatingly devastating... to a season that started out with a lot of promise and had some extremely solid decisions (except for the art style, which is just NOT IT). This finale is an absolute disaster in every way. First, there is a new plot point introduced mere minutes before the finale and it is never tied into the overall narrative of the season which doesn’t do it any favors, especially after the two halves of the season already have trouble connecting together into one overarching story. The reason they brought in the creatures from the Dark Dimension was to distract Valtor while Winx make their attempt at stealing the stars which could have very well been a role filled by Arken confronting Valtor in an opportunity to clear up all the muddy details around their partnership and bring together the two halves of the season. The Winx’ plan had potential that was completely wasted by their own interruption instead of seeing each girl (provided Layla was playing Icy, Stella - Darcy and Musa/Tecna - Stormy) doing her best to pretend to be the Trix she’s posing as to give the Trix the due role they should have had in this finale. Instead, we get an Icy that is a complete opposite of the character we’ve known her to be for seven seasons all for the sake of a wish she doesn’t even get fulfilled despite her decision to help. Her motivation is a direct contradiction to the original plan of the Trix and disrespects her character from all previous instances of her being on the show for absolutely no reason as she is left with nothing in the end and the whole backstory they invented for her out of nowhere and couldn’t fit in any way with anything previously known about her was in vain because it was never resolved. Winx essentially manage to defeat Valtor once they wish for their own power-up and are gifted powers they haven’t really earned only to be pronounced great heroes who even get their own constellation in the sky. Come again? There was no narrative tension in this episode, no big climax to resolve what is supposedly the biggest threat in the universe at the moment, and no actual emotional conclusion to the season. It can’t even be called a messy wrap when so many threads were left hanging in there. A true disaster on every front.

7. Season 6

Even if you count both 6x25 and 6x26 as the finale of season 6, the structure is still lacking big time. Acheron who is the main drive of the entire season is defeated before the end of 6x25 and the Trix who are the other main villains were also more or less neutralized at that point to leave absolutely no stakes for the last episode so they had to pull some bullshit to fill it. The Winx are useless for the entire episode, including Bloom whose battle with the Trix is an absolute joke. Like, they can’t even think of syncing their attacks so that she can’t protect herself from all three of them with her ridiculously small shield and Bloom couldn’t even bother to actually buy herself enough time to leave the Legendarium. The only saving grace of that fight is the little emotional moment it causes for Bloom but that was also not really set up at any point of the season so it was just out of the blue. Selina changing her affiliations permanently even after the imminent threat for her life was neutralized made about as much sense as her turning evil in the first place and the fact that they needed her to lock the Legendarium made everything 1000% shittier because of how convenient it was that she just decided to turn good again without any justification for her course of actions. That coupled with the lack of consequences for any of her actions (she nearly killed Flora for heaven’s sake and no one even brought that up?) plus the dreadful info dump monologue they gave her just brought the whole thing down. The wrap-up of the season was also underwhelming after they had an entire episode that was mainly free of villains in order to close the other storylines... but, of course, there were no other storylines. Pretty disastrous.

6. Season 7

Just like in season 6, Winx were pretty useless here as they really didn’t do all that much for the plot. Luckily, the fact that the Trix were brought in allowed for the villains to have a battle that was more intriguing and provided some action as for a finale. The other key elements of the season (fairy animals, Trix, wild magic, Kalshara and Brafilius and the time travel) were actually woven together pretty well to make for a pretty satisfying finish to a season that really lacked any solid plot. The mini worlds and the Tynix transformation did not have use in the last episode but that wasn’t too catastrophic. There was actually a pretty emotional moment between the fairy animals and Winx that would have been even better if their relationships had been better developed throughout the season... You’d really think that since fairy animals were the main point of the season and there was no solid plot to account for, they would have taken the time to pay attention to Winx bonding with their fairy animals but nah. I am still impressed with how touching their goodbye was given the fact that they didn’t really have all that much time to actually become close so bonus points for that. The very last scene is a little generic but what else to expect from a season that has sung all its songs already (thank god that there were no musical numbers in this because I have a feeling it would have been even worse)?

5. Season 5

Season 5 could at least pat itself on the back for dealing with the main villain of the season even if there were a couple iffy things about the whole deal. I’m taking away consistency points for a) the fact that the Throne was supposed to be activated with the seals from the Pillars of the Infinite Ocean, yet suddenly stealing a random Sirenix would do, b) Tritannus being defeated by simply having his trident taken away even though he literally grew in body mass implying that the power of the Emperor’s Throne had seeped inside of him (also confirmed by Mystery of the Abyss) and c) the mutants inexplicably turning back into people once Tritannus lost his powers even though they never turned back during his times of relapsing back into a human thanks to running out of pollution. His defeat was just ridiculously easy and Bloom got to do it even though Layla was the one with the personal connection to Tritannus and the one most directly impacted by his actions as her family fell prey to him. Instead of getting to shine in a season that focused heavily not just on her home world but on the environment from which her powers come, she got benched in favor of Bloom getting to do everything again with only mild assist from Layla’s cousin. They should have kept it in the family and left Layla and Nereus deal with Tritannus. The Trix were blasted out of the narrative extremely conveniently and the rest of Winx were saved twice by the mutants just turning their back on them instead of destroying them right then and there and then being turned back into their original form as well. There wasn’t the usual teamwork of the whole Winx unit which I am still salty about despite being sick of all the time they reached for convergence in that season. Theredor fighting alongside Winx (different from his own daughter) was a nice touch but the king and queen of Andros coming off as so helpless (and apparently the only people in the castle unless you admit that everyone else drowned) was frustrating. Where was the Andros army? We only got Tressa, Roy, four of Winx and a handful of mermaids. Is that the whole population of the Heart of All Oceans? Additionally, the finale left no time for any emotional resolution of the season’s events, especially considering the big deal that Daphne’s revival was. Instead they opted for a musical number at the end. Not the best form.

4. Season 3

Season 3 had a finale and then another finale. Granted, better than season 6 that had a finale and then filler but there was not a lot of glory to the ending of a story with such a strong opening and emotional moments that send you bursting into tears. The spell of the four elements was pretty decent in its first appearance in 3x25 but the way Valtor lost it all was a real let down after the climatic confrontations between him and the Winx girls throughout the rest of the season. His return was more or less a desperate last attempt at personal revenge against Winx as his goal was mostly out of reach at this point. The spell of the elements was brought down in both its use to create clones of Winx’ boyfriends and in its power as it was much easier to undo in its reappearance. The saving graces of this season’s finale are the couple emotional moments sprinkled through both 3x25 and 3x26. Bloom’s willingness to sacrifice herself for her friends and the world was the thread that the finale hangs on as she is mostly the one resolving the whole conflict which was a bit dissatisfying after the emotional damage Valtor inflicted on all of them directly or indirectly. There is a few moments left to recover from the emotional intensity of their battles against Valtor but nothing that really addresses the seriousness of the trauma they had to survive because of him. The Trix didn’t even get to have a last stand of their own in either of the last two episodes despite the position in which they started the season but that was more or less unnecessary anyway since we’d already seen they can’t hold their ground against Enchantix Winx even with a boost from Valtor. Overall, the finale is pretty weak, especially as a follow-up of the dynamic and strong experiences that the season put them all through. It was the first finale that was confined to a single episode (or rather two separate battles spanning over an episode to end the season) and there wasn’t enough tension building in the confined storyline an episode told.

3. Season 4

The season 4 finale is overall a solid conclusion that delivers both a final battle with the Wizards and enough time left to address all the other storylines left unfinished. The final battle was pretty short but there was enough intensity in the previous couple episodes to have covered the action demand that the season had already set up and it also provided the opportunity to have Winx come back together as a team after Layla split up. Not only that, but Nebula and Roxy also get to play their part while the Wizards make their last desperate attempt to regain the upper hand. It’s pretty climatic for something that length that also left about 15 minutes of the episode still to fill. Everything that had to do with the closure of the Earth fairies storyline was emotional beyond belief and gave more depth to all of them and Layla’s decision to join them. Winx had to face all of the separate responsibilities they have on their shoulders and find a way to balance them all so that they can pursue their dreams. There was a plethora of emotional moments and a deserved spotlight shined on Layla’s situation and how she’s dealing with it, plus the others’ feelings. It was a really touching finale and also an inspiring one to see Winx stand behind their dreams while still balancing their responsibilities. It seemed to achieve the initial goal of the season to have them adapting to the adult life they were shifting into.

2. Season 2

I’m gonna be honest, I had a very hard time deciding whether this would be number one or two because the season 2 finale had a lot more character moments that were very moving. It really corresponds to the season since it was more character driven than the first one and the finale suited that. However, ultimately I decided that it would take silver because of a couple minor things that bring it down. To get that out of the way, the second portal to Realix that led Winx there was imo a copout that destroyed pretty much all of the tension that the entire season spent building around the search for the Codex. It just felt so wrong for there to be another way to enter that dimension and to me it was a big disappointment. Especially since the key to activating the copy of the Codex was the color riddle that was a ridiculous panicked attempt on the writers’ part to show that Stella isn’t useless and has what to give the team but it only made her look worse in my eyes. Also, minor gripe for the fact that there wasn’t that much of a final battle since everything ended with a single convergence. Of course, there were several battles across the episode between different sides that made for good action and tension and there was magic involved in more ways than simply the convergence in order to defeat Darkar but it was still a bit of a letdown to never truly see him put his everything in battle. And the fact that Griffin and Faragonda held him off for as long as they did on their own actually hurt his credibility as a threat as well. But hey, on the plus side, remember when the teachers actually helped and did not leave the fate of the whole universe in the hands of 16-year-olds? Good times! The MegaTrix and her? their? battle with Darkar was epic. 20/10 on that concept alone, plus it really brought a great feeling of vindication after the number Darkar did on them and felt so satisfying even if they were also part of the villain team of the season. They were portrayed as three-dimensional and weren’t cast out of the narrative without care just because they were villains and that was actually probably the most solid moment that the Trix have ever had on the show (just minor gripe for the fact that they were supposed to be trapped in Realix when the dimension was sealed forever but they were later somehow brought out of there which was never explained). Sky’s speech to Bloom was actually a pretty emotional moment and the payoff from it felt earned and allowed for Bloom’s victory against the darkness to feel natural and in place. It was probably one of their best moments as a couple. Plus, the cute little interactions that we got during the celebration party to send off the season on its merry way made for a great finale. (And a shoutout to the Musa x Riven scenes both in 2x25 and 2x26 because that was some good shit and some cute shit and it was exactly what we deserved).

1. Season 1

Season 1 reigns supreme with its finale. There is just no other finale that can rise to the level of the first one that was built for about one third of the season so that the last episode could dive right into the action without wasting time on setup. This is also the only place where we truly and fully get to see each of the Winx and the Trix (well, minus Layla who hasn’t been introduced yet) showcase their powers but especially Bloom and Icy. It is the longest battle we have seen and it builds a lot of tension on top of what was already there to leave you on the edge of your seat. The exploration of magic in this episode makes it so iconic and such a great watch even on the 300th time. There isn’t really much more to say than simply “It is epic”. What makes it even better though is the fact that there is enough time left in the episode to wrap up everything else and not in a rushed way. The battleground is extended to the locations that have already suffered the previous battles to show the full extension of the action and to setup the wrap-up that comes at the end. They even find the time to let some of the minor characters have distinct and touching moments as well and thus expand the universe of Winx further than just the main characters. Speaking off, they all get their moments, too, and the Specialists aren’t left out of that (you will never catch me not fangirling over Sky and Riven fighting back to back). The finale also doesn’t forget about the overarching story about Bloom’s origin which is commendable considering the constant lack of consistency the show suffers. This is really the only finale that isn’t lacking in any of the departments and manages to provide a truly fascinating story that keeps you entertained and in suspense while at the same time does not discard the emotional payoff or the logical continuation of events. It just excels in every way.

Well, this is my analysis on the finales of Winx Club. What started out as a bitch fest actually left on on a positive and uplifting note to make for a great ending to a harsh year. Let’s see what beginnings 2021 will bring! ;)

#winx club #winx club meta #winx meta #winx analysis #analysis #winx club season 1 #winx club season 2 #winx club season 3 #winx club season 4 #winx club season 5 #winx club season 6 #winx club season 7 #winx club season 8

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elmidol · 4 years

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To Gaze in the Mirror

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death is an Art

Read on Ao3

I want to give a big thanks to @sparky-lauren and @kylorengarbagedump for looking over this chapter for me. I really love and appreciate you both beyond words!

Three Blind Tooke

Part Three: Death is an Art

Chapter Sixty-Six: To Gaze in the Mirror

In this tale with rancor and tooke,

These beings were one and not just two.

Of the inner struggle of their soul,

To tame both halves was to become whole.

At first, when you realized that you could not breathe, there had been nothing beyond Kylo Ren and you in that space--prior to the voice’s arrival, Kylo’s existence had enshrouded yours without delivering a blow to your sense of self. Then came the voice, which gained a gender and called Kylo by name. Seeming to recognize it, he had replied in words that furthered your assessment that the speaker was familiar to him. In that span of eight seconds, you had forgotten that you were dead, or perhaps somewhere between life and death, and had knit your brow in confusion as you worked to understand what last time meant. When it dawned on you, you recoiled from the fact that Kylo had truly been alone when previously he had perished. You had seen your father, had held his hand, had been loved. Kylo, meanwhile, had been abandoned in both life and death.

“You need to go back.” Your father had said those words while releasing your hand though you had begged him to let you stay there with him in death. Together you had watched Kylo Ren raging at your demise. Another abandonment, one that he had not been able to accept. It had taken you months to comprehend the importance of your father’s decision to relinquish you, to cast you back into an existence of pain.

“I just needed something to hold onto.” All the while you had been Kylo’s tangible object. He had failed to break you when committing the worst deed he could think of, had not been able to drive a fear of Darkness into you. In death your father must have known. “You need to go back.” Without you, Kylo might never have chosen to find balance. Sure, circumstances could have eventually thrust such a decision upon him, robbed him of choice. Yet therein lay the issue. This being that had spoken to Kylo would not, you realized, have appeared to him in any of those other realities.

While maintaining the lack of a corporeal form, the voice spoke once more, and as you listened to the relaxed tone you began to realize that the pain you had felt from the explosion was dwindling further. The numbness subsided into peace. You recalled having experienced this in your previous dalliance with death, and searched Kylo’s face to measure his reaction as you combatted the curiosity within to know if he, too, was experiencing deja vu. You did not want to believe that along with the loneliness and darkness he had endured more pain or else been tormented with a soul binding numbness.

His gaze did not stray from a point of focus that was past where you stood. An explanation to this--of the many that there might be--was that he could see things you could not. The Force connected all things. You had for so long believed that this pertained mostly, if not exclusively, to the living. As time had elapsed and you had grown older, you had come to learn otherwise. Twisting around to follow Kylo Ren’s gaze, you discovered those heightened senses had not diminished in death.

There were no ghosts to be had, at least not any with visible features. Instead you noticed that other formations were swimming and flickering into view. Ripples broke out across the surface of the water underneath your feet. You shifted, knit your brow, and noticed that you wore no shoes and no socks. Your attire was different; neither you nor Kylo were naked. Peering at your own reflection, you drank in the gown you wore. Its dark material felt weightless, the nonexistent back exposing flesh that had been marred by the blast. You wore all your scars, each of the burns, every wound. The ties circling your neck drew your attention for a beat before you again considered the charcoal colored burn marks along your spine.

From there you looked to Kylo, who was draped in a cloak as he had been in life, although this one was different. It was made from the darkness of space and was decorated with stars and planets. His reflection did not display this full glory, the cloak he wore lacking the constellations. You pinched the fabric of your dress, stared at it without the distortion of the water, and felt your breath hitch. Those same planets and stars were upon you.

Awareness of the clothing sparked the ability to perceive movement in your peripheral. On the water where before there was nothingness there shimmered into view the silhouette of a man. You waited with bated breath for the voice’s owner to become visible, to see his face. His hair was a dark shade of blonde, its locks similar to Kylo’s. That countenance was one that you had set eyes upon in the past, albeit in picture books and then on the holonews. Anakin Skywalker’s blue gaze did not stray to you. He was focused on his grandson, who had not yet received a satisfactory response to his statement, the admission that Anakin’s previous absence had been a betrayal.

Anakin’s arms were crossed over his chest, the black folds of his sleeves dangling inches where skin would have been had he been made of flesh and bone. “When last you each were here, neither was complete.” Four more shadows began to appear in the mist behind the Chosen One. You could not make out any of their features, could not tell if they were people you knew. Yet there was a feeling of familiarity that you could not describe in words. Anakin’s smile was gentle, understanding. “Fear and hatred lead to the Dark side of the Force. You were each enshrouded by those. For you, it was hatred that drove your actions.” With these words, those soft eyes had at last drifted to your face. As he continued, his gaze flicked back to Kylo, who had stepped forward and stood side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder with you. “It was their fear that influenced yours.”

The way he spoke, you felt as though this man intimately understood the trials and tribulations that Kylo and you had each gone through. As though he himself had faced them, both of them. Anakin dipped his chin, bowing his head and stepping to the side as the first of the shadowy figures walked forward. Han Solo’s feet were the first to gain color, to gain a more solid form. It spread upwards, climbing to his face, to his outstretched arm and towards the tips of his fingers, which made contact with Kylo’s cheek.

“I was afraid to believe in you,” Han admitted to his son. His thumb trailed downwards. “I forgave you for killing me.” Your eyes widened, and Kylo’s bottom lip trembled until he clenched his jaw to choke back any reactions he might otherwise have. “You have to forgive yourself.” The shadow of his father’s death hung over Kylo, a spectre that threatened to swallow his existence; a fear that was drilled into Kylo by the man, that it was too late. That it had always been too late.

If Kylo forgave himself, you did not know in that moment for no words left his mouth. He had barely been given a chance to think at all before Han melted away like a wisp. He became the stars on Kylo’s cloak and yours in the reflection that was visible in the water under your feet. There was just the same no time to consider this alteration before the next shadow walked forward, their features crawling into view just as Han’s had. Another hero of the Rebellion, another being whose fear had plagued Kylo. Luke hand met Kylo’s shoulder on the opposite side of where Han had touched.

“I was afraid of your power, that yours would be greater than my own, and that you would fall to the Dark like Vader had if I did not guide you correctly.” Kylo’s expression was one of hurt and pain. His nostrils flared, his eyebrows creasing. This fear had been the last to send Kylo to the Dark side of the Force, as though he felt he could never escape this legacy. “I realized that I was wrong. It was always your choice, that you just wanted to be yourself.”

Luke flickered out of existence in a way that differed from Han; he grew brighter in some portions of his body whereas other areas dulled. The planets formed on your dress and on Kylo’s cloak in the water. You anticipated the identity of the third being, and Kylo must have as well. That did not stop the gasps that left both of you in unison as Leia gained a physical form and embraced her son as she had not been able to do in life. The cloak that Kylo wore shimmered, shifting as he slowly raised his arms to return the hug.

“I feared that you would be too far gone to come home, that you would lose hope.” Leia drew back in order to peer into her son’s eyes, which softened. “I was the one who began to lose hope that things would end and peace would reign. I always loved you. You were my hope, and I sent you away.”

Kylo lifted a hand towards his mother’s face as she began to fade--at a much slower rate than either Han or Luke had. He was able to make contact, to caress her just as his father had touched his cheek. Then Leia became the sun and the moon on his cloak and your dress respectively. You touched your breast, toying with the face of the moon, just as Kylo cupped a hand to the sun on his chest. Briefly, you met one another’s gaze before breaking the connection to meet the final shadow.

This being did not walk in Kylo’s direction, but in yours instead. Now your bottom lip began to protrude forward, started to quiver, and you struggled to remain standing. Your father reached for your hands, grasped them in either of his.

“I never meant for you to view monsters in such a way that you hated yourself. We fight them, we try to not become them. I was dying, and I did not want you to live a life of death.” His throat bobbed. Your father’s hands traveled up your arms until he could hold your face. “Life was never meant to be so black and white. We make choices that we dread, that we regret. We view ourselves as monsters, but we are not unworthy of pity or love.”

A tight fist was gripping your heart, squeezing it, making it hard to breathe. The sob that you at last released eliminated the fist, batting it away, letting you drag in air the next second. For so long you had hated to cling to hope. You had learned the lesson that your father now shared with you the hard way. Kylo had helped you along the way, had ensured that you were capable of love and hope. Just the same as you had done for him.

As your father faded away, you realized that only together were you and Kylo able to reach that level of completion. To discard fear and hatred, to surpass the Dark side of the Force without rejecting its existence. To achieve the sense of balance that lay between. Restored to you was not something visible. It was within. Life and death. Choice.

As one, you and Kylo looked to Anakin, the one being that had not faded away. He gestured for you to follow, and the pair of you obliged. You could not feel the water at your feet though it rippled with every step that you took. Pain remained absent as did numbness. Anakin walked to a new body of water. The grass between was what you had always imagined clouds would feel like. Soft like silk. Smooth. Warm yet cool. Familiar, welcoming. You remained standing on it as you stared into the water that Anakin gestured to.

In this pool you could see the land of the living as though you were looking at a fractured mirror. Death and life danced together, swirling until what swam into focus was a couple locked in an embrace. Kylo had you wrapped in his arms, shielding you from the blast that had already scored your back. The wound you had seen on the previous body of water was a reality. What had been fictitious had been the explosions of kyber. Using the Force, Kylo had been able to propel himself forward, embrace you, and stop the blast from piercing your chests and traveling through his own body. The two of you were neither dead nor alive.

On the periphery of your living forms stood Rey, the Knights of Ren, and Finn--he had to have returned, had to have sensed something was wrong. Perhaps he had heard the whispers. Whatever the case, they all had their arms outstretched. On the opposite side of the room, a wall had drawn aside. Silently aside, you realized as you beheld the owner of the blaster whose bolt had hit you. Armitage Hux stood there in all his glory. Behind and beside him were terror troopers whose capabilities in the Force were obvious now. The taozin amulets that hung around their necks had kept them concealed until the last moment.

“I don’t understand,” you said, tears beginning to stream down your face. You did not want to die, and yet you felt so at peace. Conflicted but without pain.

“Kylo and Rey are connected because they are twins in the Force,” Anakin said. He stood behind you and Kylo, who were again side-by-side. One of his hands met your shoulder, the other one of Kylo’s. “The two of you are twins of a soul, one being split into two. You have at last achieved balance. Now that you’ve forgiven yourself for the wounds, now that you lifted that self blame, you have come to a crossroads. You must choose--to move forward from this land between life and death, do you cast aside the carcass of the part you for so long hated, or do you lovingly carry it with you as a proud scar. Is it a burden, or is it a piece you've come to love enough where peace can exist with it in your life? Only you can decide.”

With that final statement, Anakin clutched your shoulder more tightly to keep you steady simultaneous to shoving Kylo forward into the pool of water. The sun disappeared, yet you were not cast into darkness. You remained in an existence of balance, aware that Kylo was feeling the same. Whether you were together or apart, there was a future, there was inner peace. Anakin lowered his limb off of you without disappearing. You were grateful for the company as you watched the war play out below.

Kylo’s body, which had previously been still, twitched. He drew backwards, tugging your body along with him as he stood. The Force that he summoned deflected the blaster bolt backwards, sending it to hit against an erected shield that protected Hux from death. The First Order’s Supreme Leader smirked rather than snarled. He was amused by this display of power, by being face to face with his opponents. He knew, just as well as you did, that this battle was one to determine the victor of the war.

Rey joined Kylo. You saw in death what your eyes could not show you in life--or perhaps it was Anakin using his own abilities to allow you to see the Force surrounding Kylo and Rey. Their auras danced together, twins of the Force as Anakin had said. A balance of energy. Now you understood how the Force connection had developed between Rey and you. Two halves of a soul. It was equally why Kylo began to feel a sense of familiarity with Finn, because of your relationship with the man.

“You were trying to destroy yourselves.” His voice wrapped around you, a soft blanket that eliminated the fear that might have sprung at the sight of the battle resuming had Anakin not spoken. The present Knights of Ren clashed with three of the terror troopers, blades and limbs locking. Blood spraying. The water did not ripple despite these actions; it was not dissimilar to watching a holodrama unfold, and this particular drama was nothing other than life itself. “What was the worst you could each do, how could you each become an unforgivable monster while continuing to justify your actions.”

The dance had always been an inner war. It had not been anything other than desperation, fear, hatred. A lack of hope. An absence of the possibility of happiness. It had to end in tragedy, that was the only way it could be. So you had each worked to chip away the pieces, to self-sabotage.

Now you watched your other half cradle your body against his in both of his arms as he summoned the Force in a new way. The lightsaber that he had crafted and the one that his mother had made floated in the air on either side of him. Rey stood on his right. Finn moved to his left. The lightsabers ignited. None of this fazed Hux. There were no spikes of fear from him. There was a lack of hatred from Kylo. He was the Dark and the Light. His twin in the Force channeled both equally as well. The nearest Knight of Ren summoned the Dark, Finn summoned the Light.

More of the terror troopers rushed forward just as another of the kyber walls began to lift, opening to reveal more of the First Order’s experimental soldiers. From the doorway through which you and Kylo had entered the room, on the side that Rey, Finn, and the Knights had stood when first you had walked to this pool of water, there came reinforcements from the Order of Ren. Among them was another Knight of Ren and Poe Dameron.

You could see their actions but could not hear their words. Lowering down, you knelt at the water’s side and traced the air above each ally. One fell to death. There was a brief wave of sorrow, however it was not excruciating because you knew from experience that they were at peace. They joined your side at the water’s edge without commenting on Anakin’s presence. Their hand found yours, squeezing it in greeting, and you returned the gesture.

Kylo ducked under one of the terror trooper’s lightsabers. This one was adorned with armor that resembled what the sentries had worn. They had a brace on their right forearm that was able to catch the plasma blade of a lightsaber without damage. It caught the red blade while the trooper thrust their lightsaber forward with their left hand. Kylo again was able to avoid injury, both to himself and to your body.

Despite the deaths that stacked atop one another, neither Rey nor Kylo drifted towards the Light or the Dark side of the Force. Together they maintained balance. They each had Skywalker blood flowing through their veins, one by birth and the other due to Empirical experimentation. Whether that played a factor in what happened next, you could not say. With the Force in a state of balance between them, however, it allowed the Chosen One to step forward. This did have a visible reaction to Hux's expression. He shuddered, took a single step in retreat, and let his gaze flicker from Kylo to Rey to Anakin, the last of which had grasped the Skywalker lightsaber from Rey. She reached for the lightsaber that Leia had crafted, and Kylo took his own lightsaber in his hand without relinquishing his hold on your body.

Finn and Rey moved so that they were back-to-back, countering their opponents with ease. Anakin and Kylo maneuvered into an identical stance as a pair. They spoke to one another, words that you could not hear. Poe called to them as well. The Knights of Ren would be doing the same.

All the while, more bodies joined you around the body of water to play the role of spectre to this dance of life and death. Supreme Leader Hux aimed his blaster again. He did not target Kylo Ren, whom he so hated, but you instead. The part of Kylo that he viewed as a weakness and a strength. The part that he had used to encourage the war, the separation of halves. To Hux, you had always been expendable. A pawn to be used.

You felt a smile beginning to creep onto your lips at that thought. It was amusing, not even in a self-deprecating way. Life was fleeting regardless if someone else tried to snuff the flame. Another candle was extinguished, and the group grew. They would finish meeting death when the war ended. For now they were in a state of peaceful limbo.

Kylo easily batted away the first shot, sending the bolt into a piece of machinery. He had to take care to avoid hitting the kyber. All of them did. That was what complicated this battle. It was what Armitage had planned. He hated the Force yet used it to his advantage. He greedily collected kyber crystals that the Empire had hoarded. They were his bomb, his shield. If he was to die, he wanted to ensure many others perished with him.

Still your other half did not give into hatred, not even when Hux fired at you again, nor when he shot the third time. Kylo Ren simply stopped moving. He was calm, collected, smirking. That same expression was on the face of his grandfather, and their resemblance struck you anew. Rey drew up to them. The three were together, their shoulders touching, a triad in the Force.

Life and death; creation and destruction; peace and chaos. All were a part of the Force, and if one embraced only a single side they were blinded to the other. The Jedi and Sith alike had fumbled. Some tried to master life, others death. Then there were those who only existed in a state that could not even be referred to as balance. It was Anakin who had restored balance to the Force with his actions. His love for family. His hatred of his Dark side Master, who would have killed Luke.

Now once more did the Chosen One call upon the Force. His power was imbued with the energy from the twins, Rey and Kylo, and with it he swung his lightsaber before him. With that single swipe, the shields were cut through without a single kyber being marred. Anakin deactivated his lightsaber and disappeared with it; erased from the world was the burden of living up to whatever legacy it might have left behind. It had served its purpose by bringing together the Dark and the Light in the dyad, which summoned the Force as one and extended the remaining two lightsabers from the Skywalker bloodline.

Armitage, ever patient, did not roll over and die as some would have. Aware that he had lost, he had decided to take a final, spiteful shot. The absent pain of the new injury was more horrible than any wound you had endured in life. Your eyes widened. The bolt would travel through your body this time. It would not be a simple illusion as had occurred before. You waited for Kylo to crumple with you. His other half, his weakness. If he had not been holding you, he could have stopped Hux’s final act of defiance.

Rey and Kylo deactivated their blades, both watching as Hux’s body fell to the ground. His last breath looked to you to be one filled with laughter, and you wondered if it would haunt Kylo, whom you now realized would live. He had caught onto the fact that Armitage was pulling the trigger. Which meant he would have been able to erect a Force barrier to keep himself from being mortally wounded just as he had done when Chewbacca had shot him with the bowcaster. The bolt had not been able to penetrate his body, although he might have endured a wound that could be healed. Yet that shield was one for his flesh alone. It had not been a strong enough barrier to catch the blast before it hit you.

The images of the land of the living were dimming. Not swiftly. You would have plenty of time to linger there before passing on. You squeezed your eyes closed, thought again of what might haunt the man you so loved. That he might worry he had condemned you to death. That he had made the wrong choice, had been a burden that in the end you had to discard in order to find peace. Or perhaps you had been the burden that was holding him back. If that was the case, you were fine with it. All you wanted for him was peace. Hope. Love. Life beyond war.

"You were never a burden," you said whilst staring into the pool of water at Kylo, whose mouth formed around those same words. You choked on your next breath.

It was painful. It was searing hot in a way that froze you. There was something lodged in your throat. A swirling, swimming sensation in your ears, in your head. You did not understand. Shaking your head in an attempt to regain a sense of clarity, you noticed Finn standing, shaking, guarded by a Knight of Ren and Poe so that he could use the Force--to protect you. To keep you from death. When the time came, Finn had chosen life and light over killing. He had stopped fighting and killing in order to save you. He was the one who had restored laughter to you, and he now had ensured that it could be heard another day.

The agony increased--which you allowed yourself to embrace. It was easy to die, to have peace. It was harder to live. Yet what made that pain worth it was that sense of completion that you felt whenever you were with Kylo. An experience that you understood in full, that he did. You had been there with him just as you had hoped to be in the moment that he had defeated Armitage Hux. This was the moment between. Though other soldiers were finishing the last of their own fights, the one that had claimed both you and Kylo was over.

You gasped for air. Felt water bubbling into your lungs--the surface of the water had claimed you just as it had Kylo earlier. You did not know who had pushed you in, or if you had jumped. All you knew was that you could hear again. The sounds of the dying. The sounds of life. Each of these faded. You were trapped between life and death, torn now by your own choice. Which form of peace would you choose?

You opened your eyes and found yourself in darkness dotted by the stars and planets, by the sun and the moon. Across from you was Kylo. As his eyes met yours, you found yourself drowning in their depths. Where once there was a hungry inferno that ripped through all you were, there now was the other half of your soul. The parts of yourself that had said you would never be enough, that lapped at you with toxic tongues of destruction, were quieted. For so long you had been incapable of embracing yourself and the ability to love. The capability of forgiving yourself for being too weak to stop what you could not control. Through that hatred and loathing there had sparked yet more death as you raged in favor of crying.

Now you reached your hand to accept his, your breath hitching as you realized what he had been saying to you all along. That you were his alternate fate had he not chosen the Dark. He was yours if you instead had. Only together were you enshrouded in the gray that made you so human, so whole. To look at him was to stand in front of a mirror and see your broken self, pieced together and more beautiful after surviving the flames of adversity.

#three blind tooke #death is an art #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine

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athenaquinn · 4 years

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Finally Free || Orion, Nic, & Athena

TIMING: 12:30-1am ish, October 20th LOCATION: Quinn Household, Harris Island PARTIES: @3starsquinn, @athenaquinn, and @bountybossier SUMMARY: Nic is a Dad. CONTENT: Physical and emotional abuse mentions

“Athena? Athena. We have to do something.” Orion’s world had so drastically shifted that he had no idea how to feel. His brain was going haywire, feeling sick to his stomach and angry one moment before shifting to terrified and on the verge of tears. It had been over twenty minutes now. Orion only knew because he had been staring at the oven slowly counting the time for him. Twenty minutes of Orion silently kneeling in the puddle of blood collecting around his parent’s bodies. Twenty minutes of listening to Athena filter through her emotions in a rapid fashion rivaling his own. Twenty minutes of waiting for the world to stop spinning or asteroids to fall from the sky or for the bombs to go off. The world had to be ending, right? His parents were dead, one of them taken by Rio’s own hands. How did anything continue to go on after that? How was Rio ever supposed to walk again? Was he expected to go to school? To meet up with Blanche before work or hang out with Ariana and Layla? How could he kiss Winston ever again? Rio couldn’t picture anything besides kneeling on this floor, watching the oven remind him that it had been twenty-two minutes since his life had ended. Twenty-four. Twenty-six.

Thirty-seven minutes later, Rio remembered that moment of clarity when he had taken the knife from Athena. How everything had finally made sense. There were no other alternatives here. If Orion hadn’t done it, his parent’s would have killed them both and continued to take the lives of innocent people. This action had indirectly saved lives. There had been no choice. Only what had to be done. As far as morals had gone, it was the closest Rio had ever come to agreeing with his parents.

As far as he knew, Athena still hadn’t responded. “Athena?” Orion tried again, moving or the first time in thirty-seven minutes to look over at Athena. She was like an entirely different person. Not a single feature seemed recognizable even though nothing physically had changed. But the Athena he was staring at wasn’t the same as any image of his sister that he had seen before. “Athena. We can’t- I don’t know what to do. You’re the one that knows what to do. Please. Tell me what to do. Please.”

Her brother’s words were fuzzy. Just like when they’d gone swimming as children and he’d called out for her when she dove into the water and tried to hold her breath too much because there was a certain thrill that came coupled with being underwater for just too long. Athena sat, arms wrapped around her legs as she stared at the refrigerator. There was a Christmas card on it, one from last year. Their whole family was on it, and Athena could smell the pine needles, could smell the gingerbread that she never wanted too much of but found herself devouring anyway. She could taste it now - burning hot - and she felt the salt from her tears dried against her cheeks. She couldn’t focus. Her parents were dead. Her parents were dead by her own hand. Her parents had wanted to kill her brother for at least three years now and she hadn’t seen that. She kept staring at the photograph on the refrigerator, as if that would make everything better.

She didn’t want them to be alive again. The thought crossed her mind in passing first, before becoming more salient, more solid. Athena didn’t want her parents alive. She found that thought to be overwhelming. She’d never thought of a life without her parents. They were strong, they had made her strong. That was what they were supposed to do. Except they hadn’t. You broke us down and tried to mold us like we were clay or something. Her brother’s voice cut through her thoughts again and she dug her nails into her thighs. She had saved her brother. She was born to better the world, and her brother was the most important person to her. She couldn’t let him die.

She did what she had to do. Athena finally focused in on her brother’s words, unsure of how many times he’d called her so far. She glanced over to him, but she didn’t make eye contact. She wasn’t sure if she could. “I - I’m sorry.” She whispered, voice wavering. Turning away again, gaze intensely focused onto the refrigerator. “I - I can’t, Ri.” Lips barely moving, she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him.

Athena wasn’t fixing this. Why wasn’t she fixing this? That was what she did. What she had always done. Athena always took charge, always knew exactly what to do. When Orion wavered and began panicking, Athena always stood strong and knew exactly what to do. For better or for worse. Even when Rio hated the answers that Athena had to give, at least she gave them. So why was she silent now? He pushed himself up, his legs asleep and wobbling beneath him as he stumbled over to the counter, grabbing onto a towel and wetting them under the sink. He started with himself, scrubbing desperately at the blood that stained his hands. Of course it wouldn’t come off. Why would it? Even dead, he couldn’t escape his parents. After he had done the best he could he moved over towards Athena, crouching down to meet her and gently pressed the wash cloth against her arm in an attempt to begin wiping the blood away. “What do we do then? If you don’t- What am I supposed to do then?” Rio tried asking again, closer to her than he had been since they were children. Both literally and figuratively. And yet, Athena couldn’t make eye contact with him. And the words he spoke seemed to rebound off of her completely as if they had never even been said.

Nothing. If she couldn’t do this, then Orion didn’t stand a chance. Would anybody believe that this was justified? There was so much blood. So much violence. Self defense only took the two so far. People would realize that this went farther than that. If Athena didn’t do something then they had no chance, right? “I’m going to check your stomach, okay? I can smell the blood from when you were pushed down.” Without a reply, Orion took that as an okay and slowly pulled the side of Athena’s shirt up and pressed the soaked, bloody towel against it. As he wiped away the blood an image slowly started to become visible behind the wound. A tattoo? Since when did Athena have one of those? It took another minute before he realized what the tattoo was of. A series of dots symbolizing constellations. Orion. Rio’s arm fell down to his side as he stared at it. It was… simple. Not the usual grandeur that Athena loved so much. It was smaller and tucked away so it wasn’t on view for all to see. It was for herself more than anyone else. Rio had always known that Athena held a weird sense of dedication towards him, but never thought that she had actually cared enough to do something like this. “I uh- I didn’t know you had this.” Rio pushed away from Athena and slid back across the kitchen floor, not stopping until his back ran into the door handle of a kitchen cabinet. He was out of his depth, he knew that much. He had no experience with this and definitely didn’t have the stomach for it. How could he fix something like this? The logical steps flashed in his mind. Clean the mess. Get out of the house. Find an alibi. All of that was easy to say and impossible to accomplish by himself. But he had to try.

For a brief moment, Orion considered the possibility of leaving. Just standing up and walking out. Allowing his sister to handle the fallout by herself. But how long would she stay silent? She would talk eventually. She would feel betrayed. Rio couldn’t risk it coming back to him later. Leaving wasn’t an option, but staying wasn’t either. He had to do something. If he didn’t, both of them were screwed. But he knew he couldn’t do it alone. He needed someone. His body functioned without him, taking control and scrolling through his phone. Of course, he knew exactly who he needed to call. Someone that he could trust and that might understand. Before he had a chance to chicken out, he dialed. “Hello? I- I’m sorry to call so late. I need your help. Please. It’s really bad.”

The more Nicodemus worried, the less he seemed able to sleep. And fuck, was he worried. About everyone and nothing all at once. It was a wonder he hadn’t been paralyzed with it, the way it bunched his shoulders and tensed his jaw. It was worry that had him answering the phone after one ring and a quick glance at the caller ID. “Hey kid.” He had answered and then his voice petered off into silence as he listened. I need your help. He walked out of his room and went for his keys. Please. It’s really bad. Keys in hand, he ran to his truck. Ran towards something rather than away. The hunter cursed the machinery for not going fast enough as he tore over the bridge that connected East End to Harris Island. The smell of copper slammed against him as he stepped towards the darkened home. Manners went to the wayside as he strong-armed the front door open. The smell of blood was thicker in his nose. On his tongue. His brow furrowed as he shook his head.

“Rio?”

Nicodemus called out as he did what he had been raised to do: follow the blood. Right toward the kitchen as the flooring creaked under his weight. Fuck, there was a lot of it. His eyes didn’t linger on the dead. He knew lethality when he saw it and it didn’t take long to put two-and-two together. Those were his parents. His gaze, heavy yet quick with concern, went to the living. He breathed in and out slowly before he went to Rio. His sister was there and there was blood on her too. Wherever she was looking, wherever she stared off to, it didn’t seem to be anywhere in the four walls. “Kid,” he said as softly as his gravel-laden voice could manage. Tentatively, he reached a hand toward him but did not touch him. “I’m gonna help but...the hell happened?”

“I’m in here,” Orion echoed when he heard Nic calling out his name. The scene hadn’t changed since Rio had called him and begged him to come over as quickly as possible. Rio had moved from the puddle of blood that his father had left behind and was instead making new blotches of blood on the floor beneath his stained jeans. He had moved away from Athena who had barely moved from her near comatose state. The image left two dead bodies and then two kids in fetal positions on the kitchen floor trying to do anything but stare at their parents. There was so much blood everywhere. Rio did his best to clean it off of himself and Athena, but there was only so much he was able to accomplish on his own.

Orion’s heart sank at the concerned look on Nic’s face when he got into the kitchen. Getting a genuine look of care and concern was so foreign inside of this house that it was somehow more frightening than the sight of his dead parents just feet from him. “I-” How did he explain this? This was self defense, at least in a way it had been. Maybe it wasn’t completely necessary at the moment, but Rio knew what his parents would have done if given the chance. The only reason that they had even gotten as far as they had was because their parents had underestimated them. “They were going to kill us.” Rio settled on, “We had to stop them and then- and then it was too late to stop and we-” Rio stopped talking so that he could grab onto the counter top and use it to pull himself off the ground and onto his feet. Tears were beginning to stream down his cheeks but he couldn’t do anything to stop them. He just wanted Nic to make things better, maybe a hug or two. But he was covered in blood and didn’t want to get it on Nic too. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t want to drag anyone into this but I don’t know what to do.”

Blood tracked on the floor like something wounded had passed through. As Nicodemus looked at Orion, he supposed something had. Even surrounded by the smell of copper and death setting in, the stressed furrow between his brow eased as he looked at Rio. Waited for him to talk. It wasn’t something that could be rushed. As the younger hunter talked, the older one fought the urge to say that it was better that they’re dead. It wasn’t what either of the siblings needed to hear and even he knew that, as corrosive as he could be. He went to Rio, a steady hand held out as the young man hefted himself up. There was blood on Rio’s hands, his shirt, everywhere. Nicodemus didn’t pay attention to it as he tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t say that it would be okay or that it was going to be alright. In that bloodied house, it wasn’t right to say. “I gotcha, kid,” was what he said as he gently pulled Rio into a one armed hug. Not long ago, he had been there to assure another of White Crest’s youth that the world hadn’t ended. Nell. He didn’t have a blanket with him this time. When would this fucking town let them rest? “We’ll get this handled, alright? Not goin’ anywhere ‘til we do. Nothin’ to apologize for.”

He let go of Rio and crouched down by Athena. Nicodemus’s voice teetered toward soft as he spoke. “We gotta get rid of the blood. D’you…” His words trailed as he glanced back toward Rio. “Ain’t gonna rush but we gotta get started somewhere. Might as well start with you two. Sound good?”

She could hear voices. One of them was familiar - her brother. She knew that she would recognize his voice anywhere. Maybe it was a twin thing, or maybe it was just the general familiarity that came along with knowing someone for twenty-one years. Athena couldn’t place the other voice. Their parents were dead. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t sure if she could even talk, right now. She still had blood on her hands and on her shirt, despite the work that her brother had done. She could feel his steady hand against her ribcage, against her hip. She was supposed to help him. Why couldn’t she?

The back of her throat burned, and she wondered for a moment if she was going to be sick. She was so used to blood - used to anything others must consider macabre. Heck, she’d been perfectly fine in every single biology class she’d taken, and had been more than okay with watching her father perform countless surgeries. Athena couldn’t deal with the red on the floor now. Then the other voice was louder and right by her ear and she felt her hand fly up to her mouth, catching a would-be scream. “I - who - I…” she trailed off again. “Okay. I - it’s so red.” Goodness, what kind of first impression was she making? Could you consider it a necessity to make a good first impression when your parents were dead on the ground? “Yes. It’s important to take things one at a time.” Her voice sounded practically robotic even to her. “I’m - you know who I am, right?” She looked between the man and her brother, not quite making eye contact with either of them. “We have soap by the sink and more in a closet just down the hallway.” She went to go stand up but couldn’t, her legs far too heavy to move. She was supposed to be the one light on her feet, always. “I - can - Ri?” She looked over to her brother, making eye contact for the first time in she didn’t know how long. “You - can you?”

Without Nic here, Orion honestly wasn’t sure he would have been able to do anything. Dragging him into this was not what Rio had wanted at all, but it had felt like a necessary evil. Or maybe that was just selfishness. The part of him that knew what this could mean if the police had found out. The Quinns had been well respected around town. Rio had always been the weird, quiet one. Would it have been that much of a stretch to think that he had snapped one day? Rio had only just finally found a life worth living in. For once, when he was in danger he wasn’t ready to accept his death. He had too many people in his life that he lived for now. He had to try to protect that. Nic was one of those relationships that Rio found so precious. It was only strengthened further by the man’s quick arrival and agreeing to help just based on the small amount of information that Rio was able to relay. When Nic pulled Rio into a hug, Rio wanted to cry. It didn’t matter how the length or size of the hug. It meant everything to him. He couldn’t tell if he was repeating his thanks in his head or if he kept telling Nic thank you on instinct, but it was all that ran through his head.

Athena spoke, a complete sentence for the first time since their mom had died. She wasn’t herself, that much was painfully obvious. Who knew that when worst came to worst, Orion would be the functioning sibling? Of course, this situation was far different from any other that the twins had been through together. “Yeah- yeah of course I’ll grab it.” Rio grabbed for more rags and soap, turning the faucet on and leaving it on as he went back over towards Athena and Nic. “I- uh.. I’m sorry in advance, Nic. It’s not always a pretty sight.” Any hunter that had been working long enough would have their fair share of scars. But any hunter worth their salt would easily be able to tell the difference. Athena’s usual hunter wounds were different than they had been before. Rio could tell when he tried to tend to the hip wound she had. Without Rio there, they had taken out their frustrations elsewhere. Her wounds would be a mixture of battle scars from Fae and other creatures and their parents. Rio’s entire body was a mixture of scars and burns caused by the cruelty of two parents dissatisfied with a child’s behavior. His wrist still stung, but Rio gingerly worked his hoodie up and over his head. The long sleeve shirt beneath was wet from blood soaking through it. After a long moment of internal debate, Rio decided to discard that as well, crossing his arms together afterwards to try to cover as much of his torso as he could. He needed new clothes. Athena did too. But first he needed to keep wiping blood away.

Worry came in at the eyes as Nicodemus looked them over. Wounds and wounding. He knew the two well. And he liked to think he knew Rio well enough to know that he wasn’t big on the latter. As he took soap and rag in hand, the hunter looked at the bodies of their parents. His eyes narrowed and it wasn’t a Christian thought that passed through him. Then again, he hadn’t been much of one for a long time. It didn’t linger long. “Rio,” he said as he looked back. “Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, kid. You or her.” There was no way to describe Athena other than shell shocked but she seemed to be making do. As much a child could after doing away with their parents. Hunter children had that way about them. Making do with the crosses they were born to bear. Older hunters hadn’t done shit all to fix that.

Cleaning blood wasn’t strange to him and he took to it easily enough, working through the spatters with what could have been a troubling efficiency if he wasn’t numbed to it. “You two weren’t here,” he said as he looked at Rio, then at Athena. He waved his hand and ignored the pink tinge his fingertips took on. “An alibi, alright? Gonna make y’all up one. You weren’t here. That sound okay?” It would have to be, he thought with a grimace.

She could hear their voices but they still barely registered to her. Everything was a haze and her head felt far too heavy for its own good. Her eyes flickered up at the sound of her brother’s name - though the voice was still unfamiliar. How did Ri know all these people she didn’t? Athena brushed her hands against her skin where her hip had hit the table, tracing the growing bruise. She could feel his gaze on her for a moment and she looked up, nodding. They couldn’t be here. She wasn’t involved in the law by any means but she knew enough about it. Knew how to skirt it to some degree, because some people found fondness in the creatures she killed, and if she wasn’t careful she could get into trouble that batting her eyelashes and pouting to the school principal or any number of her teachers wouldn’t get her out of.

“Okay. We were not here. We were - we - Ri doesn’t live here anymore.” She looked at Nic, right in the eyes, looked at her brother too, but she didn’t register the eye contact. “I have friends. I can -” she winced for a moment as her fingertips found a particularly tender spot of skin. Athena took in a shaky breath. “I’ve never had an alibi before.”

Orion wasn’t sure what he would have done with Nic’s help here. He didn’t know how to handle Athena like this. He was pretty sure that she was in a state of shock which was understandable. All things considered, Rio probably should be. Though as the initial shock had begun to wear off Rio had found himself feeling increasingly... normal. If anything, the overwhelming feeling that took hold inside of Rio’s mind was relief. But he wasn’t quite sure how concerned he should be about that yet.

“Right. Alibis are a good idea.” Orion nodded in agreement, already thinking who he could ask. It was crazy thinking about how many people came to mind, and how much had changed since he had lived in this house. He had Nic or Blanche or Winston to fall back to after this. He knew immediately that they would do anything for him, though he hardly wanted to put that stress on them. “It’s going to be okay,” Rio turned towards Athena in an attempt to comfort her, “We’ve had alibis our whole life. Covers for why we had to go home right after school and why we would disappear on weekends. Our twenty-first birthday just ended. It would make sense that you were out somewhere celebrating rather than at the house. Just find someone that you can trust, okay?” Tip swung back towards Nic, “I don’t know what the police are going to think of this. A home invasion, maybe?” Rio crossed his arms in thought as he pondered exactly what this scene looked like, because it looked personal. “In the basement. When police investigate they’re going to realize that my parents aren’t who they said they were. It’s... it’s pretty grim down there. Maybe they’ll think it was revenge?”

Nicodemus had barely ever needed to establish an alibi for himself, let alone for a pair of kids that had just murdered their abusive parents. Murdered. That was a word that had his heart thrumming wildly as he took in deep breaths to calm himself. It wasn’t murder. Self-defense. But he didn’t know how that would fly in White Crest. Rio didn’t deserve to have his life cut short because he protected himself. Neither did Athena. Not when they had severed the blood ties that tried to dictate how they were meant to live. What their lives meant. He met Athena’s eyes but could tell she wasn’t quite looking at him. That was fine. For now, distancing themselves from this however they could would work.

“Your birthdays?” The question came out slow. Uncertain. “Jesus fuckin’ Chri--Sorry, sorry.” Nicodemus didn’t swear in front of Rio. It had gotten easier over the months but with the smell of dead and blood in the air, it was hard. “Neither of you were here because you were out with friends doing birthday stuff like...like kids do. You weren’t here at all and hadn’t been most of the day.” They aren't kids anymore, he thought as he looked at them. They hadn’t been for a long time, he supposed. Childhood had a way of dying the moment your small hand curled around a knife hilt and you were told that death was the way of living. He knew he was a hypocrite to think it. “Can make it look like a home invasion, yeah. Kick the door in, break some stuff. Everyone has enemies. It looks enough like it’s personal.” Violent. Another word for it. A brow lifted as Rio mentioned the basement. “What’s down there?”

She wanted to back away from her brother’s touch, but she couldn’t. He was safe, and she had to believe that. He was all she had, in the end. Athena nodded again. “We’re twenty-one.” They were twenty-one, so why did Athena feel more like a vulnerable child than she’d felt in years? “We - Ri always - we always stay up in the last moments of our birthday together.” She shook her head, still not quite making eye contact. Athena wasn’t entirely sure if she could handle that. Someone she could trust. Her brother was the person she trusted most, but that wouldn’t work. The two of them would be too tied together, were that the case. Ariana. That was the only other option. She couldn’t come looking like this to her sorority house, and she and Ariana had a pact - to always be honest with one another. “I have someone.” She blinked, letting her breath slow down. Looked at her brother and mouthed - Ariana. Just so he would know. Just in case.

“Our parents…” wouldn’t have enemies, she wanted to say. Could Athena realistically say that right now? She wasn’t sure. She wanted to say that they were good, to say that they wanted to do good, and perhaps they had, in a certain way, but she also knew that they had just wanted to kill her and her brother, and had planned to try to kill her brother years before. That much she couldn’t forgive. “Down where?” She shook her head. “It’s - nothing. It's my dad’s - our dad’s workspace. He experimented. It’s - we watched, because it’s important to learn through practice.” She looked over to her brother, making a facsimile of eye-contact. It wasn’t quite there, not yet, but it was more there than it had been.

Athena seemed a million miles away. Orion didn’t know how to feel about that. The two of them were both victims, Rio knew that. But still he had always felt like the black sheep. Like his isolation was somehow worse or lonelier than hers was. But maybe that wasn’t completely the case. Rio didn’t have many friends growing up like Athena, but that meant that he didn’t have people in his life that he had to keep his entire life a secret from. That must have been just as lonely. Tonight, her ramblings seemed to speak to no one in particular. She spoke to Rio and Nic, but her voice drifted off as she said the words. By the end, when she talked about her parents it felt more like the same useless lines they had heard their entire lives rather than an actual explanation. Rio shifted eyes, meeting Nic’s before switching to give a concerned glance at Athena. Maybe Nic could help her get to wherever she was going after this. Rio was pretty confident that he could get back to his house safely and quietly.

Ignoring what she had said, Rio decided to explain himself. “My dad is- er well was a surgeon. He liked to… learn about Fae. Werewolves too, but mostly Fae. He would examine them. Try to find new weaknesses and ways to kill them. It wasn’t pretty. And there’s no way to clean it up. There’s a whole operating theater down there.” Rio didn’t want to clean up their mess. He wanted people to see them for who they actually were. Monsters. “Break some stuff…” Rio’s voice trailed off, imagining ways to sell the home invasion look. “Hold on.” He left the kitchen, sliding around the hall and into the garage, coming back with golf clubs that Athena and his dad would use when they went golfing together. Rio gripped one tightly in his hands, the only part of his body that seemed to feel much stress. Otherwise, he was eerily calm. “Where do we start?”

Athena seemed to be slowly coming back from wherever she had wandered to. Nicodemus thought it best to save any birthday wishes for a later time. Right then, with blood and scars out in the open, it didn’t feel right. None of it did but they were dealing with it as best they could. It is what it fuckin’ is, he thought. “Can get you to ‘em.” He nodded to her. They could figure it out later, when the scene was set and they were making their quick exits. As Rio explained what it was that was in their basement, his expression flattened. He had heard stories of hunters like that, the kind that liked to pick species apart in order to learn. He couldn’t say much. He picked them apart for a profit. So he didn’t say a thing. Not until Rio came back with a golf club in hand.

“Start from the outside in,” Nicodemus said. “I’ll go out, alright? You two can stay in here. Be back in a minute, alright? Ain’t leavin’ you.” The discomfort that filled him when he glanced at Rio and Athena, recalled what he had seen, was immeasurable. It wasn’t kind to wish ill upon the dead but he did and didn’t feel bad about it. Didn’t feel much at all as he wrapped a towel around his hand and opened the back door. The home looked like a home. The idealized kind. The kind that movies and television showed. The furrowed skin between his brows smoothed and he began to break. Quiet as he could but just as harsh.

“No - I can - I can drive.” If she was going to go to Ariana’s house, the very last thing she wanted was to bring another hunter there. As much as he was willing to help Athena and Orion, she didn’t know what kind of hunter he was nor anything else, and she didn’t wish to further compromise him by having him be seen with her outside of the home. “Thank you, though.” She added. It was critical to be polite to those in a position of authority. Her gaze found her parents’ bodies again and she seized up, coughing for a moment before she could refocus. That’s not respectful, a voice in the back of her head, one she didn’t recognize, told her. That’s a scandal. They only cared for you. “They wanted to murder my brother.” She spoke in response, her hand finding her mouth as she did so. That wasn’t supposed to have been spoken aloud.

“Okay.” She pressed her thighs together, the pressure reassuring in its own way. Watched the golf clubs come in, watched the other man pick one up, hand wrapped in a towel. No fingerprints, then. She felt herself jump as the sound of glass permeated the too-quiet air. Athena looked up at her brother, staring at him in much the similar way that she had when they’d been children. “He - how do you know him?”

Orion glanced at Athena when she spoke aloud, seemingly to herself. Everything about her demeanor was making him incredibly nervous. For anyone else, this was a totally normal reaction for someone whose parents had just died. This was the sort of shock and retreat that Rio expected himself to feel if he had ever been forced to take a life. It was how he felt when he had killed that troll. Was something wrong with him that a troll elicited a greater reaction from Rio than two human lives? But Rio knew what Athena was experiencing. That voice inside of her head feeding her self doubt. How did Rio try to fix that? He owed it to her after all, didn’t he? She was in this mess because of him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe she owed him now. Not that it mattered.

Even though Rio knew it was coming, he still jumped when he heard glass breaking. He breathed a heavy sigh, gently placing his hand on Athena’s shoulder to offer the only amount of comfort he knew how to give. “He saved me once. From a vampire. Since then we stayed in contact.” Nic meant way more than Rio could ever find the words to explain, especially to Athena. How did he explain to her that he had filled the role of a parental figure Rio had so desperately needed to his sister, who had spent her entire life idolizing two people they had just killed? “He’s a really, really good guy. He’s always there for me if I need him. And he’s here to help us.” Rio removed his hand, opting instead to grip tightly onto the gold club with both hands. He moved slowly towards the living room area and shrugged towards Athena, “Here goes nothing I guess.” Then he swung at their television, shattering the screen. But he was far from finished.

He nodded in understanding at Athena. The older hunter didn’t know what reassurances he could offer. Through words, at least. Those troublesome things Nicodemus had always been shit at. So he stuck to what he knew. Silence and breaking. Shattering. The art of leaving nothing behind when the next step was taken. It was the most he could offer the twins, other than his presence. Between it all, he couldn’t help but hear Rio. A good man. He had heard that before. Recently, even. He supposed good men helped cover up murders from time to time. Maybe that was how it worked. The concept of right and wrong was skewed, easily swayed. He went on breaking out the windows that led to the backyard. Broke them inward so the glass spewed out onto the floor. He climbed in and stepped over the pieces carefully. Looked over his handiwork and frowned. With heavy steps, he came to stand by Rio. Glanced over toward Athena.

“You’re...good too,” he said slowly. He took in a heavy breath. He glanced at the bodies again. They were likely starting to go cold. “Even with…” Nicodemus trailed. Shook his head. “You just are. Nobody gets to tell you otherwise. No one can take it away from you.” Their parents had tried to, he reckoned. Wanted them to be something righteous in the way that blood was shed. He frowned. Righteousness didn’t have a place in what they did or what they were. They just were. The way others just were.

She couldn’t help herself - each time she could hear the golf clubs collide with the glass she felt like jumping. She did her very best to avoid that, but the sound reverberated in her ears. This will help, this will turn suspicion away from us - she reminded herself, the mantra hardly reassuring. The sooner Athena got out of all of this, the better. At least Rio had known someone to call. Her mind flashed briefly to Oscar and she felt like she was going to be sick all over again. “He’s here to help.” She repeated. She was going to have to lie to Oscar, because this would be all over the news in no time. She admired him, but what would he think if he knew what she’d just done? He doesn’t know what my parents did to me and my brother, Athena reassured herself. Everything will be okay.

She finally pushed herself up and off the ground, making her way over to the cabinets. Grabbed one of her favorite childhood mugs. Grabbed one of Orion’s, too - ones that they’d used for hot chocolate around holiday times. She threw each of them against the tiled floor, the shattering of china more satisfying that she would have readily liked to admit. Athena, for good measure, grabbed a few other plates and bowls, letting them fall over. “Collateral damage,” she murmured, “just for good measure.”

Breaking things came easily to Orion. Unsurprisingly, it turned out Rio had a lent of pent up anger to take out against the house that he had been raised in. Smashing things came way too easily to him, shattering the glass tv stand and the pictures and plants they had within the living room. It was completely destroyed within minutes, the shattering sounds from the kitchen proving that Athena had been able to help. They would have to do this to everything. They couldn’t leave their rooms untouched, or the basement. It would be a methodical process, but an important one.

When Nic came back in, trying to remind Orion that he was a good person, Rio could only nod. He didn’t feel like a good person, though he rarely did. “Thank you. Seriously, I don’t know how I could possibly repay you. Even if you won’t let me.” Rio smiled at him, a genuine one even if the mood didn’t exactly call for one. “I think we should move my dad’s body to the basement. If people think it’s a revenge plot then it may make sense for him to be down there. I don’t know this isn’t my forte, clearly.” Rio sighed. “Whatever we do. We need to get out of here sooner rather than later. Just to be safe.”

It was surreal watching Orion and Athena take to their childhood home like small storms. How often had Nicodemus thought of doing just the same damn thing? Of ripping through stone and crosses and molded wood like something unrestrained? Every day, he reckoned, if the wind went by just right and the sun was where it should be. One day. Maybe. His own storm might come calling home. The smile he returned to Rio was small. Tired. “Ain’t gotta worry about that right now. I’ll help you get ‘im down there,” he said quietly. “And then we better get. Ain’t tryin’ to rush but…” He glanced down at the bodies before he started to lift up the father. “Been here long enough and y’all ought to get somewhere safe.”

“You - I…” she felt her voice break as Athena heard them discuss moving the bodies. She really was going to be sick. She could count the tiles on the floor. She could feel her rings against her fingers. She avoided thinking about the smell. That wasn’t going to help anyone out. Her gaze found the Christmas photo on the fridge again and she felt a shudder crawl through her whole body. “We need to get somewhere soon. I need to - I have to pack a bag before I go. Not too much. We can’t - people are going to ask questions. We -” She bit her lip, pleading with herself to actually form coherent thoughts. God, what was she going to tell Ariana? She had to tell her the full truth, even though she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to explain any of this. “You - just don’t - be careful with the blood. If too much tracks people can tell that you moved a body.” She could hear her father repeating some of the same words, back when they’d trapped a fae together, the satisfaction and eagerness she had with the knife too much. Be careful, Athena, acting rashly may satisfy in the moment but will only serve those we seek to eradicate in the long run. “The police will search for that. So just - be careful, please?”

Orion nodded at Nic. He was right. The neighbors wouldn’t be awake for a few hours, but they were nosey. If they got up to get a glass of water or go to the bathroom they’d notice the lights on and remember it when the police started showing up. These people gossiped like crazy. Moving to help Nic, Rio heard Athena talk and paused. “Yeah- Good point. You’re right.” He moved towards her and lowered his voice. Not because he didn’t think Nic would be able to hear, clearly he could. But because Athena didn’t look like she could handle any higher volume, “Hey. You should go. Seriously. Nic and I just have a couple more things to do and then we are going to get out of here. Ariana lives farther away than I do. It’s going to take you some time to get there. Okay? We’ll talk later.” That wasn’t a promise so much as it was an unfortunate fact. The two would be called in and questioned by the police once the bodies were discovered. Rio and Athena would be seeing more of each other sooner rather than later. Giving a small wave and nod, Rio turned away from his sister and back to help grab onto his father’s body, already hoisted up by Nic. He avoided looking at his father’s body by studying Nic’s expression. Rio could never repay this man, but he hoped that Nic would still be able to see Rio the same. “Okay uh- let’s wrap up here so we can get out of here.”

#wickedswriting #c orion #c nic #chatzy #finally free #emotional abuse mention #physical abuse mention #// more soft!!!#lora and cody are delights #rio and nic are perfect

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laughingpinecone · 4 years

Link

1030w, General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply POV First Person, Magical Realism, Chess

The reason for my visit to Maya and Gersten fades into irrelevance. I remember J. suggesting I consult them for my semiotics paper, swearing by the presence in their library of rare transcripts of de Saussure’s lectures. I also remember the cassette that P. had long tried to get back from her ex and which had reportedly, circumstantially made its way to their home, and how the noble bond of friendship had made me volunteer to act as a broker.

No matter. To linger on such causes exposes them to the indignity of being painted with unearned ordinariness.

What does matter is that, having made an appointment, I rang at their door. Finding it open, I took a step into their house and found it tasteful, lived-in, soft lines and bright colors filling that flat with passion, a beating heart in the middle of a bleak high rise near the edge of the city.

I first saw them as I lingered near the doorstep. A chiseled knight lay on the floor. A simple plastic rook, tournament standard, stood on the edge of a shelf like a lookout tower abandoned in ages past. Nearby, a long row of black pawns saw the union of small travel sets and two bigger metal casts. Chess pieces dotted the apartment, more and more revealing themselves to a mindful observer. Another pawn was entrenched in an ashtray, looking thankful, I thought, for the added defense afforded by its walls. The scenario brought a smile to my lips, suggesting perhaps a child, who, unaware of the rules of the noble game, had taken to deploying the pieces like tin soldiers. Nonetheless, even then I could feel the glimpse of a rigorous method behind their positioning. A truth, perhaps. Such heavy words ring hollow now, far from the apartment, but their echo persists.

Chess is a language unto itself, this fact is known to anyone who has ever spent as little as an hour on a game (as well as the occasional semiotician – De Saussure himself posited that “The respective value of the pieces depends on their position on the chessboard just as each linguistic term derives its value from its opposition to all the other terms”). Within the walls of the apartment, that language’s grammar has been pulled and stretched, its drift as deep and monumental as that of the continents along their fault lines. What hides in these new spaces they created, what subtleties, what meanings? As I try to picture Maya and Gersten’s daily trifles, a feat for the imagination since, as stated above, mundaneness appears to shun them, there must be a time when one tells the other to turn down the volume of the radio, or leaves a note that they are out of butter. Maya in her red shawls may convey certain meanings through her knitting needles; Gersten, as P. once told me, puts on her brooches according to patterns known to her alone. At times her enamel soothsaying becomes apparent to the people around her. Most days it remains a well-kept secret. What, then, is left to chess? What can better be conveyed – rather, what can only be conveyed – through a rook placed at the end of the couch? Does it hold a mute dialogue with the one on the shelf, with the knight by the entrance, is their positioning relative to each other, the magnetic pole, unseen constellations? Is there more meaning to be found in the overlapping of more sets of pieces across the apartment, perhaps a stratification, a function of time that shows that what was once an antique pawn has kept progressing throughout history, generations of pawns until a contemporary design (more of a cone, in truth, only interpretable as a chess piece by virtue of the other chess pieces around it) is finally, achingly close to promotion to queen? Yet the apartment remains timeless in my memory’s eyes. I suspect their connections, for surely those connections exist, to be more copious and deeper than a single scenario repeated through time, rather a transcendent conversation of coexisting forms, placements and purposes. Those criss-crossed threads create a thick tapestry whose patterns I have not traveled far enough to see.

In the middle of the living room stood three small tables, upon which three chessboards showed three games at different stages. One was in its opening phase, a Semi-Slav defense if memory serves. Another had reached a rook and pawn ending, in a belabored fashion, as these things often go. The last one saw a heated middlegame where two doubled pawns may or may not have spelled white’s doom in spite of light material advantage.

A bishop from this third chessboard was the only piece removed from either game which still stood next to it – perfectly in line, I now suspect, with the a2-g8 diagonal. Bj11, if you will. I took it in my hands to admire its craftmanship and the finer details of its design. Solid wood. Weighed. Elegant geometry.

It was then that Maya and Gersten walked into their living room, carrying the small envelope which I had come to collect and which still lies discarded in the back of my car, unopened. They moved following a rhythm of their own, as if the other were an extension of their self, but I could not decipher whether the bond between them was one of friendship, love or enmity, or any other declension of human bonds which may lead two people to adopt the thirty-two pieces as their alphabet and grammar.

“Did we not hear a j’adoube?” said Gersten.

“What?” said I, bishop still in hand, not so out of touch with my French as not to understand the international call for touching a piece without intending to move it, but in disbelief upon hearing a formal rule invoked in that context.

“Your move, then,” said Maya.

My move.

The diagonal stretches to the horizon on its unwavering grid. The apartment is far gone in my rear view mirror; the city will soon follow suit. In the glove compartment, nothing but sunglasses, my wallet and the bishop. Something is changing. The drift deepens.

#chess #original fiction #fanfiction #(as in. it's my writing tag)#look listen this was last year idek what a backlog IS just take this #I'm very very fond of this one #and today is a special day

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crqstalite · 4 years

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stargazer.

just a little something from the wip folder. i started writing it months ago and i honestly have no idea where it was supposed to be going. you might be able to tell where earlier!andre stops and now!andre begins.

otherwise, a drabble about kodelyn and her mother, hannah shepard. no warnings.

She used to love the stars.

She used to be a child who knew nothing more than the skies of Rio, curious and wide eyed when they'd say goodbye to her new stepfather and siblings. Then, out into the warm and humid air with her mother, who'd braid her hair back in cornrows and pick her up to a piggyback style. So far outside the city, she was amazed by the lack of noise, lack of light. The way the sky would be speckled with white and gold, the way they'd twinkle when she lifted her head just right.

They'd never had the time before her sister was born. It'd always just been them, her and her mother bouncing between stations. Hannah Shepard and her daughter, Kodelyn, with the endearing habit of typing her own reports with nonsensical subjects that the crew would take in stride. One had started giving her stickers for each one, much to her happiness.

She saw the stars outside her window on Arcturus, wondering what lay beyond the twinkling lights in the distance. She'd used to make up stories that there were aliens, like any good child would in the years preceding the First Contact War. It'd fascinated her, so far away, yet they sped past them with the usage of the mass relay network. Anywhere she could, she stuck glow in the dark stickers. Whether that be in the crew cabin or elsewhere, she loved the way they looked. The nebula of purples and blues and black mixing into a vision of what she lived to see. Her curiosity about the galaxy before her made many believe she was simply a carbon copy of her mother, someone who asked just about all the right questions and maybe a few that weren't relevant. They saw Hannah in her, a few officers referring to her as simply 'Little Shepard'. A little clone that was constantly on her heels, but it was more endearing than annoying. Most of the time. As long as she didn't get underfoot too often. And that was fine, she liked it. Loved it even. Would've been happy if it stayed that way.

Then all of sudden (well, to her it was all of a sudden), she wasn't living on stations anymore. It seemed sometime between all the childish fantasies of being a spacefaring heroine, domesticity had settled in and didn't seem like it was leaving. Someone who took care of her when her mother was on tour, a 'proper' father. Then, a sister that hung onto every word that came out of her mouth. Then a brother who thought she was the best thing since the Mars relay had been found. It wasn't just her and her mother anymore, a family had grown around them.

At first, she was confused. Why she didn't accompany her mother on cruises anymore, why she was rarely home. Nearly upset even, until she came back through the door with a smile on her face and tired crinkles around her eyes after months on missions. A warning not to dirty her dress blues when she'd been away at the garrison, but never minding to bend down and hug her daughter. The stars became her connection back to her, wondering which one had her mother's ship behind it. As much as the megaopolis' bright lights drowned out those in the sky, she still stayed up to watch the city sleep and the stars find their way to her window. Watching as the ships came in at the dock, becoming adept at identifying each model, growing excited when she recognized the one she'd been looking for. Her mother always said she didn't have favorite children, but considering the shiny models of Alliance ships brought back for her, only her, she had reason to believe otherwise.

Well, most of the time. She'd never tell her baby siblings, but she was pretty sure she was the favorite.

"Do you have to go back?" Kodelyn asks, voice small as she rests her head on her mother's shoulder. The last day of her shore leave, and she wasn't excited to let her just go again, "Let them have Mr. 'Quin, then you can stay home with me all day."

Her mother chuckles, adjusting her hold on her small legs, "If that were how the military worked, I'm sure he'd be gone already, Dee. But you know I have work to do, and I'll be right back here for your birthday."

"But that's forever away!" Kodelyn exclaims, incredulous at the notion. April was a long time from then, nearly a whole year from that July. She believed she was completely justified in her reaction to the absurd amount of time her mother would be gone. In the grand scheme of things, it was decidedly absolutely unacceptable, "You're gonna miss Mason's birthday, and Mr. 'Quin's."

"I wish I could be here for them all, you know that, bug. Shore leave doesn't always come easy to us marines," She responds, stepping out of the way of a bush, the crinkling of leaves underneath her boots, "Tell you what, how about we get a dog for him and Mason? They like dogs, don't they?"

"There aren't pets in space, mom. Everyone knows that," Kodelyn giggles, her mother shaking her head and surely smiling herself, "Are we there yet?"

A pause before they step out from the tree line, Kodelyn craning her neck to stare up at the sky. Her mother gently puts her down, sliding to the ground to sit. Her daughter unceremoniously does the same, eyes wide. It was true, then, you could see so much more from the forest than you could from her house. Gently, she lays down on her mother's legs, Hannah carefully drawing her fingers through her scalp. Names of constellations come to her in waves, pointing out each one to the woman who smiles.

"There's an entire galaxy out there for you to explore," Hannah smiles down at her, hands resting on the ground before she looks back up to the sky, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Kodelyn responds, playfully exasperated. She already knew that, and she knew that she wanted to be a ship captain just like her mother when she grew older. Of course she was going to explore. She'd get back up into space someday, even if she was only twelve right now, "It's pretty from here, right? So you can just stay here, with me."

Hannah sighs, though still good natured when she gently pulls Kodelyn into a soft embrace, "I'd love it if I could. Though I have a commitment to the Alliance, and I can't just walk away, little one."

"Then take me with you...." She whines, while Hannah chuckles.

"What do you have against being on Earth? I thought you'd like it, after all the time we spent on the Citadel, and the stations, and the ships," Hannah asks, leaning her head gently on her daughter's, "So much room to run around and play with kids your own age. You don't have to keep to the mess or medbay anymore, isn't that what you wanted?"

"Earth is...nice, I suppose. Too many bugs though," Kodelyn sticks out a tongue, reminded of her first experience with a spider only a few years ago. She shivers at the thought, but turns her big brown eyes back up at her mother, "I wanted to stay with you. And then you keep leaving."

"Oh." Hannah pauses, then squeezing her just a little tighter, "Kiddo, I'll always come back."

"And what if you don't?

"I will, and that's that," Hannah answers firmly, "And if you have your way, you'll be with the Alliance in a few years yourself. Just be patient, and be happy you still have solid ground under your feet for now, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Kodelyn figures this is as much insurance as she's going to get on the matter, and relaxes her head back onto her mother's shoulder, "Space is still better."

"As if there was a question," Hannah brushes her hair out of her face, "Love what you have right now, kiddo. Please. You’ll never know if you’ll get this back.”

“You just said you’ll always come back, what do you mean?”

“Don’t take things for granted -- you could lose it in an instant.”

And that's how it would've gone. She probably would’ve lived out the rest of her days on Earth, had her younger sister not been swept up in the biotic tests that drove them to live on the Citadel more often than not. And that's how it would've gone had they taken it in stride and gotten her further treatment on-planet instead of the Citadel. Had Hannah's stations not moved further and further away from Earth. The list went on. And that's also, probably, how it would've gone had she made an actual point to stay on Earth. That didn't happen for a multitude of reasons.

Does she miss it? Not particularly. Spiders didn't follow her up, so that was a win.

No, she doesn't miss Earth exactly. She misses how she and her mother's calls end up being less and less frequent. There aren't anymore evenings that she drags Hannah out by the hand to stargaze. It isn't as if Kodelyn can't just look out a window and see them either, but it's a special sort of lonely that she can't quite put a finger on. Did she ever love the stars, the ones that eventually killed her, or was it the time spent together?

After her death over Alchera, the first thing she does once she can get her hands on a secured and encrypted channel is call her mother. She’s nearly clamoring for any real sense of reality, or part of her past that she can get her hands on.

Hannah nearly cries when she hears her daughter's voice for the first time in three years. She figures she’s lucky to get in contact with her at all, considering her current situation. Yet even though she still knows next to nothing of what Kodelyn is doing, she’s just grateful that she spares the time to speak to her.

“Hey mom?”

“Yes?”

“Remember when we used to go star-gazing out on that hill by the house, when I was still a kid?” There’s a muffled chuckle on the other end of the line, “After Alchera, someone in Cerberus had a sense of humor and decided I must love it so much that there’s a skylight above my bed.”

Hannah curses, “Great. Is there a way you can cover it?”

“I’m looking into it,” Kodelyn answers, “Still, I think it was far more fun when my feet were on the ground, and would stay that way. You used to hold me like I was the most important thing in the galaxy when we went out there. Hard not to miss it.”

“Hard not to,” Hannah echoes the sentiment, “I can’t stay for much longer, but please, stay safe. I don’t need to find out that your ‘death’ was only a trial run.”

“I will. At least to the best of my ability. Love you.”

#kodelyn shepard #oc #original character

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