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Meeeeee for real XD

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Iron God Chapter 72 [Qila]

Qila found her baby clawing his way up from a small but impossibly deep pond by the woods' edge, out of sight and earshot of any neighbors. Sothyrion had never appreciated prying eyes even when he'd been in good health. Qila could hardly blame him, even if it meant finding him was more of a challenge than it needed to be.

She sat down on a flat rock by the water's edge and beckoned him up.

His heavy serpentine head hauled up to rest by her side. His golden eyes flicked away from her, then squeezed shut as she laid a wrinkled hand between them.

"My child," she whispered. "What's the matter?"

He took a great shuddering gasp of air.

"Yes, go on, breathe some air." She ran her fingers softly up and down his snout. "I know it's hard, but it's good for you."

Another breath, more like a wheeze. A line of dark blood trickled from one nostril.

Unbothered, the old woman wiped it away for him. "A lot of good things are hard, you know. It doesn't mean they aren't worth doing."

Sothyrion winced. "Mother...sorry. Sorry." His eyelids cracked open. "I wanted to do what you said, I promise, I just..."

"Shhh." She tapped a finger to his mouth. "I'm not angry with you. Your disobedience ended up saving us. I just want to know why you thought it was a good idea."

"Was it a good idea?" Sothyrion lifted webbed claws up out of the water.

"It doesn't matter what I think about it now." Qila shook her head. "I want to know what you thought. What moved you?"

"I'm unsure why, but when Kolo spoke to me, I felt like..." He stopped, turned his head away, and coughed a spray of dark metallic blood all over the rocks. When he tried to speak again, it was with enormous effort. "Like...even if Father's never coming back, everything would be all right."

Qila grabbed Sothyrion's head and turned it firmly back toward her. "We will get him back, Sothyrion." She said it more to convince herself than her son. "He promised me. That by all his heart and will, he would hold us again."

Sothyrion's golden eyes fluttered. "Heart and will..." He sucked in a desperate gasp. "Then why is the world so still? It holds its breath." He started to pull against her grip. "And it hurts. I'm tired, Ma...so tired."

Qila let go of him. His head disappeared under the water for a moment. Bubbles frothed to the surface.

When he re-emerged, water slid down his face like tears. Heavy sobs shook his huge yet fragile frame. His next words carried an unfamiliar tone. "Tell me about Kolo."

"What about her?" Qila asked.

"Just tell me about Kolo." He lifted his head out of the water and laid it across her lap, his breaths hot and heavy. "Is she with you?"

"You've never asked about her before." Qila tried to scoot backwards, but he kept her pinned with his head. "But yes, she is. Do you want to talk to her again?"

"Only her. OnlyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..."

Qila grabbed her ears and recoiled at the sudden shrill noise. It rose high and awful, making her head pulsate with pain like someone was driving an ice pick through her skull.

She blinked a few times, then saw the head in her lap wasn't her baby.

The holf's mouth closed. Qila froze up with dread, like she'd fallen out of her own body.

I like Sothyrion. A new voice spoke directly into her mind. Sothyrion is like a small Vraelen, and still alive enough to wish for.

Nausea coiled in her stomach.

I looked like Sothyrion to you, yes? The deep dweller is good and nice-smelling. The holf nuzzled into her in some grotesque mockery of affection. But why else would you wish for him instead of our god?

"What are you?" It was all she could manage. No real holf acted like this. All they did was cry and then bite the moment anyone got too close.

What is a holf. Who is Slaaek. And I see with our god's light. The holf crawled out of the bluehole and stared down at her with red Ferash Therall eyes. Then it settled behind her, panting and dripping what could have been water or saliva. Our god who's too far away to wish for, right?

"It was you, wasn't it?" Qila's hand moved toward her pocket. "You're the holf that Azvalath and Kolo met."

Yes! The holf hummed and stretched its awful jaw wide open. The one Sothyrion said you love too much to do necessary things, and my small i'iba who showed me the nice light.

"My boy doesn't like blood in his water, so I'll give you a warning. Just this once." Qila stood up to level the beast a glare. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stop running your mouth and keep away from us." In her pocket, she gripped the spindly limbs of her puppet. "Believe it or not, you aren't the only one right here who can leave someone in pieces."

All well. The holf yawned and licked its lips. It would be sad if you really gave up. If our god is really gone forever. I think that's what sad is, right?

Qila shuddered and skulked off in disgust.

Yes, you vile thing, she kept thinking the whole way back. That's what sad is.

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By the time she got back to the house, all Qila could think about was how she needed to pull Kolo aside and ask her about the holf that called her his i'iba.

But Xigon, of course, had other ideas. He looked up from the table and his gaze seemed to wrap around her nerves. "Hello, Qila."

Only he could make a soft-spoken greeting sound like a declaration of war. She rolled the tension from her shoulders and waved back. "Anything I missed today?"

"Hm." He rubbed his scabbed eyebrow. "Silene threw a sopping washcloth at her husband."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Xigon fidgeted, then chuckled.

"Come on. Don't leave me hanging." Qila caught herself smirking. "Why did she throw a wet washcloth at him?"

"Because he asked me how I dislocated my knee." He held up his crutches, then let out a much louder laugh. "He thinks that's why I have these."

Qila shook her head. "And what'd you tell him?"

"Something technically true." Xigon clasped his hands together and leaned across the table. "That I gave the wrong woman the wrong sort of look."

Qila narrowed her eyes and let out a long sigh. "You're horrible, you know."

"Pot to the kettle, Qila." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Why the nerves, hm? You have someplace else to be?"

"Yes, if you'll excuse me." She turned to walk away, but then her knees felt wobbly, and her head seemed to fill with sand.

"Sorry, Qila. I wasn't quite done." Xigon's voice took on the slightest sneer. "If you're looking to talk with Kolo, try your best not to be alarmed to the point of violence. That's all."

The weakness vanished in an instant. Qila gritted her teeth and trudged down the hall.

She was perplexed to find Kolo alone in the bunkroom, focused with great intensity on whatever she was writing or sketching in her notebook. Kolo didn't respond to her name with more than a brief scowl, so Qila pulled a chair up next to her bunk and sat down. Kolo tilted her notebook up so the page wasn't visible.

"What are you working on?" she asked.

Kolo only gave her a brief glance.

"Not meaning to intrude, of course. I'm rather private about my own notes." Qila folded her hands in her lap. "Keeping them is still a good habit. It's astounding, what we can lose over centuries if we don't record it all."

"Hm." Kolo didn't look up from whatever she was working on. "What's the biggest thing you forgot? Or almost forgot?"

The old woman thought for a moment. "I suppose it was the matter of a particularly well-spoken badger who claimed to be Xigon's best friend. It was news to me, I'll say."

That got Kolo's full attention. "Right! I almost forgot about Talin. That was all so weird." She closed the notebook and set it aside. "Did you need something, Master Qila?"

"Only some curiosity sated, if you don't mind." She glanced at the ajar door. "Where's everyone else?"

Kolo shrugged. "Where were you?"

"Visiting Sothyrion." Qila looked down at her lap. "He's still not doing well, but I am glad you somehow managed to talk him into disobeying me that day."

"Huh?" Kolo blinked a few times. "Oh...yeah. That."

"Sorry to bring it up again." Qila pursed her lips. "I also met someone else. Someone who claimed to know you."

Kolo's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"A holf. Recently underwent initial Ferash Therall ascension, from the looks of it. And he calls you i'iba." The old woman tried to stifle a shiver. "Does that ring any bells?"

Kolo bolted upright. "What is Slaaek doing here?"

"So you do know him." Qila nodded. "I didn't know whether he was making that part up. Holves are far from honest creatures." She shifted in her chair. "Do you know what i'iba means, Kolo?"

She shook her head.

"It means 'soul before me,' more or less. An individual to whom one owes their all." Qila let out a grim sigh. "If anyone calls you i'iba, you should never take it lightly. It's as much a curse as a blessing."

"So it sounds like...hm." Kolo brushed a strand of white hair back from her forehead. "Has anyone ever called you that?"

"Yes." Qila chose her next words carefully. "When I was younger and our god was freshly lost, I found him. A fierce but fragile boy who shared my anguish. We would have burned the world down, if only to not feel cold and powerless."

Kolo looked up, quietly pensive, as if she were merely listening to a campfire story rather than a thinly-veiled confession.

"Maybe I imagined more than I thought," Qila admitted. "But I'd like to think at least some of it was true, the way I saw it. Not that it matters now. He turned on me, so I dealt with him."

Kolo cocked her head, then gave a strange half-smile. As if she'd caught onto something that amused her. "We both do that, you know."

Qila raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Think it's important to remember things we probably would rather forget or forgot on purpose." Kolo picked her notebook back up and turned it in her hands. "Try to know things we're better off not knowing. Like we can't help it."

When Kolo revealed the page she'd hidden earlier, Qila couldn't suppress a gasp. What she saw on that parchment shouldn't have been possible, not by any human hand or mind. It was Vraelen's writing. Symbols she only knew from his long and careful teaching. Their language.

Kolo inched back when she saw Qila's expression. "I...had a really bad dream and then I felt like had to draw this. What is it?"

"It's how Vraelen would write." She hissed through clenched teeth. "It says..." She had to squint to read it with how jagged and haphazard it was. "It says your will. Just your will over and over again." The old woman took a deep breath. "Kolo, what's been going on?"

Kolo opened her mouth, then closed it, then curled in on herself. Then, with perhaps more honesty than she'd shown the past month, she whimpered. "I'm scared."

Qila reached out and tried to offer comfort, but Kolo shied away from her touch.

"I just wanted to do something instead of waiting to disappear." Kolo clutched her knees against her chest. "I didn't want any..."

She never finished the sentence.

Qila nodded. "Can I help you, dear?"

Kolo looked up, her eyes glassy and white hair all disheveled. "I don't know."

Qila knew that look all too well from her own reflection. "All right."

Her eyes wandered back to the scrawled page. Your will. The god-writing glared back. Your will, your will...

Who was it meant for, anyway?

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There are things that I can't stand. Things I hate. Things that disgust me. Things I would absolutely never condone IRL. However...the story's right to exist I will defend until my last breath. Just because someone defends a work of fiction doesn't always necessarily mean they agree with the message or like the content.

I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

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Reblog to give prev the power to write their fanfiction

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Dammit...

You need to move off of Google Docs!

I know some people have seen the news recently and may be doubtful of it. To the uninformed, Google Docs has started using AI to find "inappropriate" and "problematic" content, scraping your documents and deleting it. I know some people are unsure if this is real or think this is not going to affect them.

I regret to inform you that this is real.

As I was on a call with some writers and we were moving our documents as a precautionary measure, one person discovered entire pages missing that they did not delete themselves. This is happening to us, it's not a hoax or a rumor, it's happening right now. You need to move everything if you want to preserve it.

If you're a writer with writer mutuals, please reblog this so they know. I rarely write on Google Docs anymore, but I started my fanfics on there, and I would be devastated if I lost works more than ten years old because people decided marketing appeal is more important than creative freedom.

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Iron God Chapter 71 [Dakko]

While he waited for Xigon to come back, Dakko sat outside, tucked under the eaves of the roof, and practiced commanding the cold that ate at his limbs.

He flexed his right hand, felt the ice crack in his knuckles, and instead of flinching he gripped tighter, jutting out shards like cats' claws. The boy stared at his hand, amazed, hardly minding the rivulets of blood that dripped from his new weaponry.

A strange smile twisted his face. He took a deep breath, sucked all the heat from the air in his lungs, and his exhale poured out scalding-cold liquid.

Why did he love this?

He barely noticed when Xigon returned. Hardly registered the man propping his crutches against the wall. Scarcely felt the tingling of his gaze. He only looked up when the master's warm, powerful hand closed around his bloodied fingers. The ice withdrew with Xigon's touch, leaving Dakko maimed but entirely at ease.

"Don't do that." Xigon gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You're only hurting yourself."

When Xigon tried to pull his hand back, Dakko clung onto him. "Sorry. Just a moment."

The master gazed down at him with an unreadable expression. Dakko studied their entangled fingers and committed Xigon's to memory yet again, fascinated as if by some holy relic. When he let go, Xigon inched backwards. Only slightly, barely noticeable.

"It...feels good to hold your hand," Dakko admitted. "Feels safe."

There was a tiny interruption in the taller man's collected breathing. "What you actually feel is my power commanding your soul's attention." He took his gloves from his pockets and put them back on. "And yes, with very few exceptions, most find it quite calming."

"Commanding attention, hm..." Dakko tugged idly at his wrist braces. "What are the exceptions?"

Xigon offered his hand again. "You can find out now, but I'm keeping the glove on. The effect should be less severe."

Dakko reached out, more warily this time. He paused just shy of contact. "What's going to happen?"

Xigon beckoned. "Nothing harmful, not with the glove. Just take my hand."

The boy complied. When their hands touched, he felt the same wave of calm sweep over him, though with far less force. More like a ripple. He breathed a small sigh of relief.

The master nodded. "Good. Now try to push back." His long fingers shut around Dakko's palm like a trap. "Reject it."

Dakko shook his head.

"You won't even try?" Xigon inched closer, looming over Dakko's head in a way that made him feel tiny. "You wouldn't resist my influence even if I commanded it of you?"

The boy dug his heels into the snow and shook his head again.

Xigon's eyebrows formed the faintest hint of a scowl. "Let's go in and warm you back up." He released Dakko's hand and went to retrieve his crutches. "Then you should try again, if you really want to know."

"How am I even supposed to do something like that?" Dakko sputtered. "You're...you. And I'm just me."

If the master heard him, he didn't show it. He seemed focused only on his own footsteps.

"Has anyone ever won against you?" Dakko clutched his hands together and fought the frostbite off a little longer. "Really bested you, without you allowing it?"

Xigon straightened his goggles. "It depends on your definitions." His fingers brushed over the scabbed cut splitting his eyebrow. "Although, Dakko." He turned with a slight smile. "You're not just anything, you know. So don't speak of yourself like an afterthought."

Dakko wasn't sure how to respond.

Once they got back inside, a woman's voice snapped at them. "Don't track snow in the house. It's bad manners."

Dakko slammed the door shut and scrambled to take his boots off. "Sorry!"

She chuckled. "Master Xigon, will your pack be wanting food this evening?"

"Almost certainly." Xigon brushed snow off his boots with one of his crutches. "You're more than welcome to enlist their help with that. Lalek can make a great meal out of the sparsest pantry. With Channei, proceed at your own risk. Azvalath does fine if you give him very clear directions and don't make him chop onions."

Dakko tried to disguise his laughter as coughing. It failed miserably.

Xigon looked down at him. "Care to share?"

"I just remembered." Dakko rubbed his eyes. "You tried Miss Silene's cheese last night, didn't you?" He looked up with a nervous grin. "How was it?"

Xigon jabbed him with his left crutch. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make him flinch. "It's never worth turning down a gracious hostess's cheese, and we won't speak about this ever again."

Dakko scrambled over to the table and ducked under it before letting out a belly-laugh. Xigon stared after him with a slight sneer, shook his head, then left the room.

Silene chuckled. "What's the matter with cheese?"

Dakko scooted out from under the table and stood up to lean against it. "Makes him sick."

"My husband too, but it never stopped him." The woman clapped him on the shoulder. "You can put your shoes back on if you need. I wasn't aware of your...well, your..."

"...missing toes? Sorry." Dakko sat down and pushed the chair in so his feet were hidden under the table. "Thank you, by the way. For letting us stay here."

"The pleasure's ours." She settled in the chair across from him. "It's hard to get all the odd jobs done around here with the children all gone their separate ways, so I certainly appreciate you all lending your hands. Even if you have bigger things to do, things I wouldn't understand."

Dakko cocked his head. "Bigger things to do than be decent neighbors?"

"See, that's the truth." Silene scowled. "I hate what more and more of our neighbors keep saying about you all. Awful, nasty things, like you're all burning villages and stealing babies."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, if that's really what I've been doing, I've learned something new today."

She let out a dry chuckle. "Aren't you new to the order?"

"Yeah." Dakko scratched his neck. "I could've died, but they helped me and my brother when no one else would."

Silene nodded. "And how do you like them?"

"A lot." Dakko tapped his feet. "This is the best it's been for me in a long time."

He heard the bunkroom door open from down the hall, then Ami shouted something that made Kolo laugh.

"And who's she?" Silene looked over her shoulder. "New as well?"

He shrugged. "I don't think anyone's got Ami figured out."

Ami shouted again, clearer this time. "Azvalath, don't make me tell you again. Take your fucking medicine!"

Dakko giggled at that.

Ami appeared a moment later to grab her coat and hat from the rack by the door. "Miss Silene, you've got precious treasure right under your front porch. How about it for supper?" When she was met with silence, Ami clarified. "The mushrooms under your front porch are really good to eat."

Dakko stood up. "May I come?"

"You two go on." Silene waved them off.

Dakko shoved his boots back on and followed Ami out. The cold hit him in the face like a tidal wave. He took a deep breath that liquefied in his lungs, then let out a slow, scalding-cold sigh.

Ami stared at him. "Don't do that. You're creeping me out."

He watched her descend the steps and crawl under them. "I creep you out? Come on."

"Didn't Xigon want you to warm yourself up?" She knocked at the boards under his feet. "Get back in."

He tapped his foot over her. "I don't want to."

"Real nerve you've got, little man." Ami rustled something below. "What do you want from me?"

"I..." Dakko lost his thread as soon as he tried to put it into words. "I, um...was wondering about something you might know." He clenched his jaw and sighed. "All right, I want to know if there's a way I could take someone down for a little bit without hurting them too badly."

"I'll bet for you, chilling someone's inner ear fluid would do the trick." Ami laughed. "Ears are where the sense of balance is. Might not be as reliable as your brother's shocks, but it'd probably hurt less. Though why'd you wanna know?"

"Well..." Dakko looked over his shoulder. "Just in case."

"You ask me something like that and you also spend every minute you can away from the rest of 'em." Something rolled and thudded below. "Have they been bothering you?"

Dakko looked around again, then crouched down and peered through a crack between the deck boards. "I'm scared." His voice quivered more than he wanted it to. "Ami, after the Rager, is Kolo going to turn out like...like him?"

Ami stopped and looked up at him. "What?"

Dakko dropped his volume to a whisper. "Like Haode."

Ami shook her head. "If she were, I imagine she would've by now." She bent back down and plucked another mushroom by its stalk. "Make no mistake. What we're seeing shouldn't even be possible, but it's happening anyway. So we're all gonna have to hold our breath a little longer, just wait and see. Which, yeah, is proper fuckin' miserable, but don't get hasty and treat a splinter with an amputation."

He grimaced.

"Damn me. Can't believe I just said that." Ami thwacked her knuckles dully against the floorboards. "Ugh. Moving on. Question for you, because I'm losing it."

Dakko rolled his eyes.

Her question seemed out of thin air. "How do you feel about Qila?"

"What?" Dakko glanced over his shoulders, then out at the horizon. "I don't...really know her that well? She's always up in her study, and it is...was...kind of hard for me to get up the stairs a lot of the time. She seems decent, though. Why?"

"So what I'm hearing is, no strong feelings and you wouldn't consider yourself one of hers." Ami plucked another mushroom and flicked its cap a few times. "Good."

Dakko clutched his arms around his chest. "I should go back in."

"Hey, before you go, one more thing." Ami stopped him before he could get up. "Do you know how Xigon got that cut on his face?"

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Yall I'm back! I am so so so sorry about the lack of updates, life has just been insane and I've been struggling a lot. But never fear, I'm still working on this, and I still very much love Lilac Fang ^^ I hope you guys are still here cause I miss you all! Sorry if it's a bit short, the chapters might be a bit shorter from here on out! 🥺

Taglist: @exactlyelegantwizard , @xenoanamorph , @hoeia-strigoi , @arwenkenobi48 , @xanth420 , @serpentdeath, @landlockedmermaid77, @uncensored-aj, @mypackpride, @whisperingwillowe, @sasksdemorg , @emimuart, @fern-and-bone, @enchantedchocolatebars, @disneyvillainsinlove, and @muchwita

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know either through comment or feel free to DM me! Please enjoy! ^^

Exile: A Nosferatu Fanfic

Chapter 19

I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending…

The return was thankfully not as chaotic as her departure, but returning to the Otherworld just felt right, for both of them. Things felt different, like a massive weight was removed from them both. It finally felt like a home. Not an Afterlife, not just a place constructed of memories, but it was home.

Ehre and Intristare led them inside, tails swinging, and happy to be home. Durere had been left at the castle to guard from shades, who tended to come to unoccupied spaces in the Otherworld. Ellen watched the shadows stir in the coniferous forest close by, could faintly hear their whispers from her window, but she could resist them easier, knowing they weren’t who they said. It seemed being in the living world had put that into better perspective.

“Perhaps it was what you needed” Orlok stood, watching with her.

“I can’t remember if we discussed them, after they attacked me. What exactly are they?” Ellen asked as she turned to face him, her expression a mix of intrigue and confusion.

“Souls of the wicked forgotten. When there is no one left to remember their evil, except perhaps in history texts, that is what they become”.

“So there isn’t a hell? No heaven? There’s just this?”

“There is, but we both know there’s more between them. And there are worse fates than hell, some better than even heaven”.

“What can be better than heaven?” Ellen turned to him fully.

“Whatever your mind makes of it. Same as hell. An afterlife is not a solid place. It isn’t a tangible place. But rather a state of mind and being that reflects the individual”.

“An ever changing state of being…Something we can’t comprehend and yet something we make?”

“A world of contradictions, yes. One we cannot touch with mortal hands” he held hers gently as he could, “But that we understand fully once we close our eyes one last time. Because we make it”.

Ellen looked down at their entwined hands, her curious gaze softening to something akin to adoration. She smiled a little, before looking up at him.

“What would yours be? If you could think it?” she asked.

Orlok cocked his head like a curious dog as he thought, something that actually made her laugh. Ellen thought he almost looked like one of the wolfhounds in such a state. Her laugh made him actually chuckle in kind, an actual genuinely happy sound.

“I would say I’m already living it. Sometimes heaven isn’t just a place. Or a feeling. Or an imagining. Sometimes…it’s a person” he finally answered.

Her smile didn’t fade, catching his meaning. “You…you flatter me”.

Orlok shook his head. “I don’t believe in flattery. That’s just a better way to lie. And you…you’re the last person I wish to lie to” he held up her hand and softly kissed her knuckles.

He wasn’t wrong. If nothing else, Orlok was always honest with her. Brutal in his honesty yes, but never once did he try to deceive her. He didn’t tell her things she wanted to hear, but rather what she needed. Ellen appreciated that, to a certain extent. She would do without the brutality though.

Thankfully, being dead, permanently so, seemed to have calmed that slightly.

“Now all that’s left to wonder is what this Otherworld could be for us. What could we make of it?” Ellen looked out the window at the vast snowy landscape.

“As of now, with our pasts behind us? It’s ours to mold as we see, or as memory sees” the count looked out with her, “Life did teach me one thing”.

“What’s that then?”

“Love isn’t about looking at each other, but rather looking out together in the same direction”.

Ellen blinked a little in surprise. “That’s…rather insightful I think. Not wrong. But I thought love was beneath you, beneath us”.

He turned his head to her again. “I know when to admit I’m wrong. And I was”.

A soft quiet reigned between them, the snow still falling outside. They watched it for a few minutes, peacefully calm and quiet.

“Do you think it’ll ever be spring here?” Ellen asked quietly, “As lovely as the snow is…I miss flowers and soft grass and sunshine. The sea too…But I know there’s only Chaos out there”.

“I’m not sure. I hope so. A part of me, admittedly, misses it too”.

Ellen chuckled. “I’m picturing you with a flower crown, and it’s quite a funny sight”.

“Yes, that’s not happening”.

“We’ll see”.

“Will I need to watch my head?”

She gave him a mischievous grin. “Absolutely”.

Orlok sighed. “Minunat…”

Ellen giggled and shook her head, walking away from the window. There was still that peaceful calm between them. Now with a touch of lightheartedness, the afterlife finally felt more like…well…home.

They were home, and home was where they would stay...

If you enjoyed this please feel free to comment, like, and reblog! If you'd like to see more, give me a follow and I'll be eternally grateful! Thank you all so much and again, sorry for the delay!

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Based on actual events

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not to post even more Villains Discourse on main but it really bugs me how people read giving villains tragic backstories as inherently excusing their actions and/or demonizing trauma survivors.

the actual message of Tragic Villains is (almost) always “people who are never taught or given any healthy, constructive outlets for their emotions will often find unhealthy, destructive outlets.” it’s that people who are traumatized and never learn how to cope with that trauma can become a danger to themselves and others. the message isn’t “trauma makes you evil!!!!” or “genocide is okay if you’ve been sad before!!!!” it’s “people need compassion and help to recover from trauma instead of becoming increasingly angry and harming themselves and others in the process.”

this site takes an alarmingly behaviorist and punitive approach to everything and it’s literally the most annoying thing. y’all have this concept that “if we just punish people hard enough, if we just scare them enough, if we just make them feel guilty enough.” that people just Do Bad Things Because They Do Bad Things, I Guess, and Because We Didn’t Threaten Them And Shame Them Enough. but humans are an innately social species. at our very core, we need compassion and kindness. we need healthy relationships with other humans.

you can keep looking at traumatized villains and being like “haha this dumb pathetic sadboi thinks murder is okay because his parents died” but as a survivor myself, unaddressed/untreated trauma absolutely can make you ragey and destructive. i was lucky enough to have support and eventually get the treatment i needed. but it’s not hard at all for me to imagine how, if that hadn’t been the case, that could’ve been me. obviously not on a movie-villain scale like murder or war crimes, but it’s so irritating as someone whose trauma has always manifested as anger to watch people on this site be like “this is just bad writing!!! real survivors/good survivors don’t end up like that the writers just hate survivors and want the audience to condone murder!”

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A very close friend of mine made a talking badger and I love him. Talin is fucking amazing and I would read a whole series of books about him. He's a Eurasian badger who's very polite, curious, and he breaks the language barrier of everyone around him, so everyone can understand each other when he's around.

Seriously I need more of him. Whenever I see pictures of eruasian badgers I internally go oh my god it's Talin IRL! ^-^ he just makes me smile

what is your favorite OC a friend has made?

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Hey guys! I am sooooooo sorry about the lack of updates! Life has been throwing me curveball after curveball and on top of that I'm also writing an actual book so things have been nuts. So here is an update for you friends, I hope you're all still around and eager to read this.

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Exile: A Nosferatu Fanfic

Chapter 18

So many signs! So many Signs! You didn’t even see the signs…

Ellen felt a slight chill as she sat on the bench, her eyes wandering amongst the graves. How lonely they all looked, to think they were all once people. Good or evil, but the bodies buried were much more than their physical bodies. How fragile was life…

“Did you find what you were looking for, mica dragoste?” Orlok asked as he emerged from the shadows.

Ellen was hesitant to answer. She didn’t want to acknowledge that perhaps he was in a way right. While she was relieved Thomas was okay, the fact that he moved on, had a family now, it just hurt in a way she couldn’t name. Ellen only nodded as he sat down beside her and Ehre, Intristare accompanying him and joining her brother at their master’s feet.

“I did…” she told him, her eyes downcast.

“And is he…”

“He’s alive. He is. He’s alive. He’s…he’s happy. Thomas…he…he remarried. He has a family, he named his daughter after me” Ellen felt her eyes sting as she told him.

“And this upsets you?” Orlok asked, his voice oddly gentle in the moment.

She shook her head only a brief moment before realizing she was lying to herself. Ellen nodded. “It does…I don’t know why. But it does. I loved him and I know he hasn’t but…it feels like he forgot me. That i was a footnote in his life”.

“Not a footnote. Trust me. He named his child after you. You meant more than that to him. It means he still holds you in high regard”.

“He talked to me. He couldn’t see me, but his daughter could. I guess it’s true, children can see supernatural things better than adults can…or perhaps she’s like me. He said that he misses me, loves me still” Ellen sniffed, “That he didn’t want to hurt me but…but it hurts”.

The count gently took her small hand in his long clawed one. “The hardest part about love is watching the one you love, love someone else. Other than not being able to take away their physical pain. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I took from you. I’m sorry I deprived you of the life you should’ve had. All for my own selfishness”.

Ellen blinked. There he went, surprising her with apologies again. His own demeanor seemed…sad. Like he was actually sympathizing with her, same she did with him when confronting his past. His hand gently squeezed her.

“I do not expect your forgiveness outright. But I hope one day I can prove myself worthy of it” he told her, his thumb brushing against her hand gently.

“Thank you…I just didn’t expect this to hurt so much” Ellen admitted, her voice breaking, “I feel so stupid. I should’ve known he’d move on”.

“Do not mistake his moving on for insignificance, draga…Some are only with us for a short time but that short time can mean everything, can mold us, break us” Orlok looked her in the eyes, “I’m sorry you’re hurt. The pain will fade in time, and perhaps you will see him again”.

Ellen nodded and rested her head against him. “Did it hurt this bad when you lost your wife and daughter?”

“Losing Mirela and then Ileana in such a short amount of time…It hurt beyond measure. I never thought I’d feel anything aside from pain. But when you let that pain rule you, is when you know you’ve truly lost. You’re stronger than that, Micul Suflet. You always have been”.

“Thank you…But don’t sell yourself so short either. You’re a lot stronger than you think too” .

The count shook his head, looking out amongst the silent graves. “Only in magic, little sylph…but not much else. I still feel the pull, hear the calls of Chaos…”.

She squeezed his hand as if if panicked. “Don’t you leave me now. You said you wouldn’t! If you go I’ll go with you”.

“Not now, but…soon perhaps. When the world has forgotten me. And they will sooner forget me than forget you”.

Ellen looked at him with a quiet determination. “I’m not letting you go. Do you hear me? Understand me?”

He raised an intrigued brow at her declaration. As if she could control fate…But the idea was tempting. Orlok kept a hold of her hand.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not right now. But when my time comes, when the call becomes too great-”.

“I will…rid you of your ears if you even think of it. I swear I will” Ellen replied, knowing how ridiculous she sounded. But she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to be left alone again…never again.

Orlok let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Would you miss me so much, Micul Suflet?”.

“Perhaps I would. I just…I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to be alone” she admitted, her tone honest and vulnerable.

Orlok could understand that. He kept a hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, the cold and numbness of his kiss fleeing at the touch of her skin.

“Then alone you will never be. I will resist the call until your time has come, and then we will enter Chaos” Orlok looked in her eyes, “Together”.

Ellen nodded. “Together…” she blinked back tears. “Let’s…let’s go home. I found what I needed. Thank you”.

“Once we return, you can’t come back here” the count told her, wanting to be certain as she was.

“I know…It’s okay. I’m ready. I helped you let go of your pain. I’m ready to let go of mine” Ellen replied with certainty.

Orlok helped her to her feet, the wolfdogs rising with them. “Then let us return. Let us leave this…wretched place behind us”.

She nodded once more, her eyes warm but sad. She would miss it, but this world, and all that was in it, it wasn’t for her anymore. Perhaps he was right…maybe it never truly was hers…

If you enjoyed reading this please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! Thank you all so much! We're in the final chapters! Story's a bit shorter than I thought it would be but that's okay ^^ <3 you guys are amazing! Have a wonderful day! ^-^

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If this ain't me X.X

worlds slowest fanfic author tries really really hard

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Reblog if you’re over 20 and still read/write fan fiction.

I’m curious!

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I'm so sorry guys :( I've been trying to get back into writing but my world is falling apart and I have no idea what the hell else to do. I'm panicky and I just feel lost altogether

I am now once again forced to beg for money...

I'm so sorry guys. I hate my bank and my regular job doesn't pay or work me enough. I desperately need donations for a few things. I got bills for some stuff due and I'm just having a lot of trouble keeping me and my bearded dragon. Please. Please PLEASE for the love of the gods help me :'(

My Kofi is: https://ko-fi.com/lavenderebel if you want to donate freely or commission me!

Please guys I'm so sorry but I don't know what else to do. I want to find another job but in this economy it's near impossible :'( please help...

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Iron God Chapter 70 [Kolo]

It was a shock to discover how, after mortal peril, a menial task could feel like such a breath of fresh air.

Of course, Kolo hadn't been thrilled upon hearing their newest directive – everyone had to come down to the neighboring village and engage in some project or another. Qila had said it with such irritating sweetness, Kolo had wanted to smack her. Like a change of scenery alone could make the nightmares disappear? Sounded like bullshit.

Even more irritating, Qila was almost right. Almost.

She and Azvalath had been tasked today with replacing a farmer's rotted-out fence at the village outskirts, and Kolo's focus didn't waver with any of Aza's attempts at empty chatter. It was dull, yes, but it was still someplace to pour out her boiling energy.

"All right, since when are you so diligent?" Azvalath rubbed his forehead. "You know this is just busy work, right?"

"You complaining?" Kolo smacked a loose nail with her fist and a few ghost limbs. Rather than driving through the wood, it bent uselessly.

"I'm surprised by how little you're complaining." Aza reached over and prodded her. "Use a hammer, maybe. The nails will go in straight then."

"I don't need a hammer." Kolo yanked the bent nail out with invisible fingers and flung it aside.

"Hey, someone could get really hurt if they step on that." Azvalath dragged his feet and went to pick the nail up. "And why do you want to do it the hard way, huh?"

"Hm, maybe because the masters said they wanted all hands on board?" Kolo sneered and prodded him with unseen appendages.

Aza snorted. "I think you're misinterpreting."

Kolo grabbed another nail. When she drove it in, it went in straight. No hammer needed. She pointed to it and grinned. "I don't need to cheat, Aza."

"Using tools isn't cheating." Azvalath rolled his eyes. "Don't scoff at everything that makes life easier, all right? You'll just be miserable in the long run."

She shrugged. "Whatever."

They labored on. Azvalath kept trying to talk. Kolo kept only half-responding, if not ignoring him outright. Anything she did say, it was really only to keep him talking. Irritating as he was, his voice was all that stood between her and isolation with her own thoughts.

She didn't entirely register anything they spoke about. At one point he fussed at her about something being misaligned, at another point he pitched a fit over getting a splinter, and she laughed at him. "The mighty Aza, slain by a splinter in the line of duty!" Kolo had quipped over his frantic attempts to save his fingertip. "How tragic."

More pointless bickering. A few more bent nails. The wind picked up and the sky darkened.

At some point, Aza tried to bring up Kolo's condition. "Are you really sure you're doing all right?" His voice cracked slightly. "You know you don't have to lie."

"Aza, I've already told you." She glared at him. "I'm fine. It was bad, yeah, but I'm still here. Can't get rid of me that easily."

His eyes flicked away from her. "Sorry."

"Why?"

He turned back to her. "Why what?"

"Why are you sorry?" Kolo pressed. "You're obviously worrying about me because it's easier than worrying about yourself. Can hardly blame you."

His shoulders tensed. "Kolo, what happened to me wasn't nearly as—"

"Master Xigon said you lost almost a third of your blood." Kolo cut him off. "In what world is that not serious?"

Azvalath pursed his lips and turned away. Kolo could tell she'd struck a nerve.

They carried on in relative silence as the wind gusts grew colder and fiercer. Azvalath ran out of energy first, as he had consistently since the attack, and sank to his knees on the frozen ground. Ordinarily, Kolo would have snapped at him, or perhaps mocked his tiredness, but she didn't have the heart for that now.

Instead, she drove in one last nail and then crouched next to him. "Hey, it's getting really cold. Let's call it a day."

His lips curled in a faint smirk. "Really is easier than worrying about yourself."

"Yeah, jerkface." She yanked his arm. "That's what I said."

"All right, all right," Azvalath chuckled. "Just let me gather up the tools."

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot while he shoved all the various bits and pieces back into his backpack. Once he'd secured it all, she snatched the backpack from him and threw it over her own shoulders.

"Kolo, I can get it," he tried to insist.

She shook her head and trudged on.

The sky darkened to a deep gray that muted all the world's color. Icy wind stung Kolo's cheeks like claws trying to rip all the warmth out of her. The sweat she worked up carrying all their gear felt like a saving grace as the flurries intensified to something more like a blizzard.

By the time they made it back to the farmhouse, she could barely see a foot ahead of her, and Azvalath's shivers were more like convulsions.

Lalek threw the door open right as Kolo reached for the handle, startling all three of them.

"....m'sorry," she rasped. "Thought I'd have to go get you." Then she gave Azvalath a judgmental look. "You made Kolo carry your stuff?"

"Nah, it was my idea. Aza would lose a footrace to a scarecrow if he carried it himself." Kolo dropped the backpack by the door. "How are you doing, Lalek?"

The taller woman shrugged. "What am I supposed to say at this point?" Her voice was still broken and barely audible. "Come on."

Lalek nudged them over to the spare room the farmer and his wife were letting them borrow. Once it had been their children's room, all six of them now either grown up or gone too soon. Lalek held the door open for them, but didn't follow them in.

"You joining us?" Kolo asked.

Lalek shook her head. "Ami wants to see me."

Kolo noticed the slight glistening of tears in Lalek's eyes, the slight tremble in what remained of her voice, and her chest tightened. "All right. See you later, then."

She nodded and retreated, closing the door quietly.

"Master Qila still isn't back?" Azvalath asked.

"She stopped by for a bit and then left again. I think she said she was going to visit Sothyrion," Channei piped up. "And Master Xigon's off with Dakko, so we should have a nice lecture-free afternoon." Then she looked at Kolo and lit up. "Kolo! Hi!"

Kolo darted over to the bunk where Channei sat and grabbed her up in a hug. "How's my favorite shapeshifter?"

"I'm the only shapeshifter." Channei half-groaned and half-giggled.

"Good thing you're my favorite, then." Kolo leaned her head on Channei's shoulder. "It'd be a shame if you weren't, hm?"

Rizval cleared their throat. "Really?"

"Hmm?" Ido looked up from his sketchbook. He lay on his stomach on the floor next to Rizval, scribbling what looked like nonsense patterns in charcoal. "Oh, hey, they're back."

"We sure are." Azvalath went to crouch next to Ido. "What are you drawing?"

As he and Ido chattered over the artwork, Kolo turned her attention back to Channei. "You're not still brooding, are you?"

Channei raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yeah." Kolo reached up and ruffled Channei's hair. "Acting all gloomy. You know Lalek's not a good liar. It'd be more obvious if she were mad at you."

"I'm still worried, damn it." Channei grabbed the back of Kolo's hand. "She deserves this the least out of all of us."

Kolo looked up. "Hm?"

"Don't take it the wrong way." Channei fidgeted idly with Kolo's fingers. "It's just...Lalek's the least ruined out of us veterans."

"Hundred percent, fuzzball." Rizval stood up and stretched their arms. They were finally rid of the sling, but one arm was visibly stiffer than the other. "I'm bored. See you all later."

Channei's head followed Rizval as they disappeared from the room, and she gave a tiny smirk. "Guess we're not interesting enough."

"I feel like I can count the number of actual conversations I've ever had with Rizval on one hand," Kolo admitted.

"You and all the rest of us. Don't sweat it," Channei sighed. "They were never really the same after their old comrades all died."

Kolo looked down, regretting having spoken all of a sudden.

Channei gave her a pat on the back. "Did you and Aza make good progress?"

"Yeah." Kolo shrugged. "What've you been up to?"

"More stupid community service." Channei stuck her tongue out. "Like we don't have anything better to do than all these little errands. What are we, worker ants?"

"Imagine a person-sized ant," Ido interjected.

"No thanks." Channei shook her head. "That's just horrific."

"Says the girl who ate a dead rat like it was good bread," Azvalath sneered.

Her jaw fell open and she stared at Kolo with mock indignation. "Kolo, the boys are bullying me."

Kolo gave a tired chuckle. "Yeah, but did you really do that?"

"So what if I did?" Channei shrugged. Then she let out a heavy sigh. "Thank goodness. Feels like I'm actually talking to Kolo and Azvalath."

Kolo blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hm. I guess I'm just relieved that...well, you don't seem too damaged after all that mess." Channei leaned back and stretched her arms out.

Kolo bit her lip. Why did everyone seem to expect her to be damaged? It almost seemed like everyone was more concerned about her being fine than they would've been about her dying a gruesome death in front of them. It made her skin crawl. "Yeah, I guess." Her shoulders twitched. "I'm thirsty. Be right back."

She wasn't actually thirsty, nor did she intend to be right back, but it was enough of an excuse to detach herself from Channei and to leave the increasingly suffocating little bunkroom.

She made her way back to the house's main room and found Ami sitting at the table next to Lalek, poking at what looked like a jar of frothy off-white glop. Kolo stared at them for a moment, and when they failed to notice her, she cleared her throat as loudly as possible.

Ami looked up and waved. "Kolo! Good to see you. Ever gotten to know Lalek's sourdough starter?"

Lalek let out a hoarse chuckle, then looked up at Kolo and mouthed a plea for rescue.

"Hey, Ami." Kolo shifted her feet. "Can we talk?"

"We're talkin' right now, aren't we?" Ami rocked in her chair. "Oh, you mean just us. Go ahead and say so, then."

She got up, shoved the chair back in, then followed Kolo around the corner and out of earshot, into a dusty little room full of old fabrics. Ami fixated on a stack of moth-eaten sheets and shivered.

Kolo shook her head. "Don't tell me you're scared of old bedsheets."

"Oh, not at all." Ami turned her back to them. "Just...not a nice memory. What'd you need, Kolo?"

Kolo tried to ignore the blatant shuddering in Ami's knees and shoulders. "I know everyone is worried about me. You especially. And I'm confused."

Ami hummed. "What part's confusing?"

"Well..." Kolo glanced sideways and scratched the back of her neck. "Kind of hoped you could tell me. It was me taking Rager that had everyone in a panic, right?" Her fingers clenched. "Maybe you could explain it better. Why's it so unusual that I seem all right?"

"Ah." Ami's stance relaxed and her voice slipped back into a patronizing tone. "The way I designed it, Rager magnifies a Ferash Therall's own inherent power against them. Think of it like a second ascension gone wrong. Your fire blazes up and out of the pit and torches your whole woods down. And even if you put the flames out, you're left with scorched earth."

Kolo pursed her lips.

"A small dose was enough to put your master in torpor." Ami twiddled her thumbs. "And you, dear, took a dose bigger than I used on Haode way back then. Yet you look so well it's frankly scaring me."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "What should I look like, hm?"

"Most anyone else would be dead, and if they're lucky in some twisted sense they'd be suffering every second they still kicked." Ami stepped closer and made unsettling eye contact. "So be honest with me, Kolo. When you took that shot, how did it feel?"

"You really want to know?" Kolo took a step sideways, but held Ami's gaze. "Might not like my answer."

Ami's shoulders tensed. "Try me."

Kolo's lips curled. "I loved every second of it."

Ami's eyes widened. Her jaw fell open.

"I've never felt stronger," she continued. "It was the very peak of all my existence up to that point. So...thank you, Ami."

Ami looked vacant for a second. Then she rubbed her eyes and blinked, as if waking from a nightmare. "No, I oughta' be thanking you. You saved me and everyone else."

Kolo cocked her head.

"You've proven quite vital, dear." Ami gave Kolo a rough pat on the back. "So as much out of selfishness as worry, I'm warning you — don't warm yourself up in a wildfire."

Yet more contradicting advice from a hypocrite's mouth.

A sharp tingling gripped her upper spine like freezing-cold fingers. Kolo turned and glimpsed Xigon as he walked away.

Of course he knew. 

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Iron God Chapter 69 [Qila]

Their world's oldest tree had stood for countless lifetimes. Its thick gnarled roots had drunk the blood of so many hopeful warriors. Its colossal branches had spread like a gravebird's wings over their fragile little bodies as they tried to reach their god a second time.

    Qila remembered how she and Vraelen had sown its seed and then blessed its first tender needles as they forced up through soft and fertile soil.

    She leaned against the trunk and wondered if the tree ached as much as she did. She wondered if it remembered warmth.

    There was a muffled thud into the snow and needles, and the old woman looked toward the noise. Ami flopped over and rolled like a naughty cat before springing upon a pinecone as it dropped to the ground. She snatched it up in filthy fingers and then cradled it like the most precious treasure.

    "I planted this tree," Qila told her. "Me and Vraelen."

    "Yeah, I know." Ami sniffed the cone and then set it down gently. "Well, I don't know, but it tracks, 'cause the tree smells kinda like Sothyrion and it sure does pre-date the loss of the Iron God, though...how long ago was that, now? Hm?"

    Qila's shoulders lifted in a shrug before she even realized it.

    "Figured." Ami tapped her fingers on a knobby root. "Think I was born a little after that time, because I kinda' remember everything freezing up."

    The master raised a patchy eyebrow. "You do?"

    "Mm-hm." Ami played idly with a cluster of fallen needles. "And it's so odd that anything at all survived. But the plants, the mosses, the fungi and the little monsters you can't even see crawlin' in and out of everything, they didn't all die, some of 'em changed. When their machinery got all brittle in the cold and smashed to little bits, they built new machinery and they whispered to each other how to keep on growing..."

    Qila tuned out as Ami spiraled into one of her wild rambles. Ami had insisted upon seeing this tree, upon sniffing the ground where most second ascension blood fell. Now, Qila was quickly starting to regret honoring the request. When she couldn't take it anymore, she cleared her throat loud enough to make Ami stop.

    "Sorry." Ami's voice shrank down to a squeak. "It's just...remarkable, yeah? How even without Vraelen, it somehow doesn't all vanish in a blink."

    "No, of course it doesn't." Qila came over and sat down across from Ami. "He wanted life to last, so it does. Just as we tend to kick and scream long after we're injured beyond mending. We fight until we can't. It's how we were made."

    Ami sank down onto her side and traced one finger along a thick tendril of root. "From above and below, this tree's beyond tired and put out, but it still can't fall down no matter how bad it wants to." She tapped her knuckles on a bulge. "I think you're the same way."

    Qila scowled.

    "Meaning no offense, of course." The poisoner's lips curled in a subtle smirk. "I just think you've gotta have a better reason to live than to spite the dirt you're standing on."

    The old woman scoffed. "You think that's why I keep going, hm?"

    "Maybe, maybe not." Ami rolled onto her stomach and looked up to make eye contact. "How would anyone know? You hardly ever spend time with your litter unless it's to correct 'em."

    Qila's mouth hung slightly open at that remark.

    "You know that's why they tend to prefer Master Xigon, right?" Ami's tone was far too relaxed for such caustic words. "And I don't think that's changing anytime soon, so I think it'd be in your best interest to quit torturing him before your underlings find out."

    "Torturing him?" Qila rose to her feet and clenched her bony hands into tight fists. "Ami, you don't know what you're talking about."

    "We both know gods-damn well what I'm talking about." Ami sat up in a cross-legged position, still far too at ease. "That's why I figured I'd be courteous and have this little chat alone, keep it between us two." She gave a sweetly poisonous smile. "Maybe start with explaining why you cut his face?"

    "Whatever happens between him and me is none of your fucking business." The old woman's voice carried a slight tremor.

    "Well, if you're not careful, it could end up being everyone's fucking business." Ami mocked her tone. "So I'm making you an offer right now. You keep your hands and your weapons off him, and in exchange, your little ones won't hear about any of it from me. How's that sound?"

Seething, Qila crouched back down to Ami's level.     "Ami, I hope you understand the danger you're putting yourself in." Unbidden, she remembered his fingers crushing her windpipe back then, the day they'd finally broken each other. It made her eyes sting.

Ami hummed. "I'm well aware." Her head tilted like a curious dog. "Now, before you boil over, I've got a recommendation. Well, two of 'em, actually."

The old woman squinted.

"A mind's as vital a structure as a heart or a stomach, so don't let it stay sick." Ami tapped her temple. "And on that note, all your subjects are doing piss-poorly, so you should really get them out for fresh air."

In spite of her stress, Qila chuckled. "You're right. Let's get them out for some change of pace." She ran a hand through her gray hair. "It'll be good for all of us, I'm sure."

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