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nadiamantic · 2 months

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𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖘 & 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝕽𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖘

𝔒𝔪𝔫𝔦𝔞

[@duskbornbitchqueen]

In the end, Nadia is glad of the mask. She isn't kidding about the stench not being one she's used to; it's a very precise way of saying the congealed, mouldering reek of a dark storm drain in Vancouver is not the same as the blossoming organic bouquet of a corpse on a table, open to the probe and the peel of surgical steel in reverent hands -

Not the same at all, and Nadia sulks along, ankle-deep in summer rain turned stagnant slurry, high-stepping over brick and pipe, trailing Beetlejuice Monstertruck Majura, Prince's Daughter and Duskborn Primogen of the Domain of Greater Vancouver, through a sewer.

Glamorous, these acts of service.

She doesn't need to breathe, but she hasn't grown out of the habit yet, and she does need to breathe to complain, and thus: Nadia is glad of the mask.

The tension changes as they climb into what had, probably, once been the cellar or crypt or some empty foundational space of a church. Now it's ashes, and dust, and wrack and ruin, and Nadia's shoulders flex and stay flexed. Her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth. Anticipation. Her fingers spread and curl, and those teeth of her shift in her mouth with want.

She takes in the chamber, working from where she is toward what she wants. It had been sealed, once upon a time; an iron door lies cockeyed in the foot of a stairwell leading out. The walls are lined with shelves; they are crumbling, any books remaining on them just briquettes. There are cages: birdcages, human-sized, and what died in them is still there, nothing but twisted bone and crisp-black charred meat.

Only the stone remains. Two pillars that hold the hollow hall open, stop the ground closing and consuming this memorial. Between them, on four long iron spikes, is a shroud. Black cloth; cheap velvet. Only the cloth moves. It bulges, billows, in the same breeze that leeches what mockery of heat is left in Nadia's blood, calling a craving out of her.

She doesn't see what's on the other side. It is known to a kind of perception that doesn't fit the fivefold law of humanity. It has never been human, and it belongs in a place beyond the fields beyond the fields she knows. It is not decay, because decay was once life; it is not rot, because rot was once health. It is... entropy. It is nothing-that-is-something, flexing and pulsing in a space that is not space, and as it moves, so moves the marker.

"So," she says. "I can't re-knit the Shroud itself. It's possible, but I can't do it. What I can do is make a door. Locked and triple-barred - nothing from this side will be able move through, anything from the other side will be crippled before it leaves this room. That's as closed as I can manage. If she ever wants it open again - that can be arranged. Compromise, yeah? Just... wait by the door. I'll need to take my time."

The shroud itself is simple enough. Will, and Blood - black blood, null blood, empty dead and cold blood - are the stuff of which necromancy is truly made, and her Blood yearns for the place-without-place beyond this shroud. It pools in her palms, beckoned closer as she steps through the ruins and the dirt like she's coming home, and under her breath she invokes a litany of spirits that aren't her own -

The Blood moves. Breaking out as crimson sweat, crawling out of myriad dead pores, in her palms and her face and her breasts and - shit, all of her - and she leans into the shroud and clasps it to her, like burial, like miracle, like faith, because she cannot let this go to waste, and the Shroud-beyond-the-shroud drinks of her even as her head tips back in with an ecstatic strangled hiss.

Too much. Too much. Too much yet just enough. As it leaves her flesh behind, Nadia's vitae stills and chills, coats and seals the cloth, knitting it into a velvet scab over a wound in the world; and as it clots, Nadia stumbles, dried-up, dessicated, corpse-thing in a girl's skin wrapped too tight around wasted muscle and gnarled, prominent bone.

Worst of all, the weakness. The Bloodless enfeeblement that drops her shaking to her knees, parchment skin crack-crack-crackling and empty of life. A post-human blister, kneeling postmortem before the afterlife.

She still has work to do. 'Gainst death, no threshold blocks nor fastn'd portal bars. Both, she needs. Both, she must complete. Lines upon lines must be drawn in the church floor with a coffin nail; the songs in old Veneto must be sung.

And so, Nadia crawls. The little iron spike does not shake in her dry, clenched fingers; there is no faltering, no autonomic movement, no involuntary twitch or shiver. The ruthless, relentless inch-by-inch movement of a corpse is dry and inert and takes place by will alone.

She crawls, across and back, across and back again. Shuffling on her knees through the ash and the dust, describing concentric circles through the ruin of unlife six, seven years unaliv'd?

Words babble out of her in cacophonous nonsense. She's not even hungry - not really - just weak, and slow, achingly slow, brushing down to flagstones as she shuffles, shuffles, shuffles.

She's sure Beetlejuice is watching her, now, but it's whatever. The work has to be done. The job she was brought here to do. She. Not Orpheus, not Sorcha, not Luciana, not Nero, not poor mad Dulcie or whatever her name is - her, her, her.

Ego into Will, and Will into Work. Pride drives her to the edge of her strength. She closes the last circle, and keels over; at the last, it's undignified, undramatic.

Doctor Milliner lies fetal in the dust of a dead man's last redoubt. Once again, her nemesis holds her fate, close as a lover. If Beetlejuice wants her dead, it will be so easy.

If Beetlejuice comes near her, says the Beast, bleed her for me.

#ghost holes & proper roles #long form #ooc: don't give a fuck if that's not how it works in the rulebook

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lonely-shine · 9 months

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Plagued by Thoughts of You

[Read on AO3]

*Fandom: The Arcana *Rating: Mature *Relationships: Asra/Julian *Characters: Asra, Julian, Mentioned Apprentice *Chapters: 1/1 (one shot) *Wordcount: 2.700~ *Additional tags: Red Plague, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, hurt no comfort, grieving/mourning, non-explicit sex

*Summary: The death of apprentice Shell left a gaping void in both Asra's and Julian's hearts, which they try to ignore with single-minded focus to their goal (one bringing her back, the other curing the plague) and looking for something they know they can't have in the other.

********

It was late when Asra got back to the shop, the sky dark and cloudy overhead, the streets cold and quiet. He sighed when he finally stepped in and closed the door behind him, tired; it had been a long day at the Palace.

"Finally alone..." he muttered, mostly to himself.

Faust slithered out of his sash and flickered her tongue at him.

"He is so annoying, isn't he?" Asra said, smiling and giving Faust some scritches. He didn't dislike Ilya, and hadn't minded when Countess Nadia asked them to work together, but he was so tiring to deal with. "So clingy and so needy and..." And he's not her, he thought, frowning, but didn't voice this aloud.

He was not her. He was not her and would never be. How could he even think of being with him when Shell was dead? How could he be so preoccupied with the cure when that wouldn't bring her back? She was his apprentice too. He knew her, he knew her and still did nothing to—

Asra took in a deep breath as he braced on the shop's counter, his knuckles becoming white from the force of it. His vision blurred and he saw his own hands in different times and places: cupping Shell's face as she lovingly gazed at him, covered in blood as he retrieved her ashes and charred bones from the grounds of the Lazaret.

'If I can't convince you to stay and you can't convince me to go, maybe we should split up,' she had said, and he had agreed, feeling hurt and betrayed, and left. Left her behind. Left her to die alone and...

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the feeling and redirecting his thoughts to anger instead. "He's not her," he said, aloud this time. Anger and hate felt better than guilt and grieving, made him feel more in control, and he needed that feeling of control. "And he's impossible."

Faust wrapped warmly around his shoulders in a gesture of comfort, and he let out a shaky breath he didn't quite realize he was holding. "You miss her too, don't you?" he said, then stepped away from the counter and towards the shelves, all stuffed to the brim with books and magical items. "Soon enough. I will bring you back, Shell," he said, taking one of the heavy tomes in his hands. "I will fix this."

********

By the time Julian finished his shift it was well past midnight. He crammed into the nook that functioned as his office in the medical dungeons and lit a candle for light.

He rubbed at his face, sighing, and slumped into the chair at the narrow desk —ridden with scattered books, papers, and medical tools— that took one of the walls of the tiny space.

The days at the Palace were long, and the nights were even longer. So much death, so much suffering... How many victims had he seen? Strangers, acquaintances, his own colleagues once they succumbed to the disease...

And then there was her, he thought as he unlocked the desk's drawer and took out Shell's last record to him. He hadn't seen her body —she had been directly cremated at the Lazaret, he later found out— yet he could still picture her dead on his arms, on Valdemar's table during their demonstrations...

Julian shivered. Valdemar always made the fine hairs on his nape stand on end. There was something... off about them. Just as well that Shell's body never entered the Palace. He couldn't have borne to see her in that state.

The paper page of the record crumpled as his fingers reflexively clutched at it, his eyes fixed on Shell's signature at the bottom corner.

How could have he missed her death? She was his apprentice, his responsibility, and he didn't even know she was sick until after her death. How could have he been so careless? He should have kept a better eye on her. Should have protected her. Now all that remained to remind him of her was that record...

The record, and Asra.

He was a little surprised, when Countess Nadia introduced him to them. Shell had talked about Asra with him —and from what he'd gathered, they had been very close indeed— but he never thought he'd meet them.

Asra was... a little odd. So carefree and with his head always on the cloud, even in the midst of a plague. Were all magicians like that?

Belatedly, Julian remembered Shell was a magician too —she hadn't talked that much about it, while they'd worked together. Oh, but she made it sound so different! More coherent and less hocus pocus. Almost more like engineering than magic. Almost.

No, it must be something about Asra himself then, and not his profession. But he must be a good one, even so. Shell had spoken fondly of him, and she had been so kind and brave and... Well, she must have had good taste.

Or, well, she usually must have. She must not have been at her best when she answered to Julian's half-hearted flirting. Probably was just humouring him anyway. Or just being kind. He shouldn't assume.

But, ahh, how had she made his heart sore! Should he have confessed his feelings to her? Maybe not, considering how it all had ended up. What kind of man would he be, to confess his love and then forget about her until after her death? Better he had kept it to himself.

Julian sighed and put the report back on its place in the drawer.

He couldn't save Shell, it was far too late for that, he knew, but he could find a cure. He could prevent more deaths. Shell had wanted to help the people of Vesuvia; he had a small hope that in finding a cure he would earn her forgiveness, if only a little, for being too busy to notice it when she was gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

That thought spiralled inside his head enough that it made him dizzy. He got up from the chair and almost hit his head on the ceiling.

He had to get out. The air down in the dungeons was always so thick and oppressive, he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, not with the thoughts and smell of sickness in and around him.

Julian left the Palace at a brisk pace, and soon he could feel the cobbled streets of the city under the soles of his boots. The air was misty, and cold enough that it hurt his lungs when he breathed, which felt right.

He told himself he didn't know where he was going, that he was just wandering, as he walked down the streets. Just a stroll to clear up his mind.

However, his mind was too full of concern for a certain magician for him to believe his own lie, his steps clearly leading to the Centre City.

He was just checking on them, Julian tried to convince himself of on the way. He couldn't let harm come their way. They were the last connection he had to Shell. If they died...

No, he wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't keep Shell safe, but the same wouldn't happen with Asra.

Giving up on the pretense of a random stroll, Julian turned his heel and took the shortest route to the magic shop. It was late, but Asra was a nocturnal creature too. With any luck, he'd find him awake.

********

Herbs, magical tools, and heavy tomes were scattered on the backroom’s floor as Asra tried another spell, the air filling with a thick, purplish mist as their power manifested.

They had consulted every book they could get their hands on during their research. Books about the Arcana, curses, healing, forbidden spells, necromancy… The latter ones always required a body to work with, which was useless when they hadn't found but charred bones and ash of Shell.

None of the books gave them the information that they wanted, that they needed. They’d have to figure a way out themself.

A sudden, insistent knock on the door distracted them from their musings, making them turn their gaze away from the book they were holding. Who could it be at that hour? With a sigh, they went to answer.

When they opened the door, Asra found the lanky, nervous figure he knew well waiting outside. "Ilya?" They couldn't help but frown, not that Ilya dropping by was rare, but the hour definitely was. "What are you doing here? I told you I'd be fine."

"Yeah, I know, I just—" Ilya tiptoed his way around them to get inside, then snuffled his nose at the thick, purplish streams of mist coming out of the backroom. "Wait, what— What are you doing here?" He started coughing, doubling over at the power of the spell in the air.

"Can't you tell?" Asra said, letting the door close and grabbing Ilya by the chin to make him look at them. "Just a magic trick."

"Ah, something from one of those ridiculous tomes?" Ilya asked, breathing heavily.

They sighed, letting go of him. "Something from one of those ridiculous tomes." They took a long look at him then. Ilya was... He was a lot of things, but he held an imprint of Shell in him. It was not strong, but it was proof of her existence. Maybe... "If you'd like to help, I'm sure I could find a use for you."

"I—" He swallowed audibly. "Will it help? If I do it, will it change anything?"

Asra's gaze darkened as they turned away. "I hope so," they said, voice low and dangerous, drawing the curtains to the backroom open.

Ilya followed them inside, giving a wary look to the scattered books and the magic circle drawn onto the small, round table at the centre of the room.

Asra gestured to the circle, serious and looking directly at Ilya's eyes. "Blood. Bone. Sweat and tears. All powerful catalysts for these spells," they explained, carefully regarding Ilya. They knew perfectly well how squeamish he was about magic, how superstitious. How far was he willing to go? How committed was he to Shell? He couldn't know the spell was for her. Would he help them anyway? "I wonder... How much are you willing to give up, Ilya?"

"I— Uhm, well, that is to say— You know—" He gulped, visibly straining against the force of the spell permeating the room, then bit his lip as he looked at them. "I'll give you all of me, if that's what you need," he finally said, blushing.

So loyal. So eager. A lopsided smile twitched Asra's lips up, despite themself. They shook their head. "For now, I just need your hand."

Ilya immediately extended his arm over the table, no hesitation. Asra raised an eyebrow, half amused, half surprised by this. They hadn't expected such willingness, given his dislike for magic... Then again, maybe he was just trying to gain their favour.

No matter, a willing offering was a willing offering. They took out an ornate dagger from the pile of objects scattered around the tiny room and, holding his wrist firmly with their free hand, sliced Ilya's palm open.

Blood sluggishly came out from the shallow wound, trickling down his skin and dripping onto the table.

Asra held their breath when the magic circle started glowing upon coming in contact with Ilya's blood, daring to hope it might be enough... Then deflated when the glow quickly faded away.

"Is, er, is that it?" Ilya asked, sounding uncertain.

They let go of his wrist, turning away from the now-dark circle, feeling tired once again. Another one that did nothing. "That's all I need from you, Ilya."

"Now, hold on, what kind of magic was that? What did that do?" He stepped around the table, towards them, his voice equal parts curious and concerned.

Asra shrugged. They didn’t feel like explaining. "I'm not sure. I won't know until it happens. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps..."

"Are you putting yourself in dange—"

Asra sighed and turned around sharply, shutting him up by grabbing his wrist. "You talk too much, Ilya," they said, their eyes fixed in his.

Ilya looked back at him, blushing up mightily. "Th-then just tell me what to do instead."

Asra felt themself smiling, their anger now faded. Ilya wasn’t always easy to deal with, but then again, he wasn’t always difficult either. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" they said, taking a step forward, forcing him to take one back.

"Y-you— Oh my god, yes." He managed to blush even more deeply as they slid one of their legs between his. "I'll do anything you want, anything at all, whatever you need."

Asra sobered down somewhat at the look of hunger and longing from Ilya. Longing felt too close to love. "You know I can't give you everything you want, Ilya."

He slid down to his knees, not taking his eyes off them. "I'll take what I can get."

They placed a hand on Ilya’s throat, not as much grabbing it as just resting their fingers there, for the moment. Still, they could feel his pulse jumping as they leaned down to whisper on his ear. "And when it hurts you?"

This close, they could hear him gulp. "I can take it."

Asra laughed, with no real mirth nor malice behind it. They pushed Ilya down on the floor, hand on his chest, and leaned down to breathe on his neck. "Then let it be. Just stop me if you need it."

********

'Just stop me if you need it,' Asra had said.

But he wouldn’t. Need it, that was. He wanted the pain. And Asra being the one delivering it felt right.

Julian could feel Asra’s hands sliding under his clothes, griping, scratching, pulling moans and groans from him. He held onto their hips with urgency, pulling them closer.

"Hands to yourself, Ilya," Asra said, their voice firm, snapping like a whip.

He obediently let go, putting his arms above his head, submissive.

"That’s better." Asra smirked and resumed his handling, expert and teasing.

The magic in the air was gone, but Julian’s shortness of breath was not, even if for fully different reasons now. He pleaded, he begged, and wherever Asra touched him, he felt his skin burn in a way that only left him wanting for more.

He could feel the tension increasingly building up inside him as Asra traced paths on his skin with hands, teeth, and tongue, marking their way and making his head spin. He arced his back towards Asra, struggling against their grip and calling their name when it finally released.

Asra looked at him from above, a lopsided smile on his lips. He seemed pleased, but he wasn’t done yet.

"Ah," Julian breathed. "Let me hel—"

"Don’t," Asra said, a hand pressed to Julian's chest while keeping the other on himself. "Stay down."

He nodded, obedient, his heartbeat fast against Asra’s palm as he worked himself up on top of him, sweaty, struggling, and so freaking beautiful Julian couldn’t help but stare as he too found release.

Still panting , Asra stayed still for a moment , catching his breath, then combed a hand through the mess of his white curls, pulling them back and away from his face. He smiled, c heeky , looking at him from above. " I hope that wasn’t too much? "

Julian bit his lip, holding a groan back . " Not at all. "

Then Asra got off him , standing up, and started fixing himself and his clothes back together. " Well, it got rather late to keep at this, " he said, moving away and disappearing from his view.

Julian wasn’t sure if they were talking about the sex or the magic. When he sat up to take look at them, Asra had produced a pitcher of water and a glass from somewhere in the room, and was offering the latter to him.

" O-oh! Thank you,” he mumbled, taking the glass. The water was pleasantly cold.

Asra nodded and leaned against the small, round table, leaving the pitcher on it. "You should get some sleep, Ilya. You start early tomorrow." He paused for a long second, looking away, then got up and away from the table. "You can take the couch in the shop, if you need." He said, finally looking back at him with an expression Julian couldn’t read. "Goodnight, Ilya."

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #the arcana asra #the arcana julian #asra x julian #but it's unhealthy lol #the arcana red plague #red plague #fanfic #fan fiction #smut

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montammil · 1 month

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Nadia is so interesting to me cuz if Lawrence was my man and he was being shipped with his bestie 24/8 i'd be so insecure. I couldn't handle it. Even if we all was friends like they was. I don't think I could've done it. Or do it.

Thankfully Nadia was probably more confident than Law + Char combined, and honestly she and Charlotte were pretty close too, after Lawrence introduced them. She would drag them both everywhere, and they were rumored to be an open relationship (which they weren't, but none of them really cared about the rumors).

#answered ask #lawrence oc #charlotte oc #nadia oc #i feel like jealousy would come up every once in a while from either 3 of them but they'd deal with it in a healthy manner

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murderer-tournament · 1 year

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Round 1: Masterpost

Side A:

Dalinar Kholin vs. Aminata isiSegu

Macavity vs. Catra Applesauce Meowmeow

Anakin Skywalker vs. Fang Runin

Roy Mustang vs. Wei Wuxian

Jonny d'Ville vs. The Olympian Gods

Jake Berenson vs. Eren Yeager

Emperor Belos vs. Yharim

DJ Octavio vs. Jane Crocker

Elim Garak vs. Clementine Kesh

Fire Lord Sozin vs. Gabriel Agreste

Sylvanas Windrunner vs. Kim Dokja

CLU vs. Nevil Clavain

President Snow vs. Shuos Jedao

Mario vs. Chrom

Matrim Cauthon vs. Char Aznable

Loki vs. Ianthe Naberius

Side B:

John Gaius vs. Kathryn Janeway

Essek Theyless vs. Nadia Om

Rachel Berenson vs. Obi-Wan Kenobi

Gunpowder Tim vs. Erwin Smith

Kal'mera Broun vs. Edelgard von Hresvelg

The Doctor vs. Esdeath

Master of Masters vs. Tanya von Degurechaff

Riza Hawkeye vs. Feanor

Reddington vs. Locus & Felix

Rand al'Thor vs. Velvet Crowe

Warren Clavain vs. Nicte Batan

Handsome Jack vs. Salvation

Queen Chrysalis vs. General Bradford

Millions Knives vs. Il Dottore

c!owen vs. Moira ghem Estif

Darayavahoush e-Afshin vs. Vector

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nadianova · 1 year

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~~trans goetia may dev log~~

so idk why or how or when but i just straight up managed to delete the entire spritesheet for all of fufus expressions. no backups or anyhting because of course not. but that being said i had already been staring at the project long enough that i felt that i could do better. while i loved how the sprites looked i was running into MASSIVE problems when i was posing both of the chars together and trying to come up with stuff for the actual horny scenes. their heads were just too damn big. how you gonna even hug when your arms cant reach the other? as cute as the big chibi heads were its just not really that suitable for a horny game?

anyway i think i really like my new models just as much if not even more than the old ones. the previous ones clearly have their own charm but i cant use them anyway so from now on its this. i even made some fun test renders to get a feel for how they could look before i realized the dither shader i made was entirely useless since renpy doesnt scale stuff like that at all lmfao!!

the models have some whacky outlining that looks weird in some places so when im closer to actually having all the sprites done ill go through them and manually draw over to fix weirdlooking stuff. since its just solid colors and lines it will be way easier to modify them manually

i still have some kinks i need to iron out when integrating this new style especially in regards to all the animated bits i did, but as far as progress has gone ive done SO MUCH this month. if it werent for this remaking of the models id have a new build to share about now but that is going to come later. HOPEFULLY next month.

once the dressing room funny business arc is finished the next day will be about... circe gathering ingredients for the ritual to get herself some curves!!! things totally will go smoothly and nobody will be spanked or bullied in the process........unless?

thats that for this time! well, what do you think about the new models? i think theyre cute. especially fufus hat. its probably the best thing ive ever done in 3d. super proud of that one. its so cute on her when she look all smug

this is post was brought to you by nadia nova real text edited from my official itchio & patreon devlog

#devlog #renpy #trans goetia #vndev #blender #gamedev #indiedev #3d #transgender #visual novel

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fox-daddies · 9 months

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Scents and smells;

I've heard a lot of descriptions of smells and how different smells make you think of diffrent people. Like how Lavander is used with Nadia and Myrrh for Muriel, I decided to guess what smells my Mc's would have associated to them.

Kyle - more of a wet damp wood smell. More akin to a forest after heavy rain. That soil, wood smell being the most similar to scent with Muriel's myrrh or fancy dirt smell. (Myrrh smells like fancy dirt.) But more woody than earthy and slightly more damp like after fresh rain.

Bluebell - more like blueberries and citrusy in general like oranges and lemons. While I would just say a more sour smell that tends to bring up the thought of sour milk rather than fruits.

Hunter - most like wood smoke, charred and smokey yet slightly woody. Like a wood fire would be the most accurate way to describe the smell I'm thinking of, the smell of wood burning.

#mc kyle #the arcana game #the arcana mc #mc bluebell #mc hunter #the arcana

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heymacareyna · 1 year

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find-it game

tagged by @korblez thank youuu

my words: shelter, root, spin, sheer, harmless

tagging: @novel-emma @liv-is @ellierenae @authorlaurawinter @ddbirb @brianamorganbooks @ihernglass @risingshards

your words: gold, dream, ease, dark, silent

I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be just the sentence it appears in. OH WELL I LIKE CONTEXT SUE ME

1. Shelter (from Wordless):

[Julie] would never again tie herself and Nadia to a situation where they depended on someone else. Not for money, not for shelter, not for happiness. Not for anything.

Julie would push through the years of work and class and exhaustion if it meant Nadia stayed free of anyone else’s marionette strings.

2. Root (from say my name and every color illuminates):

Caitlyn and Vi kissed there in the kitchen for a minute or an hour or an eternity. Hands tender, lips gentle. They swayed back and forth, in time to a song only they could hear. Giving and taking. Peaceful in a way Vi had never felt before. Like roots were growing deep within her.

3. Spin (from Love, Lorena):

Rose struggled to catch her breath. If she wasn’t Rowdy Rosamund, who was she? Crown Princess Rosamund was…someone else entirely, someone she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Her world spun around her as the fire crackled with the remains of her life. “I’m not ready,” she whispered, and her voice cracked.

4. Sheer (from Wordless):

“I used to swear I would never marry a ‘homework is useful’ person,” Levi teased her. “How did I end up with you?”

“Sheer good luck,” Elinor suggested dryly.

5. Harmless (from Border Ctrl+Esc):

Embry shrugged. “It’s a tiny teacher crush. Mine was Ms. Takahashi in ninth grade English. Futile but harmless. You know how it is.”

No…no, she didn’t. Mariana’s flustered frustration charred into embarrassment. Years ago, had her classmates pined for their teachers too? She’d never felt whatever it was these girls felt, young and green and premature as it was. Had she missed some kind of pubescent rite of passage?

#tag games #writing #writeblr

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softgrungeprophet · 1 year

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me writing stuff in my timeline like, are dr warren and norman a little too evil? is this too black and white? too cartoony?

me looking over my other villains/antagonists (ock, mac, etc.) who are generally complex in their morals while still being assholes or bad people: i think I'm good actually,

#sometimes a bad guy can just be a bad guy and that's good enough #tbf norman has some moderately complex motivations for certain facets of the plot he's involved in #but ultimately is still an evil capitalist shithead lol #nadia rambles #arghwrites #rather he be mustache twirling evil than 'omg i'm so sorry the devil made me do it 🥺' tho #i have plenty of villains on my list who aren't evil and i have a couple who just like murder #(the former applying to ppl like the shocker and the latter applying to ppl like cletus or francine (electro))#i do have a List Of Villains btw 😂 some of them stolen from other superheroes like DD or iron man but 99% from spidey #i think ghost and the black tarantula are actually the only non spidey chars on the list actually... well. does fisk count?#i guess peter and matt just share a lot of random characters though. i mean hell. Liz and Foggy dated!#peter's fought the black tarantula anyway #ghost i think is an avengers/ant man/iron man character (and obvs was in A-M & The Wasp)#i just think they're neat--sorry he i forgot. she in the movie tbf. I'm making them a they to match their incorporeality #idk if I'll actually USE them though but for a later post-unstable molecule suit i think they'd be a good choice #wait spidey's fought ghost in ASM hasn't he? there's a Ramos cover. I'm Good Actually.

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vesuvianhermitcrabs · 1 month

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HC for how the M6 would react if after the upright ending, the black plague happened.

HOW THE ARCANA CHARACTERS WOULD REACT TO THE BLACK PLAGUE:

(A/N: this was supposed to be funny... it is not funny... also this has been marinating for so long i can't finish all of the m6 so it's just asra and nadia I'M SORRYYYYYY)

For context: The red plague is over, you tell the devil to suck it, you and your LI are happy and in love and then some dumbass gets too up close and personal with a rat, beginning the black plague.

Asra

You're coming home from a trip with him when you enter the city and notice the streets of Vesuvia are completely empty

Before you can even reach your shop you know something is terribly wrong

Asra turns to look at you, worried

You decide to visit the palace, surely Nadia would be able to explain what was happening

When you get there, a single guard is posted inside the gates wearing a plague mask

"In light of the recent plague outbreak, the countess will not be seeing any visitors," the guard says, unmoving, monotone as if they had turned away many before you

Plague?

A moment of stunned silence passes before you feel Asra grip your hand with his own

He's shaking

Asra's brain is so hectic that the only thing he can think of doing is getting you away from here. So he takes you back to the shop and he's stuffing everything he possibly can into a travelling bag

They're completely unresponsive when you speak to them

...but when you take both of their wrists in your hands and ask them how they're feeling they immediately shatter

Full blown panic attack

He can't stop thinking of your charred bones in the ground, can't stop imagining you so ill that you can't walk, can't stop dreading that you'll want to stay in Vesuvia and try to help people and end up dead all over again

He can't stop

They're sobbing now, wrapping their arms around your waist and burying their face into the space above your clavicle so they can listen to your heart beating through the pulse point in your neck

You stay like that for hours

He's no fool and he knows he can't mourn you like this when you're still with him, so when he finally parts with you, it's to ask you to run away alongside him

Asra's begging you to leave with him, but he's not going to go without you. Not again

If you choose to leave with him, he's taking that chance to whisk you away as soon as you're ready

Takes you to his cottage in Nopal so you can both lay low until the new plague relents

If you're adamant about staying, he'll stay with you

Knows that if you fall ill and he's not there to help you he won't ever forgive himself

He's willing to stick with you in Vesuvia, but just know he'll hate every second of it. Every moment is spent filled with his fear for the both of you

Whatever you choose, the whole ordeal digs up your shared traumas, so, yk, all in all both of you are doing pretty terribly

You're having constant nightmares about being cremated alive

He's having nightmares about finding your bones in the ground, about being unable to save you and all of your loved ones

On nights like those, you cling to each other and try to offer the most comfort you can

Nadia

Before the outbreak even happened her intuition told her something bad was going to happen

As soon as her suspicions are even slightly confirmed she's sending out warnings to all Vesuvians

To the average person she appears uncannily composed about the whole ordeal, but you know how much of a toll it has taken on her

Nadia's people are dying around her AGAIN and she's as frantic and upset as you've ever seen her. She is so very determined to do better than last time

She wants to be a better ruler

She's imposing rules on quarantines, finding ways to supply food and water without spreading the disease, attempting to help those who are already sick, she is trying

Her stress levels have long surpassed even Julian's

She's overworking herself and most days you think you're the only thing keeping her sane

It consumes her

Part of the reason the plague affects her so heavily is because she knows you died from it

The very fact that someone as wonderful and lively and beautiful as you could have their life torn away from them haunts her. She can't let that happen if she has any say in it at all

Wants to keep you safe despite the fact you're the court magician, tries to keep you away from it all but isn't sure if that means sacrificing the rest of Vesuvia

Nadia might actually explode so be nice to her please...

Lucio

FUCK.

It's no longer Lucio's good time party town it is now trauma central

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana hc #the arcana mc #cringe culture is dead

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