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#(⌒▽⌒)☆ : myst's library !!
scaralvr · 1 year
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⠀⠀ 💤 GOOD LOOKING! scaramouche x gn!reader
synopsis: kunikuzushi is confused as to why his 'heart' craves something besides you, his lover. when he comes to realize he abandoned you just like his creator and friends did to him, he returns only to be greeted by nothing. ୨ sfw, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort ୧
⠀⠀📋 this is a short nd silly little filler post while i'm working on heaps of reqs atm😵‍💫 this is based off of suki waterhouse's song good looking!!
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kunikuzushi seeks something greater in the comforting and quiet life he has with you. after three betrayals, he's finally found someone to love and care for without having to worry about them leaving. but why is it that his heartless chest yearns for something else? is it possible you're not what he needs?
he awakes in a cold sweat when he finds out. a heart. the puppet longs for a heart of his own. being able to love and be loved wasn't enough, or so he thought. one day when you leave to get groceries, kunikuzushi asks if he can join you, to your surprise. and of course, you could never turn down your lover.
you smile and allow him to go to inazuma city with you. you tell him it's good for him, that he has a chance of meeting new people and improving his communication skills. and kunikuzushi may have met people, but definitely not the ones you would've wanted him to.
tides thrash inside, baby, i'm high octane
you find your lover's presence to be something rare nowadays, as you're spending nights alone with an empty bed and a blank mind. it's not as lively without kunikuzushi, you would think. you turn to face the window and the moon is high and proud among the pitch black sky filled with stars.
the familiar sound of the door opening alarms you and you get out of bed with a hopeful smile on your lips. "kunikuzushi!" you greet the puppet with a warm welcome as you help him take off his materials. lately, he seems to be indulging in oddly different clothes rather than the ones you sewed just for him.
his gaze is so cold and distant. you notice this while waiting for him to speak up, but he never does. scaramouche brushes past you and slides the shoji doors shut to his room. your heart twinges for a moment. you were hoping to finally talk to him after what seemed like forever, but he must be busy again. surely, he doesn't need his lover as a thorn in his side.
fever in a shock wave, my core vibrates in an opium haze
scaramouche barely remembers he even had a lover to begin with. he supposes being occupied with fatui business has taken a toll on his memory as well, besides his physical and mental state. he allowed the doctor to perform strange tests on him after studying scaramouche as a specimen. he'll admit; the "harmless" experiments performed on him were rougher than he expected, but all's fine.
if he can't take on all of this pain on his own, how can he continue his path to stealing the gnosis and becoming a God? through these experiences, scaramouche has come to hate mirrors. when he looks at himself, he finds the same vulnerable boy inside him despite changing so much within time. the split ends of his hair remind him of how he ruthlessly cut it himself after his mother abandoned him.
he merely scoffs at the thought. only weaklings dwell upon the past. scaramouche is the present and future; he believes that the past is a waste of time and it will always be that way. yet through all of this time, he didn't even realize he left someone else in the past.
yet you think we're the same
scaramouche doesn't notice your disappearance until it turns into months, maybe even more than that. well, it doesn't matter, if anything, this should help. he'll deal with the pain all by himself like he always does and it'll strengthen himself as he journeys to the birth of his becoming of a God. but why does it hurt moreso than usual?
scaramouche doesn't understand why he holds too many emotions. he doesn't want to have emotions and he never needed them in the first place. he believes it's a flaw, along with the other mistakes his creator made when making him. he doesn't understand why tears cascade down his face in an uncontrollable state as he curls up on the bed, void of anyone's warmth.
starting at that point, he began to change into the pleasant yukata you sewed for him rather than his uncomfortable fatui attire. the scent of you still lingered in the cotton as he buries his nose into the material. scaramouche solemnly pulls away and looks around as if he just awoke from a bad dream.
"where are you... (y/n)?" kunikuzushi queries.
the skyline falls as i try to make sense of it all
kunikuzushi can hardly pay any attention to his fatui duties when he finally realizes your sudden disappearance from his life. you promised to stay by his side, and that you did, but where were you now? maybe you went down to the city and he simply didn't notice. although, your trips don't usually take this long.
kunikuzushi is aware he doesn't have a heart, so why, why is there an inexplicable pain in his chest where it's supposed to be? it hurts, he cries to himself at night as he recalls all of the innocent lives he took, their blood in his hands as he kept it to himself. a poor excuse for a God in the making...
he felt so useless and lost. how much time has past? for how long were you already gone? did you leave of your own accord? did someone else take you away? questions plagued his mind as he could hardly rest with such thoughts.
i thought i'd uncovered your secrets but, turns out, there's more
as time passes, he grows a temper that would make anyone turn the other way the moment they saw him. scaramouche is filled with nothing but loathe for this wretched teyvat he roams and the heavenly celestia that watches upon him. why did they take you of all people? what made you leave?
these are the type of things that he's thinking the second he sees you after lesser lord kusanali takes the gnosis away from him. he can't tell whether it's real, and in this case, it probably isn't. but he hasn't seen you in so long, he doesn't care if it's short lived. scaramouche allows himself to sink into your embrace, unknowing of the fact that he's falling to the ground after the wires of the machine detached from him.
"it hurts, (y/n). i don't want to be here anymore," he cries into the crook of your neck as you hush him, your fingers brushing through his hair. "you're the strongest i've come to known, my kunikuzushi. continue what you began for me. i'll be waiting for you."
a kiss is planted against his forehead and he awakes from his slumber.
you adored me before, oh my good looking boy.
in a frightened state, the wanderer looks left and right, searching for your whereabouts. it doesn't take him very long to find you, for you're sound asleep next to him. he slowly gulps and his hand hovers over your face in hesitation. dear teyvat and celestia above, can something go right for once? just this once, as he's suffered for so many years and he doesn't wish for it to continue.
your eyelids flutter open and he quickly retracts his hand. you look at him and your lips form a smile. the smile he came to love and missed for the longest time. then, you part your beautiful lips to speak, and your voice is as soft and gentle as ever. "what are you doing up so late, dear? you and the traveler have a busy day tomorrow, don't you?"
you ask as you gather all of your strength to sit up, still half-asleep. he struggles to release a sentence from his mouth, even a word would do good, but he just couldn't. his lips are agape as he marvels at your presence. you sleepily giggle, "oh, love. you can't keep slacking off, you know that, right? the traveler's little fairy... thing, paimon, is constantly talking about how you seem so lost in your thoughts all of the time."
"i..." a word. he finally speaks. "can i..." all of a sudden, tears begin to stream down his face and you're taken aback. "k-kunikuzushi, are you alright?" you question him in a panicking state as you're fully awake, sitting on your knees to examine his face. he takes it upon himself to hide his face in the crook of your neck, his arms slithering around your torso as he clings to you for dear life. his hands are clutching at you as if you were to disappear at any given moment, but it never happens.
the one and only time, can he feel relieved. his muscles aren't as strained anymore as he allows his frail body to make your embrace its home. you pause, your movements at a stop as your body is tense, but you rest your hand in his hair. "can i stay here? i don't feel like helping the traveler with whatever tomorrow..." he mumbles, hoping you'd say yes, at the very least. a chuckle escapes your lips.
"of course, love. we need more time alone, don't we? but for now, let's rest together." you pull away as he does and you slot your lips into his. he eagerly indulges in the kiss and his chest, though heartless, comes to be filled with a happy warmth that can cause a grin to break out onto his features. "rest with you... i need that, more than ever."
© scaralvr.
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mysticplaces · 2 years
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Reading Station | Charles Hindley & Co, London, c. 1890
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pencilofawesomeness · 2 years
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insomnia buddies
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Decided to do one of my beloved nerd-brotps, Levy and Jellal, for the secrets prompt for rare pairs week ( @ftguildevents​ ) because the idea wouldn’t leave me.
Nobody expects the two responsible noodles to enable each other’s bad sleeping habits, but sometimes, that’s what friends are for.
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April X783
“What time is it?” Levy wondered aloud, stifling a yawn. She didn’t look up from her book though, or make any attempt to go check for herself, and judging from the singular flip of a page, neither did Jellal.
“I have no idea,” he said, a shrug in his voice. “Honestly, I’m scared to find out.”
Levy hummed in noncommittal agreement, finally tearing her eyes away from the pages to lean her head against the bookshelf. If she had to guess, they had already crossed over the four-a.m. threshold that promised that tonight was just going to be another sleepless one, despite their tentative agreement to try to head back to sleep by at least three. Unfortunately, her brain didn’t seem any closer to wanting to sleep; judging by the steady glow of Jellal’s magic, he wasn’t close either.
Yep. Another sleepless night, then. At least she didn’t have any plans for tomorrow.
Levy turned back to her book, easily enraptured by the chapter, her mind happy to have an outlet to focus on. However, she was only another four or five pages forward when another thought hit her.
“Mirajane will find us down here.”
Jellal stiffened beside her, the implications dawning on him as well. “When does she come in again?”
Levy was awake, yes, but not awake enough to find an answer better than “early.” Unlike Chico, who hadn’t cared to mother hen them over bad sleeping habits and pulling all-nighters in the guild library, Mirajane would check in here when she came in to open the hall officially. Levy was even beginning to suspect that she was coming in earlier and earlier specifically to root out the hall for people like them. Which was…mostly just Levy and Jellal. (Master had given them both keys to the building, so it wasn’t like they weren’t allowed to be here or anything; but unfortunately, Mirajane wasn’t supportive of all-nighters in the guild library.)
“She’s going to kill us,” Levy decided.
Jellal closed his fist, his magic light flittering out. She could still see him by her script-lamp that she left on the bookshelf, though, so she saw Jellal’s face split into an almost devious grin. “Only if we get caught.”
Levy snorted out a laugh, her expression soon matching his at the thought of pulling one over on the great Mirajane. “Only if we get caught,” she agreed.
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Taking the elevator to the library in Myst
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artisticapparitions · 4 months
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I want a D’ni inspired library one day. Perfect blend of dark acedemia and steampunk. The lighting, the coziness. Please I beg of you.
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easternmind · 6 months
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Inside the office of Fumito Ueda
This is a sequel of sorts to a post of mine from last year where I spotted a number of telling items on Fumito Ueda's office shelves, while more closely inspecting a picture from the Material Book included with the Japanese First Limited Edition of Hitokui no Ōwashi Trico. I'm calling this harmless voyeurism, coming as it does from someone who is exceedingly interested in this author and his work and appreciates the difficulty of such self-imposed challenges.
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This new post will be looking more carefully at a this page size picture from The World of Fumito Ueda, a book Kadokawa released earlier this year, from which some detail can be extracted. The photo is stylized with a checkered transparency which makes this exercise substantially more difficult. Should you recognize any item I failed to identify, I ask that you use the comment box so I may improve this entry.
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This is a rather pristine-looking 1976 Nintendo Kôsenjû Duck Hunt, a sophisticated light gun toy from Yokoi's R&D department consisting of a battery-powered projector and a plastic rifle whose objective was for the player to shoot at the duck whenever it appeared on the wall.
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To the left is Nintendo's Custom Gunman toy, also designed by Gunpei Yokoi in 1976, consisting of a plastic cowboy figure with a receptor in its chest at which the player needed to aim with precision in order to score.
I remember reading about these in Gorges' L'Histoire de Nintendo. Both may have been toys that Ueda had as a child, but this is mere speculation from my end.
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Two PSP games stored on this shelf: Metal Gear Acid (2004) and Lemmings (2006), a remake of a game which was highly influential to him, as he as indicated on multiple occasions. In the previous post I wrote, I spotted a big box copy of the original game.
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An unexpected find here: a DVD entitled The Animal Motion Show, a visual library meant as reference for artists containing thousands of video clips animals in motion, no doubt very useful in key framing Toriko's unique animations.
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A pair of books stand out to me and confirm many of my long-held suspicions on Ueda's influences: Hyperion's From Myst to Riven hardcover from 1997; and the 1974 Dover Publications' Doré Bible Illustrations.
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The US and European versions of Shadow of the Colossus sitting beside Saints Seinaru Mamono, the Japanese edition of the Sony Cambridge Studio 2004 game, Primal.
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More books, including the 2014 volume The Birth of Rockin' Jelly Beans. If you are not familiar with this reference, he is a Japanese lowbrow erotica artist who wears a mask in public appearances and whose identity remains unknown to this day.
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Tucked in a lower shelf are the Gameboy Color edition of Prince of Persia, the Japanese version of Abe's Exodus (ABE '99) for the Playstation and the Wonderswan version of Toshio Iwai's Tenori-On.
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Last but not least, here is the the Limited Run Games Limited 20th Anniversary Edition of Another World (either the PS4 or the PSVita edition, it's impossible to tell).
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junimo-hexed · 2 months
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What video games do the Batfamily play? Part Tim Drake.
Alrighty. Let's start with the biggest gamer of the bunch.
To begin the games I will die on a hill to defend that he plays
Myst: it’s a classic puzzle game. Tim stands by it for being revolutionary for the time and helping to build the industry.
HOI4: Listen I cannot stress enough how much of a HOI4 fan Tim is. Obviously he falls into the bi socialist side of the venn diagram and avoids the other players at all costs, but damn does he love this game. It’s easily his most played game, he’s installed so many mods for it (yes included the mlp one), he typically goes socialist, but sometimes does anarchism, syndicalism, or communism just to change things up.
WoW: it's either this or League. Pick your poison. I don't know enough about either to say what he plays in them.
Other games
COD, listen y’all thought Jason would be the COD player. No it’s Tim.
TF2: I as a medic main cannot properly give an assessment of who Tim would play, but my picks are Spy, Demoknight, and Engineer.
That said he had also tried Overwatch, but he couldn't get into it as much.
Pathologic: again he's into niche games with a cult following and games that are known to be hard.
Inscryption
Pony Island
System Shock
Portal
Half-life
Quake
Doom
And much much more
Gamer preferences
Grand strategy, war games, mmorpgs, honestly any game that is widely known in gamer communities. He's not into cozy games and finds them boring and underestimating. Also not one for rhythm games, he doesn't have anything specific about them, just not for him.
PC gamer, Tim likes to mod and the freedom that being a PC gamer allows. He emulates anything not available and that he can’t find. He also owns just about every console and collects physical copies of games.
Tim uses Steam and has the highest level of everyone. He has the most games in his library by far and most of them he doesn't touch.
He's a completionist. He will 100% that game and he will get all of the achievements.
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johnbierce · 5 months
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Video games I would love to make: Art history inspired games ade to mimic the art style of actual artists.
- A Carceri game made to look like Giovanni Piranesi's Carceri d'invenzione series, where you're trying to break out of a seemingly endless prison. Fancy nonsensical clockwork Renaissance weapons, probably a soulslike?
- A ukiyo-e game inspired by... probably Hiroshige and Toriyama Sekien? 57 Demons of the Tokkaido, hah. Maybe a dialogue-heavy roguelike?
- A Hieronymous Bosch-inspired point and click puzzle game, somewhere between Myst and Machinarium.
- a Bayeaux Tapestry side-scrolling beat-em-up, Streets of Rage style. (This would also probably work for ancient Egyptian carvings, which were very comic-book ish?)
- A Gustave Dore RPG. Full on sixty hour game all in Dore woodcut style, with lots of super classic fantasy tropes. Maidens chained to rocks, hippogriffs and flying palaces, lots of Arthuriana... Literally all right from his stuff.
- An Oregon Trail-inspired game in the style of the Hudson River School (my favorite school of landscape painting)
I love being a novelist, it's my dream job, but I'm endlessly dreaming up ideas for games, movies, shows, comics, radio plays, whatever. I think I'd be happy as long as I got to create for a living. These art history game ideas, though, are especially close to my heart. Huge chunks of my physical bookshelves are just art history books. Getting to have it be part of my games library too would be so cool. Alas, game designers don't usually line up at novelist doors...
(and yes, I've played Monument Valley, it's great. Definitely gave me a solid Escher fix.)
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cljordan-imperium · 7 months
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FLASH FICTION FRIDAY
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Cruz stood on the balcony overlooking the practice grounds.  Abriella was there in her fighting leathers facing off against Deacon.  To anyone looking at him, the King looked relaxed; he was anything but.  His sister was there facing off against a powerful male holding a sword forged in the finest Nephilim steel.  Deacon was a deadly male before he became a Horseman and now he was more so.  Abriella was smaller, and even with her powers Cruz could not help but to worry over her.  She was his light in the darkness, his Polaris in this fucked up world.
Knuckles whitening on the top of the balustrade, Cruz decided it might be prudent to retire inside before he crushed the stone with his bare hands and offended the Palace.  The sounds of clashing steel grated upon his ears till he thought his nerves would exit his body to dance across the balcony like lightning upon the sky.  Still his eyes remained on the graceful yet powerful moves of his sister, transfixed by her fighting style, so unlike his own.  As she and Deacon stopped for a break, she looked his way and for a moment his heart stopped, the smile she gave him sending him back years in time and to another place, Chicago, to the first time he saw that smile.
No longer was he on the balcony, but he was in Chicago, in the library.  That damn four story library at the Chicago Sanctuary where Abriella would go to hide from everyone after Cruz had somehow talked her into returning after Talon and Dez had scared her half to death.  He’d shown her the library because it was quiet, and then it was the only place she’d go besides her room and his.  
That day he’d gone in, afraid that she’d always be afraid of him.  Even if she always feared the other Nephilim and never understood what and who she was, she was his little sister.  Family. From the second Charmaine told him, he’d loved her to the depths of his damaged soul.  He would destroy the earth for her, and she was afraid of him.  He had to make her see that he was no threat to her.
As he had searched the vast expanse of the library for her, he’d heard a sneeze and knew where she was. Mysting over to her location, he did find her.  A little nest of pillows by a lamp, along with a fuzzy blanket and books on Nephilim magic and heritage. Cruz crouched down to her level, so he wasn’t towering over where she had settled in.  “Settling in for some reading, little bit?” It was the nickname he’d called her since she’d come back.
She nodded, holding the book in her hands a little closer.  “I thought these might tell me something.” Her voice was quiet, and she didn’t meet his eyes.  But she was talking, Cruz would take it.
“Those aren’t bad. Can I suggest a few others?” That got her glancing up at him.  Nice.  She nodded and he mysted off.  
Not only did he get her books, he also went to the kitchen and got her some snacks that the staff assured him that young women would love and one large thermos of the coffee they knew she liked and one of water. Mysting back, he again crouched low next to her.  “A proper pillow palace needs provisions, princess.”  He handed her the boxed snacks from the kitchen and the two thermoses.  “The kitchen assures me all will be to your liking.” He attempted a smile, which he rarely did, and a wink.  “And, I think these volumes will serve you better than the ones you have.  Little bit, I know you’re still trying to take everything in,” in something very un-Cruz-like, he reached out and suddenly took her hand, VERY gently, “but I’m here if you have questions.  I want to help you.”  There was a sadness in his eyes that he would not have allowed anyone else to see.
“Really?” Her brows drew together. Cruz seemed to scare everyone, she hadn’t been sure that his offer of help had been anything other than a cursory formality.  Now he seemed hurt that she hadn’t taken him up on it.  It was all so confusing.
“Really.  Anything.  Any time.  You are more important to me than anything else. I love you, little bit.  Always.”  He lightly squeezed her hand, she had to know how much she meant to him.  He had to let her know.
For the first time her eyes met his brilliant blue ones, so blue they seemed to be impossibly blue.  Like something out of a movie or painting, too perfect.  And in that moment, there was no doubting his sincerity.  In a lifetime of running, of being chased, of fearing that the next person would kill her, she had found her big brother, her protector, a man who would do anything for her, who LOVED HER. With tears in her eyes, she smiled at him. It was all she could do, she had no words.
Cruz had been alive for over 1500 years on that day.  He’d long before stopped counting exactly how many, it no longer mattered.  Never in all those years had he felt what he did when his sister smiled at him.  He saw the love echoed right back in her eyes and in that smile.  The rest of the world could hate him, but if his little sister smiled at him like that, he didn’t care.  It took him 1500 years to find her, but he would go to hell and back, literally, to make sure he never lost her.
Abriella was so small when wrapped tight in Cruz’s arms for the first hug she received from him, but she had never felt more safe and more loved.  Through all that was to come, through all the pain and fear, they would lean on one another often. They are unbreakable.
@flashfictionfridayofficial
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snoozlebee · 8 months
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My wife and I got extremely high last night and I attempted to play myst while she watched and I fully didn't even make it off the starting island because I kept forgetting to take notes and then I straight up just read the journals in the library out loud for like thirty minutes
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shiroikabocha · 8 months
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You ever think about how each successive Myst game is more explicitly anti-colonialist than the last? That the enduring moral question of Atrus’s life is what to do with a legacy of colonialism?
In Myst, we read about vibrant Ages full of people in Atrus’s journals. Then we explore those Ages—now empty, abandoned, stripped of their resources and inhabitants. The tragedy of Myst isn’t just the library full of burned books, it’s the destruction of all those people and their homes. The evidence of colonialism is what turns the player against Sirrus and Achenar.
Then in Riven, we’re thrown into a world currently under the thumb of a colonialist ruler, and the signs of Gehn’s destructive touch are everywhere. His temples and workshops take up most of the real estate on the islands, leaving only one where Riven’s native people can roam freely. The schoolhouse on the lake might seem innocuous, until you realize everything there is written in D’ni—the children are not being taught their native language. And there’s an organized underground anti-colonialist resistance! The oppressed are not helpless victims of circumstance, they fight back! Damn, Riven really is the jewel of the series…
Exile is more individually focused than Riven. Instead of showing the systemic, societal effects of colonialism, we get a deep dive into one man’s experience of it. Narayan’s ghosts haunt the narrative through Savvedro’s messages and paintings—and hats off to Brad Dourif, damn, he threw his whole pussy into that role. I still think about his delivery on “my WIFE, ATRUS! MY TWO BABY GIRLS!” decades after I first heard it. The framing device of Exile, that Savvedro is asking Atrus, why do you get to have a fresh start? Why do you get to walk away from the sins of your fathers (or sons, in this case) when I and the rest of my civilization never can?—it’s a good one. Really ties the narrative together.
And then, Uru—I mean. Where do I start? The game that could very easily have been nothing but fanservice, could have coasted on everybody’s hype for OMG D’NI! THE CAVERN!! THE CLEFT!!! But instead they go hey, you like D’ni right? Hey, heyyyyy you know how D’ni was a sprawling ancient empire? Hey. Hey, hey, do you know. How empires are built? And maintained? And then they use the framing device of the archeological dig to uncover the ugly aspects of D’ni that the D’ni themselves kept hidden. And your job as a player is to explore the beautiful gardens and broad avenues, but also the prisons and the slave quarters, and to repatriate stolen cultural artifacts from the D’ni to the Bahro.
And End of Ages is more or less “all that stuff we said in Uru but again, more” as well as “hey don’t forget that even old, dead, slave-trading empires have modern fanboys, this shit isn’t just ancient history, you can’t escape the past when we live in the world the past built!”
Lotta video games have plots that hinge on some ancient evil being awakened, not as many where the ancient evil is a guy who says “remember when our empire was big and beautiful and powerful? We should romanticize that uncritically.” Good job, Myst.
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scaralvr · 1 year
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hello! i would like to request prompt #15 with haypasia and scaras dynamic and him trying to get you jealous but you take it the wrong way + hurt/comfort, thank you!
only you — TRIAL FOR YOUR HEART EVENT scaramouche x gn!reader (possessiveness, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort)
☆ prompt(s) used : are you jealous yet?
note(s) : thank you for requesting, traveler! i really like the idea of this concept so i hope you like how i wrote it (o´▽`o)
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one tiny mistake caused your lover to completely lose his trust in you. after being so careful, you just had to slip up. the fatigue was getting to you, and you know how scaramouche gets when he sees even the slightest hint of an illness. he's so careful with you, handling you like a porcelain doll and that if he isn't considerate, you'll break.
you did break, you shattered right in front of his eyes. you passed out mid-conversation and scaramouche's distress was at high. you didn't see how his hands trembled as he held you, you didn't see how his gaze flitted from the slow rising of your chest to your closed eyes. you didn't see how visibly worried he was.
scaramouche wasn't going to let anyone betray him again, even you, his (s/o). he didn't care whether he was going to have to use force to teach you a lesson. he's grown tired of your petty little lies just so he doesn't have to worry about you.
"a devout follower of yours? i see," you say with a calm tone, but scaramouche doesn't fail to notice the way your gaze slightly darkens. he continues, "yes, isn't it great? the first step to the birth of my becoming of a God begins with her." scaramouche can hardly contain an evil cackle from slipping from his lips, but he'll save that for later.
your hands are behind your back as you fidget with your thumbs, "that's good, kuni. um, listen, i was wondering if-" you stop short when you notice the way he seems to be enraptured in his deep thoughts. probably thinking of haypasia again, huh? you look to the side and almost anyone would feel bad at the way you frown, "nevermind."
scaramouche smirks and he holds onto the rim of his hat, the trinkets clinking with each step he takes towards you. "what? do you have something to tell me?" he queries with a condescending tone, taking pride in the way you appear like a poor lamb being hunted as prey.
you shake your head, "no, it's nothing. you should get going, no time to waste on that plan of yours, right?" you shrug it off with your signature chuckle that you forced to release from your throat. scaramouche's lips curl upwards, "correct." and with that, he walks away, no greet goodbye, not a single word did he utter that acknowledged you were still his lover. his only.
lately, you noticed his visits with haypasia frequently taking up more and more of his schedule. he doesn't even hesitate to cancel out on dates he had previously planned with you and instead, wastes away at the day with a woman he just met. your insecurities begin to gnaw at you with each second that passes by.
it never leaves your mind how sometimes, scaramouche wouldn't even return for days and when he comes back, he claims it doesn't have anything to do with haypasia at all. but you do see him during your daily check-in at his office to see how he's doing. though, he seems to pay less attention to it recently. then you realize, this must all be because you showed the smallest indication of an illness.
you tuck your knees up to your chest and it looks like you're spending another day alone in bed without the presence of your lover, who's busy with his own things to do. or people to meet. the moonlight that peeks through the window's translucent curtains adorns your features. suddenly, you feel a dripping from your nose.
you touch it and look at your fingerpad to find a crimson red. you panic and get out of bed to wash up in the bathroom. blood continues to pour from your nose and your head begins to feel light. when you finish up, you make a discovery. mortal. you're a mortal. scaramouche surely doesn't seek that if he wants someone to be by his side forever.
time would take you sooner or later, and right now, your body wasn't in its best condition. tears grow at the corners of your eyes as you realize that you weren't even the one he was even looking for in the first place, because you're a mortal. your presence is temporary; no wonder he's been so off as of late.
scaramouche is exhausted. despite being a puppet, he felt his knees about to give way beneath him because of how hard he's been working lately. and the past few days, he noticed you hadn't visited him at his office so it added to his sour mood. scaramouche wonders whether he should continue to dangle countless summaries of what he and haypasia did, but he supposes you've learnt your lesson by now.
a small smile is atop his lips as he puts his things aside for the day. during his walk back to the house he shares with you, he replays your amusing reactions in his head whenever he told you about haypasia. you really are pathetic aren't you? well, all is fine. you're going to come running back to him no matter what so...
scaramouche ought to apologize as well. his behaviour was uncalled for, at least he'd agree to that. he wonders how you're doing physically too. that little incident of you passing out that began this whole ordeal still hasn't passed his mind just yet. scaramouche will check in on you when he gets home.
he arrives and peers into the rooms, searching for your whereabouts. scaramouche put his hat onto the dining room table and sighs. maybe you're out getting groceries. maybe you're visiting a friend and lost track of time. though he'd prefer the first option. scaramouche wanted nothing more than to get in bed with you after a long week of working and being separated from his lover.
his plan to become a God would be set into motion soon, and he wanted you by his side by that time. he figures he'd apologize now if he were to get back to work the next day, so he waits. scaramouche sits at one of the chairs at the dining table and waits for your arrival.
as he's only four minutes into waiting, he notices an envelope on the ground that must have fell from the table after he placed his hat on it. scaramouche picks it up and examines it before peeling it open. he takes out a paper with beautiful ink words across it, which he can come to recognize is your penmanship. hesitant at first, he reads nonetheless.
dear kunikuzushi,
i hope this letter finds you well. i, however, am not myself as of late. surely, you've noticed, but i've come to realize that you're meant for bigger things, kunikuzushi. i'm just a mortal who's living in your world and when all is said and done, time will reach me as well. at the moment, i'm recovering my state in liyue at bubu pharmacy, where a close friend will tend to me, so please, don't worry and focus on what it is you truly wish to achieve rather than allowing me to burden you. i hope everything will go well with your plan, along with haypasia. farewell, kunikuzushi.
yours truly, (y/n).
scaramouche has a blank expression when he finishes reading it. his thumb smoothes over the corner and it slightly crumples. "farewell?" he mumbles, eyes darkening. scaramouche rips the letter apart without another second of waiting. pieces of the page drift to the ground and he grits his teeth. "i'm not going to let you leave me."
had scaramouche known you were hurting that bad because of his antics of teasing you, he would've dropped the act immediately. his pride got the best of him and made yet another one of his loved ones leave him. but he'll have time to dwell on that later. his top priority right now, is getting you back.
he sets a course for liyue, not caring whether it'll interfere with his current plan of becoming a God. what use would it be without his lover by his side as you always were? it was originally his plan; to have you there the whole time, and to cut you off was out of the question.
"qiqi, would you indulge in helping me pick more herbs for our friend, (y/n), here?" baizhu asks with a smile as the little zombie looks up at him. she nods, "yes, baizhu. would (y/n) like to come along?" qiqi queries as she looks at you. baizhu places a hand on her shoulder, "it's alright, qiqi. they'll be needing their rest."
you smile, "thank you for asking, qiqi." qiqi nods again and waves, "qiqi and baizhu will be back... with (y/n)'s herbs." baizhu winks at qiqi and qiqi hums. that causes you to blink for a few moments. these two...
"we'll be off. anything you need, you can find in the cabinets over there," baizhu says before leaving with qiqi in tow. as they exit, your mind can't help but linger upon scaramouche. you wonder how his plan is going with haypasia. you sigh and shake your head. it was your fault to begin with, for not noticing the signs sooner, right?
you stand up and decide to take a walk for fresh air. you feel bad for not coming along to pick herbs with the sweet girl and your friend, but you want some time alone. but as soon as you leave the pharmacy, you meet a familiar fatui harbinger.
"scaramouche!" you say in surprise, your eyes wide as you look left and right. said man suddenly grabs you by the wrist and pulls you behind the building. "don't 'scaramouche' me," he seethes, eyes narrowing with anger. scaramouche roughly pushes you against the wall and keeps you there with just his menacing glare.
you fight back the urge to look away, but you can't bring yourself to do so when tears are helplessly flowing down his face. "why would you leave? actually, no, that doesn't matter," he murmurs, looking down to refrain you from seeing the way he cries. "can you come back? i-i promise i won't do anything like that again, so..."
scaramouche slowly lets go of your wrist to wipe at his tears. you solemnly say, "kunikuzushi." in a tender motion, you hold both his hands in yours and he looks up, eyes baring more tears to release. "it's not your fault," you say with the softest voice he's ever heard.
you lift one hand to cup his cheek, "it's okay. if my presence with you is what you truly wish for... i'll do it for you." you smile and scaramouche couldn't contain himself from holding you close and pressing his lips against yours. you clutch at his shoulder and your tears mix with his.
even if it isn't forever, he has you right now. so please, don't leave, as you're the only one he has.
© scaralvr.
2K notes · View notes
greypetrel · 8 months
Note
9. eye-to-eye hugs for Alyra?
Hello!
Sorry for being so late, stress from a long year caught up with me and I took a week of holiday to recuperate.
Hope it’ll be nice enough to compensate, and thanks for asking Alyra! She’s actually Yzma in her youth days. A polyamorous Yzma scared shitless by Broodmothers. Really, she went on like a train, grumbling and phased not much by anything… She saw the Broodmother and went “NOPE.” (Alistair had to grab her by the neck of her armour and physically turn her around).
Tis the prompt list.
Heart of a Poet.
9. eye-to-eye hugs
There were few things, in the palace, that could actually surprise the Empress’ Occult Advisor.
Oh, adapting had been quite the feat, and she thoroughly hated the whole of it. The fakeness, people never meaning what they want to say, from the masks down to the very lane of rose bushes, cared to the littlest budding leaves, where she was walking right now. Nature shouldn’t be confined and controlled: it was an illusion, as much as the whole of the Court.
A carefully, meticulously upkept illusion ready to burst at the first little prodding.
But as much as she hated it, she had to stay: for she knew the Eluvian maze lead her to Orlais and Val Royeaux. To what end, exactly, she couldn’t yet see, and the key to control it was nowhere to be found, or kept carefully secret in some area of the Winter Palace she hadn’t yet discovered. But it was, indeed, the perfect place to gather informations, as much as some unrest was brewing, and Kieran was happy with the library at least. Most importantly, it would have been the very last place anyone who remotely knew her would look for.
As much as she hated the Game, and frankly found the Empress a conniving opportunist that embodied all the worst a vulture stood for in popular belief, that day Morrigan was surprised.
Growing up in woods and wilds, running its paths as predator and prey, she knew when she was followed. She knew a predatory stare on her neck when she felt it, and that was one.
She never liked turning into any prey animals, it left her uneasy in her skin. She had to change the game: she turned left and right, guiding her pursuer in a secluded clearing that was outside of the palace’s windows and, conveniently, was too wide to follow a person without being seen.
She reached the small gazebo in the centre and abruptly turned around, to spot…
Nothing at all, for she was perfectly, blissfully alone with herself and her thoughts.
Weird.
A worthy predator, then, succeeding in having her fooled?
There were, indeed, two people her mind ran to. The first, she didn’t want to think of and it sent a shiver of dread and rage in equal measure down her spine. For the second, her thought ran to a day in the Frostbacks, the winter sun cutting sharp like it was today through pines and conifers, as she ran and was chased. It brought a smile on her face.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t safe to assume it was the second option.
She didn’t want to fool herself any further.
Not yet.
In any case, it was worth knowing who was chasing, right now, and why. A wounded fox -speaking of old memories- pretending to have a hurt paw and luring the bigger carnivore closer to bite its jugular better.
Yes. She could play with it.
---
The chase continued throughout the day.
It wasn’t anything much, and Morrigan couldn’t pinpoint the person who was looking at her once. Not during a long and boring lunch with the Empress and a couple of Dukes, discussing over fundings to grant to the Grand Universities and pushes towards a more open-minded attitude towards elves that were too little, not enough to settle. She couldn’t come to any better conclusions during a game of whist dragged for too long, when she got asked the usual prodding questions about her position, her role, her status, her provenience. She batted every jab with one of her own, never once believed that the laughter she caused was anything but condescending, and took pride in winning the game, under her mysterious observer’s stare.
She signalled to Kieran not to run after her, when she met him just out of the drawing room, just to be sure. She had taught him a clue for this kind of situation, after all, and the boy heeded it right away with an amused expression, skittering away before even greeting his mother, with a giggle. The reaction gave Morrigan a clue, but yet again she didn’t put much thought into it. Hope was futile, hope was dangerous. In her life, and in that environment. And knowing whom else may be to seek her out, she didn’t want to risk it. Not with him in the middle.
Shivers ran through her spines when, after that fleeting meeting with her son, the sensation of being observed stopped. It could have been casual, it could have been that she walked in paths that allowed for little hideouts. If it was whom she hoped to be, she knew the child and the child knew her. Otherwise, she feared giving him away. But she had changed in the last years, and she couldn’t help but walk to the library, where Kieran was headed for his afternoon lessons, and ask. She got answered that yes, he was at his usual spot with his teacher, they were going through some history volumes. A new teacher, the woman told, a Dalish. She could call him here, if the Arcane Advisor so wished. But the arcane advisor was, finally, content with the solution to her riddle.
The sensation got back fleetingly, for a moment when she headed back to her rooms for dinner, before disappearing again. This time, it created a sense of anticipation, a longing. So, she ordered her dinner to be brought into her apartment, and ordered for one person more. She already wove a spell over the kitchen staff in charge of handling her meals not to notice Kieran, not to notice that she never required food for just one person. It would have worked if the meal was for three people instead of two, today.
And so she waited, absentmindedly nibbling at her food as her son told her about what he had learnt today, whom he had met. He was particularly mysterious, and vague when she prodded him to get any further detail. She just knew why, but the game was that she had to pretend not to know and prod for answers. And so she did.
“I am sure that the renown teachers of Empress Celene, so keen in financing universities, would hardly stop at enlightening the minds of promising young men with just ‘the usual’.” She chided, leaning her head to the side and raising one eyebrow and, in spite of herself, smiling at said promising young man.
“I had a special teacher today, Mother.” The boy smiled back, nodding solemnly.
“Oh? And whom tis might be?”
“A wild fox, she told me.”
A twitch of her lips, and she knew. Relaxing with the final confirmation that it wasn’t anyone else, she put her mind at ease and kept on with their evening routine. Dinner, then a new spell to teach him -he was so talented already- with the subsequent questions. Brushing teeth, a story and then bedtime for the child. A kiss on his forehead, a last caress and wishing each other sweet dreams. As she gently closed the double doors that led to the bedroom her son occupied, she was alone with her thoughts.
Or well, not entirely.
“Orlais, uh?”
A dear, dear voice asked from behind her, the lilting accent embued in sarcasm. She sounded more Fereldan than she had when they first met.
“I do like witnessing history where it’s happening, when it’s happening. You should know it.” Morrigan answered, amusement creeping into her voice in a way that years ago she would never have allowed to. “How did you find me?"
“I really should know, yes.” She laughed. “A nightingale helped me.”
It didn’t matter, now. They both were changed, they both knew. Rare visits too sporadical to really see the progress in its entirety, but enough to ease them both into it, enough not to make it a surprise.
All it mattered, was that Morrigan turned to see Warden-Commander Mahariel, clad in unassuming travelling clothes in brown and green under a black cloak, casually leaning on her windowsill. She looked paler and more tired, her dusky skin had painted with a greyish hue, with dark circles under her eyes and cheekbones well defined. Her smile crinkled the white scars that the Archdemon left in its wake, and even older and more consumed by the Blight, Morrigan still found her beautiful.
She stepped towards her, straightening her spine, hands daintly kept in front of her bust and strutting a little, the becoming image of a Lady clad in burgundy velved and black musselin.
“You’ve gotten worse, I knew there was someone following since this morning.” She chided, no real bite to her words. Not even as a pretense, try as she might.
“Maybe I wanted you to find me.” Alyra answered, gracefully hopping down her perch and walking forward, eyes fixed on hers. They were still as keen as Morrigan left them.
“And yet, the only one who saw you was Kieran.”
“I wanted you to find me… Eventually.”
She stopped right in front of her, so close they were almost touching, half a smile still on her lips in a practiced game of theirs. The first kiss, when they met, was never the elf’s to give. She would come closer, signal her consent, but never step up to take it, always keep half a step, half a centimetre behind. The closing distance was always for Morrigan to fill. It took a while, back in the Blight, to understand that it wasn’t carelessness or just her wanting to aimlessly flirt, on the contrary: It was her way to ask for consent and be sure the Witch actually wanted it. It had irritated her, it still did. She loved her for it, when she humphed and moved forward, filling the distance and pressing her lips on hers.
Colder than she remembered, but still answering readily to the kiss, as her hands found her waist and dragged her closer with a satisfied sigh. There was some urgency in her movement that wasn’t just from the long separation. She grabbed her waist with a tid-bit too much strength, as if she was afraid she would disappear, her lips nibbled at hers with too much urgency, begging for her to open. Uncharacteristically.
So, Morrigan took back her head, after a while, and didn’t yield when the elf tried to pursue, grunting a little in disappointment and holding her tight and as close as she could.
“What happened?” the Witch asked, not stepping away, but knowing better thank mistaking whatever that was for just desire.
All her answer was a sigh, long and dragged, and a forehead coming to rest against hers. For a full minute, she didn’t move, staying there and just basking in her presence, finding words. Morrigan let her, hands travelling up from her shoulders to caress her hair, mindful not to disturb too much the complex game of braids she tied the auburn mass into. She wore them long, since she became the Arlessa.
“I came here to say goodbye. This is but a detour.”
Dread ran down Morrigan’s spine, at those words. She knew Wardens that witness a Blight live even less, but… Ten years alone felt too little. Ten years felt like being robbed. She looked consumed, but not that much. Her eyes, when she opened them just in front of hers, were acute and keen, as per her usual. Riordan had looked watery and far-away, caught in some thought nobody could follow. They had not the same expression, but-
“Don’t make that face.” Alyra stopped her train of thoughts, moving slightly forward to peck another kiss on her lips. Just one, reassuring, before returning forehead against forehead. “It’s not the Calling. It’s just… A desperate mission, I don’t know if I’ll return.”
“More desperate than climbing up a mountain to find the ashes of a dead woman?”
That earned a laugh, bittersweet, and another kiss.
“Tell me about this plan.” Morrigan coaxed her, right after.
They broke the hug, but kept close to each other, as Morrigan brought her in her own room and closed the doors. They made small talk as they shed some layers of clothing to get more comfortable. Alyra took away her cloak, leather vest and boots, and helped her with her corset, unlacing it with care and expertise, and helping her slipping out of the voluminous gown, petticoats and crinoline.
“If Leliana could see you.” Alyra snickered.
“Mythal help me if she ever did, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”
“She’ll be furious. She doesn’t get to wear many shoes anymore.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“You didn’t meet her?”
“I stay well away from anything smelling of Chantry, for… Obvious reasons.”
“Mh.”
The elf settled on the loveseat in front of the fire, ignoring the plush bed right behind it, and dragged the witch down, gently, by holding her hand, when she was done tying a dressing gown over her waist. They settled, so close that they touched, but still facing each other. Morrigan let her do, let her position herself as she was more comfortable and at ease possible. Whatever it was, it was all but clear it was important and delicate. So, as the witch sat with her legs folded under her, lying on the backrest of the couch, and the Warden in front of her, a leg spread and hooked over the other’s thighs, one arm folded to pillow her head on the backrest and the other hand absent-mindedly playing with Morrigan’s necklaces on her neck, the redhead started to speak.
“I am after a cure for the Blight.” She announced. Nothing more and nothing less than what it was, straight to the point.
“Do you have a trail?” Morrigan asked, trying not to sound too worried over it.
“Avernus’ research brought some results. Even if he keeps complaining about the methods I imposed. I brought you his notes, should you wish to give your opinion.”
“Of course.”
“Nathaniel has the command until I’m gone. If you discover something, report to him. He and Velanna will know what to do.”
“Do you trust an Howe?”
“I do.” She chuckled. “Weird, isn’t it? He is in charge until I’m gone. Vigil’s Keep stays safe for you, should you need it.”
“And thus Warden-Commander Mahariel rides alone in the sunset, to prove anyone daring say she’s just running after ghosts that ghosts can be punched in their teeth if you try hard enough.”
It elicited another laughter, louder than the previous one. She scooted closer, searching for her hand and, when she found it, twining their fingers together and squeezing, in silent gratefulness.
“I’m not letting Anora bear his heir. Not the first one, at least.”
“And here I thought you two got along pretty well.”
“Oh, we do. But you know me.” She surged forward pressing herself flush against the other, lips, as per usual, just a breath away from hers. “I keep biting until I get what I want.”
“I got the idea, yes.” Morrigan smiled, not yet filling the distance.
She cupped the other’s cheek instead, the one where the scars broke the blue line of her Vallaslin, and delighting as the other closed her eyes and leaned in her touch.
“You’re not doing this for him, aren’t you?” Morrigan knew the answer: she could never see Alistair asking for anything of sort, but power changed people, years had passed since she last saw him, let alone spoke to him. And she wasn’t leaving her lover with him, if that was the price. She could forget the Eluvians for a couple of months, enough to go to Denerim and turn him into a frog for real.
Alyra, tho, snorted: not a positive reaction, but the one she wanted to see.
“I’m doing this for me. I wanted children from before I met him, and Kieran would love a younger sibling, he told me. That the father I chose will be happy as well is but a fortunate side effect.”
“You really have the heart of a poet.”
“If any of you wanted a romantic, Leliana was the right Bard, you know.”
She relaxed back again, smiling. That relaxed smile she so rarely donned, even during the Blight, and always felt like a personal victory. Morrigan should remind her that she had food brought up for her that was waiting. They could discuss details and how she could help her over dinner. But since she was there and she could, she just bent forward and kissed her again.
“Where are you headed first?”
“North.” She said, sighing. “The Anderfels.”
“Weisshaupt?”
The smile turned sly, and that was a more usual one.
“I’m sneaking in the First Warden’s private library.”
“Oh, if I could come with you.” Morrigan chortled, imagining the scene. “Has he stopped insisting for you to report?”
“I have no idea, I told Varel to toss his letters in the fireplace if he reads something on that line again. When I left, it had been a couple of months since I last heard from him. My spies didn’t find any Warden army marching our way, so I guess he put his mind at ease.” She huffed and shrugged. She started having troubles with the First Warden from soon after she became Warden-Commander and firmly refused to travel all the way up to the Anderfels to justify herself for being alive, she told her, and Morrigan had been updated on their cold war ever since.
“Or, his attention is elsewhere.”
“I have contacts to write back to Amaranthine, should the worse happens, can I ask you…?”
“I’ll write to Nathaniel, via the usual means.”
“Thank you, Mo.”
She sighed and leaned forward, resting her forehead against her shoulder.
“After Weisshaupt?” Morrigan asked, gently raising her hands to unpin the crown of braids on the back of her lover’s head. One by one, collecting them in her lap as she undid them and three braids slowly fell down.
“After that, off to some far-off entrance to the Deep Roads. Some remnants of the First Blight, I have a map. With some luck, I saw my fair share of Broodmothers and won’t have to even come closer to smell one.”
The elf shivered, and the mage knew that it wasn’t from her hands carefully guiding her braids to rest before her shoulder, tidying them neatly. She started to undo them, one by one, combing her fingers through knots and waves. They saw each other little: their duties kept them apart, and yet this little ritual became ingrained. Morrigan would undo Alyra’s hair, and then Alyra would unlatch Morrigan’s jewels, one by one, before slipping in the same bed. The little things that gave them both the illusion that whatever they had was an habit, was normal, that they had all the time in the world and not stolen moments.
“My my my, the Hero of Ferelden scared of something!” She joked, for the hundredth time.
“Hush.” Alyra swatted her, without any real effort. “Those things give me the creeps. They’re just… Wrong.”
“One could argue that no Darskpawn is exactly right.”
“One never had to dispatch two Broodmothers. One of which was talking. Those things shouldn’t talk. I don’t want to see one ever again.”
“Even if it won’t talk?”
“Can we stop talking of Broodmothers? It was supposed to be a pleasant evening.”
Morrigan laughed, sweeping the mass of hair behind her back and snaking her arms around the other woman’s neck, to hug her. It was refreshing, to give in to some tenderness and sincerity once in a while. It was refreshing, to have Alyra’s back there in her arms, sighing contently and holding her close with hands on the small of her back, nose in the crook of her neck and planting lazy kisses on the trapeze.
“Will you and Kieran be fine?”
“Worry not for us. I can take care of us.”
“I know. But let me worry.”
“Worry by writing. He’ll be happy to hear your adventures. The stories about you are his favourites.”
“He stormed me in questions, this afternoon. I fear he learnt very little about Emperor Drakon’s reign, but he knows everything about the werewolves in the Brecilian Forest, now.”
“Of course he had.”
“He’s such a good child.”
And there there was: regret. The slight hint of it that she allowed herself to show, and just with Morrigan, when all her barriers were down. She clutched her closer, the old wound they both sported closed but never really healed. She caressed her hair, in silence, offering support and the acceptance she knew the other needed, right now. There were no words to spare: they both had chosen, they both knew that it had to be this way. So, they both let it end with that, in a hug. A hug that said I’m sorry and I know and It’s ok like it is. There was time, for now, for closer expressions of affection, for finally tackling that dinner, for everything else.
“How long ere you leave?”
“Three days.”
They got, indeed, time, and there was only them in that room, warded and protected by ancient glyphs and spells. They could leave their hard shells out for a while.
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scaramarii · 5 months
Text
"Like they were dead stars"
FANFIC TIME WOOOOOO
this is a wip
*** means different chapter. The pov may change. It isn't limited to Leo and Jason lol
● means new event
title is actually a reference to how one character is described and how i'll end the fic
TW: death, swearing, child ab*se, underage drinking, my bad attempt at graphically describing gruesome shit (y'know, maybe i should make an ao3 account)
***
Leo hadn't meant to get himself stuck in a different dimension. He most certainly did not mean to mess with a magical book (who the hell puts a magical book where innocent demigods can reach it?). And he did not mean to get kidnapped by a bright pink and blue dragon and its rider, who seemed to be attached to their cloak and mask.
"So..." Leo tried to think of something to say. "Do you normally kidnap random demigods?"
The rider shook their head, but provided no other answer.
"Antisocial much?"
They sighed, took a pad of paper out of their cloak pocket, wrote something, and passed it to Leo. They'd written "fuck yourself."
"Okay, you don't like to talk. That's fine. But you don't need to be like that!" Leo could tell that they were grinning under that mask.
The dragon aimed itself downward, and landed on cool blue grass. Its rider slid off and offered Leo a hand. He pushed it away and fell off of the dragon.
***
"Woah." Leo stared at the house in front of him. It was black, with a slight multicoloured glow to it. The biggest window was shaped like an eye, and was stained green and blue.
The dragon person looked at Leo and shrugged. It's not as impressive as its library, they signed, tilting their head.
"Still cool."
They flipped Leo off.
Leo's captor/random person dragging him to a random house in the middle of nowhere knocked on the door.
"Hi!" The person who answered had curly white hair, vitiligo, and moth antennae. He was wearing a pastel blue sweater and blue jeans.
"You look cool," Leo blurted.
The guys blood red eyes had a soft kind of look to them. "Thanks." He looked at the dragon guy. "Who's your friend?"
Leo could practically feel the person rolling their eyes.
His name is Leo, they signed. How did they know his name? He hadn't told them.
"Oh." The moth person smiled at him. "I'm Silk."
"Hi, Silk." Leo had a feeling that Silk was the type to get jealous.
"Silk, let those two in," someone said from inside.
"Sure."
As Leo walked inside, he tripped over a shoe, and would've fallen on his face if the person who'd practically kidnapped him hadn't caught him. "Thanks."
A woman who looked like Reyna but more athletic looking and taller and with pointy ears and a burn scar under her eye poked her head around the corner. "Hi."
Hey Raine, Leo's companion signed.
"Who's that?" Raines ears twitched.
Before his kidnapper person could sign anything, Leo elbowed them. "My name's Leo."
"Well, welcome to Terria, Leo. I'm sure Myst randomly kidnapping you gave you a good look at this hellhole."
"Mist?"
"M-y-s-t. That's not his real name, but everyone calls him that when people who don't know him are around. Also, please take off your shoes."
"Okay."
***
Jason couldn't believe that he'd done that. Flying on a dragon? That wasn't new. But randomly kidnapping his friend? That was.
"Something tells me that you're gonna be stuck here for a while." Raine picked at her jeans. "I guess I could let you stay here for a bit."
"Okay then," Leo said, standing awkwardly.
Raine poured herself a glass of wine. "Make yourself at home. If you make a mess, clean it up. If you break something, that's fine, and Silk, for fucks sake, stop glaring at Leo."
Jason slipped out the door, and took off his mask. He glared at its stupid smile, and attempted to crumple it up. Of course, that just made his hand hurt, so he threw it to the ground and stomped on it instead. "I'm so fucking stupid," he grumbled as he trudged through the woods. "I should've just left him alone. I shouldn't have done anything." Jason started cursing in Latin. His voice was full of resentment. "I messed this up. If he finds out, he's gonna hate me."
"Do you need a moment?"
Jason flinched. Silk was standing behind him. "Uh, kinda?"
Silks antennae twitched. Jason couldn't help but find him a little attractive, but that didn't mean anything. "Alright then." Silk slashed his hand across the air, and disappeared.
Jason sighed. It was bad enough that he'd come back to life in a different world. He didn't need to lose his friend. Well, he didn't know if friend was the right word. I'll figure things out. LATER.
When Jason got back to the house, Silk was interrogating Leo.
"How did you get here?"
"Book."
"Why would you mess with a book?"
"I have no fucking idea. Oh hi Myst."
Jason refrained from telling Leo the truth. It's not gonna hurt to hide something from him, he thought. Jason waved and ran upstairs.
***
Within the span of two hours, Leo had:
Messed with a magical book.
Got transported to a dimension called Terria.
Been kidnapped by a person named Myst.
And interrogated by a moth person.
Not as weird as some other things that had happened to him, but still weird.
While Myst was running through the woods and being a menace, Raine had given Leo a history lesson on Terria, and how his very existence was a crime and shit like that. He had a feeling that she'd get along with Annabeth.
"So, demigods are illegal here," Raine had said.
"Huh?" Leo had been confused, because he'd never heard of a law against demigods.
"Basically," Raine had waved her hand around as if to add a border to her statement. "Terrian demigods are way too powerful. The monarchy was scared of being overthrown. So they made a law to kill all Terrian demigods on sight."
"But I'm not Terrian."
"Humans can't tell the difference, and no one actually follows that law. I'm proof of that."
That had been the end of the history lesson. Afterwards, Raine had led him to the room where he'd be staying, and left him alone.
The only thing on Leo's mind was Jason. Jason fucking Grace. He'd found his way into Leos heart and stayed there, despite him being dead. It didn't help that he'd broken up with Calypso just last week.
Suddenly, a paper airplane hit Leo on the head. He looked up. Myst was standing in the doorway.
You okay? Myst may not have been talking, but he managed to convey his concern. He still had that creepy mask with the weird smiley face and his black cloak on, despite it being like 70 degrees in the house.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Why are you suddenly being so nice?"
Myst shrugged and left the room. Weird, but okay. Leo had so many questions, but he had a feeling that Myst would just flip Leo off.
***
Jason sighed as he sulked in his room. He hated not knowing what day it was, or even what month it was.
Ah yes. The consequences of my actions. How nice. Whatever. Complaining wasn't going to do anything.
He wanted to despise whoever brought him back, but he couldn't bring himself to hate them. He had no idea what their intentions were.
Jason stared out his window at the starry sky, the moons shining brightly. He sighed, and went to sleep. Almost immediately, he was plunged into a nightmare.
He was only two when it happened. He only remembered all the details because of how horrible it had been.
Jasons mother had just gotten home from a long work day. She was not in a good mood, as usual. Just 30 minutes before, Jason had tried to eat a stapler, and she was not happy about it.
"WHY WOULD YOU TRY TO EAT A GODDAMN STAPLER?!" Beryl Grace yelled, her face twisted with rage.
"I-I'm sorry," Jason said, his vision blurry with tears, and the cut on his lip throbbing.
"Do you think I raised you to be an idiot?" His mothers voice was deathly calm. "Do you think I had you just for you to pull this shit?"
Jason tried to respond, but his voice failed him.
"You piece of shit. You want me to look bad, don't you? What kind of mother would let her kid hurt himself?"
Jason vigorously shook his head. "I'm sorry!"
His mothers fists clenched, she grabbed the collar of Jasons shirt, and threw him to the ground. "Get out of my sight. I don't want to see you until dinner."
"But-" Jason had started to get choked up again.
"Are you talking back to me?
"N-no!"
Beryl grabbed a glass on the counter, and threw it at her son. It sailed over Jasons head and shattered against the basement door behind him.
Jason woke with a start. He was shaking, and tears were already streaming down his face. The scar on his lip stung as if he'd just gotten it.
"It was just a memory. I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about." Jason tried to comfort himself, but his words sounded like lies. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to calm himself down. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Everything is okay. That is definitely not a lie.
"Shut up me." Jason couldn't help but feel a little scared. He didn't like feeling so vulnerable in a place where he was supposedly safe. He'd had dreams like that before, but who could he talk to? He wasn't able to tell anyone. He was supposed to be strong, and he couldn't show fear. And at Camp Jupiter, they saw feelings as weaknesses. Anyone who was expressive and emotional would be shamed, no matter what was going on. So Jasons only way of coping was destroying small insignificant things. Notebooks, boxes, pencils, etc. It didn't help, but it was all he could do.
Rain started to fall from the sky, with no warning whatsoever. That had been happening whenever Jason got moody. He started whispering the words "I'm fine" over and over again, like a chant.
Lightning flashed.
Thunder rumbled.
The rain got heavier.
And soon, Jason could barely hear his own thoughts over the pouring rain.
***
Leo woke to the sound of thunder and rain. He sat up and checked the time. It was 5:32 in the morning. Leo realized that he'd already forgotten what day it was. When had he gotten here? Oh right. July 22nd.
He got out of bed and snuck into the hall, making as little noise as possible.
Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice, saying "I'm fine" over and over again like a chant. It was hard to hear over the rain, but he knew who it was.
Leo tip-toed over to where the voice was coming from, and knocked on the door.
Leo could hear cursing in a different language after a moment of silence. Eventually, Myst opened the door.
"Jason, I know that it's you."
Myst looked around, and then pointed to himself.
"Bitch, who else would I be talking to?" Leo reached up and snatched Jasons mask, his hood falling off.
Jason looked almost unrecognizable. He was thinner, paler, his hair was longer with some darker strands, and his ice blue eyes had a dim look to them, as if they were dead stars. The only things Leo could recognize were the scar on his lip, and the quiet sadness in his eyes. He looked as if something had scared him.
"Hey." Jasons voice was hoarse. He did not seem to be in the mood to talk.
"When did you come back?"
Jason winced. "I... kind of lost track of time..."
"Well, so you don't forget, it's July 23rd."
Jason looked bewildered. "Well shit."
"What?"
Jason inhaled. "I MISSED OUT ON PRIDE MONTH."
Leo couldn't help but laugh. "Dude, you died and came back to life, and that's what you're worried about?"
"Shut up, Valdez."
***
Jason rapped his fingers against the cool metal bedframe. He couldn't dwell on old memories. It would just break him.
Just focus on the rain, he thought. It'll make you feel better. So obviously, he focused on anything but the rain.
Something about his mother made him anxious. He knew she was dead, he'd even seen her ghost. But just the memory of her sent him into to fight or flight mode. He'd been seeing her in his dreams ever since she'd abandoned him. Jason used to joke about why his mom had left him, but that got him one too many looks of concern or pure disgust.
Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. Jason attempted to regain his composure, but ended up cursing in Latin as he threw his cloak and mask on.
When he opened the door, Leo was standing there. Jason didn't know why, but something about the other boy made him anxious. Jason wasn't scared of Leo, but something about that guy made him feel slightly panicky, and he had a strange urge to kiss him on the lips.
"Jason, I know that it's you." Leos chocolate brown eyes had a glint to them, almost like he was trying to drag all of Jasons secrets out of their hiding place.
Jason looked around and then pointed to himself. He knew Leo was talking to him, but he wanted to waste as much time as possible before Leo could pull off the mask.
"Bitch, who else would I be talking to?" Leo then snatched the mask off of Jasons face, making his hood fall down in the process.
Shit shit shit shit shit. Jason felt even more panicked. I'm gonna say something stupid. Gods fucking damn it. "Hey." He tried to sound happy, but clearly, his voice had other plans.
Leo stared up at him, a stunned expression on his face. Jason probably looked like a mess, but he didn't care. He hadn't looked in the mirror in... well, he didn't know.
"When did you come back?" Leos tone make Jason wince.
"I..." He tried to shove that panicky feeling down, but just made it worse. "...kinda lost track of time..."
"Well, just so you don't forget, it's July 23rd."
Jason took a moment to process that. "Well shit."
"What?"
He inhaled, deciding that saying something dumb was better than freaking out right in front of Leo. "I MISSED OUT ON PRIDE MONTH."
Leo laughed, filling Jasons chest with even more of that panicked feeling.
"Dude, you died and came back to life, and that's what you're worried about?"
"Shut up Valdez."
Leo grinned. "Something's telling me that you missed me."
Jason looked away. "No... I actually enjoyed being away from you." He had a feeling he was blushing.
"Why is your face so red?"
Jason suddenly felt overwhelmed. He was panicking, wondering if he would slip up and admit his feelings to Leo. "NO IT ISN'T," he yelped, and slammed the door.
Jason set the hair dryer down. "I am so going to regret this later." He sighed, and left the bathroom.
When he entered his room, Leo was there, arms crossed.
"Did you eat anything?" Leo sounded unbelievably stern.
Jason once again felt a little panicked as he tried to respond, but no sound came out. He settled on shaking his head.
"So you would rather dye your hair pink than than eat something."
"Uhhh," Jason said. He couldn't figure out what to say without sounding stupid. (And he'd dyed his hair red, not pink.) He decided to just use sign language. Sorry that my priorities are off, he signed, earning an amused grin from Leo.
Leo rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just go get food," he said, tapping his leg.
Jason shrugged. Fine.
***
Leo attempted to build up the courage to confront Jason about why he'd slammed the door on him, but he was even more confused about why Jason had looked so shaken. It could've been a bad dream, or a memory, or...
"Leo."
Leo looked up from his little invention that he'd been disassembling and rebuilding over and over again. "Yeah?"
"Okay, you're alive." Raine closed the door.
Leo still couldn't get over the fact that she was 6'2. How did she survive without hitting her head against doorframes? And who decided they were called doorframes? And why was it called a door?
Leo smacked the side of his head. He looked at the thing he'd made. It just looked like a mess of metal and gears with a handle. In other words, it looked like shit.
The day went by quickly. Jason had been interrogated by the demon known as Silk Erdmann about how he and Leo knew each other. Raines girlfriend had visited. And Jason had burned himself while making mac n cheese.
Leo stared at his room. It felt weird to be in a different world where the sky was orange and there were three moons.
A knock on his door startled him.
Leo opened it, and Jason was waiting with... wait, was that Nico?
"Hey Leo." Jason nudged Nico.
"Hi." Nico did not seem to appreciate Jason doing that, and pushed him away.
"Sooo, uhhh..." Leo really had no idea what to do. "Come in I guess?"
Jason practically dragged Nico in. "Nico needs better people skills," he said.
"No."
"Oh shut up."
Leo snickered. "So, what's up?"
"Nothing much." Nico picked at his nails.
Jason smirked. "Guess what I got," he said in a sing-song voice.
"Oh for fucks sake Jason, stop talking like that."
"What do you have?" Leo tilted his head and pulled on a strand of his hair.
Jason reached into his backpack and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He grinned mischievously.
"Oh my gods. Jason, why do you have that?" Nico raised an eyebrow.
"No questions!" Jason looked impossibly close to laughter.
"Something tells me that one of us is gonna get drunk and pass out." Leo drew a circle on the floor with his finger. "Spoiler alert, it's not me or Nico."
Jason laughed. "Oh please. I'm better than that."
"Do you two want to be left alone? Because I can leave if you want."
"Nico, shut up." Jason playfully pushed Nicos shoulder.
"Not until you tell Leo."
"Tell me what?"
"It's nothing." Jason smiled, but there was something off about it. Almost like he was anxious about something.
It turned out that Leo was right about Jason getting drunk and passing out.
Leo found a pack of UNO cards under his bed. "How 'bout we play UNO?"
"What the heck is that?" Jason and Nico asked in unison.
"Nico has an excuse to not know what it is, but how have you never heard of it?"
Jasons face reddened. "The wolves weren't exactly sitting down and playing cards."
Leo explained the rules to him and Nico, holding back laughter as Jason asked more and more questions. "Can you explain that again?" "What the heck does that mean?" "Why do you have to say that?"
After what seemed like millennia, they finally understood what the game was about. Nico was constantly winning, with Jason jokingly insulting himself. After Nico won for the fifth time in a row, Jason started laughing until his face was red and he was lying down and covering his face.
"There is no way you're already drunk." Leo tilted his head at Jason.
In one quick move, Nico snatched up the bottle, only to discover that it was emptier than it should have been. "Jason. Did you seriously just drink over half of this shit?"
Jason grinned sheepishly. "Maybe?"
"Oh my fucking gods." Nico shook his head in exasperation.
"I have a problem." Jason said "problem" like how Wall-E said anything. He started giggling. Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, former praetor of Rome. Giggling. Leo hadn't heard of anything so strange.
Jason sat up and leaned against Leo. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He tried to calm his breathing. He's drunk. It probably doesn't mean anything.
Nico raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me he likes you."
Jason made a weird sound in the back of his throat. "Noooo I don't," he said.
"Dude, you're drooling."
"No I'm not," Jason said, clearly drooling. He nestled his head in the crook of Leos neck.
"Should I leave?" Nico had a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"If you want, I guess." Leo ran his fingers through Jasons hair.
Nico smiled, then winced as if smiling caused him physical pain. For all Leo knew, it probably did. "I'll leave you two be." Nico stood up, and left the room.
Afterwards, there was a moment where Leo wanted to kiss Jason on the forehead, but he wouldn't appreciate that. Suddenly, Jason spoke.
"Mmmmmmmmmleo."
Leo looked at Jason. "Yeah?"
"Leo." Jason said Leos name like it was the most important thing in the world.
"What is it?"
Jason waited for a few moments. "I love you."
"W-what did you say?" Leo felt slightly panicked.
"I love you, Valdez." Leo could tell that Jason was smiling.
"I..." All this time, Jason had liked him? Then again, it could've just been him saying things randomly. "Jason?"
Jason did not respond.
"Dude."
Still no response.
Leo rolled his eyes, moved, so Jason was lying on the floor, and looked at the blueprint he'd sketched out a week prior. He turned on the lamp on his desk, bathing the room in a dim orange light. As he was about to sit down, he heard Jason mutter something about cats in his sleep. Leo decided to give him a blanket.
He stared at the notes he'd jotted down. Leo had been in a rush when making it, so his handwriting was messy. The blueprint was a smaller version of Festus, but without all the pointy and dangerous bits, so Harley would be able to play with something other than the tools scattered around the Hephaestus cabin. Maybe I can use this in a different way... Leo had a feeling that the brightly coloured dragon in the yard would want a friend.
"Hey Jason?" Leo said it loud enough to wake Jason up.
Jason groaned. "Whaaaaat." His tone made it sound like Leos voice had interrupted a nice dream.
"What's the dragons name?"
Jason grumbled something about Leo being annoying. "Her name's Mochi." He passed out again. Leo rolled his eyes.
He carefully dragged Jason into the bed. The floor wasn't very comfortable, and Jason would probably wake up with a neck cramp and a hangover if he stayed on the floor.
Leo then realized how weird that sounded. "Shit. Percy's a horrible influence." He brushed the thought aside and started working on the dragon.
As he worked, his eyelids felt like lead. Leo had to force them open so he wouldn't fall asleep. Eventually, that failed, as when he was done with the mini dragons skeleton, he barely managed to move it out of the way before he passed out.
***
The first thing Jason was aware of was his splitting headache. The next thing was that he didn't remember falling asleep in a bed. He sat up, feeling slightly dizzy. He hadn't had any nightmares, which made him uneasy. It was like the calm before a storm.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Leo was leaning against the doorframe, an amused grin on his face.
Jason stared at him. He suddenly realized that he was in Leos room. Meaning he was in Leos bed. "Did you-?" He couldn't finish the thought.
Leos expression went from grinning to amused surprise. "The floor isn't really the best place to fall asleep." His warm brown skin, chocolate brown eyes, and elfish features made Jason feel like fireworks were going off in his chest.
"Ummm..." Jason hoped his face wasn't red.
"Are you okay? You look like you're about to pass out."
Jason got up quickly, only to stumble. He blinked the spots out of his eyes. "I'm fine."
Leo snickered. "Yeah, okay Sparky."
"I haven't heard that in a while." Jason suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline. "Did I say anything weird last night?"
Leo looked away. "No, you just sounded crazy."
"Leo."
"Shut it."
"Repair boy."
"Fuck yourself."
Jason had the urge to say "only if you watch," but he refrained from saying it.
"Cat got your tongue?" Leo asked smugly.
"Ha! In your dreams!"
Raine needed time to scheme, so Leo, Nico, and Jason got the house to themselves. For some reason, Nico decided that he was just going to pace around and periodically look out the window, as if he was nervous about something.
"Dude, why are you acting so weird?" Leo pulled a wrench out of his tool belt and started to spin it like a pencil.
Nico looked at Leo like he'd just set off a bomb. "It's nothing."
Jason tried to tune them out. It wasn't like he didn't want to hear them talk, it was just that he had a headache, and everything seemed louder than normal. He grabbed a pair of headphones off the coffee table.
Of course, trying to tune everything out was a mistake.
After a few moments, Jason heard a crash. He jumped up, tossed the headphones onto the couch, and rushed to where the noise came from.
When he got there, Leo had a look of shock on his face.
"What-?" Jason then looked at Nico.
Nico seemed to have been hit by a vase. The right side of his face was bleeding. There were ceramic shards scattered across the floor. He sat up, clearly dazed.
"Oh gods!" Jason grabbed Nico by the shoulders. "Are you okay?" Dumb question, but he wasn't really thinking.
"Yes?" Blood dripped from Nicos mouth.
"No you aren't. Leo, make sure he doesn't die."
"O- Okay," Leo stammered.
Jason rushed to his room. When he'd come back to life, he'd been messed up so badly that it made it possible for him to use technology without attracting monsters. Of course, it also messed up his ability to fly. He grabbed his phone and called Raine.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up." Jason felt a surge of adrenaline and a lump forming in his throat as he looked at the phone.
After what felt like hours, Raine picked up. "What's going on?"
"A vase fell on Nicos head and I don't know what to do," Jason said, his heart pounding.
"Did it break?"
"Yeah."
Raine cursed in Terrian. Jason was pretty sure she'd just cursed her mothers name. "I'll be there in a second." She hung up.
Jason quickly put down the phone, and ran downstairs. Nico was sitting down, holding a wet paper towel on his face. Leo was pacing around, clearly confused on what to do.
"I called Raine. She'll be-." Before Jason could even finish his sentence, Raine just appeared without any warning.
"Jason, clean up the mess that the vase left. Leo, you help him. Nico, I might have to knock you out."
Nico shrugged. "I've done that to myself before."
"I'm not even gonna ask."
Jason grabbed a broom and paper towels. "Leo, come on." Jason grabbed Leos hand and dragged him over to where the vase hit Nico.
***
After that mess, Raine left the house after making sure Nico would be okay. That left Jason and Leo alone.
Jason was clearly upset by what happened. He was fidgeting, and picking at his gloves. Leo didn't blame him. He was also shaken from what happened. But there was still one thing he couldn't understand. When the vase had hit Nico, it looked like someone had thrown it.
"Did- did you see exactly what happened?" Jason resorted to tapping his leg.
"No, I didn't." Leo glanced at Jason, attempting to avoid staring at his lips.
"Alright," Jason said, his voice shaky. Then, the unthinkable happened. Tears filled his eyes, streaming down his face. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing.
Leo flinched at that. He couldn't remember ever seeing Jason cry. Sure, he occasionally got teary-eyed, but those moments never lasted long enough for anyone who wasn't studying his face closely enough. And Leo had experience with staring at Jasons face.
"I should've been paying attention!" Jason sounded like a dying cat. He started yelling some things in a language Leo didn't recognize. He assumed that the other boy was cursing.
"Jason." Leo waited for Jason to calm down.
He just kept sobbing.
"Jason." Leo put a hand on his shoulder. "What's been bothering you?"
Jason looked at Leo. "What- what do you mean?" he asked through tears.
"When I found out you'd come back, you sounded like you were trying to calm yourself down after something. What was it?"
Jason looked around. "I- well- it's just- I had a nightmare," he stammered.
Son of a bitch. "I've both seen and heard you after nightmares, and you do not act like that. Tell me the truth."
Jason had a look of shame and embarrassment on his face. "It was about my mom." He sniffed. "But... that's not everything."
"What do you mean?"
"I... well, you'd make fun of me."
"No, I wouldn't. Tell me."
Jason took a few deep breaths. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm sure." Leo looked Jason dead in the eyes. Jason seemed to be shaking.
"Oh my gods..." Jason looked at his feet, as if he was ashamed for what he was about to say. "Leo... how do I say this? You take up half of my thoughts. You... well, you're you. And I know you don't feel the same way, but..."
Leo knew where this was going. But he wanted to hear more of what Jason had to say.
"But I need to tell you this. I can't keep this to myself anymore." Jason took a deep breath.
"What is it?"
"I love you."
"That sucks for you," Leo blurted out.
Jason groaned. "Someone kill me." He smacked his forehead.
Leo felt like screaming, crying, laughing, and or smacking Jason in the face all at the same time. He had a feeling he needed time to himself so he could set himself on fire without burning the house down.
"Leo?" Jason didn't look at him. "You okay?"
Leo bit the inside of his cheek. "Yeah. I- well- I like you too." His nose caught on fire, and he quickly patted the flames out. "But, I feel like it's a little too soon to actually start dating. I literally just broke up with Calypso."
"Oh." There was a hint of jealousy in his voice. Jason had always seemed a little weird when Leo talked about Calypso, but he'd dismissed it as him wondering why his relationship with Piper didn't work out the way Leo and Calypsos had.
Mochi suddenly poked her head through an open window. She snorted, looking at Jason.
Jason sighed as he got up. He walked towards Mochi, and set his hand on her snout. "Hey, Mochi." He scratched her chin, and she purred like a cat.
Mochi snatched Jason up by his hood. She tossed him outside, and shut the window with her tail.
***
Jason face planted on the grass when Mochi tossed him outside. He sat up, brushing a few leaves out of his hair. He heard the window snap shut, and Mochi nuzzled his head with her snout.
"Hey, Mochi." Jason mustered a smile.
Mochi smacked him in the face with her right wing.
Jason flinched away, and snickered. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I won't leave you alone for that long again!" A puff of smoke escaped Mochis nostrils. She snorted, a proud expression on her face.
Jasons smiled faded. He scratched Mochi under her chin. It felt like there was soap in his eyes. He blinked more tears away, holding back a sob. Nico could have been okay if Jason had been there. He wanted to melt away into a lonely puddle, remembering the gash the vase left on Nicos face. Best case scenario, he'd be blind in his right eye permanently.
Mochi sniffed at Jasons face, and curled up beside him. What's wrong? she seemed to be asking.
Jason forced a laugh, and buried his face in his hands. He groaned, and wished he could go back to when he'd been disguising himself. "Myst" seemed less like Jason and more like another life. Hell, it kind of was.
Mochis head suddenly snapped up. She snarled, smoke curling from her nostrils.
"Is something wrong?" Jason stood up, scanning the area. He didn't see anything other than trees and glowing blue soul flowers.
He then heard a sound like a twig snapping. Jason slowly drew a dagger from his belt, careful to not drop it.
He silently approached the woods, gesturing for Mochi to stay put. Jason paused as he heard bushes rustling. He turned in the direction the noise was coming from, and gripped his dagger tightly. He dashed into the forest, hoping he wouldn't get lost again.
Jason hopped over a log and hit his ankle, cursing in Latin at the sudden pain. He paused to look around, listening for any sudden noises. All he could hear were crickets chirping and the sound of those strange creatures he'd found on his first day in Terria.
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After not playing Myst for many years (since I played it as a CD-ROM game), I’m now playing it again on my phone. I forgot how much of the story had to do with books!
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binaominagata · 6 months
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9 people you’d like to get to know better
Tagged by @ive-fallen-and-i-cannot-get-up —thanks! :D
1. 3 ships - Camina Drummer/Naomi Nagata (The Expanse), Clarke Griffin/Lexa Kom Trikru (The 100, back when I still watched it…stopped after Season 3, not because of Lexa but that’s a whole other story) and Berlin/Palermo (La Casa De Papel).
2. First ever ship - God I’m legit not sure. Pretty sure it was either Xena/Gabrielle (canon, fight me) or Hiei/Kurama (canon in my heart) but this was a long time ago for me you gotta understand.
3. Last song - “Dana Dan” by Bloodywood. Love that band, finally got to see them live this year, they are AMAZING.
4. Last movie - Barbie. Dug out my pink button-downs for it and everything.
5. Currently reading - Myst: The Book of Atrus by Rand and Robyn Miller.
6. Currently watching - this is so lame but I just found a series of nature documentaries I loved as a kid have been fully uploaded to YouTube and I’m just obsessed again. I legit checked these VHSs out at least 20 times from the library as a kid. I missed these things. I might post the link to the playlist later I don’t know
7. Currently consuming: my third cup of coffee for the day
8. Currently craving: Sukiyaki. God I could kill for some good sukiyaki right now. All week actually. My partner and I either order or go out on Fridays, see if I can convince them to go somewhere with sukiyaki this week…
9 people to tag - @unchartedcloud @the-page-mistress @g1ngan1nja @sunlian @tragedyposting @theearlkindagay @slightlycrackedteapot @always-tilting-at-windmills and anyone else who wants in I guess why not.
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