#Fallen Spectral Cookie

[intistone]

get grabbed, idiot

[hedgeartzone]

@intistone Come get your cookie, they're gonna be late for tea with the Desolate Realm.

Drawing cookies is way more fun than I thought.

Also what started this all

This gif caused so much chaos

[magicpaint]

TWST Indie Perfume Recs ✦ Scary Monsters

This list features five fragrances per dorm focused around the costumes and backgrounds featured in the first two Halloween events.

Fragrance notes are taken from their respective websites.

Heartslabyul

Buried Alive (Bloodbath) — Patchouli Essential Oil and Graveyard Dirt

Love After Death (Darker Things) — Wilted Roses, Incense, Chocolate Musk, Coffin Wood, Ivy

Knave of Pumpkins (BPAL) — Crushed roses, red currant, and pumpkin tarts.

Pumpkin Tombstone (BPAL) — Dried pumpkin leather with vanilla, balsam and sassafras layered over Virginia cedar.

Midnight in the Graveyard (Paranormal Perfumes) — Cool Rain, Fog, Damp Dirt, Moss, White Funeral Lilies, Dark Patchouli

Savanaclaw

Pirates! (BPAL) — Gunpowder and salt-crusted leather, casks of scorched spices, sweet rum, and a clink of golden amber.

Lorelai (Fantome) — Tart wild strawberries, basil, black narcissus, entangling seaweed, watery graves.

Song of the Siren (Paranormal Perfumes) — Ocean Mist, Coconut Rum, Agave Nectar, Sea Grass, Vanilla, Lime

Old Havana (Solstice Scents) — Tobacco, Woods, Sea Mist, Lime, Spices.

Hook (Storybooke Scents) — Bergamot, Onyx Rose, Sea Moss, Vetiver, Leather, Suede, Spiced Musk

Octavinelle

Stormy Night (Darker Things) — Dark Aquatic Notes, Rain Drenched Earth, Humidity, Wet Pavement, Sodden Foliage and Petals, Storm-Cooled Breeze

Industrial Sabotage (Alkemia) — A cataclysmic wreckage of burnt wires; twisted melted steel; shattered machinery, and gunpowder. 

It's Only Magic (CocoaPink) — Lashings of sugary vanilla, magical herbs, dried sage, ritual incense, Bulgarian lavender, musk, and a chilling ocean breeze.

Mad Scientist (Nui Cobalt) — It begins with acid green top notes of Mexican and Persian limes spiked with piquant cardamom. Then a total transformation occurs, revealing blackest vanilla and smooth salted caramel.

Sensory Deprivation Tank (CocoaPink) — Pale liquid vanilla infused with nuances of smoldering tonka bean, calming milk, white oud and wood smoke.

Scarabia

Beast (Storybooke Scents) — Citrus, French Lavender, White Musk, Wood, Leather, Amyris, Patchouli

Harvest Moon (Paranormal Perfumes) — Spiced Bread, Butter, Honey, Anise, Orange Zest, Ginger, Vanilla

Full Moon (Nui Cobalt) — Notes of white tea, steamed jasmine rice, sugared lemon, and cool night air.

Nightwalker (Paintbox Soapworks) — White Patchouli, Oakmoss, Nutmeg, Woodland Herbs

Moonlight, Wolf (BPAL) — Wild patchouli root, fossilized amber, russet musk, clove bud, juniper needles, hay absolute, and earthy oud with a glimmer of yellow crystalline lemon peel.

Pomefiore

Lunar Velvet (Simon's Nest) — Top notes: Fresh fig, creamy coconut and vanilla pod infusion. Heart Notes: Clary sage, black cherry, cassis and lime. Base Notes: Cedarwood, sandalwood, vanilla bourbon and styrax benzoin.

Bloodletting (Bloodbath) — Dark plum, Raspberry, Cranberry, Red Apple, Strawberry, Honey and Rum

Vassago (Fantome) — A silver dagger, red wine mulled with blackberries, cloves, & orange peels, a goblet of blood & a black mirror.

Coven (Paranormal Perfumes) — Black Plum, Peach Nectar, Fallen Leaves, Patchouli, Leather, Peony, Violet, Cinnamon, Vanilla Cashmere

Midnight Merlot (Horror House of Alchemy) — Notes of red grape, strawberry, and cherry with the floral and sweet accents of blossom and vanilla musk

Ignihyde

Mesmer (Fantome) — Deep, luxurious oudh, refined vetiver, cool frankincense, slightly salty ambergris, smooth myrrh, and dark patchouli.

Haunted Harvest (Horror House of Alchemy) — Pumpkin, Lavender, Patchouli, and Egyptian Musk

Ghost Story (Darker Things) — Ghostwood Incense, Black Licorice, Orris, Black Pear, Tonka Bean

Keep Your Head (CocoaPink) — Civilized black tea, Dutch butter cookies and apricots; a circle of protective incense; a glowing grinning pumpkin; and a night wind of whirling leaves, woodsmoke, damp mosses, and tossed earth.

Phantom Team of Horses (BPAL) — A spectral cacophony of shimmering, translucent dun sandalwood, grey amber, and wraith-chilled chestnut galloping through the mist-cloaked shadows of time, a clattering of clove and black pepper, and a crack of phantom leather.

Diasomnia

Blood Moon (Lizabe) — Notes of dragon's blood, incense, patchouli, oranges, cloves, black cherries, cedar, strawberries, pineapple, lime, and tonka bean.

Jubilant Dragon (Wylde Ivy) — Dragon’s Blood incense, dried flower crowns, white patchouli, ylang ylang, and a hint of guaiac wood

Claws (Astrid) — Gunpowder and salt-crusted leather, casks of scorched spices, sweet rum, and a clink of golden amber.

Jeepers Creepers (Nui Cobalt) — Fresh basil, geranium aged 20 years, balm melissa, nutmeg, pink pepper, coriander, tawny musk, and sacred resins of Himalayan cedar, dragon’s blood, labdanum, and opopanax.

When Thy Will Stung the World into Strife (BPAL) — Dragon’s blood resin, red ginger, bourbon geranium, thorny rosemary, red sandalwood, pink pepper, and green coffee bean.

Website Links —

Alkemia

Astrid

Bloodbath

BPAL

CocoaPink

Darker Things

Fantome

Horror House of Alchemy

Lizabe

Nui Cobalt

Paintbox Soapworks

Paranormal Perfumes

Simon's Nest

Solstice Scents

Storybooke Scents

Wylde Ivy

[silvcrbclls]

A Beast!

Silverbell has heard the stories of said beasts, powerful cookies that have fallen from grace and doomed into this world of Beast-Yeast, he never thought that he be face to face with one and this one caused so much pain.

No, he must not show fear! Not now! Not ever!

He gritted his teeth as he looked at the leering Beast before speaking, holding his ground even when told that this cookie was spectral.

"Stop messing with me! I know what your kind has done! Nothing but pain and agony for all cookiekind!

You must face justice for your crimes! I will not run away from you, even if you are a beast! We, The Silver Knights of The Faerie Kingdom will defend and avenge our fallen Majesty!"

He announced as he holds his arrow steady, he knew deep down it won't affect Shadow-Milk but he isn't letting his guard down, not even for a minute.

---- 🌸 ----

The silver knight kept his bow aimed as he watched the crackling jester approaching, a bit of icing dripped from Silverbell's cheek as he spoke.

"S-Stay back or else! I'm warning you as you were the one causing all the mayhem in the Faerie Kingdom as well as harm our Majesty! Surrender now or be taken by force to answer for your crimes!"

---- 🌸 ----

[francostrider]

‘The Last of Us’ Was Not the First of Anything

With The Last of Us the Game the Series released, the conversation of whether or not this is the greatest game that ever gamed has come up once again. Its position was called into question due to the mixed reaction of its sequel in 2020, and while it still had defenders, people were a lot more open to discussing the original’s flaws. But there are still those who call it the greatest game ever, and award shows (a cancer upon entertainment) love to push that narrative.

As I maintain, this is subjective, and declaring anything the greatest is a shallow viewpoint of any medium and only serves to invalidate the whole rainbow of other works that are, ultimately, not comparable. The sequel was incredibly divisive for that simple fact. You cannot compare The Last of Us, a cover shooter with some expensive cutscenes, to more complex RPGs like Divinity Original Sin 2, or high octane action games like Metal Gear Rising Revengeance, or investigative titles like The Return of the Obra Din. Comparing them is like comparing a lawn mower to a cookie tray. I have not played The Last of Us, and while it may be a competently made game, it holds zero value to me. I’ve heard the praise (the cutscenes), and the criticisms (Ellie not being a factor in gameplay, gameplay is pretty derivative, etc.), but I’m not going to rip into it because it’s not part of the my world.

And fans of TLOU, don’t take that personally. Final Fantasy VII Remake also holds no value to me. As does Lisa: The Painful RPG, most Final Fantasy, Valkyrie Profile, Call of Duty, Fortnite or a lot of other popular franchises of today. I am occasionally surprised by something out of my usual repetiore, like Dawn of War, but with my limited time, I want to put my time to something I am interested in, and I’m well past the point of caring about hype. The games I criticize are the ones I wanted to care about (Fire Emblem Fates) and wanted to do better.

But let’s make something clear: The Last of Us was not a first on any given level.

We all know the meme of someone on Twitter saying that Video Games have been nothing but coin crunchers until TLOU. From my research the “showrunner” quoted (who had been left anonymous) does not exist, and the post was a joke to anger people. But I have gotten into arguments with people who claimed that The Last of Us was the first to be really “narrative focused”. Sadly, this was not the only example.

And, say, aren’t we forgetting a few? If you want to go back to narrative driven games, the earliest I can think of are adventure games, like the Monkey Island series. You know, back in the 80s, early 90s. RPGs (both western and Japanese), have been playing with dialogue and settings and character arcs since the NES days. But the one that comes to mind for myself is a little old game on the PS1 by Hideo Kojima.

Metal Gear Solid for a lot of people (including myself) was the first to put a lot of effort into its cutscenes. Not only that, but it was the first I played to put the voice talent onto center stage. When introduced to a new character, you are given the name of the character and the name of the voice actor behind it. As a kid, I did not think of the voice talent much before that game. Kojima not only wanted you to know the characters and their story, but the voices behind them.

On the shoulder of that game, you have Legacy of Kain: Soul Reaver. I was more aware of the voice talent coming into this game, but there are some significant details that marry gameplay with the story. Raziel is a fallen vampire, turned soul devouring lich. The bones were torn from his wings and he was cast into an abyss, killing him before an ancient being brings him back. In this form, he needs to devour souls to maintain himself in the living world, or else be forced back into the spectral realm. His torn wings can be used as an impromptu parachute to glide. Devouring greater vampires leads to new powers to allow him to progress further. The vampires need to be killed in specific ways, like water or fire.

The point is Soul Reaver matches the gameplay and story with very little segregation. You feel the world and Raziel’s character in ways most games neglect. There is no forgetting the narrative during its gamplay. This is not the only example of this, but it is one that will always stand out in my mind. And this was all the way back in 1999. This is a classic example of a narrative driven game.

The Last of Us was basically a logical next step of the trends of the time: cover based shooting, refinement of cutscenes and voice work, graphical touches, and so on. It did not break trends or set them. Spec Ops: The Line is very often compared to TLOU, and that came out the year prior, specifically to deconstruct the modern military genre of shooters. We’d seen zombies before, we’d seen main characters fall apart, we’d seen character arcs and we’d seen some real downers up to that point.

This is not to say you cannot enjoy The Last of Us or that the game itself is toxic. By all means, have fun. But what is toxic is the narrative surrounding it. Calling it the greatest does nothing for the gaming industry except decide an arbitrary standard (like the Oscars) of which games are worth looking at. It decrees that only when you’ve worked your animation staff to death will you draw the greater collective’s attention. It implies that every other kind of game is a waste of time. It erases gaming history for the sake of Oscar fueled spectacle.

And most of all, it harms the legacy of The Last of Us itself. This myopic, elitist attitude toward gaming does nothing for a game about the desperate and downtrodden. Because the buzz and hype has become so important to the game, it muddies the message. We do not live in a vacuum: Timing and exposure of a piece is important. One of these days, we’re going to look back on this game more soberly and call into question the culture around it.

Maybe we can finally quit this Oscar bait nonsense and spread the attention around. That would be a first.

[akumadeshitsumon]

The legend of the headless horseman (part 1)

[[So, here is the first part of my attempt at a topical Halloween fic - a short drabble on how the demon currently known as Sebastian Michaelis came to be a headless horseman in the English countryside (VERY loosely inspired by the 14th century poem “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight”). I’ve got an idea for a connecting short story in Sebastian’s current time, which I hope to get around to this weekend. Mobile users, if you want to read this, I encourage you to read it on AO3 instead - I’ve seen what mobile tumblr does to my formatting, but I have no idea how to fix it. (If you do know (and the answer is something other than ‘format everything on your phone’) PLEASE let me know. There’s virtual cookies in it for you.)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124445/chapters/50657459 ]]

The legend of the headless horseman

The Dark Ages, somewhere in the English countryside.

There is an air of beauty to Autumn, especially in the countryside. By day there are gorgeous displays of autumn colours on the trees, fallen leaves dancing in the wind, and golden sunlight filtering through the morning mist and spilling into windows like liquid honey. In the fields, the crops that represent a year's worth of hard labour await the harvest, and in the orchards fruit hides coyly between the leaves, waiting to be picked. In the evening mist swirls over the fields and roads, and warm lights in the windows welcome the farmers home.

But Autumn's beauty is deceptive. Nightfall comes earlier every day, and the air turns bitterly cold. The leaves that danced merrily by day now rustle menacingly in the shadows, and warm sunlight is replaced by the silvery cold light of the moon earlier every passing day. As the light fades from the world and nature gives up her fight against the cold reality of the approaching winter, the darkness of night starts to feel more and more oppressive, like a dark force closing in on the little towns scattered around the countryside. By day, one can see the threads that bind these places together -  dirt roads and tree-lined paths, the fields and the workers in them. But by night, these connections disappear into darkness, cutting the villages off from each other. Such nights made humans feel... unwelcome. Those who had to be out at night walked quickly, their shoulders hunched against more than just cold, hurrying to get home.

It is on such dark and cold autumn nights, when the wind howls in the trees and darkness flows through the streets and coats the world like tar, that fear takes hold of human hearts and takes root in the depths of human minds.

And this was exactly what the demon was counting on.

In this contract it had not been named, but it had been given a task: to spread terror across the countryside and strike fear into the hearts of the peasants living there by any means necessary. Demands for tax and supplies had been high, and the locals were becoming restless, so the lord of the local castle had tasked the demon to clear up his mess while he continued to enjoy the fruits of his unbridled greed. Personally, the demon did not see how this behaviour could continue without consequence, but it had not been summoned for its piercing insights into the clearly unsustainable nature of its master's practices. It had been summoned for the power it wielded, and tonight it was meant to put this power to good use.

There were always whispers of ghostly forces at work in Autumn; strange shapes hiding in the mist over the fields, impossibly large animals stalking the woods at night, the cackling laughter of witches on the wind when the moon was full and bright. But lately a more tangible story had been added to the pile: the story of the headless horseman.

It was the miller who saw the knight first, though at first everyone thought he'd been drinking too much, as he'd been known to do. But the miller stuck to his story, and became very agitated when people did not believe him.

On his way home from the tavern one night he had heard hooves on the road ahead, and saw a horseman coming towards him. It was unusual in itself to be riding a horse out at night, though not particularly alarming. However, as the horseman drew close the miller started to suspect that something was wrong. The first thing he noticed was that both man and horse were very large; unusually large for any human or animal he'd ever laid eyes upon. Both horse and man were in full armour; the miller could hear the sound of metal hitting metal every time the horse's hooves hit the ground. This was highly unexpected, as there had not been war in these parts for as long as the miller had been alive. And there was something off about the rider's torch, as well; the light from it was not orange or yellow, as one might expect of a torch, but a sickly green, such as a smith's fire might be if metal shavings fell into it. Put together it was enough to make the miller feel uneasy. As the rider approached the miller's sense of unease increased. The rider was getting close now, but he showed no sign of slowing down, even though he must have spotted the miller on the road in this bright moonlit night. From his position on horseback the knight towered over the miller, but the miller could discern no eyes behind the helmet, no sign of recognition. Thoroughly spooked he leaped aside to avoid being trampled, and in that moment, he noticed that what he had taken to be a torch was not, in fact, a torch at all, but a sword; a flaming sword the size of a scythe, with green flames streaming off it like liquid. Most knights around these parts would have trouble lifting this sword with both hands, and yet the rider held it effortlessly in one hand, as though it was light as a feather. The flames seemed not to hurt him; they danced on his armour, which was also green, and then harmlessly winked out.

As the miller scrabbled up from the mud beside the road he heard the horse pull to a halt; perhaps the knight was feeling guilty for almost hitting him. The knight had stopped and raised his hand to his helmet, and for a moment the miller thought he was going to lift up his visor to speak. But instead the knight grabbed the helmet and lifted it away from his shoulders completely, revealing... nothing. There was no head on his shoulders, just the stump of a neck, dried blood coating it thickly. The knight lifted his helmet high above his head, and a booming laugh echoed through the air.

The miller felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. As the knight's horse reared the miller was already moving - he sprinted through the fields towards the woods, away from the road and the knight in green, whose laughter followed him all the way to the trees.

When he finally stopped to look back, the knight and his horse were gone.

As mentioned, the miller’s story was laughed off at first. After all, it was impossible for a man to ride around without a head. But soon more people reported seeing the spectral figure of the knight, often from further away, silhouetted against the sky with his head lifted high above his shoulders. The stories spread outwards in ripples; soon the knight was known across all of the region - and more crucially, all of the lord’s domain.

Before long, even those who had never seen the knight feared his presence at night. Going out after dark became a hazardous activity, and after the first few victims were found with their heads missing no one dared attempt such a feat at all. Rumours spread among the peasants like wildfire, and by the time the lord of the castle started his ‘investigation’ into the problem people were more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The lord’s heroic ‘battle’ against the knight would be passed along the families of the region for generations - how he confronted the green knight one night and chased him into the woods, only to return at sunrise carrying the flaming sword, which evaporated when touched by the morning light.

It was all suitably dramatic… and a load of old hogwash, of course. The demon was quite adept at creating illusions, and this one had been a masterpiece, if it did say so itself. In reality, all that had happened was its master chasing it into the woods, then waiting a suitable amount of time to build up suspense before returning to announce his glorious victory. The trick worked wonderfully well - the demon’s master saw his power over the peasants living on his lands redoubled, all ideas of dissent stripped from their minds. And when the lord later mysteriously vanished from his castle… well, that only added to the mythos of it all.

Over time humans gained more knowledge of the world around them, and slowly the belief in ghosts and legends dwindled. The headless horseman faded into legend, until he was nothing more than a story to scare kids into going to bed.

And yet... those cold autumn nights never stopped making people feel uneasy.

And there would always be those who knew how to make use of that.

[seviiscript]

general HCs/points of interest/stuff the islands are known for from the games/manga/anime:

One Island/Knot Island: Celio and the Network Centre, Moltres, the Ember Spa, and the only place in Kanto to catch wild Ponyta, Rapidash, Slugma and Macargo. Famous for surfing and beaches. Described as a ‘beautiful tropic paradise’ in the manga. Periodically goes into emergency evacuations where everybody on-island is forced to leave thanks to heightened volcanic activity from Mt. Ember. Rubies can be mined here.

Two Island/Boon Island: Kimberly/Ultima, the ‘guardian of special moves’ living up on the hill in her house where she’ll teach the player the various elemental attacks specific to a starter’s final evolution. Locals call her creepy. The town is also known as a trading hub for various foreign goods; you can get Moomoo Milk and Lava Cookies here. There’s a Move Maniac and a Mushroom Maniac living here. There’s also the game corner run by Lostelle’s father where you can play a jumping game with friends.

Three Island/Kin Island: By far the most populous and developed island in Sevii, but still very rural. It’s got the PokeMart, Bond Bridge and the supposedly haunted Berry Forest. A Rock Maniac ( Lostelle’s father ) lives here with his young daughter. Supposedly the island is rich in gold deposits; one miner can be found digging for enough gold to purchase a house up in Kanto someday ( he reappears in the Johto games as an NPC in Kanto; apparently his endeavours ended successfully ).

Four Island/Floe Island: Professional breeding in Greater Kanto, the hometown of Elite Four member Lorelei and the location of the one place in Sevii that isn’t tropical — Icefall Cave. It’s home to many rare Pokemon like Lapras. The smallest of all the islands, excluding Navel Rock and Birth Island. During the events of Johto it’s suggested that Lorelei has since given up her spot in the League to return home and protect the Sevii Islands.

Five Island/Chrono Island: Memorial Pillar, Resort Gorgeous. Most of the people on Five Island are either wealthy socialites or famous artists brought in by Resort Gorgeous or thrill seekers drawn to the archipelago’s remote location and the island’s various areas to be explored. There’s a shady hideout in Five Island’s Meadow that seems to be operated by Team Rocket, though… Post-Rocket boot-out it’s presumably owned and lived in by the seedy Scientist Gideon. The sudden influx in population has caused local fish populations to decrease enough to make fishing difficult for the locals trying to catch dinner.

Six Island/Fortune Island: Famous for spectacular stargazing and as a site for astronomers to conduct research. Also great for entomologists as the island calls many Bug-types home that don’t live on Kanto’s mainland. The island is rife with ruins and ancient structures for those willing to explore them. Sapphires can be mined here. A woman who researches Heracross specifically lives here. There seem to be braille ruins here similar to the sort that can be found in Hoenn…

Altering Cave on this island connects to Hoenn’s Route 103. Science has yet to establish how, but there are too many cases of people stumbling into the cave in Sevii only to wake up inexplicably in Hoenn for it to be a coincidence.

Seven Island/Quest Island: The Trainer Tower, which draws in the strongest trainers from as far as Johto and Hoenn. Difficult to hike across; Brawly and Bruno sometimes come here together to train in Sevault Canyon. An old lady here will reminisce about old battles much like her old rival out living in Mossdeep. There’s a puzzle called the Tanoby Key that’s been here since ancient times; there’s something off-putting enough about it that the locals caution people against trying to solve it…You can swear you feel eyes watching you in the corners of you vision when you get too close to it, but by the time you turn to see them they’ve disappeared…

Navel Rock: There is no town here. The island is sacred ground and is thus left mostly untouched save for a dock and a port for boats to come in. The locals of the archipelago come out to it to fish in the surrounding waters, but they don’t go inside. It is said to be a resting place for both Ho-Oh and Lugia, and the site of their new home after they initially left Johto according to legend. Locals credit the alleged presence of Ho-Oh and Lugia here to why the wind and ocean currents around the Sevii archipelago are so harsh and difficult to manoeuvre.

Birth Island: An island peculiarly shaped like a triangle. Many meteors have fallen here. Sometimes aurora can be seen lighting up the night sky around it despite it being in the tropics. It is not sacred land, but the people of Sevii caution against visiting it; they say that there’s a dangerous monster haunting it that attacks nearby ships, messes with the radios and the radar screens of whoever gets too close, lashes out with spectral whips… The only evidence of any monster comes in the form of blurred, invariably distorted photographs depicting something inhumanly tall and lanky with too many limbs. A pair of empty eyes on an otherwise featureless face remains the only constant.

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (8)

FF.net | AO3

“Hey, what’s something you don’t understand at all in the series?”

“The Heartstone and all that powers it.”

“Dopamine, you should write about it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like it won’t confuse anyone at all.”

Why do I do this to myself?

Also, I’ve been having a bad reaction to some medication, and I haven’t been writing as much as I want to. So chapters might be slow all around. Sorry in advance

—

Claire was asleep. It wasn’t very comfy sleeping in the back of the truck. But at least she had her pillow.

She was instantly awake when she heard Jim scream and a screech of tires.

Everything happened so fast. She slammed against the window, and then the ceiling, then the seat, over and over, feeling like a sock in a dryer. After a particularly nasty slam to the back window, she blacked out.

When she opened her eyes again, she was laying on the couch in her living room. That same dingy gray, dusty room she had seen before in her nightmares.

“Hello dear,” spoke a soft voice. “Quite the pickle we’re in this time, hmm?”

Claire sat up, looking at her. “Morgan? But…I was awake and then…”

“You’re hurt,” The woman said simply, “hit your pretty little head.”

“I—what about everyone else? What about Jim?! The truck! It rolled and—“

“Calm down,” Morgan said sagely, standing. “I can’t know everything. I only know of your condition. But it’s only a matter of time before we know of everyone else.”

“Is everyone okay?” Jim’s voice carried to her, sounding like a shout from outside.

“That was quite the rough ride…” Likewise, she heard Blinky out there too.

“Jim and Blinky are okay…” Claire breathed with a sigh.

“Claire! Merlin! Enrique!” Jim shouted again, sounding closer, louder.

“Ooof…” NotEnrique groaned, “I thought you said you could drive?”

Morgan smiled and waltzed over to the kitchen and put on the kettle. “Well, you’re not dead. But we can only hope that Merlin is.”

“I don’t understand. I’m…unconscious?”

“For the time being,” Morgan answered as she rifled through the cabinets.

“Claire!” Jim called again, “Claire! Talk to me honey!”

Claire smiled at the pet name, but she didn’t like the worry in his voice.

Morgana came and sat on her chair again. “I never got to mention, but I very much like the design of your house. Of course, I have made a few adjustments of my own, but it’s very nice. Much nicer then the cave that Merlin and I lived. Biscuit?”

Clair took the cookie hesitantly. “So…what? Am I supposed to just stay here for now?”

“Claire!” Human Jim burst into the room, a spectral form. His eyes wandered around.

“Do you mind not yelling? I’m very tired.”

Morgan frowned. “And, he survived. Great.”

Human Jim came to her, kneeling beside the couch. “Claire…” He whispered. “Oh god…”

Claire looked at Morgan. “Why am I seeing him as a human? He looked like that the last time I was here too.”

“You’re seeing his soul, Claire. Frankly, I’m amazed he’s even here in the first place. Since you haven’t been through a soul binding ceremony.” She scratched her chin. “Then again, if you really love each other…This could mean that you’re susceptible to a bind.”

“She’s alive, but unconscious.” He said, looking away from her.

Morgan continued. “Meaning that if a soul binding was performed, the chances of it working one hundred percent is high. Which means, it would be impossible to undo.”

Claire listened, but she was also fixated on Jim nearby. It had been so long since she saw him like this. This was the Jim she had fallen in love with. Not that she didn’t love the Troll version, on the contrary, his transformation was what pushed her to confessing to him. But there was something nostalgic about seeing him here like this.

“Shut your goddamn mouth!” He suddenly shouted, his spirit burning red. “Why can’t you just be helpful for once!?”

Morgan scoffed. “Merlin never changes. Just being a pain in the neck wherever he goes.”

The voices of the others didn’t seem to reach her any more. But Jim was still here, and every word he spoke was full of pain and worry.

“I don’t know if I’ve seen him this vulnerable before.” Claire commented, reaching out to touch him. “It’s…heartbreaking.”

“It’s admirable.” Said Morgan. “A man unafraid to show worry and concern over the woman he loves? A most honorable man, indeed. I’m surprised such a soul was chosen as a Trollhunter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every Trollhunter I’ve seen has forsaken their loved ones and pushed them away. Taking on their duties with a stoic demeanor. But Jim accepted help from those he cared about. That’s the mark of a strong and brave soul.”

“So…there’s nothing we can do?” Jim spoke, his shoulders heaving.

“Ah, I see.” Said Morgan with a nod.

“What?” Claire asked, worry in her voice.

“It seems like my connection on you is preventing Merlin from healing you.”

“Healing me? Am I hurt? I’m unconscious but…”

“I can’t tell how bad your condition is. But perhaps you will be unconscious for a while still. Heaven forbid you die.”

Claire tensed up, staring at Morgan in horror.

“Of course, I’d rather not let it come to that. You have work do to for the trolls.”

“Claire…please…please wake up. Don’t leave me…” Jim was sobbing, as he rested his head against the couch cushion. His hand was making gentle movements, and she realized he was petting her hair.

“Alright,” Morgan stated standing. “I suppose it’s up to me then. I need to take possession of your body again.”

“What?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but trust me. I can’t stay long, and I won’t hurt anyone.”

Claire looked down to the sobbing Jim. “Promise?”

“I swear to you, Claire Nuñez.”

Claire swallowed, and then nodded firmly.

—

Jim was leaning against the truck, his arm draped carefully around Claire as he carefully pressed her pillowcase on her wound. “Claire…please…please wake up. Don’t leave me…” He sobbed, feeling helpless. His human hand rested at the base of her neck on her chest, and he felt her pulse, her heart beating erratically.

“Master Jim…is there anything I can do?” Blinky asked, also feeling helpless. He had carefully cleaned the backseat of broken glass, so that Claire wouldn’t get hurt anymore.

“Do you know any first aid?”

Blinky frowned, “For humans, I am…less than helpful. I meant…perhaps laying out some blankets on the ground or something?”

“No, we can’t move her.” Then he offered a sad smile. “But thanks for trying.”

Suddenly, Claire’s eyes shot open, her pupils blown wide.

“Claire?!” Jim shouted, startled.

The girl shooed his hands away. “I would have thought you’d know better,” An ancient voice spoke, “little lamb.”

“Morgana.” Jim tried to keep the snarl back, but it came naturally.

“Please, compose yourself, Trollhunter. I mean you no harm.” She sat up fully and let her feet dangle outside of the vehicle.

“Please be careful,” Jim winced. “Claire’s hurt…”

“I feel her pain as my own,” said she. Then she bowed her head slightly, and spoke in a foreign tongue, “medeor...”

As she spoke, Claire’s body began to glow a soft yellow. She lifted from the seat of the truck and floated down to stand in front of Jim. The wound in her head closed, as the cracked skull knit back together. Once the glow faded, Claire’s knees buckled and she began to fall.

Jim caught her easily, wrapping an arm around her.

“My magic is weak,” said Morgana, not pushing away this time. “I used most of it to heal the most grievous wounds. I have but a few moments left, and I wish to have a word with you, Jim Lake.”

Jim looked over to Blinky, who shrugged.

Gently, Jim helped Claire back into the truck so that she could sit comfortably. Then he closed the door, for a slight amount of privacy. “Alright, um…what’s up?”

Morgana turned in her seat, glancing this way and that. When she spotted Merlin outside the truck, her nostrils flared in anger.

“Something wrong?”

“Simply a knee jerk reaction.” She exhaled, “Jim, you are special in many ways. The first human trollhunter, the first half-troll, the one to defeat Gunmar…but you are also the first trollhunter to absorb my essence. And by extension, I have stained you as well.”

Jim’s eyes widened as he cocked his eyebrow. “Um…?”

“This,” she touch his chest where his wound was. “…was supposed to be the killing blow. A crackling of my magic against Merlin’s should have destroyed you, right down to your very soul. But instead, you absorbed it, and took some of my magic for yourself.”

Jim touched his chest lightly where the crater remained.

“You’ll have to expel it, if you want the wound to heal.”

“And I suppose you want it back, don’t you?” Jim said with a little ‘hmph’. “You might have healed Claire, but I still don’t trust you.”

“I don’t expect you to,” agreed Morgana. “Nor do I need your trust, or that magic. But, I have a feeling it will come in handy later.” A sly smile came over her face. “There was another troll who absorbed my magic, you know.”

“Angor?”

At the name, Morgana seemed to wilt, ever so slightly. “Angor was enchanted by me…but no, it was Gunmar, he took my magic that laid in reserves. The magic that laid dormant in the earth and gave life to the trolls.”

“Wait wait wait!” Jim protested, “Are you saying that’s your magic in the heartstone?”

She smiled patiently. “An ancient reserve of magic sat under the earth for a millennia before Merlin and I even existed. This was the first Heartstone, the one that birthed Gunmar. This magic became my own, just as Daylight became Merlin’s. When I was imprisoned in that crystal in Trollmarket, that’s all it was. A solid prison, strong as diamond. But over time, my essence and being seeped into the stone and into the earth. It ran off in shoots and took on a mind of it’s own. Yes, Jim Lake, the heartstone and I are the same.”

Jim leaned back against the truck, digesting this information.

Morgan also relaxed, her head drooping on the seat. “My time is running out. So hear me carefully. If you wish to restore the heartstone in troll market to what it once was, make sure you and Claire are there to nurture it. Someday, the magic you absorbed will return to the stone on it’s own. But whatever you do…don’t let Merlin mess with it. No protective spells, nothing.” She closed her eyes. “He always killed my favorite roses.”

“Okay, thank you for the advice, I guess…” Jim sighed, feeling exhausted. “Morgana?”

There was no reply.

But a few minutes later, Claire’s chocolate eyes opened again. “Jim…?”

“Claire? Is it you this time?”

She smiled softly, “yeah, it’s me…sorry for the scare.”

She needn’t say anything else, as she was swiftly swept up into his arms, nearly crushed against him. He wept, “gods I thought I lost you…”

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, combing her fingers through his hair.

“I love you so much…I’m glad you’re alright.”

She winced, “I’m glad you’re alright too.”

Jim heard her, and pulled away quickly. “I’m sorry, are you still hurt?”

She managed a pained laugh. “Yeah, I’m just a little bruised is all.”

Before anyone said anything, NotEnrique had leapt into the car and landed on Claire’s lap. “Sis! Oh man, I was worried sick! That was so scary!”

“Likewise,” Blinky spoke from the passenger door. “I am also glad to see you safe and awake.”

Merlin was frowning, looking at the truck. “Well, I think we’ll have to find a new form of transportation.” He called from the windshield.

Claire fought to sit up and slid out of her seat. “Wait, just a moment.”

Jim was quick to follow, making sure she was stable on her feet.

Claire walked up to the front of the truck, resting her hands on the hood.

“Claire?” NotEnrique asked.

Her eyes turned black as she focused on the mangled metal. “Ad initium redire…” The truck started to groan again, the metal twisting in the opposite direction, smoothing and flattening. The glass shards lifted from the ground, floating back to their proper place.

Then, with a rev, the engine roared to life, and the truck was sitting and ready to go, looking even better than when they got it.

Once again, Claire weakly collapsed to the ground, but Jim was quick to scoop her up. “I gotcha.” He assured.

She smiled, “Thanks, honey.”

“That was amazing Claire! Where did you learn that?”

She snuggled a little into his chest, blushing. “Um…it just came to me.”

“Morgana has been teaching her,” Merlin announced. “She’s been talking with Claire when she’s sleeping.”

Claire tensed. “Merlin! I told you that in confidence!”

“Hey hey,” Jim hushed, stroking her hair. “It’s okay…we…we’ll talk about it later. Okay?”

Claire swallowed, feeling small. “Okay.”

Blinky didn’t say anything about this new revelation, considering that only good had come from it so far. But he did look at Merlin in frustration. “All this time, you wanted to get your magic back, and you couldn’t even do anything with it? Not even fix the truck?”

The wizard said nothing, only climbed into the front seat.

“Nuh uh,” Jim protested, “You don’t deserve this seat today.”

Merlin scoffed and crawled to the back seat like a reprimanded dog.

Jim righted the truck in correct direction. Then he and Blinky pushed it up the hill and retrieved the Heartstone from where it had landed. A little more pushing and they were on the highway once more.

“You sure you’re okay, Claire?” Jim asked, as they sped away.

“Yeah, just a little sore.” She emphasized this by rubbing her arm. “And…a little hungry.”

“I’m a bit hungry as well,” stated Blinky. “I’ve been trying not to eat during the trip, but it’s hard.”

“Me too,” Jim admitted. “We’ll find a stop, and you and I can…scavenge through the garbage.” Jim tugged his sleeves down so they protected his fingers from the sun, and adjusted his hood to cover the left side of his face. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to eating trash.” He muttered to himself.

That day went much more normal. After breakfast, Claire attempted to sleep a little longer. Now that they had the radio back, the front seat couple turned up classical music as Blinky and Merlin continued to argue in the backseat.

The front seat was a bench, where the middle of the back seat could fold down into an armrest and drink holder. Unable to get comfortable resting against the window, Claire flipped up the middle and stretched out along the bench, using Jim’s thigh as a pillow instead.

Now that things were cruising along smoothly, Jim relaxed a little more in his seat and absently ran a hand over Claire’s hair.

They travelled the whole day. Landscapes and states zoomed by, days of travel passing in a a matter of hours. Every once in a while, Jim would hiss in pain and have to adjust his hoodie again, but only because he really didn’t want to loose anymore travel time in stopping.

Around 1 am, Jim pulled off at an exit close to Amarillo, Texas.

“What’re we doing?” Asked Claire, now wide awake.

“I saw a sign for a KOA up here. We’re going to sneak in, and use the showers.”

“Yes!” Claire shouted in excitement. “You’re the best!”

They had done this a couple of times since embarking on their adventure a month and a half ago. Stealing away in the middle of the night to take showers in campgrounds of state parks. Well, Claire showered, and Jim accompanied her to make sure she returned safely. It wasn’t very often, since they wanted to get to Jersey as soon as possible, but Jim made time.

They parked outside the gate, and Jim and Claire got out.

“Blinky gets to sit up front now,” Said Jim with glare at Merlin.

The wizard was sitting in the back seat with his arms crossed like a moody teenager. “I should have just walked back with the others.”

“You could always sit in the truck bed,” Offered Blinky with a bit of sass.

Jim took Claire’s hand and headed inside the campground to avoid the oncoming argument.

For a while, they just enjoyed walking hand in hand, basking in each other’s presence. Then, Jim decided to broach the elephant in the room.

“So…Morgana, huh?” There was no bite to his tone, no anger or judgement. But he could feel Claire tense.

“Yeah…” She whispered. “I…I had a nightmare, the night we stayed at the hotel. At the scariest moment, I found myself in my house, the version in the shadow realm where you found me.”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded in understanding.

“And Morgana was there…but she was different somehow. Soft spoken, polite. It was weird. She said she lost all of her anger.”

“That’s hard to believe…”

“I know!” Agreed Claire. “That’s what I said…but she never threatened me, never talked down to me, and never brought up feeling like she was trapped. She said she enjoyed being in the shadow realm, because she finally felt safe from Merlin.”

“Wait, what?”

At this time, they had found a bathroom, and Claire promised they’d continue the conversation after freshening up. Now that she knew he was ready to talk about it, Claire spend her time practicing the conversation, while Jim just mulled over the fact that, in a way, Morgan was in fact back, but it might not be a bad thing.

One slightly gross shower later, the couple were on their way back to the car.

“Have you ever heard of a binding ceremony?” Claire asked.

Jim blushed slightly. “Yeah…Blinky told me about it. A soul binding spell, which is what Troll weddings are.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Morgana said she and Merlin did it once.”

Jim came to a full stop, staring at his girlfriend. “Merlin and Morgana were…in love?”

“Yeah…so, full disclosure. Merlin sensed Morgana within me, so I didn’t mean to tell him before you…”

Jim shrugged with a smile, “When it comes to this magic stuff, I’m not really upset or surprised that you and Merlin talked. He would have been the most helpful…considering how completely unhelpful he’s been this entire trip so far.”

“And besides our conversation we had the morning you were arrested, he’s been a gaping asshole,” then she continued. “But he confirmed it, too. They were married once, a long long time ago.”

“What happened to make them hate each other so much?”

“It sounded like one night, Merlin had sex with her without her consent and it broke her trust enough that she asked Vendal to undo the soul bind.”

“Oh my god…”

“Merlin said that soul binds aren’t easily undone. They both had parts of their souls cut out, and it aged them and took away their happiness and compassion.”

“That makes total sense!”  

“And not long after that, Morgana’s brother King Arthur, like King Arthur and Excalibur? He died, and while she was in mourning, Merlin cut off her hand and smelted down excalibur to make your amulet.”

“Geez, no wonder she hates me.” Jim sighed, “Man…now I don’t really know who the villain is…”

“Morgan wants to tutor me in magic. I talked it over with Merlin, and he says it should be safe. She’s already taught me three helpful spells. But I’m not sure…”

Jim took her hands, holding them securely. “Claire, you are smart and logical. Even though Merlin is a butt, if he says it’s safe, then it should be fine. Just…do what you feel comfortable doing.”

Claire smiled, and reached up to grab hold of his horn.

Jim smiled as he knew exactly what would follow. He leaned down and met her in a tender kiss, pushing all the love he felt for her into it.

When they pulled away, Claire was beaming. “One other thing…”

“Hmm?”

“When I was in the shadow realm with her, I could see and hear you. In your human form. Morgan said that I could see your soul…and that meant that we’re susceptible to a soul bind.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means our souls could be mixed perfectly, but there’d be no way to undo it.”

“Okay, why would we want to undo it anyway?”

Claire simply beamed and stood on her tiptoes. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

[intistone]

bro is convicted of stealing from like 5 oddly specific dudes. insane

[intistone]

gave bro a boss fight concept?

see he's as happy about it as i am.

[intistone]

behold. Fallen Spectral Cookie