#you can see where I was sketching Morgana and then didn’t actually draw him

[suncrat]

Was looking through my old sketchbook and found this:

The sillies

[thetimelesscycle]

Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last - Chapter 4

A common goal fails to foster cooperation, and questions without answers continue to perplex.

A/N: In which I am forced to try and include some actual plot and civil conversations are in short supply.

Chapter 4

A Puzzle Incomplete  

To say that Merlin was furious would have been as wild an understatement as the claim that Arthur was not especially fond of magic. He was not certain there was a word for the incandescent rage boiling just beneath his skin, threatening to dissolve carefully constructed walls that had not crumbled in decades. It took a conscious effort to keep a lid on that fury as he guided his exhausted apprentice to lie down once again, the boy having spent what little strength he’d regained in a few scant minutes. Shivers still wracked his slender frame, his body reacting to the invisible wound festering beneath the surface, though at this point Merlin was more worried about his state of mind.

He had never seen Hisirdoux display such raw terror before, not even at the sword point of Arthur’s knights. Then again, Galahad had only threatened to execute him, not tear his soul to shreds and leave him with the tattered remains.

The worst part was he did not think there were meant to be any remains. Whoever had attacked his apprentice had done so with the intention of destroying him completely. They had come dangerously close to succeeding, thwarted by the boy’s own magic, which raised more questions than it answered. If Hisirdoux had encountered a creature powerful enough to wound him in this way, how was he still alive? How had a child whose own enchantments still flummoxed him fended off that sort of danger?

He wasn’t going to get any answers from Hisirdoux right now, that much was clear. His apprentice was mumbling restlessly in his sleep again, nonsensical words, the delusional arguments of an overstressed mind.

“Tell me you know how to fix this.” Archie had settled himself behind his familiar’s shoulders, one paw draped over the boy’s arm, but his eyes were fixed on Merlin, plea and demand both in that gaze. “Tell me you can help him.”

“I intend to do everything in my power, Archibald.” It wasn’t quite the same lie he’d told his apprentice, trying to soothe the boy’s panic before he did himself further injury, but it wasn’t the whole truth either; He was already doing everything in his power, it simply wasn’t enough.

“That’s not a ‘yes’.” The tiny dragon gave him a look that could almost have been called threatening. “He thinks you’re capable of anything, you know. Maybe it’s time you lived up to the legend.”

Not gracing that barbed statement with a response, he tucked the blanket back about Hisirdoux’s shoulders, pausing just long enough to rest a hand on the boy’s clammy forehead as he renewed his stasis spell for the umpteenth time. That done, he took his leave, refusing to acknowledge Archie’s lingering stare as he slipped out of the room.

Morgana was waiting for him when he reentered the workshop, pacing back and forth with long, sweeping strides, a book held open in her hands. She whirled as soon as the door opened.

“How is he?”

Straight to the point. Her and Arthur were very alike in that way. He didn’t answer at once, drifting across the room to the cluttered workbench by the stained glass windows. There was a fine layer of dust there that had gathered over the past two days, the designs he had been pouring over what seemed a lifetime ago now sitting discarded and forgotten. He sensed Morgana’s impatience as he lifted the page of sketches and idly examined its contents, dropping the weighted truth into the tense silence.

“Slipping away.” It was an inadequate description for what would happen if he didn’t find a way to stop the dark magic from finishing its work. What was confusion and spontaneous panic now would devolve into raving madness as Hisirdoux’s very essence continued to crumble. The boy was already losing memories, the spell he had cast only slowing the process, not preventing it. “I have no doubt this was an attempt to kill him.”

“Why?” Her outrage echoed his own. Where his bubbled beneath a thin veneer of self-control, hers revealed itself in a flash of righteous fury, the room rattling briefly as she paced closer. “He’s a child, Merlin!”

“That I cannot say.” His suspicions, founded on his knowledge of the type of magic it took to cause this kind of injury, seemed ludicrous. Hisirdoux was not trained enough to be a threat to anyone yet — besides himself — and certainly not enough of a danger to warrant such wanton cruelty. The being who had attacked his apprentice under Arthur’s very nose had done so with purely malicious intent. To hurt someone in that way, to threaten not only their life but their existence beyond the mortal plane as well... that was an act of pure hatred. More perturbing still, Hisirdoux appeared to have been the only target. Not even Archie had been wounded, despite the fact the pair of them shared the same bed. “Though I intend to find out.”

“I will help in any way I can,” she asserted, coming to stand on the opposite side of the work table. “What about Douxie? Is there anything he needs? Anything we can do?”

“He needs a proper healer.” Morgana scowled, and Merlin’s own glare deepened out of habit. It was a tall order. Neither of them had a gift for healing magic, formidable wizards though they might be, and those of Camelot’s dwindling magical community who were proficient in the healing arts had been some of the first victims in Arthur’s war against magic. Such individuals were typically well-known and notoriously bad at keeping themselves hidden, driven as they were to put their skills to good use. Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet, but not to the level required to mend someone’s shredded spirit; Certainly not when he was the victim.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Morgana was on the hunt. He’d seen that look enough times to recognise it. “A name? A face?”

“No, not yet.” He could have pushed. It was clear Hisirdoux remembered something, and was deeply disturbed by it. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen not to force the matter. Further stress right now would only make things worse. He also had the image of his apprentice reeling away from him in abject terror ingrained in his mind, and wasn’t in any great hurry to repeat that experience. “We’ll have a chance to ask some more pertinent questions when next he wakes. In the meantime, we should continue our efforts to keep the castle secure.”

“You’re worried about Arthur.”

“He is a rather more likely candidate for assassination than my very green apprentice.”

“You haven’t even considered the possibility that you were the target, have you?” He came up short, casting her a piercing look. Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of course you haven’t. He is your apprentice, Merlin. If anyone wanted to draw you out, Douxie is by far the easiest way to reach you.”

It made a disturbing amount of sense, much as he would prefer to deny it. Anyone with even an inkling of familiarity with the royal court would be aware that he would go to Arthur’s aid as required, but the king had an enchanted blade and dozens of trained knights at his beck and call. He would not fall without a fight. Hisirdoux, on the other hand, couldn’t even fend off an enchanted broom. It was entirely possible, even probable, that anyone trying to strike down the Master Wizard would see his apprentice as the weak link in the chain.

Except, that would suggest that the person responsible believed he would set everything else aside to assure the welfare of his student. That assumption was to his advantage; Or, it would have been, had he not spent the last two days doing exactly that. Without the constant renewal of his stasis spell, Hisirdoux might not have survived long enough to regain consciousness. Putting aside his other duties had seemed the right thing to do at the time, weighed against the unnerving thought of no longer having apprentice and dragon constantly underfoot. Morgana was forcing him to face the fact his enemies may have depended upon him making that exact decision, and consider the very real possibility his eyes had deliberately been drawn away from some greater danger.

He wasn’t in the mood to entertain that thought, or to acknowledge the stark fear nipping gently at his heels, so he deliberately set them both aside. There had been no further attacks; It seemed reasonable to assume Hisirdoux was the only target for the time being, as perplexing as that was.

“There is no point speculating until we know more,” he said aloud, knowing the silence had stretched a beat too long. “Better to concentrate on securing our defenses and finding someone to help Hisirdoux.”

“You won’t find anyone in Camelot. You know that.”

That she was right didn’t make him any less aggravated by the observation. “What do you suggest, then?”

“I could try.”

He had not been expecting it, which was the only reason it took him more than a second to formulate his reply. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I think enough damage has already been done without bringing Shadow Magic into the mix, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to hurt him!”

“No, because you will not be using your dark arts anywhere near him. I forbid it.”

She clenched her fists around the volume in her hands, the room rattling again as she stared him down in muted fury. “You know you are part of the problem, don’t you? If you didn’t spend so much time dismissing and demonising that which you don’t understand perhaps Arthur would not feel so justified in destroying every form of magic that does not serve him.”

“Rubbish.” He waved the words away. “We both know where Arthur’s hatred of magic stems from. It has nothing to do with me.”

“You are blind if you truly believe that.”

“And you are wasting my time with pointless arguments in the midst of a crisis. I have better things to do right now than have this discussion with you again.”

He turned towards the door, only to have it come aglow with magic as it slammed shut.

“I am not Hisirdoux to be dismissed whenever you don’t feel like listening.”

“More’s the pity.” He swung back around to face her with his condemnation. “I did at least think you had enough regard for the boy not to delay my work.”

The glare she fixed on him could have quelled Gunmar himself. Merlin simply glared right back, raising an imperious eyebrow in that way he knew she hated.

“Waiting and hoping you’ll think of something is not the answer, Merlin, as you well know. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“What I refuse to admit is that diving headfirst into the Shadow Realm is a viable solution to the problem at hand. Because it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that.” She gestured with the book in her hands. Not one of his library; He had never encouraged this exploration of dark magic. He didn’t even know where she had happened across it, only that he deeply regretted not having snatched it away to cast into the fire years ago. “You don’t know Shadow Magic. How can you be so certain it won’t work?”

“Common sense, girl.” She glowered at the title, a humbling she had earned with her adamance. “Double the poison does not make a cure.”

“There is nothing there to cure.” She slammed her hand palm down on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin marked Archie emerging from the bedchamber, though whether he intended to intervene or simply wanted to be closer to the unfolding argument was debatable. “Whatever magic did this to him destroyed parts of his soul. They’re not there to be mended, they’re gone. He’s not a torn cloak, Merlin. You can’t just tie the pieces that remain together and hope it’s enough to cover what is missing. Even if you get him back on his feet you will stretch him so thin you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill himself the first time he tries to cast a spell!”

“And how would you know that, hmm? What extensive well of experience are you drawing your theories from?”

“This.” She lifted up the spell book, shoving it at his chest. He seized it on instinct, and she took the opportunity to pluck several more volumes off the table and toss them in his direction as well. He caught those with magic, which was preferable to his face, and watched her storm closer whilst struggling to contain his own rising ire. “You are so convinced that your way is the only way that it has never even occurred to you that I chose to study Shadow Magic for this very reason. For when other means are not enough. You have no idea how it works because you think it is beneath you. I do know. I can use it. And I know that if we have any hope of restoring Douxie’s soul the Shadow Realm is our best chance. Somebody tore that boy to pieces, Merlin, what’s missing doesn’t exist in this world anymore, but that sort of dark magic leaves a trail. I can save him if you will just trust me.”

“And when what you save is not Hisirdoux? When you patch him back together with dark magic and corrupt him entirely? What then, Morgana?”

“I know the difference.”

“No, you think you know the difference, and I will not wager my apprentice’s life on your arrogance.”

“My arrogance? You are the old fool who can’t see past your own self-importance to what your inaction has cost us all! You could have stopped Arthur years ago if you so chose, but you needed him to keep you safe so you could continue your all important work, at the cost of the hundreds of innocents you abandoned. The only reason your apprentice ever needed saving was because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your king!”

“How dare you—!”

“Stop it, both of you!” The outburst was such a surprise that Merlin was actually struck to silence, turning in tandem with Morgana to stare at the small dragon glaring at them both with a baleful expression. “What you seem to be forgetting is that this isn’t your decision to make, it’s Douxie’s. He is the one who has been hurt here, and you deciding what is best for him without bothering to even ask what he thinks is not going to help matters at all. When he wakes up we will all have a civilised discussion on what the best thing to do is. Until then, perhaps you two Master Wizards can put your heads together and properly figure out who was responsible for this. Before they do the same thing to someone else.”

The ensuing hush was awkward, to say the least. Archie refused to back down, standing with wings flared and lips curled back in a faint snarl as he tried to look as intimidating as a dragon that didn’t come up to one’s knees could. Merlin was the first to turn away, stalking back to the table to set down the books Morgana had flung at him in her fury. Unfortunately for him, years spent as his student had taught her to read his silences better than anyone else, and there was disbelief in her eyes when he turned back to face the pair of them.

“You already know, don’t you?” she accused.

“I suspect,” he defended himself. “That is not the same thing as knowing.”

“Yes, yes, it’s completely different,” Archie pressed impatiently. “Who do you suspect is responsible then?”

He had not been ready to disclose this much to anyone just yet. Sadly, he could not see a way out of it without inciting another argument. It was a small miracle they hadn’t already woken Hisirdoux with all the shouting that had been going on, and he didn’t want to subject himself to Archie’s righteous anger should it start up again. Instead, he adopted the stance of a teacher once more, marching back and forth as he spoke, “The ability to injure someone in this way is not common. Shadow Magic might allow you to tether a soul to a traumatic memory, hold it in place, twist it until it bends to your will, or rip it from its mortal flesh entirely, but it does not allow you to cause irreparable harm. This is something older, darker. This is the Arcane Order.”

Morgana exchanged a glance with the familiar, then asked the expected question, “What is the Arcane Order?”

“You mean who,” he held up a finger to emphasise his point. “They are a trio of ancient wizards who protect the balance between the magic and the mortal worlds by rendering destruction on those they perceive to be a threat. If you want to blame anyone for the world’s growing mistrust of magic, Morgana, the Order should be at the top of your list. To say that they are responsible for the deaths of hundreds would likely be understating the bloody mark they have left on history. Part of the reason I aided Arthur in uniting Camelot was because it was becoming abundantly clear I could not continue to fight them on my own, and the divisions amongst the mortal kingdoms made them easy prey. The Order has been quiet since Arthur came to power; I might have known they were planning something.”

“Why Douxie, though?” Archie wondered aloud. “Why not Arthur? Why not you?”

“I do not know.” It grated to admit that much. Morgana’s theory might hold some merit, but he still didn’t understand why the Order would not have come for him directly. He was not an easy mark, but he was not unreachable either. “If it was the Arcane Order, then I do not even know how Hisirdoux survived. These are beings older than nearly any other that walks the earth. Hisirdoux is a child. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We are missing something,” Morgana agreed, leaning across the table to emphasise her next point. “So let me look for it.”

He folded his arms, making his disapproval known. “We are going in circles, Morgana. The answer is still no.”

“But—!”

“Enough!” He called his staff to his hand from across the room just to add the force of slamming it on the ground to his words. “I need to go make sure our king is kept informed of this potential threat. If you want to make yourself useful, try searching my library for a solution that won’t simply kill the boy faster.”

“Kill?” Archie’s head shot up, eyes wide behind his glasses. “He’s dying?”

Merlin took that as his cue to leave the room. Let Morgana be the one to break the bad news. If she was doing that perhaps she wouldn’t feel tempted to go rooting through every scrap of forbidden knowledge Arthur had not yet managed to destroy.

A doubtful outcome, but a wizard could hope.

Right now, that seemed like all he could do.

Story Canon Notes:

"Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet..." - Not strictly canon, but Douxie's role in the Trollhunters game is team healer, which at lease loosely implies he has some sort of remedial spell in his arsenal. His (minor) injuries also disappear between scenes in Episode 8, and I assume he was going to attempt to use some sort of healing spell on Merlin before Merlin stopped him.

[spyder-m]

Love Games

ao3 / ff.net 

Summary:  On a particularly grueling trip through Mementos, the Phantom Thieves play a few rounds of "Never Have I Ever" to fend off boredom. In doing so, they learn more about their leader and advisor than they had anticipated. Shumako.

.

Ann's eyes carefully scanned the bleak expanse that was Mementos, low-level shadows scurrying away from the blare of headlights.

Blue irises strained as they adjusted to the darkness of the subway, not wanting the target to disappear from her sight.

"I spy with my little eye… something that's brown and grey-"

"Railroad tracks," Futaba answered, not even bothering to look up from her laptop.

"Wow, Oracle. You got it on the first try! How did you know?"

"Are you for real?!" Ryuji exclaimed; the outburst startling a quietly sketching Yusuke beside him. "There's only like three things down here you coulda possibly been lookin' at. Urgh! This game sucks!

Delving this far into the depths made for a long and arduous trip.

Though Morgana's bus form was fairly spacious, with the seven of them packed in together; and a lack of proper air-conditioning; it was becoming a little stifling.

Some of the more fiery members of the group were beginning to get on each other's nerves.

Beyond the occasional pit-stop to stretch their legs, fighting off shadows and scouring out the different nooks of Mementos for treasures or potential targets, served as their only reprieve.

Even Makoto couldn't find too much of a distraction in the drive. Each level was beginning to look eerily similar, and Futaba's persona could usually map out a clear path through to the next exit. Save for swerving to avoid the odd shadow, it didn't require much concentration. Her muscles were already settling unconsciously into a rhythm.

Still, she had been able to find comfort in the silent form of Joker beside her. It was remarkable how well he could read her and ease the tension she felt with a gentle smile or supporting touch of his hand. The calm washing over her like a healing spell.

He was measured in the affectionate gestures, not wanting to attract the attention of their passengers; currently seeking out other ways to pass the time.

"Alright, fine. Let's hear you suggest something then, Skull." Ann huffed, her eyes narrowing as she folded her arms.

Blinking, the blond scratched his head in thought; not having expected her to turn to him for a suggestion.

"Well, uh... there's that game Westerners always play in movies." He offered. "Y'know, the one where they hold up their fingers and say something they've never done before."

"Isn't that a drinking game?" Makoto's glare lifted, catching the others in the rear-view mirror. "I'll remind you we're all underage and in a car."

"It don't have to be." Ryuji waved his arms, not wanting to incur the wrath of the team's advisor. "Come on! It'll be fun!"

Despite some initial skepticism, the crew supposed that Ryuji's suggestion might not actually be such a bad idea.

The founding members of the Phantom Thieves had been together for several months now and felt pretty tightly knit. The exposure to one another's pasts, their most guarded secrets and inner selves only helped to shift their relationship towards something much more intimate.

Still, between time in the Metaverse, strategy meetings, studying for exams, and part-time jobs, they didn't get many opportunities to spend time together as friends.

They were still a lot of things they didn't know about each other as people.

Haru was their newest member and didn't seem to have many friends outside of their immediate circle. Futaba was still coming out of her shell and sharing secrets among friends could help to continue building her social skills. Yusuke… Well, Yusuke was an enigma. For as long as they'd known him, there was still a lot they hadn't quite figured out.

Even Makoto; though having acclimated well with the team and into her advisory role; was still striving to more learn about her peers.

These were the kind of games kids their age would normally play at parties; a luxury their unique extra-curricular activities as the Phantom Thieves often deprived them of.

It could be a great opportunity for them to get to know each other better.

"Ooo, I'll start!" Futaba called, her hand shooting up. "Never have I ever… gone on a trip to Hawaii!"

"Wha- Oracle! That's not fair!"

"Mwehehehe…" The youngest member cackled. "Well, I had to get one up on you guys. Never underestimate the original Medjed."

"Well, alright. That's one finger down for... Everyone except Oracle. Alright, Noir. It's your turn."

"Oh. Well, let me see." Haru pondered. "Never have I ever... Tried the 6,000 yen Dark Ivory coffee at the Wilton Hotel."

The engine rumbled amidst the dip in conversation, the teens looking between one another with blank expressions.

"Uh, Noir?" Ann eventually broke the silence. "Clearly none of us have done that before. Now you have to lower a finger. You're supposed try to try and get us out."

"Oh, I could never do that. You're all my friends."

"But that's the point of the game!" Ryuji's voice rose again. "You're gonna lose at this rate!"

"Moving on." Ren interrupted, his lips sliding into a smirk. "Never have I ever eaten so much fatty tuna that I made myself sick."

"What?!" The Mona-bus vibrated as an indignant mewl reverberated throughout. "Why are you singling me out, Joker? I'm not playing. I don't even have fingers!"

"We can keep track. That's one down for Mona."

"Hmph. Fine, but I'm going next."

"Whatever. Do your worst."

"Never have I ever… called a Maid Service before."

"You damn cat!" Ryuji exclaimed, thumping the side of the car. "I thought we agreed to keep quiet about that."

"You called a Maid Service?" Ann side-eyed Ryuji, a shudder crawling up the base of his spine.

"Well, uh…" Anxious, Ryuji glance darted around the inside of the car, desperate for a lifeline. "Hey! I- I'm not the only one who's guilty here. Right, leader?"

Swallowing, Ren begrudgingly lowered a finger.

"What?!"

"A maid's services? Hmm, how fascinating. I wonder if they would be willing to serve as the model for my next piece?"

"Dude, it's 5,000 yen a visit. Like you'd be able to afford that."

"Also, I thought you agreed; no more nude paintings!"

"Anyway! Uh… Panther; you're up next."

"Oh, me? Hm, well... Never have I ever… dated before."

To the surprise of no one in the group, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Futaba each kept the fingers up, while Haru lowered a finger. However, given the circumstances surrounding her and her fiancé, the Thieves were happy not to ask for any more details. What piqued their curiosity more so, was when Makoto and Ren both each lowered a finger.

"Wait… What?!"

"Dude! You mean you were out scorin' hotties and didn't think to tell me?!"

"Well, Joker has had an entire life outside of Tokyo that we are not privy to…"

"Plus, his charm stats are like… maxed out."

"Right. Still, I really wasn't expecting that from you, Queen."

"W- well, there is someone… That I'm seeing."

The car jolted, almost swerving off of the tracks and into the station's wall, as Ann pulled herself over the front seat.

"What?!"

"Panther, please! Stay in your seat."

"Oops. Sorry!" Ann flushed, returning to her spot in the middle row. "I just can't believe you'd keep something like that from me."

"W- well, we both agreed to keep things... discreet."

"Perhaps we should move on from this topic for the time being," Yusuke suggested. "It seems to be getting Panther rather excited."

"Right." Joker nodded. "Well, Queen; it's your turn."

Makoto paused, one hand slipping from the steering wheel to touch her chin.

There was much she had not experienced before finding the Phantom Thieves, things that many would see as a normal part of life for a typical, Japanese teenager. If she were being tactical, there were likely several answers she could give that would get most of the others out.

Still, recently she had been fortunate to gain friends who brought more of simple pleasures into her life. In particular, it was thanks to the young man seated across from her that she had been able to broaden her horizons.

Though, thinking on it; as she caught Joker in her peripheral vision; Makoto realised, with a flush, there were still things she wished to learn.

"Never have I ever... kissed someone before."

"Woah, woah, wait a minute." Ryuji interjected. "You're with a guy but you haven't even swapped spit yet?"

"Skull." Ann sighed, her nose wrinkling at the boy's crude description.

"N- no, it's fine, really." Makoto countered, lifting her hands from the wheel briefly. "It's all still very new to me. I think he's just been holding back on my account. I just wish there was a way I could let him know that I want it as much as I think he does."

"Aw, don't worry, Queen!" Futaba encouraged. "I'm sure he'll come to his senses."

"Yeah! Any guy would be lucky to be with you."

"Anyway, looks like Joker and Noir are the only ones who lowered their fingers. No surprises there."

"Actually," Joker cleared his throat, and raised his hand, showing that his total was still at seven.

"Okay, now I'm confused."

"What else is new?"

A pained meow rang from the car as Ryuji's bat struck the inside wall.

Makoto flushed as she felt Joker's gaze cover her; the stark white of his mask accentuating his eyes, drawing her to them. She bit her lip, readjusting her grip on the steering wheel.

"I suppose you could say I was... holding back."

"I- is that, so?" Makoto answered, trying to keep her eyes focused ahead, away from Ren's longing stare.

She had hoped that in keeping her answers curt and concentrating on the road ahead the conversation would shift, the rest of the Thieves carrying on with their game. Yet, their interest had seemingly turned towards their leader, as he watched her with a fond smile.

"Queen, pull over here." Joker instructed abruptly; his tone sharp.

Makoto slowed the vehicle to stop, suspecting that Joker had spotted a target.

She immediately ripped off her seatbelt and moved to open the door, more than willing to steer the focus away from their conversation.

However, at the flash of red covering her own gloved hand and ceasing her movement, she turned, catching Joker's mask with a puzzled expression.

Having readied herself for battle, Makoto's normally sharp reflexes had been prepared to react the moment something grasped at her. Though, her guard slipped as Joker's fingers caught her the jaw.

Their masks clinked together as he pulled her face towards his own; the breath that ripped involuntarily from her throat was caught by the soft pressure of his lips.

Her first kiss.

The scent of coffee still lingered on his breath, likely remnants from his breakfast at Leblanc. The bitter taste warmed her chest, striking and familiar.

Now unimpeded by her seatbelt, Makoto fell deeper into Ren's embrace, her hands lifting to catch in the thick clumps of his hair.

It was surprisingly soft.

Spurred on by the sensation of Makoto kissing back, Ren trailed his hands down to the swell of her hips, appreciating how her suit clung to them. Makoto's eyes bulged in surprise as she was pulled into Joker's lap, though she didn't break from his lips, her arms surrounding him.

With that daring gesture, it struck her that she was sharing her first kiss not with Ren, but Joker; an experience distinct from what she had anticipated. It hadn't been a shy, chaste caress that had caught her; a moment their relationship had steadily being building towards; but something bolder, more extravagant.

The gesture, in a sense, reflected how they had entered each other's lives, how they had awoken to their true selves in the Metaverse; abruptly and explosively. How everything strange and otherworldly suddenly began to make sense, as if it had been there, waiting, all along.

There was something captivating about the suave, cocky persona Ren assumed in the Metaverse. Seeing those soft, shy smiles of his break into confident grins; his dark, mysterious eyes, shining and proud. The way he remained strong and collected for the rest of his team, even during their most tense battles.

That he was forward enough to make the first move; where in the real world he may have hesitated; closing the distance between them like this, his lips flickering into a familiar smirk as they caressed against her own.

It was... sexy.

The magic dissipated as Makoto became conscious of the eyes boring into her, sliding up her spine like cold digits as she recalled, abruptly, that they weren't alone. Gasping, Makoto slipped from Joker's arms, glancing mortified, towards their friends.

Ann's hands had lifted to cover her mouth, barely containing the bright smile lighting her features. There was a sheen in her wide, starry eyes. Haru had moved up beside her, hands similarly cradled together.

"Oh, how romantic."

With a smirk, Futaba had, reflexively, pulled out her smartphone; a pout settling across her features when she remembered the camera function was useless in the Metaverse.

Beside her, Yusuke was rifling through the back of the car, eventually producing a canvas and a selection of brushes, frantically setting them up.

"You two, hold your positions! I must capture this!"

"Inari!? When did you bring that with you? And also, why?"

Ryuji watched on in curious silence, his brow furrowed as he scratched the back of his head.

"Huh? Skull? What's up?"

"So, like... Do they have to drop a finger now, or what?"

[lavendersyrop]

Fata Morgana

Glasgow, 10am

Thursday. Chemistry class. I’m sitting in the back of this boring but at the same time intriguing class. Chemistry. I’m not a fan of long conversations about why helium has high thermal conductivity. Even though I’m here sitting in the back drawing in my notebook. The notebook I choose to be my agenda actually become my art journal where every page is full of black ink, messed with my fingertips (because I’m not so attentive when it’s come to drawing). Here and there are written a few quotes that I’ve read in my English literature class “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.” And one name, one beautiful short name written in messy handwriting, dotted or with big shrift. Crossed with black lines and eyes sketches that have the same shape on every page.

Striking eyes that I remember by heart, every little detail, each line! How they shine, how sleepy they look when they are tired. I remember them. I can tell you and retell how tantalizing their spectrum are, how I close mine and see them in front of me. Haunting my every dream. My mind while I’m in class debating Shakespeare.

Right now I can’t see them, but I don’t need to because I can imagine. I’ve my notebook full of them. Big blue eyes somewhere between gunmetal and sky blue. My parents warned me about addictions, but they didn’t warned me about blue eyes.

Blue eyes, skin like the inner swell of a seashell, a ghost of beauty expressed by an alluring body, chocolate hair colored with a little tone of mahogany and golden that create a beautiful crown...

“Jamie”

Delicate, elegant hands…

“James. James Fraser” I look up at my teacher who by now was already beside me.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your inner monologue, but can you please come back to us,” she said with a big smile, Mrs. Simmons is always smiling, you can say that she maybe is just a type of happy person, but I see on her face shades of pain and sadness.

“I’m so sorry, I started thinking about helium but my thoughts throw me on the other side of magic potions.”

Mrs. Simmons smiled again with her big brown kind eyes. She understands that I don’t have any relations to chemistry and I think she guessed why I choose it.

“Okay class, for today is enough. For the next class, I want you to get paired with someone and make a project together with the title “ Chemistry and … “ you have together to choose any other subject that somehow interact with chemistry, this can be a non-science domain. Because is just the beginning of the year and I know that you’re still in the summer spirit, I made a list of each of you already grouped so to say. Remember you have only 2 weeks, make it worthy.”

I look at that list with my breath growing deeper and slower.

"Mrs. Simmons, can we change our partners?"

"Why you ask Jamie, you don't like miss Beauchamp?" by her look I can see that she is just joking and probably she didn't mean it. But I can feel how my cheeks and ears are turning red.

"No, I just thought that maybe miss Beauchamp want to be partner with Frank, that's all"

I can feel each of my classmates' judgemental looks on me, but I'm really afraid right now, even though I don't know why. You see, miss Beauchamp is the owner of those eyes, I told you a few minutes ago, I can't be near to her. Because... because I like her, I have got a crush on her. I like her from my first year here. 'I like her' is an easy to express my feelings. She is my every second thought. I wanted so many times to come to her and just start talking, say 'hi' or even just wave her, I can't. I didn't try but I don't even want to, because I know I will get freak out.

You see, miss Beauchamp is dating Frank Randall, the one who knows history, politics and is all time favorite student. He is the smart one, always punctual, dressed better than most of our teachers, with a great car and a dad who provide him everything he wants. I'm his opposite. I don't like politics, I have a pickup truck and a big obsession with literature and art. We have a common thing and that is 'miss Beauchamp'.

“ It’s okay, here is no need to change the list “ miss Beauchamp said.

“Then good luck everyone. See y’all next time!

Jamie can you stop for a minute” she said in her most caring way.

While everyone packed their backpacks, I had this urge to look at miss Beauchamp. Looking at her I see that she is thinking of something or something bothers her. I pray that this is not my comment about partners.

When you start to love someone and this love is just one way, you want at least to be seen as good as you can, as smart as you can. You want to be more than you actually are, because you have dreams and hopes, you consider that they will see in you as good option. They will see your worth and will feel attracted to you.

That’s me right now.

I didn’t want to sound like an ungrateful loser who thinks so highly of himself.

As I return from my thoughts, the chemistry class was already empty.

“ Jamie, come closer please! “

“ Jamie, I really want to know what is going on with you now, you seem very distracted. I know you don’t have any feelings for chemistry” she said with a big smile. Sometimes I don’t get her at all.

“ but last year you were at least present here, all.” She gesticulate to show the importance of this sentence. “ I want to know because if you will be distracted all the time I will ask for your transfer to another class or teacher. I like you, not because you have many possibilities in chemistry, I like you because you’re honest with me. I never saw someone to be so open and yet to feel like he’s holding something. I need you to open this time with me and to tell me what’s going on?!”

While she speaks so quietly and yet so fierce, I started to feel like I own an apology to her and to miss Beauchamp.

“ I’m really sorry, Mrs. Simmons. I know you want to know what’s up with me, but I don’t know myself. I feel distracted but not the obvious kind of distraction. I think I’m just tired.”

She looked at me with her big brown eyes, and her eyes give me more encouragement than any word she ever said.

“ I promise I’ll do better. I know I can. I’ll try better and I will be back myself.” I said this with a big smile, hoping that this will end our conversation.

“Okay Jamie. I believe in you and trust you. Have a good day.”

I return to my desk and I took my backpack, trying to escape from everything as quickly as possible.

“And Jamie...” her voice stopped me.

“ I know that in English class they teach you to see love as something powerful, sweet destructive and so important to our soul. You see it as mirage somewhere at the horizon, then you recreate it in your mind over and over again. But if you want a true love you don’t have to recreate it in your mind, you have to ‘create’ it here and there.

In English class you may have the strength to wait for a unimaginable love, but at chemistry if something is not happening right. We change the substance to something more efficiently.

If the results is coming slowly, we just add another matter as impulse for a good and quickly result!”

She just winked at me and continued to organize her papers.

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PS. A Fata Morgana is a complex form of superior mirage that is seen in a narrow band right above the horizon

English is my 5th languages so if I did some mistakes please tell me & i know in OL books Claire has brown eyes, but Cait has blue so i kept this detail.

PSS. I wrote this 2 (maybe 3) years ago. In order to say thank you to @whiskynottea (hi from GigiAnderson on ao3) cuz her fanfic helped me gain peace in my own home. I never posted it cuz I'm super nervous when it comes to that, so I'll act like i never did it.

[sourcherrymagiks]

Carry on Countdown 2019

Day 18 - Crack!

Lamplight

Ao3

Simon

He’s trying to avoid talking to me. That’s how it happens. There was kissing. Amazing kissing. Merlin and Morgana, he’s beautiful and when he kisses me back.....

But anyway. He’s also a stuck up twat who can avoid the shit out of anything. We were back in the room after the kissing (Great Snakes,that kiss though) and he was taking forever to hang his blazer up so he didn’t have to look at me or talk to me. What was I going to do but come up behind him and kiss his neck? I ask you, what else could I have done?

Which is how we came to stumble and fall into the wardrobe. And then straight out of the back. Into a drift of snow.

“Erm Baz, this is going to sound pretty stupid but I think we just fell into...”

“Narnia”

“Yes”

Baz

I know that this is somehow his fault. Why does he always have to involve me in his ridiculous heroics. Although, to be fair, this is well outside of his usual remit.

“Snow, might I suggest we go back? From memory Narnia has its own set of chosen ones. Lots of them. They can probably get by without you”

“I’m not sure that’s how this works, the path has gone”

I look around and he’s totally right. It’s just us, in the snow, under a lamppost.

I can’t keep the petulant tone out of my voice as I say “But you are our chosen one, you belong to the world of Mages”

He laughs and kisses me. “Didn’t know you cared you big softy” I briefly toy with the idea of snapping at him but instead I pull him back into another kiss.

When I pull away to catch my breath and try to get a hold over my treacherous body, Simon gets up. I grumble a bit under my breath but then I decide to co operate a bit. Grudgingly. It seems very unfair that we are here and not snogging in our room. Even though I was the one avoiding the snogging (Why?, I’m such an idiot)

Snow’s sketching in the snow with a stick. It looks like nonsense until I’m standing right next to him. Then it hits me at once, he’s drawn a map of Narnia. From memory.

I must be staring at him because he starts laughing.

“I know you think I’m a thick urchin who’s only ever read cereal packets but I’ve loved Narnia my whole life”

“Me too, that part is not quite right” I alter the shape of the western forest slightly so it ends further from the frozen lake. “I would definitely remember if you were the hero in it. I suppose you do have a bit of Peter about you”

“Fuck off Caspian” he throws a snowball at me. I throw one back. Then I kiss him again because this is all unbelievable.

He’s sketching plot points out now, trying to work out the timeline.

“Right you gorgeous villain, we need to get to the camp here in time for the battle. There’s enough footprints and sled tracks here to show they’ve all been through fairly recently. I don’t think we can help at any point up until the end, do you agree?”

“I do, excuse me while I try to absorb the shock of you being a reader.” He lightly punches me on the arm, he’s blushing. “Is your magic working?”

We both laugh

“As well as it ever does, yours?”

I take out my wand and cast ‘lights out’ at the lamp post. It blinks off.

“Cool. Let’s get moving. Keep your wand out. I don’t want to draw my sword until I need it and I, Erm, can I hold your hand please”

“Come here” I grab his hand and before I can stop myself I’ve kissed his knuckles.

“I like this, you,like this” he bumps my shoulder with his.

Simon

I’m really excited. I dunno if it’s the Baz thing or the Narnia thing but I’m so amped up I’m practically skipping.

“So, Caspian then?” Baz asks with his eyebrow up.

“It’s possible that I might have been not entirely straight for a while”

“You think?”

“There’s no need for that tone you wanker”

Then I’ve got him up against a tree. This want is everything. I need to touch him, kiss him, press myself against him.

He doesn’t just let me, he right there with me, pulling my hair, licking my neck, moaning into my mouth.

He pulls away gasping “Right Snow, let’s get back to the mission and stop debauching the pristine Narnian forests”

“But I like it, I like you” I’m whining a bit.

“You aren’t completely intolerable either Snow”

We seem to have been walking forever. I slept about ten minutes last night. I would kill for some Turkish delight.

“In the books it doesn’t seem this far”

I moan to Baz

“Heaven forbid that the made up world is larger than the children’s book made it appear”

“I get your point, even though you’re a twat, but its hardly made up is it?”

He shrugs. I’m rubbing off on him. That makes me smile. I nearly don’t hear the crack of the twig, I’ve disarmed the guard before I’ve had chance to worry about my sword or magic. They aren’t the best written soldiers.

“Take us to either Peter or Aslan please” I ask the battered looking Narnian as politely as I can be arsed to. I’m not great at manners when I’m hungry and tired.

Baz

Peter is beautiful, not a patch on Snow obviously, but still. The two of them together are blinding. Simon offers our assistance and Peter accepts a little unwillingly. I’m not sure he would at all if not for the wonderful Lucy. She never sees herself as the protagonist so she doesn’t have the same struggle as Peter. To be fair I wouldn’t want to share my story with Simon bloody Snow if I already had three siblings and a lion muscling in on the action. Poor fuck.

The two of them spend the afternoon practicing, Snow is better trained and in great shape but Peter is faster and lighter in his feet. It’s glorious.

When Simon fights Edmund it’s a different thing. No longer a master class in heroic swordplay fought by two golden leaders. Now it’s like a cunning bar fight. Simon has to stop himself from head butting Edmond. When he throws an elbow at Edmond’s face,then stops before it connects, Edmond is not so polite and punches Simon in his exposed ribs. It’s very feral.

When they’re done he comes over and presses his sweaty lips to mine. I don’t know how I avoid making a scene.

Obviously it’s still a bit of a scene. Uncomfortable coughs and averted eyes abound. Then simultaneously everyone decides to ignore it and peace is restored.

I leave to speak with Lucy. She’s got magic and I want to see if I can help her use it. It doesn’t work like ours though. She can’t harness it. I advise her to go to Watford as soon as she can when she returns home. She probably won’t.

She gives Simon a small banner embroidered with a dragon holding a blazing sun. He tucks it into his pocket because the courageous fuck won’t wear armour. He kisses her head. I’m completely flabbergasted when she gives me one emblazoned with a flaming moon. I must be allergic to it because my eyes are watering.

After dinner we talk tactics. Simon keeps quiet about upcoming plot points and focuses on the battle. Simon and Peter lean over the map, blond hair and copper curls tumbling together as the argue over every inch. From his plan I deduce that Snow’s aim is to kill the witch while keeping all the kids well out of the way. This goes down like a sack of shit with Peter. It’s his story and he is the king. Gorgeous (and capable) as Simon is he can’t lead this army. They aren’t loyal to him. Also he won’t play by their outdated battle rules, fight in a line and die, because he knows better. They finally agree on enough compromises to keep everyone happy and save lives. A lot of lives.

In spite of the protests I hold my ground. I will stay by his side regardless of what he thinks he’s going to order me to do.

It’s fun. Really. I mean there is an impending battle but, Crowley, I’ve read that battle so many times. It’s going to be brilliant. I catch Simon’s eye and I know he feels it too.

Simon

I can’t fucking sleep. This is going to be epic. I’m traipsing around the camp looking for anything to take my mind off the combination of wanting to get into this battle and wanting to do unspeakable things to Baz.

It’s not the time though, right?

We still haven’t talked. It’s possible we’ve managed to bring a fictional world to life to avoid talking. But I’m going to tell him after the battle. Hopefully it will be dead romantic.

Baz

The battle starts off early and badly, not quite as badly as I remember because Simon is genius at this and Peter listened to about a quarter of his suggestions. Plus there are two of them.

The absolute confidence of them helps keep up the morale that’s been damaged by Aslan fucking off.

Simon hadn’t mentioned that he was the bearer of a flaming sword or that he had a particularly impressive brand of violent, pulsing magic so when he calls his sword, the fear it causes slams the first wave right back.

I cast quickly and use so much magic that I’m nearly spent in moments but I have taken down most of the ogres and a couple of hags. Peter, Edmond and Simon smash through line after line of the White Witch’s army. Simon is actually grinning, the prat.

I wait for Simon’s signal to disarm the White Witch. Then he’s on her in a moment with Edmond and Peter. She never stands a chance.

By the time Aslan arrives back with the girls there’s only cleaning up and healing to do. He growls at Simon and Simon shrugs at him. He turns his back clearly as pissed off as a magical lion gets.

“This was not your battle Mage”

“Explain how it just was then wise one?”

Simon is brillant at one liners, when he’s not fighting me. I guess it’s in the job description. Aslan grunts and continues back to his tent. What a prick. I guess he’s not willing to let the homoerotic subtext turn into the story.

It’s very clear we’ve outstayed our welcome.

Simon

That was mega. But now it’s time to go. I don’t want to fuck with these guys and I also don’t want Aslan to eat me.

It’s a pretty shitty deal those kids have got anyway. Kings and queens in one land but not able to stay. We hug them goodbye. At least I live where I live. Except for right now obviously.

I grab Baz and we set off back to the lamppost.

“That was amazing, you were amazing” I say to him

He looks at me like he thinks I might he taking the piss.

“You did an ok job yourself Snow. You’re not as pretty as Peter though”

I’m glad he catches me when I jump on him. “Take that back Pitch”

“It’s an objective fact Snow, he is more dashing, I just prefer you”

“You do?”

“Yes you attention seeking numpty, I have appalling taste so I prefer you to most people”

“Good. Because, well, I’m, I think I might be, falling, you know, for you” Merlin. I doubt he’s even going to understand that.

Then he kisses me and I know he does.

Baz

I’ve been kissing Snow for hours. We don’t know how time works here relative to Watford so we should get back. But it’s complicated there and easy here under a lamppost in a forest full of spring.

It’s also not our story.

Simon still has his own story to finish.

“Ready Sweetheart?”

“Not really love”

“Shall we do it anyway?”

“After you”

[shadowshole]

What’s new in ‘Shadow Hole cannot settle on a stupid art style for the life of hers’-land?

My centaur universe update is here!

Initially Morgana was going to be next, but her file on my computer disappeared, nice! So you get Merlin instead! Someone asked me to do him next in the tags, so it seemed only fair.

Like before, I’ll include some of my thoughts below, and here’s the previous post if you are interested.

I again must mention @theartingace , since their work inspired me to make these posts

First of all. I don’t like that face up in the left corner. But who cares, I need to learn to just go with it, so here it is.

An update from last post: I have decided that centaurs prefer to grow their hair longer. Kings, in particular, almost never cut their hair, why is that? When a kingdom loses a war against the other, it is custom for the King (or queen) who won to cut the losing King’s hair. A king with very long hair is a ruler that either managed to keep the peace among its neighbors or one who hasn’t lost any war. A king can choose to keep their hair short on purpose, but it can be seen as cowardice, as no one can cut your hair if it’s already very short. So it’s regarded by many as a preemptive measure of a weak King or Queen. This concept is taken from some actual historic fact that I morphed into this. Betcha can’t wait to see a long hair-ed Uther, uh?

All of this to say: Merlin has longer hair in here. I would like to imagine it being actually quite long at the beginning, but slowly getting shorter as the years go by. If long hair represents peace (even if just for the Kings), it would make sense for Merlin to shorten it after all he goes through. Yeah. Sad boi hours.

LET’S GO BACK TO SOMETHING POSITIVE!

AITHUSA!

If you’ve seen my last post, you’ll know that my dragons are quite different from the ones we see in canon. So here she is in all of her adorable glory. There isn’t much to say about her, tbh, other than the fact that she’s the cutest! But we already knew that.

Shifting onto the dragonlord side of Merlin, since we talked about Aithusa, we gotta address that drawing on the top left. For no reason aside from the fact that it looks cool, dragonlords have dragon scales on their bodies in this universe! That’s why Merlin must always keep his scarf on. Can’t let anyone see! They go from the sides of his neck, down his spine, and they stop right above his pelvis. I actually made a drawing detailing that, but I won’t share ‘cuz I hate it! 

As for what he is wearing aside from the scarf: 

The first thing he has to put on is his shirt, it’s much longer on the front, as it needs to wrap under the horse’s belly to avoid chafing because of the leather harness.

After that he’ll put on this long version of his jacket, but to hold it in place on the front he needs to secure it with something, that’s where the harness comes into play. As you can see from the second drawing, it’s rather simple to put on, it can’t be otherwise in this universe. He can simply hold it in his hands and step in the places where the legs belong, a bit like us when we put on our underwear. He secures it over his back, sliding in a bag (bottom right) or two if he needs them for something, and then he can attach the jacket through those holes you see on the leather band on top. In my mind, they use something like jacket cuffs/ wristbands. You know, these things:

Maybe Arthur can gift him some better ones for his birthday!

One last thing! The sorcerers in this universe technically have the bodies of unicorns, not horses, lucky for them, the only thing that distinguishes horses from unicorns are the horns on their heads! And they don’t have horses’ heads, just plain, human ones! I still hinted at the presence of a horn in the sketch, even if I didn’t go through with it. Still, you can KINDA see that it’s a unicorn and not just a regular horse by its tail. Some people draw them in a way that resembles a lion’s tail, right? There you go, then. If you squint, you’ll see that the hair doesn’t start directly from the body but is entirely attached to the bone. I couldn’t make it too obvious, or anyone in Camelot would go: “Look at that tail! That person is clearly a sorcerer! Get ‘em!!”

The guards are dumb, but not that dumb!!

That’s all I had to say for now! See you in the next update!