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jq37 · 5 years ago

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The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 14

Brennan Says It’s My Turn With The Daddy Issues

So we’re in hell--literally, not emotionally (at least for the moment). We being Fig, Riz, Gilear, the Hangman, and the blood-imp valet that Fig created last week who is ostensibly named Wretchrot but also picks up the nickname Baby this episode because of shenanigans. Wretchrot brings them all to where they’ll be staying, says a bunch of wild stuff in his weird Rita Repulsa voice, and drinks Fig’s blood which is what he is made of. Riz is bullied by the Hangman and misses the other half of his Nerd Squad.

Anyway, Wretchrot takes the group on a little tour of Gorthalax’s stuff starting with the library which includes books that steal souls and also legal texts (redundant). Fig looks for a book on devil dating advice while Riz looks for something on the Hellish legal system On a 17, Fig finds a Manual for Succubi and Incubi about extracting souls via the penis. More helpfully, on a 16, Riz finds out that coups are baked into the ruling system of hell and killing someone to ascend to the throne is pretty par for the course.

Next up is the hall of treasures where there are suits of armor themed to the 7 deadly sins including kinky, gimp, Lust armor they briefly consider equipping either Gilear or Kristen with (Ally breaks at that). There are also these Venitian style masks through which the people who failed to kill Gorthalax to take his place are forced to watch him do his thing.

They pass through a hall of mirrors which they realize is a kind of security system as it shows things as they really are. Wretchrot appears in the mirror as a drop of Fig’s blood. The Hangman appears as a huge puppy!!!! (OK, a hellhound but all canines are puppies). Riz holds up the photo of Kalina to the mirror and, in the mirror, can’t see her in the photo. However, he does she her in the mirror itself. She waves at him and then appears “in person”. Fig doesn’t know this is going on and asks Riz if he’s emotionally OK with the fact that they just whip out the photo of his dead dad on the regular. Riz says it’s fine but he quickly becomes less fine when Kalina asks if he'd like to see his dad. He starts to answer her out loud but she tells him that, by talking out loud, he’s tipped off Fig potentially so he should lose her and then meet her alone. The Hangman guards everyone while Riz and Fig split up, to find stuff to test in front of the mirror. Well, that’s the stated plan anyway.

Back in Arborly, Adaine is getting to check an item off of her Teen Girl Life Experiences checklist: Spilling Tea About Your Friend’s New GF. She gleefully does the whole, “I can’t tell you but I’ll tell you if you guess right,” routine before outright confirming that while crustacean shenanigans were happening in the house Fig and Ayda were sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Everyone in the group goes feral over the news, especially the Gay Squad. She vaguely recalls that Ayda also told her some information about a rune or something but everyone agrees that she retained the most important information.

They decide to call Aguefort about their coins and the rune (Kristen wisely having all the infected people leave the room). Aguefort tells them that the coins that they have comprise Kalvaxus’s hoard but not his original hoard as it has been spent and invested and put into the economy. Classic Ship of Theseus problem (ie: If you have a ship and you start replacing damaged parts of it, by the time you've replaced all the parts, is it even the same ship?). He also reminds them that spending the gold as quickly as possible is a good idea to avoid the dragon madness curse which is on all dragon gold (a weak but very hard to break curse). That prompts Adaine to describe the rune she discovered to him and he tells her basically the same stuff Ayda did last episode. She wonders if dragon madness could be the larger, static curse under which the trojan horse curse (the spellbook) is hiding. Gorgug wants to give all of the gold away and Fabian is not about that life at all.

Back in hell (literally and emotionally now) Riz prepares to meet Kalina. With a 25 Investigation, he finds a sliver of mirror that he can bring with him to keep from being tricked. He’s also mindful of being paralyzed while he’s with Kalina at the edge of a hell cliff so he anchors himself with a rope tied around his waist. Kalina is her usual aloof, darkly charming self when they speak and Riz is pretty flustered, asking if she was his dad’s familiar (no). Kalina says that Riz didn’t really know his dad and the question he isn’t asking but should be is how did his dad meet her in the first place.

She takes him to a little secret passageway which she says goes to a liminal place where he can see between the levels. She gives him the help action to get a good look (which makes Murph extremely nervous) but he only gets an 11 which means all that he sees is a cold, white light coming from the opening. He tries to use his mirror to look inside but on a 13 dex save, his footing is shaky and some rocks fall down the side of the cliff (he’s fine). Kalina says that he’s gonna have to man up and walk down the tunnel if he wants to see what’s going on. She fully reveals that she’s incorporeal and can’t actually touch him to mess with him if that helps at all.

Riz is clearly struggling with the choice but he ultimately decides that he can’t pass up this chance and that he can trust Fig to rescue him if things go south. He leaves her a note and then steps through. Within the tunnel, he can feel things watching him and hear a chittering that’s weirdly somehow coming from him. In front of him is a smoky room lit by a cone of light--think interrogation room in an old detective show. In a chair, covered in blood and shit and tattered clothes is Pok Gukgak, gagged and chained. Riz reaches for him but, as he tries to step forward, he reaches the end of his rope. Someone unseen splashes Pok with water and tells him to “confess” and “tell us what you know.” Riz pulls out his gun--his dad’s gun--to shoot out the light. As he does, a thought comes unbidden: You know what the kind thing to do with that gun would be. That shakes Riz so he lowers the gun and starts to untie himself. He’s stopped by Kalina (speaking in his mind) who tells him that if he steps in the light, he’ll be on another level of hell in the Iron City of Dis for real. Not just looking in. Riz pulls out his mirror shard and confirms that it really is his dad in there being tortured. He leaves the tunnel.

Kalina says that she knows Riz is all hopped up on doing his quest and stopping the Nightmare King but if he just stops, if they all stop, none of his friends will have to die and, bonus, maybe there will be a little rescue mission for his dad in it for him. Riz wants to know if Pok knew what her true nature was and he seems to think he cheated on his mom with her (“I know what happened between you two. I can do the math.” Which seems logistically improbable but OK). She reminds him that Pok was a spy which means it’s naive to think that every thing he did was good and taunts him about his clue hound nature before vanishing.

Riz meets up back with Gilear and Fig and he spills about everything. Gilear wants Riz to have lunch and drink some water before he does anything rash. Fig says that they don’t need Kalina to rescue Pok. They know crazy-person Bill Seacaster who’s also in hell. She lights a beacon to help him find them (if you remember, the Hangman has been attempting to contact him for Fabian). One thing I didn’t mention before is that Fig brought up the idea of temporarily installing herself as the ruler of Gorthalax's section of hell so she’d be a powerful enough devil (or devil-adjacent entity) to get them into Sylvere. Wretchrot said it was probably a no-go since she’s half mortal but, now, on a 29 Riz re-reads his legal book and realizes that Fig wouldn’t actually have to kill Gorthalax to take his place, she just needs to defeat him, which she technically has by putting him in a gem and they put that together almost before Brennan is done narrating. They have a new plan.

The other Bad Kids are discussing what Arianwyn is up to and Gorgug suggests that maybe she’s not actually working with Kalina. Maybe she’s playing along but actually has ulterior motives. Kristen looks at Arianwyn’s notes and on a 24 “Empath Roll” (Brennan converts this Ally-ism to an Insight check) sees that at a certain point, Arianwyn started making leaps in her research that were too lucky and suggest someone was helping her--possibly the entity she was researching. Adaine thinks about calling her mom using Sending or her new Sinod of Spire spell but Ayda calls Adaine and asks if she can come over. Of course she can. She comes with her recently summoned tropical fish familiar in a bubble of water--it has the very Albus Severus name of “Garthy and Adaine the Fish” which Adaine is thrilled about but also suggests shortening to GAF (and also considering reconstituting it into a cuddlier form--though the image of her dumping Boggy into GAF’s bubble is super adorable). Meanwhile, Kristen is thrilled to welcome her to “the family” because being gay is the same as visiting an Olive Garden (this is a shirt now because Ally said it which is too much power to give to Ally). Ayda kinda sucks some of the fun out of teasing her about her relationship with Fig by being extremely forthright about it but Kristen and Adaine brighten at the thought that Fig will be a lot more fun to tease.

But, back to business. Ayda has not slept because she’s been working on getting to Fig. The whole group is like, “Bitch, are you OK?” and give her an ice cream sandwich which is proper Good Friend Protocol if you have them on hand I think. Ayda is super worried about Fig and is just about ready to unmake everything standing between them (Normal lesbian move according to Kristen). They talk her down for the moment in favor of sending Fig a message: Fig you sneaky bitch. Ayda’s here. She wants to invade hell. You good? PS: OOOOOOOOOOOH. PPS: Ask Kalvaxus about dragon madness. Fig completely misses the fact that they know what’s going on with Ayda (you’d think they’d be more in sync which each others’ texting shorthand) and sends back a message saying she hopes they have fun with her but, “not too much fun,” and also that she, “is king” with no further explanation. Wild.

Ayda, who is still super keyed up to get Fig, thinks she can figure out the Planeshift spell but she needs more time to work on the spell which she could get...if they steal her dad’s time stopping pocketwatch. Considering they watched Aguefort grab the sun out of the sky the other day, they’re not super down to have a possibly adverse encounter with the man but they hear her out. While they do that, Gorgug takes his now working phone and just straight up calls the guy, explaining the situation (including Ayda’s involvement) and asking to borrow the watch. Aguefort is a little taken aback by the fact that Ayda would want any kind of contact with him at all because about 300 years back, she told him to never contact her again and that she would leave notes to her future self detailing why, which is why he hasn’t really been in her life. He lets him borrow the watch for a week (after which time it will return to him) and asks him to tell Ayda what they talked about, leaving the door open for a possible future relationship between them. When Gorgug returns with the watch and the news, Ayda breaks a little and reveals she didn’t even know she was that old. Presumably because her notes start about 150 years ago with an apology that her past self wanted a fresh start and destroyed the last several batches of notes. She hates herself for doing that and Kristen gently tries to get her to cool it with the negative self talk. Then, they hit the button on the watch and they have a week to work.

The Wizards work on Planeshift. Fabian and Kristen go to the shrine and Kristen--mirroring her vision from episode 1--sits down to draw the unknown goddess from the mural. Her Spirit Guardians emerge and start to kinda deride her for the sincerity of her action. She in turn decides that she’s done with this wishy-washy “above it all” attitude and dismisses her Spirit Guardians for good (making her, as far as I can tell, the only cleric in Solace with a 100% turnover rate on her Spirit Guardians). She finishes the picture and it feels somehow significant, to her and to Tracker too (who can look at it without wolf-raging out). Gorgug uses the time to “get smarter” which bumps his score from an 8 to a 9 (which has no mechanical implications). Ayda is also working on a side project but she’s keeping it a secret from Adaine.

In hell, the tribunal is called back in session. Fig comes in ready to claim her hell passport and the throne along with it. On a big ol’ 30 persuasion check--and because the law is on her side--Vrath is reluctantly convinced to confer upon Fig the title of arch-devil (via a full lip kiss which is some Poison Ivy bs) The new title comes with an upside pentagram mark on her forehead, full fire immunity (very convenient considering her new constantly on fire gf), and resistance to poison. However, Vraz is about to force the Hangman to stay in hell due to a legal technicality when who walks in but BILL FORKING SEACASTER, who invokes the law of the blade and immediately starts stabbing their way out of there and hustles the group to his ship (Goldenhoard’s reshaped corpse) which was indirectly named by Fig we learned after the thing that would annoy him the most--The Goldenrod.

Bill gives Fig (who is feeling iffy about her archdevil decision) a pep talk before fully signing up for the rescue mission of the dad of his son’s BFF. We also learn that Alastair Ash is interning on Bill’s ship! He’s pretty happy to see Fig and Riz but if he sees Fabian he’s fully gonna kill him. Right around now, the Bad Kids not in hell remember they can talk to the group via the Hangman and check in since the week of stopped time is up. The Hangman is like, “YOU NEED TO COME HELP US RIGHT AWAY!” They (everyone but the HangVan) Planeshift onto the deck of the Goldenrod which is being targeted by monsters and devils commanded by Vraz. Alastair makes good on his threat and starts trying to shank Fabian immediately (which Bill is hilariously blase about). Ayda opens up a portal to the sea and tries to flood Hell from the top down but Fig stops her, saying that they need to get to the second level to save Pok which seems like it will be quite a task with all the monsters Vraz is throwing at them. Luckily, Bill has money for days (and that money is somehow worth something in hell) and has a whole fleet to back them up for our big Hell Pirate Battle next episode!

Detention

Gorgug for Bad Gossip Etiquette

Look, obviously Kalina was the worst person in this episode. Like, duh. But, also, it feels like cheating to punish the Vader of the series for doing something bad. Like, yeah! That’s what she’s supposed to be doing!

So, instead, today’s dubious honor goes to Gorgug for the much less damning but more relatable sin of making his girlfriend aware of tea but not spilling it. Say it all or say nothing!

Honor Roll

Gorgug for Being More Insightful Than His 8 9 Int Would Suggest

Back to back double awards.

Wisdom is not the same as Intelligence and I actually have no idea what Gorgug’s Wisdom score is on paper but he showed a lot of in this episode.

I think he’s been the first person to suggest that whatever’s going on with Arianwyn might not be as cut and dry as it seems and then, of course, he decided to, instead of trying to Ocean’s 11 Aguefort to just slip out and have a quick heart to heart with him. One that affects him surprisingly deeply. And him bringing up his own experiences with no knowing who his birth dad was was just the chef’s kiss on top of it all.

I don’t think Brennan actually intended them to Oceans 11 Aguefort because that would be crazy, but Gorgug is the one who stepped up to solve the problem for the group with a little compassion and I think that more than earns him the spot.

Random Thoughts

Trailer for Season 5 is dropping Thursday so get hyped!

“Are you looking for the Teen Zone of the bottomless pit?”

“The fief of this dom.”

“You’re a little nerd. Tell the cool girl what you know.”

“If I had new parts, where would they go?”

I love Fabian’s confident assertion that Ayda would “love shrimp river”.

Line of the night goes to Ragh for, “Frankly, bringing up the rune in this context is homophobic.” And Adaine’s followup of, “I apologize. As an ally, I’m always learning,” was also great.

I love that the girls instantly understand Fig’s earlier hot tub comment with the new context but the boys are still clueless.

Watching Emily and Murph have their own little side adventure was so great. They are so fun together and they were clearly having a blast.

I wonder if Gorthalax can tell than Fig just got his title. Either via the title itself or his patron status.

Fig bringing up Riz’s dad to be like, “Are you OK?” caught me so off guard and it seems like it caught Riz off guard too. I hadn’t really thought about it but the fact that Fig had is just another example of her being extremely bighearted and doing a bad job of hiding it.

Emily’s impotent “rage” as all the party members loudly gossiped about her and Ayda and she couldn’t do anything about it because she wasn’t in the scene was *golden*.

Kalina leaves Riz so he can watch his dad but, if you think about it, that’s all placebo because she couldn’t do anything to him whether she’s appearing to him or not and she can watch through his eyes regardless anyway so it’s just like, “Do you want me to be visibly watching you or invisibly watching you?”

Does Kalina have, like, a range? Like, if she can literally just see out of the eyes of people that she’s infected, that limits her to a certain cone of vision and range of movement. But it seems like she can appear to a person and move independently around them to some degree, see things they can’t, point things out, and move away from them. How far away? How independent can she be? What are the logistics here?

Also, on the topic of logistics, it seems extremely hard to know someone for as long as Pok knew Kalina and not realize they’re non-corporeal. Like, even if you’re not a touchy person, eventually you’re gonna bump into them (or, in this case, not bump into them).

Man, the dice really hated Murph this week and, honestly, good. His scenes, imo, work so much better if he doesn’t get to Ally his way out of them with a Nat 20. Him being toyed with by Kalina and unsure and lost is the more interesting version of this sequence of events.

I feel like he made some big swings and misses this ep though. Like, asking if she was Pok’s familiar? Why would that have been a thing? I’m surprised he didn’t ask if he was the goddess’s familiar--though I guess they might not want to let on how much they know but bringing up the concept that she’s anyone’s familliar I think is kinda of giving the game away.

“I have a hard time making conversation with my friends, let alone you” Riiiiiiiiiiz.

Kalina brought up Kristen to Riz specifically, which I find interesting. (She also said that Kristen used to worship Sol which isn’t strictly true, she worshiped Helio, but same family and that was likely just a slip of the tongue from Brennan. Just wanted to point it out).

Who does Kalina even work for? Like, it seems like she’s working with the Nightmare King but if she’s the mystery goddess’s familiar like we all think then that’s weird because it doesn’t seem like the NK and mystery goddess are together. Like, a part of me is just dumping everyone antagonistic to the Bad Kids into the same “Bad” bucket in my head but there’s no way all of these people have totally aligned goals.

“Dragon madness 69”

It’s brought up again in this episode that some of Arianwyn’s research was requisitioned by Pok earlier which I want to ascribe significance to but I’m not in a theorizing headspace right now so I’ll just point it out for anyone who does want to play Gukgak.

I’ve been kinda wondering about the logistics of Aguefort and Ayda and how old that dude is but I totally forgot Chronoancy was a factor which I guess indirectly answers any and all questions about that. It also adds some dimension to his character that time travel is a thing that kinda makes you feel unmoored from time, which I think goes some way (though not all of the way) in explaining why he’s so feral. And, speaking of Aguefort insanity, he was also at the party Zelda was at last episode in the form of an owl as the beer pong mascot. Which Gorgug has Thoughts about.

I really really want Adaine to talk to her mom in the Synod of Spires. Have you guys realized that, for as much of a driving force Arianwyn’s been this season, she’s had almost no dialogue? She has talked I think 3 times total in all of FH: During Adaine’s intro, Apologizing to her when Aelwen was arrested, and the Message Adaine found from her last episode. That’s it. We know almost nothing about her. What is her deal? Also, Siobhan just always kills during all of her one-on-one scenes and I’m biased.

Love the return of the Bad Kids being unable to make a phone call and stealing the phone from each other to tag in with their own nonsense.

Wild that Gorgug was able to get through to Aguefort since he has a history of pissing that dude off by saying the wrong (well, “wrong”) thing.

Shoutout to Gilear for being the Designated Dad of the Hell Trip and making sure the kids were eating and stuff. That was a very endearing moment.

Also, while we’re on the topic of Gilear, he also cleared up that Sandra-Lynn never seriously propositioned him in an irresponsible, “Let me give you a Magic STD” kinda way which was something I’d been thinking about so I’m glad he said something (though the kids kinda aren’t even though I think we’re way past the point of TMI here).

“Hiss at her litigator.”

Riz, who Fig is Looking to be the Voice of Reason re: Her Arch-Devil Upgrade: This is super rad.

I’m very curious about whether Brennan fully planned for Fig to decide to take Gorthalax’s place because, on the one hand, my brain didn’t go there at all but, on the other, getting Emily Axford to install someone--possibly herself--into a position of power is like getting Siobhan Thompson to steal a book I feel.

Fig Upon Being Told That Ayda Told Everyone About Them: Fuck.

I feel like Kristen is gonna wish she had her big moment of emotional catharsis AFTER this big hell pirate fight and not before when she can’t summon her Spirit Guardians.

Man, we haven’t gotten a big, enthusiastic, “Papa!” from Fabian in a while have we?

No crits in either direction this episode which is wild considering Fig got a THIRTY at one point.

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #fantasy high live #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 spoilers

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monarchresourcetradingacademy · 4 years ago

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What is Decentralized Finance (DeFi)?

In Brief

DeFi is a catch all term for a group of financial tools built upon Ethereum

The idea is to allow anyone with internet access to be able to lend, borrow and bank without the need for middle men.

DeFi is recognised as one of the fastest growing areas of the blockchain and decentralized web space.

In the world of traditional finance, the money supply is controlled by a small group of central banks who work with a small group of corporate banks to effectively keep the world running. While that system has, by and large, kept the lights on for the world economy for the best part of a century, it does have its limits. One of which is access. At present, roughly 1.7 billion people are not part of this network, through a variety of reasons; be it a permanent address, credit history or reliable enough banking infrastructure. Blockchain, and in particular, decentralized finance, or DeFi, has been touted as a possible solution to lowering the barrier of entry for those who had previously struggled to gain access to things like bank accounts and borrowing.

Is decentralized finance or DeFi the beginnings of a new financial system – a financial system that’s global, permissionless, and internet-native? Is this the dream of programmable money realized? Let’s find out.

What is DeFi?

As a concept, DeFi is a system of open, permissionless, and interlocking financial products. In practice, DeFi is an overlapping network of dapps and smart contracts built on Ethereum with a focus on financial applications such as borrowing, derivatives, exchanges, trading, etc.

Who invented DeFi?

There is no single inventor of DeFi, but DeFi applications are built on top of Ethereum, which was invented by Vitalik Buterin. The current largest and first major DeFi application is MakerDAO, which was founded by Rune Christensen.

Did you know?

Prominent venture capital firm Andreeson Horowitz led multi-million dollar investment rounds in both Compound and MakerDAO–pillars of the current DeFi ecosystem.

What’s so special about it?

The excitement around DeFi centers on the concept of “money Legos"–the idea that anyone is able to create, modify, mix-and-match, link, or build on top of any existing DeFi product without permission. DeFi protocols are modular so they can stack on top of each other to build an increasingly denser system of interoperating parts.

The feature of open interdependence may also be DeFi’s biggest weakness because if a key component such as DAI becomes vulnerable or corrupted; the whole ecosystem built around DAI may come crashing down.

Did you know?

Over $600 million worth of value is currently locked in various DeFi products, which has shown increasing growth and adoption since 2017.

What else is different?

Besides being able to stack on top of each other in nearly limitless ways, DeFi products also open up financial access to millions of people around the world. A payment system in which anyone on earth can send money to anyone else on the planet was just the start of the crypto revolution. The people building DeFi applications seek to take accessibility one step further. By building products on a decentralized network like Ethereum, anyone with an internet connection is able to access lending services, complex financial products, stable stores of value, and investment and trading opportunities. Since DeFi products are simply code distributed across a decentralized network, they can also never be shut down or denied to those who want to use them.

But like with any new technology, the boundaries to entry remain: access to reliable internet connection, electricity, and gatekeepers; those people are maintain infrastructure that allows peopel to convert fiat currencies to crypto.

How are DeFi applications produced?

Anyone capable of writing smart contracts is able to create DeFi applications. InstaDApp was able to build a widely-used DeFi product by simply building a better user interface on top of existing DeFi products. By making access to DeFi more user-friendly and simplified, they were able to cause a spike in other DeFi products and managed to raise $2.4 million in funding – all without asking for permission.

How do you use DeFi products?

Anyone can use DeFi products by going to an application’s website and connecting with a MetaMask wallet or something similar. Most DeFi dapps do not require users to give up any personal information or register, but ETH is required in order to pay for transactions on the Ethereum network.

What can you do with DeFi?

Users can take out a loan or earn interest on stablecoins using MakerDAO’s Oasis app and Compound. Tokens and crypto assets can be exchanged without registration or sign-ups on Uniswap and Kyber. You can even buy tokens that automatically place trades for you using Set Protocol.

The Future

Despite the pervasive bear market, the amount of ETH locked in DeFi products has grown from around 50,000 ETH at the beginning of 2018 to nearly 3,000,000 ETH at the end of 2019. If the trend continues and the DeFi maximalists are right, this is just the beginning of a massive DeFi wave. True believers argue that the advantages of an open and decentralized financial system are simply too compelling to not capture trillions of dollars of value.

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silver-lily-louise · 6 years ago

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Watch Over Me - a Shadowhunters fanfic

Summary: ‘He parts Alec’s lips and gently lets the blood spill into his mouth, pressing a kiss to his husband’s forehead. ‘Forgive me, my love.’’ Set during the last episode’s time-skip. When Camille hatches a plot to get back at Magnus, he’s left with an impossible decision that could have devastating consequences for the man he loves. Word count: ~9k Warnings: Show-typical violence and gore, temporary major character death

~oOo~

Even for an immortal, time passes slowly in the Gard.

Some days are a haze of hatred and betrayal. After all she’s done for Magnus, this is the thanks she gets? She saves his miserable life, allows him decades of being her lover, and at the end of it all he sends her to a fate worse than death. And all for that upstart bastard, Raphael.

She snorts. Oh, but of course, he’s not just any upstart bastard to Magnus. No, he’s like a son to him. She lounges in the corner of her cell, anger spent for now, contempt creeping in to replace it. The old fool. He never quite got the hang of immortality, she thinks. He partied, and lived in luxury, and travelled the world – but he still loves like a mortal, even now. Camille used to pity him for that.

Of course, that was before he betrayed her. Before he left her here to rot.

And so as the months tick by, Camille begins to plan. She’s certain she can get out of here – Gard security is tight, but she’s lived longer than most of her captors ever will, and the key to almost any escape is patience. But she’s not yet sure how she can get to New York from here, and she’s not going to waste her one chance at freedom on a bid that won’t put her anywhere near Magnus.

It’s a chance conversation between the guards that gives her idea for vengeance fresh blood. ‘Herringway! Simmonds!’ The voice is authoritative, and the two guards outside her door – one to send her weekly ration of blood through the slot, one to make sure she doesn’t ‘try anything’ – fall silent, immediately at attention. ‘I need the two of you to come with me. Inquisitor Lightwood-Bane has called a meeting about that business with the werewolves last week.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ one of them says, and the slot on Camille’s door is hastily pulled across, isolating her once more.

She dives into her blood rations, and for once her thoughts are distracted from how low she has been laid. Inquisitor Lightwood-Bane, they said. She remembers the smell of angel blood, the sickly sweet taste of Nephilim on Magnus’ lips. The boy who stormed in to interrupt them, arrogant in his staggering youth. The brief flash of protectiveness across Magnus’ face as he told her to leave Alec out of this.

Camille doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Lightwood-Bane. It seems that in replacing her, Magnus found someone who’s as much of a saccharine idiot as he is, someone who’s willing to throw their life away for an immortal who’ll forget them in a century or two.

But as the news settles into her mind, she finds herself grinning, feeling the residual blood dry on her teeth. Maybe she doesn’t have to get to New York. After all, there’s more than one way to rip out the heart of a sentimental warlock.

***

All prison breakouts start with one mistake, and today it is the lot of Harrison Bigsby to provide it. Elliott’s been working with him since day one, is even considering asking him to be his parabatai – a potential conversation his mind wanders to as they begin meandering the halls, carrying between them all sorts of supplies for the prisoners.

A werewolf prisoner starts yelling furiously, banging on the door, and it pulls Elliott out of his reverie with a jolt. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he swears quietly. ‘You’d think they’d learn that all they’re gonna do is hurt themselves.’ He winces at the sound of flesh and bones hitting metal over and over, though it’s hard to feel too much sympathy for the prisoner – this wing is dedicated to containing the truly heinous criminals, those who’ve ended many innocent lives or caused suffering even worse than death. Elliott’s no coward, but he can’t help but feel relieved that he only has this particular duty once a month.

Harrison sighs. ‘Yeah. I’ll see if I can get him to calm down. You make the next blood drop.’ He walks away, and Elliott’s about to protest – this isn’t protocol, they’re supposed to stick together. But doubt stills his tongue, and he carries on towards the next cell. They’re not grunts straight out of training, and Harrison’s not going to want a weak-ass parabatai who can’t even do dinner duty without someone holding his hand.

He opens the slot, and before he can close it all the way, he hears her. ‘My my,’ she croons, and Elliott stifles a gasp because her voice is pure music. ‘This looks delicious. Thank you, my sweet.’ ‘You’re welcome,’ he says, awed. ‘I was hoping – before you go on your busy way, performing your duties so nobly – that you might do me the tiniest favour?’ ‘Anything,’ he breathes, and means it all the more when she laughs. ‘My hero. There’s a rune on the top left corner of this door, and it’s giving me some bother. Be a dear and deactivate it, would you?’

He hesitates, because as much as he longs to help her, he isn’t ever supposed to touch the security mechanisms. But his fears are assuaged when she continues, ‘It doesn’t do anything to the lock, of course, or I’d never ask. As far as I’m aware, it’s only there to cause me pain.’ Her voice sounds sadder now, broken, and Elliott wants to kill whoever’s responsible. ‘Please?’

He nods, then realises she can’t see him. ‘Of course, of course I will.’ He takes out his stele and waves it over the rune as efficiently as he can, because even a second more pain for her than necessary is too much for him to bear. The rune glows softly, then fades. She sighs in relief. ‘Thank you, my sweet. I won’t forget this. But let’s keep it our little secret, hmm?’ Her coy tone brings a blush to Elliott’s cheeks. ‘Our little secret, of course.’ He rather likes the sound of that. ‘Good boy,’ she says warmly, and he glows at the praise. ‘Now, you ought to go help your friend. I’m sure I’ll see you soon enough, next time you’re on this route. I can hardly wait.’ Her compassion makes him smile, as does her promise. He goes to check on Harrison without another word.

***

Camille drifts down the hallway back to her cell. She doesn’t like travelling in dust form, and as she slips back through the crack in the food slot, she reforms quickly, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Odd how you can taste the must down here more without a tongue, she muses. But she hadn’t wanted to push her luck with that Shadowhunter boy, not knowing how far her encanto could take her without eye contact. Asking him to disable that one rune was risky enough.

Besides, she thinks – as she wanders around the cell, preening – one rune was all it took. So far, she’s only been out of her cell for short ventures, timed precisely to miss the patrols. But finally, she’s ready for the next stage. Just in time, too – it’s been nearly a month, and if that encanto’d idiot comes back and starts drooling over her, his partner is going to know something’s wrong.

It’s another hour before the guards wander past her door, briefly opening the slot to check on her. She sits in the corner, holding her head in her hands, hiding her face. She has a good poker face, obviously, but there’s something about a situation like this that puts a certain gleam in her eye. I do love it when a plan comes together, she thinks happily.

The footsteps move past. She counts to seven hundred and fifty-two before she decides a thousand was an overly cautious number to pick, and if she has to count that much higher she’ll die of boredom. So instead, she falls into her dust form and slips away.

***

‘Inquisitor, there’s been a riot in the Gard.’

Alec’s attention immediately snaps away from the report on his desk to the lieutenant in front of him. ‘When?’

The lieutenant is maintaining a veneer of professionalism, but Alec can see the fear lurking behind it. ‘We first got word around four minutes ago, sir, but we’re not sure when it started. Twenty-three prisoners are out of their cells.’ ‘Which section?’ ‘Low-threat, sir,’ they say, and Alec lets out a breath. At least it isn’t the maximum-security wing. ‘Our people on the ground are trying to contain the situation, but-‘

‘Sir!’ Another voice interrupts as another Shadowhunter appears in the doorway, her blue uniform marking her as surveillance personnel. ‘Sorry for the intrusion, but there’s word on the riot. They have it mostly under control down there now – the head of security pulled all available details to handle it. The prisoners are back in their cells, they’re just working on re-securing some of the doors.’ ‘Casualties?’ ‘Three Shadowhunters wounded, six prisoners. No fatalities.’ Alec nods. ‘All right. Stevens, head back to the ops center. Tell the infirmary to expect nine injured, six of which will need security.’ The Shadowhunter from surveillance nods, hurrying away. ‘Travis, gather your team and meet me at the Gard.’

***

Camille watches on, willing her patience not to give out when she’s so close. The Nephilim don’t even glance at the dust in the shadows, wandering blindly in front of her and her five accomplices – other vampires from the maximum security wing, ones that she herself sired and whose loyalty can therefore be assured. Camille’s often been proud of her talent for siring ruthless offspring, and it’s serving her well now. That Simon boy was just a fluke.

The Inquisitor is inspecting one of the doors with his stele, apparently trying to determine how the prisoners escaped. She wonders if she’ll have time before she kills him to tell him that she just opened the doors the mundane way, and let her new friends – the ones she’d been performing encanto on for the past few weeks – do the rest. Maybe she should send a manifesto of her plot to Magnus, afterwards. It does seem a shame to have no-one know just how brilliant her planning was. ‘No sign of rune-tampering,’ he says. All frowny and serious like that, she can see the attraction on Magnus’ part. It’s adorable. ‘We really have no leads on how they got out, Charlie?’ ‘No, but Alec… there’s some sort of demonic energy here. A strong residue of power.’ The Seelie scans the shadows, more watchful than the Nephilim, but Camille is confident she won’t be spotted. ‘I cannot put my finger on it, but whatever did this was no Nephilim.’ The angel boy looks around, but he’s even less of a threat than the Seelie. ‘All right. Send a message to Magnus, let him know what’s happening and ask for his help. No-one knows demonic signatures like he does.’

Camille quells her frustration as the Seelie departs. An annoying wrinkle, but not a huge problem. It’ll take time for Magnus to get here from New York. Without being able to portal straight into the Gard, his little angel will be long dead by the time he gets down here. There are only four Nephilim now, and they look like they’re preparing to leave, too.

Camille gives the signal.

She enjoys the look of shock on the boy’s face as her companions emerge from the shadows, breaking the neck of one of the younger Shadowhunters before the girl has a chance to react. The others are quicker, but the second one soon ends up on the ground with his throat ripped out, having barely laid a scratch on his assailant. The boy and his last remaining companion are clearly the more accomplished fighters, managing to take out three of her vampires between them. But they’re still outnumbered. When his comrade falls, Camille steps from the shadows herself, her last two accomplices helping her to hold the boy down.

‘Well, hello again,’ she purrs, straddling his chest, high enough that he can’t buck her off. He struggles, his expression full of hatred as he recognises her, but it’s fairly hard to move with a vampire pinning each of your arms down. ‘Alec, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, I just think of you as ‘Magnus’ latest plaything’.’ He glares at her, but doesn’t say a word. ‘Ooh, cold,’ she says, relishing the slight flicker of fear as she bares her fangs. ‘Not in a chatty mood? Don’t worry, angel boy. I have just the thing to cheer you up. Maybe when Magnus gets here, he can have some too.’

He opens his mouth to say something – probably an angry, predictable demand to leave Magnus alone – but it’s lost in a gasp as she bites down on his throat. She drinks fast and deep, pleasantly surprised by the sweet angelic quality to his taste, but not wanting to savor too much. After all, this isn’t supposed to be a picnic for the boy, and she knows her venom is making this altogether more pleasant than she’d like. Oh well, she thinks. I can always try to convince Magnus that he suffered horribly, knowing what was happening despite the venom’s effects. With his bleeding, guilt-ridden heart, he’ll probably believe every-

‘ALEC!’

Camille just about has time to look up in shock – how the hell did he get here so fast? – before she’s thrown back violently. She gets to her feet as Magnus incinerates both of her remaining vampires, golden magic that matches his furious eyes and would remind anyone just whose son they’re dealing with. He’s not alone, but the two Shadowhunters behind him keep their distance, weapons drawn. Magnus plants himself between Camille and Alec, staring at her like he’s trying to bore a hole in her skull, and she tries not to show any fear. ‘Enough,’ he growls. ‘You’re not touching him again.’ His magic flares threateningly from his hands.

She smirks, hoping it doesn’t wobble. ‘You won’t do it,’ she says, pleased when her voice comes out steady. ‘You and I go too far back for that, Magnus. I saved your life. I was here long before your angel toy-boy, and I’ll be here long after.’ She waits for the capitulation, for Magnus’ face to soften as it always has when she pulls that card. For his weakness to shine through.

What she doesn’t expect is a slow but decisive shake of the head. ‘No,’ Magnus says, and the rage has gone, leaving only cold fury. ‘You’ve taken enough of my past. You’re not having my future.’

And that’s the final straw. Camille launches herself at Magnus, her own wrath boiling over at the realisation that she can’t control him like she used to.

The next bolt of magic cuts off her head, and the last thing she sees is a man who doesn’t need her anymore.

***

Magnus doesn’t even watch Camille hit the ground. Instead, he spins back to his husband, cradling his head; tears starting to well as he feels how cold his Shadowhunter’s skin is, the runes standing out starkly against his pallor. ‘Alexander,’ he breathes, but he doesn’t expect a response and he doesn’t get one, not even a hitch in the weak, shallow breathing. His fingers go to the unbitten side of Alec’s throat, over his deflect rune, and the pulse is barely there. He’s lost too much blood. ‘Get Catarina Loss here, now,’ he shouts, hearing both Shadowhunters scramble to obey his broken command.

But it’s a vain hope. There’s no way Catarina can get here in time, and he knows it. He chokes down a sob, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to Alec’s. ‘Please,’ he whispers, ‘not yet. Don’t leave me just yet. We’re supposed-‘ The words are cut off by another sob, and he finishes the thought in his head as he gasps for breath. We’re supposed to have more time. Decades. I was supposed to care for you as you grew old. ‘Please, Alec. Please.’

His hands move down to cradle either side of Alec’s neck, and he feels a swell of revulsion as he finds the twin punctures.

Then, a thrill of something dangerously close to hope.

His eyes fly open, and he looks from his husband, so still and pale but still there, to Camille’s body not ten yards away. He summons the vampire’s corpse without even thinking, cupping his hand under the fatal wound, where the last drops of her lifeblood are seeping out.

After a few agonising seconds, he prays that he has enough, because he knows he’s almost out of time. He parts Alec’s lips and gently lets the blood spill into his mouth.

Alec sputters a little, and Magnus hates to make his last breaths any more difficult, but he has to try. He leans forward again, using his unbloodied hand to stroke Alec’s hair, and presses a kiss to his husband’s forehead. ‘Forgive me, my love.’

The weak breathing stops, and the despair crashes over Magnus like a tidal wave. He pulls Alec close and weeps, not yet daring to hope he’s done enough to save the man he loves.

***

If Simon’s phone hadn’t started ringing, he’s not sure when he would have moved.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since Jace collapsed in the middle of his and Izzy’s kitchen, clutching his side and screaming in agony. How long since the screaming stopped, Jace’s expression going blank for a moment before he started hyperventilating, sobbing Alec’s name. The three of them have been frozen ever since, Izzy’s arms around Jace as the tears track silently down her face, Simon standing beside them, numb with disbelief.

And then his phone starts ringing, and it’s like the clock starts ticking again. He pulls it out of his pocket and feels his stomach plummet to his knees when he sees who it is, almost dropping it in his fumble to answer the call. ‘Magnus? Oh g-g-god, Magnus, I’m so-‘ ‘Are you alone?’ Simon’s taken aback by Magnus’ blunt tone. ‘No, I’m- I’m with Jace and Izzy. Magnus-‘ ‘Get out of their earshot.’ Magnus sounds… not calm, but emotionless. Detached. ‘Uh, okay.’ Simon holds up a finger to Izzy in response to her questioning look, and walks out of the kitchen, through the living room and into the master bedroom, closing all the doors behind him. ‘Okay, I’m out of the room-‘ ‘I need you to come to Alicante. Just you, as fast as you can get here.’

Simon takes a deep breath. ‘I totally get it, Magnus, and I’m so, so sorry, but I can’t just leave Izzy and-‘ ‘Simon!’ Magnus snaps. ‘We don’t have time for this. Alec needs you here, now.’ …Oh, god. Oh, god. Does Magnus not know? ‘Magnus,’ he says hesitantly, with absolutely no idea how he’s going to break this news. ‘Alec’s… Jace… he – ‘ ‘I know.’ Oh, thank god. ‘But we might be able to get him back, Simon. The same way Clary got you back.’ Simon’s eyes widen. ‘You mean-‘ ‘Go to the Institute and tell them that I’ve summoned you. They’ll be expecting you, and they should give you access to a portal. Get here as soon as you can, and don’t tell the others.’ The line goes dead.

Simon sways in place. If he thought he was dumbfounded before, this is a whole other level. He wanders back into the kitchen, hand still clenched around his phone. Izzy looks up at him. She’s still crying, but when she speaks, her voice is stronger than Simon expects. ‘What did Magnus say? Did he-‘ She pauses for a moment, continuing in a whisper. ‘Did he say what happened?’

Simon shakes his head. Which isn’t technically a lie, he has no idea what’s going on besides that Alec’s dead but Magnus says he can come back as a frickin’ vampire- ‘No,’ he says, realising that both of them are looking up at him now, waiting for more information. ‘He just said he wants me to go to Alicante, ASAP. Just me. He didn’t say why.’

‘No.’ Simon’s heart breaks a little at Jace’s voice, all the grief and fury in it. ‘No, we’re going with you. I have to-‘ He cuts himself off, breathing heavily. Izzy looks at Simon a little quizzically, and Simon tries to just look sad instead of nervous and guilty. Apparently, it works, because she turns back to Jace and runs her hand over his shoulders soothingly. ‘Jace,’ she says gently, ‘if Magnus doesn’t want us there yet, there’s got to be a good reason. We don’t-‘ She presses a hand to her mouth, taking a few breaths before she continues. ‘We don’t know what state Alec’s in.’ Her voice trembles a little on her brother’s name, and Jace’s sobs resume.

Simon gently puts his hand on Izzy’s shoulder. ‘I can stay,’ he offers, though he dreads to think what Magnus would do to him if he didn’t show. ‘I-‘ ‘No.’ Izzy shakes her head, and gives Simon her best attempt at a smile. ‘No, go. Magnus needs you right now. I’ve got things here.’

He gives her a half-smile in return, reaching out to comfort Jace quickly before thinking better of it and snatching his hand back. ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll, uh- go.’ He turns and sprints from the apartment, heading for the Institute, and feeling terrible about leaving the others behind. Magnus had better know what he’s doing.

***

‘Magnus, think about this.’ Raphael sounds exasperated, but Magnus knows him well enough to detect the undercurrent of concern. ‘Think of what his life will be like after this. Because of a choice you made for him. Is that a burden you can bear?’

Magnus doesn’t look up at him, but he nods. ‘I have to try, Raphael.’ Because of course Magnus has second- and third- and fourth-guessed himself, every moment since he dripped Camille’s blood between Alec’s lips. But the alternative is losing him, and he’s having trouble even thinking about that option. Raphael sighs in frustration. ‘Magnus-‘ ‘I didn’t ask you here to talk me out of it,’ Magnus snaps, but there’s no strength behind the anger. It sounds as hollow as he feels. ‘Will you help me or not?’

‘Raphael, can I… I need to talk to you. Just for a moment.’ Apparently, Simon showed up sometime in the last minute or so. Magnus hadn’t even noticed. He hears them walk away until they’re just out of earshot, where he can hear their cadence but not their words, and still he doesn’t move. His gaze is fixed on the hole in the ground in front of them. He can’t look at Alec lying down there, because there’s no peace in this kind of death, and he just looks pale and ill and wrong. But neither can Magnus completely look away, and so he guards the grave without daring to glimpse the owner.

It’s not long – or, hell, it might be an hour, he can’t tell anymore – before the footsteps return. He doesn’t ask Raphael a second time, just waits for his answer. Raphael sighs again, but this time, it’s in resignation. ‘All right. We’re running out of time. Let’s get this over with.’

The grave is shallow, and doesn’t take long to fill between the three of them – and then they’re standing back, waiting with bated breath. And as the minutes tick by and Alec still doesn’t appear, Magnus feels his resolve start to crumble. Maybe the blood wasn’t enough, even with that much venom in his system. Or maybe it was enough, but something’s gone wrong, and now he’s trapped his husband’s soul in a kind of limbo-

A hand strikes up through the earth, and Magnus should feel apprehensive at facing the consequences of his decision. But all he can focus on is how much easier it is to breathe again.

***

Cold, cold but burning, and he climbs out into dazzling light but it doesn’t sound right, doesn’t sound like the world and there’s the smell of rain and something earthy, sweet, familiar, delicious-

Another sound, too loud, too much, but he doesn’t care because there’s a different smell, in front of him and too delicious to resist and so he doesn’t, he tears it open and feasts and all is lost but the hunger, the frenzy, the need.

‘Not yet, Magnus. Give him a minute.’

Magnus, Magnus, the word is familiar. And the connection lights up in his brain as he continues to feast – Magnus is the name of that smell, the earthy-sweet-delicious one, so tempting that once he’s finished here, he knows what he wants afterwards, but for now there’s the hunger and the frenzy and that’s paramount, so he shuts off every other thought and just feeds.

And slowly, as the bloodlust is sated, Alec’s mind comes back to him, the last few minutes forgotten.

He’s kneeling in the dirt, and how did he get here? And the world is too loud around him, too bright even though when he looks up he can see the stars, that’s not right, night’s supposed to be dark.

‘Alexander?’

He looks down again, and this time, he sees the golden glow of his husband’s eyes, shining with unshed tears – but he looks relieved, treading that fine line between happiness and heartbreak. ‘There you are,’ he says, and his smile widens. ‘You know, last-minute dramatic entrances are supposed to be my thing.’ And he takes a step towards Alec.

EarthysweetDELICIOUS- ‘No!’ Alec scrambles backwards, and Magnus stops in his tracks, expression tipping back towards heartbreak, and Alec holds his breath because something is wrong, something’s in his head and it wants to hurt Magnus, wants him to hurt the man he loves. ‘Don’t- don’t come any closer,’ he says desperately, covering his mouth and nose. Or at least, that’s what he tries to say, but his mouth feels weird, and when he runs his tongue over his teeth he can’t quite place… what…

His eyes fall on Simon, on Raphael, and go wide in understanding. ‘No,’ he says again, more quietly – not despair, just disbelief. And he wants to say more, wants to ask what happened, because he remembers Camille’s teeth in his neck and fire around him but not how he got here – but the words get stuck in his throat, and he knows he should be worrying about himself but all his mind can focus on is how fucking devastated Magnus looks now.

Simon’s suddenly there, kneeling in front of him, face a little scared but determined. ‘Listen, Alec, it’s okay. I know it’s all – all – really freakin’ weird right now, and I know,’ he lowers his voice, ‘I know you’re afraid you’re going to hurt him.’ Alec shuts his eyes, and he wants to tell Simon to go away, tell him that he has no idea what he’s talking about, but he’s hit the nail on the head and Alec’s terrified. ‘But you won’t,’ Simon says, and he sounds surer of himself than Alec’s ever heard. ‘You won’t hurt him, like I never hurt Clary. And I was a frickin’ wimp, dude,’ he jokes, though his voice turns a bit shaky when he does. ‘You’re a total badass. If anyone can handle this, it’s you. And you don’t have to do it alone. We’re gonna help you.’

Alec opens his eyes and looks at Simon, daring to take a breath. He can still smell the sandalwood, the earthy sweetness he’s come to associate with Magnus, but it doesn’t stoke that fire of hunger inside him anymore. ‘Okay,’ he croaks, returning the smile as best he can when Simon’s face lights up. ‘Okay, I-‘

But then there’s pain, agony, and he claws at his neck, his ribs to get it off him, because it hurts, it feels like his skin is coming apart, make it stop-

‘Alexander!’ And then Simon is gone but there’s Magnus, Magnus, love of his life – holding on to him, wrapping him in his arms and it’s safe but it’s not because there’s still that voice at the back of Alec’s head, but it’s being drowned out by pain-

‘His runes, Magnus, they’re reacting to the change-‘

Make it stop, he wants to say. Please, Magnus, help me –

The world is still too bright, and it gets brighter, brighter-

***

‘It’s alright,’ Magnus soothes, trying not to sound as frantic as he feels. ‘It’s alright, Alec, I’ve got you, it’ll be over soon.’ His husband is limp in his arms, but he keeps talking, keeps pouring out magic to numb the pain. ‘It’s going to be alright. You’re going to be alright.’

The runes are still glowing red-gold on his skin, then flaring brightly one by one and disappearing. They’re reacting to the change, Raphael said, and that makes sense. Shadowhunter runes work on angelic power, they can’t handle the demonic nature of vampirism – only the Seelie realm can properly balance the two. The vampirism will win out, Raphael said assuredly. Once it does, he should be fine. But Magnus curses himself for not thinking of this, not realising that this would be an issue.

In fact, while he’s at it, Magnus curses himself for this whole damn idea, his selfishness and desperation, his inability to let Alec go. Because nothing, not even Alec’s death, has ever hurt Magnus more than that soft, broken ‘no’ when his husband realised what he’d become. What Magnus did to him. He doesn’t deserve to, but Magnus holds Alec tighter. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers.

The last rune – stamina, Magnus recognises dully – flares and vanishes. Alec remains still in Magnus’ arms.

‘It might take a while for him to come around,’ Raphael says, and it’s the closest to gentle Magnus has ever heard him. ‘I’ve heard of this before, when Shadowhunters were turned. The war between magics takes a toll on the body. We should take him home to recover.’

Simon steps forward as if to help, but Magnus shakes his head minutely, lifting Alec into his arms. He’s surprisingly light, until Magnus remembers how much blood he’s missing, and then it isn’t surprising at all. He steps forward, away from the loose earth, to give himself a sturdier footing. ‘We never did the bridal carry over the threshold, did we?’ he murmurs. ‘At least we’re getting around to it now.’ When Alec doesn’t respond, the smile dies on Magnus’ face. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. Not funny.’

He twirls his wrist gently to open a portal, and steps through into their bedroom, Simon and Raphael in tow. He manoeuvres Alec onto the bed, trying to make him as comfortable as possible, and takes a moment to magic away the dried blood on his face. Then he turns to the others. ‘Would you watch over him for a moment? There’s something I have to take care of. And let his family know what’s happened.’

He doesn’t wait for a response before portalling back to the graveyard, unable to wait another second. He faces the disturbed grave, and summons his powers – first smoothing it over, and then weaving ward after ward around the plot, casting glamours and protective spells, making sure they’re the kind that are built to last.

Grave dirt is a dangerous liability. Magnus is already afraid he’s made a colossal mistake, and he’s not about to make another.

***

Alec is unconscious for three days.

On the first day, Magnus busies himself around the apartment. Raphael assures him that it’s going to be a while before his husband wakes, and so Magnus takes the time to make preparations. He checks there’s no way sunlight can get into their home once the new blackout curtains are drawn, conjures blood to store in the fridge, silences any ticking clocks. He banishes the silver he can deal without, like some of his jewellery, and transmutes what he can’t, like the now-stainless-steel silverware.

That evening, the majority of Alec’s family arrive – Maryse, Jace, Izzy and Max. Magnus doesn’t meet any of their eyes, too afraid that he’ll see hatred for what he’s done, the path he’s chosen for Alec. When they go into the bedroom, he makes himself scarce, brewing tea and coffee in the kitchen because if they’ve had as little sleep as him, they’re going to need it. Izzy comes to join him after a while, and knowing how protective she is, he braces himself for the worst. But instead, she gently takes him by the hands, turns him to face her, and pulls him down into a hug. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I know it wasn’t an easy decision, but I don’t know what I’d do without him.’ Magnus doesn’t tell her that he doesn’t deserve her thanks, or that it was all too easy in the end, because he’s selfish. Instead, he just leans into her comfort.

On the second day, Robert shows up. He says he can’t stay long, which Magnus suspects has more to do with the awkwardness of being around Maryse than any ‘Clave business’, as he claims – but he sits with Alec a while, holding one of his hands while Maryse takes the other. Before he goes, he pulls Magnus to one side. ‘Keep me updated,’ he says. ‘Let me know when he wakes up, or if there are any changes.’

Shortly after Robert leaves, Raphael does too. ‘I’ve done all I can for you, now,’ he says. ‘The rest will be up to you and Simon to help him through.’ He clasps Magnus’ shoulder for a moment, meeting his eyes with a sincere, but not unsympathetic gaze. ‘I hope you don’t come to regret this.’

Magnus walks him out, and rather than return to the bedroom with its stifling air of guilt and sadness, he wanders out onto the balcony to get some much-needed space. The sun is setting, and he tries and fails not to think about how Alec won’t ever get to see that again. If he weren’t so tired, the thought would make him angry with himself all over again. So much for avoiding guilt, he thinks, and almost laughs. ‘Magnus?’ Simon’s voice is hesitant, and maybe Magnus isn’t just distracted. This daylighter is sneaky. ‘Are you alright?’

He actually does laugh at that, but there’s no warmth to it. ‘Oh, I’m just dandy, Simon.’ Simon comes to stand beside him, leaning on the balcony, but keeps around a foot of space between them, which Magnus appreciates right now. ‘Yeah, sorry. Stupid question.’ He pauses, before turning to face Magnus. ‘I felt it, when Camille went,’ he says. ‘I didn’t know what it was, at first, and then of course there was Jace a second later – but anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. That can’t have been easy.’ Magnus just shrugs, surprised at his own lack of feeling. ‘I suppose.’ Truth be told, he didn’t feel anything when he thought about Camille being gone, not even a small sense of loss. It would seem that any residual feelings he had for her were completely erased by the sight of her sinking her fangs into Alec’s throat. He takes a deep, slightly shuddering breath.

It’s a few moments before Simon speaks again. ‘He’s going to be okay. You know that, right?’

Magnus sighs. ‘No, I don’t.’ He looks back out at the sunset, and pretends that it’s the glare that makes his eyes water. ‘I did this to him,’ he whispers. ‘I knew what it would mean for him – I’ve seen Raphael go through it, and you. But I still chose this over losing him.’ ‘Well, yeah, but… it’s better than death, isn’t it?’ ‘I’m not so sure. You saw him in the graveyard, Simon. How scared he was, how, how…’ ‘But it’s like that for everyone,’ Simon argues. ‘It’s a big deal, but… you make it work. Raphael made it work, I’ve made it work. And neither of us ever wanted this, so Alec’s already got an advantage there.’

Magnus turns sharply to look at Simon, whose expression quite clearly says caught red-handed. ‘Uh,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘Okay, yeah, cat’s out of the bag. Nice one, Simon,’ he mutters. ‘Okay, so, basically, he didn’t want me to say anything, but… when you were stuck in Edom, and we heard about Lilith, and we couldn’t figure out a way to get any Shadowhunters there to help you… Alec-kinda-asked-me-to-turn-him-into-a-vampire,’ he finishes in a rush. If Magnus looks as astounded as he feels right now, he wouldn’t blame Simon for checking his pulse. ‘He…’ Simon nods, a little sheepishly. ‘Yeah. I said no – obviously. For starters, I’m a terrible sire – but he was all in, man. He said if I didn’t do it, he’d find someone else to. If Clary hadn’t come up with the alliance rune, I really think he would have done it.’

Magnus turns back towards the last rays of sunlight, overwhelmed. You continue to surprise me. He closes his eyes at the memory. ‘I suppose that’s what you told Raphael to get him on board, then?’ ‘Yeah. He was much more supportive when I told him this was an option Alec had considered before, even if he didn’t quite get why.’

And in a way, Raphael is right. It doesn’t change the fact that Magnus made this decision, and all the weight of that – but maybe it’ll make things easier for Alec when he wakes up, and that’s all he wants for his husband now. ‘Thank you, Simon,’ he says, turning to give him a small smile. Simon returns it, and heads back indoors, apparently pleased with himself.

On the third day, Alec’s family drift in and out, but Magnus stays by his bedside the whole time. According to Raphael’s estimate, he’ll wake up soon, and Magnus wants to be here. He doesn’t know if Alec will forgive him – god knows he’s having a hard enough time just living with himself over this, forgiveness seems downright impossible – but when Alec wakes up confused, he always looks for Magnus, and Magnus doesn’t want him to panic when he rouses. If Alec wants him to leave, he can do that after, and he won’t blame him if that’s the case. But that’s after, and right now, Magnus’ place is here.

It’s nearly midnight when Alec shifts, the noise waking Magnus from a half-doze despite the amount of caffeine in his system. Everyone else is asleep, spread across the spare room and the couches in the living room. ‘M’gn’s?’ he mumbles, and despite all the guilt and all the fear, Magnus’ heart leaps to hear it. ‘Here,’ he says, reaching out and taking his husband’s hand. ‘Right here, Alexander.’ Bloodshot eyes find his, and after they take a moment to focus, an exhausted smile lights up Alec’s face. ‘Ah. There you are,’ he says, slurring slightly. Magnus swallows the lump in his throat, and tries to find a smile of his own. ‘Where else would I be?’ He relinquishes Alec’s hand, taking the cup from the nightstand and pressing the straw to his husband’s lips. ‘Here. Raphael said this would help once you woke up.’

Alec closes his eyes to drink – not that he’d be able to see what he’s drinking through the opaque cup and straw. That Meyer woman got a lot wrong, Magnus thinks, but damn if she didn’t know how to normalise drinking blood. Alec finishes most of the cup before he pulls away. Either he’s too out of it to realise what he just drank, or he’s adjusting to this new lifestyle remarkably quickly, because he doesn’t seem fazed at all – he just settles back down into his veritable nest of pillows, cracking his eyes open to look at Magnus once more, before he lets them fall closed again and reaches his hand out, palm up.

And Magnus puts all his practice with ‘living in the here and now’ to good use, pushing his worries for the future aside and just holding on tight.

***

‘Try telling yourself you want to run into the wall,’ Simon suggests. Alec grits his teeth. ‘Simon, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’ ‘Hey, worked for me. You won’t know unless you give it a try.’

Alec takes a deep breath, but without there being a need to do so, it’s annoyingly ineffective at calming him down. It’s been five days since he first woke up at home, and there’s a lot for him to be stressed about. Firstly, there’s the fact that even though he’s been through years of physical training, he’s pretty sure that if any of his instructors had been as irritating as Simon was while trying to teach him to manage his ‘vamp speed’ inside the apartment, he would have volunteered for deruning by the age of fifteen just to get away from them.

Speaking of deruning, there’s also the shock every time he walks past a mirror and doesn’t see his deflect rune on his neck, only the quickly-fading puncture wounds on the opposite side. His runes have been a part of him for so long, he feels oddly incomplete without them. It doesn’t help that it’s a reminder of his shift in identity, too – being a Shadowhunter is all he knows, all he’s ever known. It was an identity that fit, and vampire just doesn’t fit yet.

But if he’s honest with himself, there’s a much bigger reason why Alec feels so on edge, and that reason is sitting in the kitchen, wearing a wedding band identical to Alec’s, and pretending to read The Great Gatsby despite the fact that he hasn’t turned a page in twenty minutes. Since Alec woke up, Magnus has barely looked at him. He always stays close, of course, wanting to be there for him, but his bravado is out in full force. The only real expression Alec’s seen on his face in days is the one where he looks at Alec with a mixture of grief and wonder, like he’s some sort of sad miracle. And of course, as soon as he realises Alec’s looking, it’s back to the false smile and airy attitude, all without meeting his eyes.

And Alec understands, really. Magnus saved his life, but in the process, he’s ended up married to a vampire. Which isn’t a completely new thing for Magnus, of course, he’s been with vampires before – but the last time was when he was with Camille, and that story doesn’t exactly have a happy ending. And now she’s Alec’s sire, and this must be bringing up all sorts of weird memories for Magnus.

Alec looks back at Magnus, watches the honest expression slip away behind false cheer again, and suddenly he can’t do this anymore. ‘Simon, could you give us a minute?’ It’s taken a few days, but Alec trusts himself to be in a room alone with Magnus now – his long-earned discipline from being a Shadowhunter is coming in handy with learning to control his bloodlust. Besides, he’s sure that if he did lose control, Magnus could kick his ass pretty easily. Simon looks between them, as if momentarily transfixed by the awkwardness, before he shakes himself. ‘Right, right, of course, I’ll just-‘ He leaves quickly, and Alec spares a thought to appreciate that he can now see him go, because the same speed is at his own disposal.

He turns back to Magnus, refocusing on the task at hand. Magnus opens his mouth to speak, but Alec cuts him off. ‘Do you regret it?’ he asks quietly. ‘I- what?’ ‘Do you regret it. Bringing me back like this.’ Magnus just stares for a moment, then looks down at his hands. ‘I can’t,’ he says, and Alec closes his eyes, processing that. Of course Magnus feels like he can’t regret it, that would be tantamount to wishing Alec weren’t here, but- ‘I’m so sorry, Alexander.’

Alec’s eyes fly open, and he looks at Magnus in confusion. ‘What?’ There’s no bravado now, and Magnus looks pained. ‘I’m sorry, and I know I should regret doing this to you, but I just can’t. Because if I hadn’t, I would have lost you, and I couldn’t bear that.’ He meets Alec’s eyes again. ‘But I know it was selfish of me, and I am so, so sorry.’

‘Wait,’ Alec says, dumbfounded. ‘You’re sorry? For saving my life?’ ‘I saw what the transformation did to Raphael, to Simon. And I still chose to put you through that, rather than lose you,’ Magnus says, his voice so quiet, Alec’s not sure he would have heard him without his new-and-improved vampire hearing.

Alec’s head is reeling, but he walks over to Magnus, sitting beside him. ‘Look,’ he begins. ‘I’m not going to pretend that this isn’t a big change, that it isn’t going to be difficult. But making that decision, in the heat of the moment, because you didn’t want to lose me? That’s not selfishness, that’s love.’ He takes Magnus’ hands in his own, wanting his full attention. ‘Besides, it’s not like I’ve never made a choice that I knew would hurt you. What about when I asked you to give Lorenzo’s magic back? Or when I made that deal with your father?’ Magnus shakes his head with a sad smile, like he’s already thought of all this – which, if he’s been preoccupied with this ever since Alec woke up, he probably has. ‘That’s different,’ he says. ‘You were doing what you thought was best for me.’ ‘Maybe,’ Alec allows. ‘But I don’t think it’s that black-and-white, Magnus. Do you really think there wasn’t a part of me that asked you to give the magic back because I didn’t want to lose you? I practically told you as much,’ he points out. ‘And do you think there was no part of me that made that deal with Asmodeus just because I couldn’t bear for you to resent me someday? Because I don’t believe that.’

Magnus just shakes his head, that same sad smile on his face, and Alec changes tack. ‘Magnus. Whatever part of you did this for me, I’m grateful. Because now I get to see my family again, and we have a chance to do all those things we talked about doing ‘one day’. And whatever part of you did this for you… I’m glad you did.’ Magnus looks up at him in surprise. ‘I love you, Magnus. I want you to be happy. And if you need me here, then that’s where I want to be. And if you need to hear that I forgive you, then of course, of course I do. How could I not, when any selfishness you had only existed because you love me?’ He moves his hand to the back of Magnus’ neck, thumb gently stroking back and forth. ‘But even if you’re sorry you made this choice, I’m not. At all. Besides,’ he says, feeling a smile grow wide on his face, ‘vampires are immortal. How could I walk out on you now we’ve finally got a shot at forever?’

Magnus is quiet for a moment, and his eyes are still a little shiny. ‘You know, sometimes I think it’s a shame that I was the one to propose.’ He smiles, and wraps his arms loosely around Alec’s neck. ‘You give a great speech when you want to, Alexander.’ He leans forward, and Alec leans away a little. ‘Magnus…’ ‘It’s okay,’ Magnus whispers. ‘We’ll stop if you’re not ready, but I trust you.’ He moves in slowly, giving Alec time to pull away, but he doesn’t, and when their lips meet it’s tender and sweet. Alec notes with relief that his fangs don’t descend, and leans into the kiss, emboldened.

When they pull apart, they rest their foreheads together. ‘A shot at forever,’ Magnus murmurs. ‘Sounds pretty good, when you put it like that.’ Yeah, Alec thinks, pulling Magnus even closer. It really does.

***

Change is never easy, but it’s rarely impossible.

Officially, when Alec died, he lost the role of Inquisitor. His colleagues seem relieved when he accepts that loss with good grace, knowing that even with the newfound acceptance of Downworlders in Alicante, the role should go to someone who’s still a Shadowhunter. The more Alec adjusts to his new life, the further removed he’ll be from his old one, and he knows it won’t be long until he forgets the little things he used to know intrinsically – how it feels to activate a rune, or to wield a seraph blade. How to plan for a situation with Shadowhunter abilities instead of vampiric ones.

Instead, he liaises between the Clave and the small vampire population in Alicante, pushing for compromise and understanding. It’s not easy – there are still plenty of Shadowhunters who look down on Downworlders, and plenty of vampires who don’t trust Shadowhunters after years of prejudice. But times are changing, and over the years, Alec goes from feeling like he doesn’t belong on either ‘side’ to finding a sense of belonging in both.

His family adjust, though each of them takes their own time. Izzy and Jace, used to spending time with Simon, fold him into a bone-crushing hug between them the moment they enter the apartment. He’s pretty sure that if he hadn’t insisted on getting used to his vampiric urges first, they would have done so the moment he woke up all those weeks ago. And of course, when Clary returns to the Shadow World, her acceptance is just as freely given. Maryse takes a little longer, but Alec can see her trying. The first time he sees her again, she cups his face in her hands, and meets his eyes with a determined expression. ‘You know as well as I do that this is a big change,’ she says. ‘But you’re still my boy. You always will be. And as long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you too.’

Robert doesn’t come by often, but when he does, Alec can see that he’s trying, too. He hesitates before clapping Alec on the shoulder, or sitting next to him at the dinner table, but he never chickens out. Part of Alec was sure that his dad would drop out of his life completely – it’s not like they’ve been close ever since his parents fell out, the last thing they need is one more obstacle between them – so this exceeds his expectations. With Robert comes Max, and Alec is gentlest with him, toning down the ‘vamp stuff’ at first. His youngest brother has almost no personal experience with Downworlders besides Magnus, and he’s still just a kid.

The first time Max walks into their apartment without a look of trepidation, Alec almost cries with relief.

After that, it’s not long before Max is bubbling over with questions – what does vampire speed feel like? Is Alec’s vision even better now than it was with his runes activated? Does blood taste different now? (That last one leaves Alec gaping, unable to find any words to even begin to answer, and Magnus can barely contain his laughter.)

Despite the fact that it was Magnus’ decision to save him this way, Alec is a little nervous when things start settling down after his transformation. He’s worried that without all the panic of nearly losing Alec, Magnus will realise how different things will be now. After all, Magnus has ended up with a husband who can’t go out to dinner with him, can’t even go out with him in the daytime, and whose fangs descend whenever they have a disagreement – not as a threat, just as an automatic reaction, like the vampire equivalent of a frown.

But Magnus never seems to mind any of that. He looks at Alec the same way he always has, brings him the occasional glass of blood as casually as he would a cup of coffee, and sounds so, so happy when they’re lying in bed together or curled up on the couch, talking about the future. Because one thing they never doubt is that both of them are in this for forever, now that they have a chance at it. Magnus was the one to turn Alec immortal, and Alec was the first one to mention that as a major upside to Magnus’ decision; so right from the start, they’re on the same page about that, and it makes Alec smile whenever he thinks about it, too.

The way they spend their free time changes, but it’s not all losses. They can’t walk down the streets of an unfamiliar city in the heat of the day, but they head out to the desert and lie under more stars than Alec’s ever seen before. They can’t share a meal together, but they go swimming in crystal clear waters in the moonlight, Magnus’ magic and Alec’s vampirism meaning they don’t have to come up for air until they choose to.

And of course, Alec’s favourite kind of time together – like tonight – isn’t all that different. A soft jazz song is playing, and Magnus is humming along as he and Alec turn in slow circles around the living room, swaying in each other’s arms, heads resting on each other’s shoulders. If anything, this is another thing that’s better now that Alec’s a vampire – his problem with dancing was always overthinking, and for some reason, he finds it easier to trust his newfound poise than the grace and balance that came from being a Shadowhunter.

There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he, turns out to be, someone who’ll watch over me… Alec smiles at the lyrics being crooned around them, feeling like a huge sap but far too happy to care, and sighs. ‘What are you thinking about?’ Magnus asks softly. Alec turns his head slightly to press a kiss to his husband’s cheek. ‘You,’ he says honestly. Magnus breathes out a laugh. ‘Oh, stop it. You do know how to make a man blush, Alexander.’

They’re quiet after that, listening to the music, holding each other close. It’s a long time before either of them let go.

~oOo~

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfic #malec #malec fanfic #shtv #vampire!alec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #camille belcourt #mine #i considered posting this in chapters but sod it #ALL AT ONCE #we don't fanfic like grownups we fanfic like EXCITED TEENAGERS #anyway ill stop rambling #please enjoy

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kingflups · 6 years ago

Text

Compounded: Home, but not Alone - Chapter 1: Prelude

Word Count: 5730

Mini summary: The Avengers are out on missions across the globe. Little do they know that plans to break into their base have begun to circulate- and word travels fast among criminals. Multiple plots of robbery, theft, and heisting arise- all with their eyes set on the Avengers compound. A young team arises to meet the crisis, with every tool and trap inside their tiny grasps. Expanded summary and story under the cut.

Expanded Concept/Summary: A Home Alone style fic set at the Avengers compound. A bizarre timeline AU that I pulled out of my own ass. Ages are sqweed for the sake of having a cast. Our Home Alone children are: Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Cassie Lang, Shuri, and Morgan Stark. Maybe even the Barton kids. Actually just Lila. I aged down Wanda because I liked how she was a teen or young adult in AOU and Civil War, and I want to use that young Wanda- she seems cool. Cassie, Morgan, Shuri and Peter are their post-endgame ages.

A supervillain organization has sent out a powerful and widespread computer virus to select secure compounds, prompting the Avengers to deploy teams across the globe. During this adventure, however, the younger members are left behind. Little do the Avengers know that word travels fast among villains. Multiple plots of robbery, theft, and heisting arise- all with their eyes set on the Avengers compound.

Along the way, alliances are formed and broken; fights against one another began to tear the Avenger’s home apart! ...But the kids are working together better than they ever have before. It seems that the gained knowledge to the villians that their advisories are children begin to tear their uneasy alliances apart. What will happen now as heroes defend their home, villains show their heart, and supervillains flex their lack of empathy?

Documentary Cassie is watching: Medieval Monsters- Peek inside the Strange, Secret World of Bugs - A National Geographic Showcase [ Link ]

Ballpark kids ages:

Wanda- 20

Peter- 16

Cassie- 16

Shuri- 15

Morgan- 6

Lila- 15

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AVENGERS COMPOUND:

Approx. 10 AM.

Living quarters- Recreation Hub

Clint leaned against the wall as he pulled on his left boot.

“I’m sorry, Lila, I know I promised a tour of the compound, but it will have to wait.” He said. “Bad guys wait for no one.”

Lila bounced her legs against he countertop she sat on. She was wearing baggy jeans and some flannel. She looked like she had just arrived from off the family farm.

“Yeah, no problem Dad.” She said. “Go be a hero.”

“Sure wish I could go.” Shuri piped in. She was sprawled out, upside down, on the couch. She was also wearing casual clothes. Between her fingers she twiddled with a small electronic as she spoke.

T’challa scoffed.

“If you thought I was letting you come before, I am most certainly not letting you come now.” T’challa said. “Mother would have by hide if I got you anywhere near a viral contagion.”

“Only an airborne one!” Shuri said, sitting up. “I mean, come on! You guys are fighting A.I.M.. They’re a bunch of yellow-suited nerds!”

“They’re world-class scientists Shuri- terrorists ones.”

“They’re yellow-pushovers with gas masks and cartoonishly high IQ’s.” Clint said.

Shuri getured to Clint excitedly.

“Exactly! Give me suit and I’ll have those too.”

T’challa sighed. He began to tap his fingers against his chin.

“Well, I guess you’re right…”

He trailed off. Then, T’Challa grabbed Clint by the elbow.

“But you are still not coming.” He turned his back to Shuri. “Come on Barton- We are needed in the UK.”

“What?!” Shuri protested.

T’Challa turned to his sister and stuck his tongue out before his mask materialized over his face. Shuri pulled herself over the back of the couch and stuck out her tongue twice as dramatically.

Clint stumbled as T’Challa lead him to the door.

“Yup, yup. Coming, your highness.”

He quickly grabbed his quiver as he passed through the doorway.

“Lila, watch yourself, alright? Party only a little, and don’t let the compound burn down while we’re gone.”

“Of course Dad,” Lila said. “Watch yourself out there, Hawkeye.”

Clint smiled as he disappeared from the door. His voice echoed down the hallway.

“You too, Hawkeye!”

Shuri and Lila listened in silence as the compound was filled with the echoing sound of a Quinjet taking off. It was the last one still in the hanger- the others had already been deployed across the globe.

Shortly after the Barton’s arrived that morning, communications began blowing up. Data banks from across the globe had been simultaneously attacked. Digitally, firewalls and other digital defenses completely collapsed at a prison in the States, a research facility in Chile, and multiple facilities across Europe and Africa- and those were the only ones they knew about.

There was a physical attack too- A.I.M. scientists arrived at each location shortly after beginning the digital attacks, armed to the teeth with tech and weapons. With their arrival also marked the release of an unknown toxin, causing seizures and blackouts to those caught in the area. Children caught in these zones became unstable- it seemed young systems couldn't handle the contagion. Early reports considered the virus harmful to adults and life-threatening to adolescents.

Shuri sighed, tossing her collection of electrical bits into the cushions of the couch.

“So much for a family tour night, huh?”

Lila chuckled.

“Yeah, guess so.” She said. “But I ain’t surprised. I mean, come on- like a chill night at superhero headquarters would go uneventful?”

“”Superhero”? Is that what you call your Dad?” Shuir asked. “Barton is your dad, right?”

Lila scoffed.

“Well, yeah, but I wouldn’t call him a superhero..”

“That’s what you said.”

“No. No, no, no. Everybody here has powers and supersuits and magic and junk. My Dad is… my Dad.”

Lila shook her head, then jumped off the counter. Her boots thunked against the tile as she made her way to the couch.

“I think we got off on a weird hand. I’m Lila Barton.”

“Hawkeye’s kid.” Shuri said.

“One of ‘em.”

Shuri laughed.

“Of course he has more than one kid. He always seemed like the kind to have a troop around him. At least, that's what it sounded like when T’Challa spoke about him.”

Shuri scooted backwards and patted on the couch. Lila crawled over the seat and sat on the back.

“That’s right. T’Challa’s your brother. What’s that like, being a princess and all?”

Shuri laughed.

“That’s right, but only technically.”

“So basically what I said was completely right.” Lila grinned.

Shuri rolled her eyes.

“Well, yeah, but I’m also a scientist. Do you think my brother could have built that suit?” Shuri clicked her tongue. “That’s all me.”

“For real? That’s so cool. My mechanical skills advance pretty much only to cars and lumber.”

Lila bent over and began to peel off her boots. She tossed them aside, piling them at the base of the television across the room, where several other pairs had been placed.

“My Dad doesn’t let me anywhere near his work. The skills and stuff, sure, but not danger-danger.”

“Pfft. You think T’Challa is any better? Between him and Mom, I might as well be stuck in a bubble. I build nearly indestructible suits, and I am still restricted to the lab at the first sign of trouble. It takes a full scale invasion for me to suit up.”

Lila sat up.

“Wait- you’ve fought before?” Lila gasped. “That’s really cool. I shoot, you know, like my dad.”

Lila mimicked dry-firing a bow into the hall.

“He would never bring me with, but I kinda really want too. I think I might be good at it.”

“Well that’s the dream, isn’t it?” Shuri sighed. “But instead, we’re locked in the most secure compound this side of the equator. The most action we’re going to see tonight is on the big screen.”

“I mean... we could still go on a tour.” Lila said.

“By ourselves?” Shuri asked.

“Yeah, you said it yourself- we’re in the safest place probably on the whole planet. Let’s walk around a bit.”

Shuri grinned.

“I like the way you think, Barton.” Shuri said. She jumped off the couch and to her feet- it didn’t make a sound as her socks touched the floor. “I was going to sneak off myself, but if since your down…” Shuri trailed off as she collected her electronics off the couch and tossed them haphazardly onto a nearby coffee table.

“Let’s get this party started.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

11:53 AM.

INCOMING TRANSMISSION.

UNITED STATES MARSHAL SERVICE CLASSIFIED FACILITY

DESIGNATION: THE RAFT

BROADCASTING FROM AN EMERGENCY FREQUENCY.

CONTAINMENT BREACH.

PRISONER TRANSFER: UNSUCCESSFUL.

EMERGENCY CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL: UNSUCCESSFUL.

STAFF EMERGENCY PROTOCOL: FAILING.

MAIN POWER: FAILED.

EMERGENCY FIRE PROTOCOL INITIATED.

EMERGENCY POWER: OPERATING AT 47.3%.

S.O.S.

REPEATING MESSAGE.

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Living Quarters- Ms. Maximoff.

Wanda rested her head against her folded hands. A large leatherbound book was laid across her crossed-legs. It was hand-written in a decadent script in a language she had never seen before. Dr. Strange said it was a collection of runes and spells belonging to extinct school dedicated to the study of chaotic magic.

It was beautiful.

It also complete nonsense.

“Where does this line go?” Wanda hissed.

She traced her finger along a line of text at the top of the page. The line ran clearly at the top, then pulled a 90 degree angle into the lower text. Then it looped, divided, and corkscrewed… Was it even still going? Or was this a new line altogether?

A reference book was also placed next to her on her pillow deciphering the runes into old English. An old English dictionary laid next to that. And next to that laid an open notebook covered in ink notes and highlighter.

Wanda sighed, pushing the book aside.

“I’m getting nowhere.”

Carefully, she collected all of the books and carried them in a stack to a bookshelf across the room. Lining the shelf was a row of candles, only one of which was lit. It was a small white candle set in an unmarked jar. Next to it, unlike the other candles, there was a series of photographs.

Wanda placed down the books and kissed her hand. She then placed her hand against three of the larger photos- One of her and Vision sitting outside the compound. Another was of her and her brother Pietro perched on the wall of a fountain somewhere in Europe. Pietro was balancing haphazardly along the wall, his arms clenched around Wanda’s shoulders to keep himself from falling in. Her own hands were buried in the edge to keep herself from being pulled into the water. They were both smiling.

Wanda’s hand lingered on the last photo. It was of her family. It was folded and crumpled, and a lone piece of tape held it together even in the frame. A much younger version of herself and Pietro looked back at her. Their parents looked back at her too, and between them was squeezed their younger sister, Lorna. The photo was ridiculously formal and rigid for being taken on their couch, but everyone in it looked happy. Uncomfortable, sure, but happy.

"Can I hide in here?"

Wanda jumped, knocking over the picture frame. She turned to the doorway with a hand poised protectively over her chest. Morgan looked back at her.

"Can I?" She repeated.

"Oh, Morgan!" Wanda said. "I didn't know you were here."

Morgan grinned.

"Yeah! Momma said I could sleep over. Isn't that neat!" She smiled. Morgan made her way over to the bed and lifted Wanda's sheets.

"Can I hide here?"

Wanda blinked.

“I suppose,” Wanda said. “Why are you hiding?”

“I’m playing with Peter.” Morgan said. She peeked under the sheet and made a face. “There’s too many boxes under here. I can’t fit.”

Morgan reached under the bed and pulled out a large and deflated stuffed bear. It was nearly as tall as she was. Morgan tossed the toy critter on the bed and then began to worm her way under the mattress.

Wanda followed, dropping to the floor so that she laid next to the young Stark. Morgan stared back at her from beneath the overhanging sheet.

“Playing hide and seek?’ Wanda said.

Morgan nodded.

“Well, did you know that me and my brother were the hide and seek champions?”

“That’s silly.” Morgan replied. “No one can be a champion at hide and seek.”

Wanda scoffed.

“Well, we were.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-uh!” Wanda said. “And I can prove it.”

Wanda pushed herself off the ground and wiped off her leggings. Offering a hand to Morgan, she used her other hand to pull up the sheet and uncover her hiding spot.

“How about I show you the best hiding spots in the whole compound?”

Morgan peeked out from under the bed with a skeptical look on her face.

“There’s more than one?” Morgan said.

“Oh yeah, there’s plenty, if you know where to look.”

Morgan stayed under the bed for a moment, her face twisted deeply in thought. Then her face exploded into a grin.

“For real?” She said.

“Yeah, for real.” Wanda grinned.

Morgan squirmed out from her hiding place and latched onto Wanda’s hand.

“Let’s go!” Morgan jumped excitedly. “I’m so excited!”

Wanda laughed as she lead Morgan out of the room.

“You really like hide and seek, huh?”

Morgan let her head fall to her side as she spoke.

“Hide and seek is okay,” Morgan replied. “But I’m excited to win.”

Wanda snorted.

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FEDERAL PRISON: UPSTATE NEW YORK - EMERGENCY LOCK-UP

“Hubbard! Get that door closed!” Barked an armed man.

Against him leaned another guard whose hands were clenched around a gash at his hip. A third rushed behind them, forcing a metal latch into place at a large fire door. Several others filled the now enclosed space. Several sported the same armed-guard regalia; others were in a plain, employee garb.

A thick mist hovered over the floor, reaching many of the employee’s waists. It smelt of pepper and vinegar.

“Where is our back-up?” One of the guards said. The man who first spoke answered.

“They should be here by now.”

He pulled the man at his side closer to himself, forcing the other man’s wound into his side as another buffer.

“Keep your hands against that gash, Ramos.” He commanded

Ramos nodded. He leaned deeper into the first man, letting him hold him completely. The first man continued.

“We need to communications up. And we need to get Ramos patched up. And that door needs to stay shut.”

One of the employees stepped forward.

“Captain?” The employee stated. “We still don’t know what’s going on- what’s happening out there?”

The captain locked his jaw, then spoke.

“The prisoners are out. High profile ones.” He said. He looked down to Ramos, who was growing paler. Pulling Ramos closer, he continued.

“Those bastards who broke in are letting everyone out. They’re handing out damn gasmasks!”

The employee who spoke before recoiled. The captain continued.

“Everybody stay calm. Nobody’s getting through that door.”

“How can you say that?” The employee argued. “We’re trapped in a cell in a prison full of convicted felons!”

The captain grabbed Ramos and placed him on a table. A man in a nurses uniform rushed to his side. The captain turned back to the employee with a grim look overcasting his features.

“Because we’re not anywhere near the exit.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AVENGERS COMPOUND- KITCHEN

“The new forest contains many unique habitats. Here, there are trees over six hundred years old. For some, their time is up- But death brings new life. Beneath this fallen giant, the earth is stirring.”

On screen, a beetle began to worm it’s way out of the dirt beneath a fallen tree. The angle of the camera made it seem like the animal was massive. The enhanced soundtrack made his footsteps sound like something akinded to an elephant.

“A male stag beetle. He has spent the last six years as an underground grub feeding on the deadwood. Now, his quest begins to find a mate before the end of his short adult life.”

Cassie watched as a large beetle bumbled out of the ground on screen. A comedic heavy soundtrack played as the beetle slowly meandered his way out of the ground.

“Aw, you’ll find somebody dummy.”

Cassie tossed a piece of popcorn at her mouth, but missed. It bounced off her lip and tumbled to the floor. Tapping quickly filled the room as a dog-sized ant appeared from behind the counter, diving at the piece and plucking it up into its jaws.

“Aw, nards.” Cassie said. “Five second rule, Antonette! I could have still eaten that.”

The ant continued to make a clicking sound as she perched her front legs against Cassie’s. Antonette then stuck her jaw into the bowl and removed another piece of popcorn.

“Hey!” Cassie protested. Antonette jumped backwards and disappeared once more behind the counter. Cassie made a face, then tossed another piece of popcorn into the air. She propped her mouth open wide to catch it.

“Cassie!”

Cassie lurched forward in surprise, gagging as the airborne piece of popcorn collided with the back of her throat.

“Cassie!” Peter repeated. He slid into the room, jumping over and into the barstool next to Cassie in a single fluid motion. It was really quite graceful. Cassie missed this, as she was doubled over in her seat, coughing into her hands.

“What?” Cassie managed. She beat a fist against her chest as another fit of coughs took her. “You scared the crud outta me.”

“I can’t find Morgan.” Peter said. He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke. His clothes were disheveled and twisted, as his he had been running, but didn’t have time to straighten them out.

Cassie set her bowl aside.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“I mean I can’t find her!” Peter said. “I told Mrs. Stark that I was going to watch her. So, we were playing hide and seek, and I started looking, and then I kept looking, then I said the game was over, then I kept looking, and still can’t find her.”

“Wait, you lost her during a game? She’s around her somewhere, dude.”

Peter jumped off the stool and began to pace about the room. He opened the fridge and began to peer into each of the shelves.

“I don’t think she is.” Peter said. He closed the fridge and opened the nearest shelf. “It’s like she’s poofed away."

Cassie arched her head back and screamed into the hall.

“Morgan! Game over, Congratulations! You beat Spiderman!” Cassie yelled. Peter and Cassie listened is silence for a moment. No reply came.

“Oh my god, I lost her.” Peter said, cupping his face in his hands. He opened the next cabinet and began to peer behind the stack of plates inside it.

“Peter, she’s not behind the plates, man. We’re in a massive building- she’s probably under table somewhere.”

“I don’t know, maybe she shrunk down or…or.... Can anybody turn invisible? Could Morgan have grabbed like a suit that turned her invisible?”

“Peter.” Cassie repeated. “No way, man. Let’s just look some more. Come on, I’ll help.”

Jumping off the barstool, Cassie wiped off the large chunks of popcorn salt from her own crumpled pants. The space of floor where she sat was now slightly discolored with the sheer amount of crumbs.

“Thanks a ton.” Peter said. He quickly opened the remaining cabinets, then rushed to meet Cassie at the door. “After that, we need to talk about how messy you are. That floor is nasty.”

Cassie scoffed.

“Nah man, Antonette loves it.”

Peter passed Cassie as she spoke, positioning himself so that his back was to the hallway. Cassie was still scrubbing food bits from her baggy pants. Behind her, her pet ant had crawled over the counter and was currently burying her head in Cassie’s bowl of popcorn.

“I guess she does like popcorn.” Peter conceded. He watched as Antonette flipped the bowl over, perching the piece of dishware onto her antennas to keep it from clacking to the floor. The ant then jumped to the floor and began to eat the pieces from the ground.

“My folks love her. We haven’t had a vacuum in two years. Well, I mean, dad never ever had one, but it was a happy improvement for mom and my stepdad.”

Cassie straightened up, clapping her fingers together. The last particles of salt from her fingers twinkled to the floor.

“Let’s go find Morgan.”

Peter immediately took off down the hall, leading Cassie by her hand.

“Woah, Peter!” Cassie said. “Slow down! You’re going to tear my arm off!”

Peter slowed down, but only a little.

“Sorry! I know I’m probably overreacting, but normally I’m wearing a mask, so people can’t tell when I panic.”

Peter turned to Cassie as he pulled her through the hall, pointing to his face dramatically.

“But I’m not wearing a mask.”

Peter paused at an intersection in the hall, then yanked Cassie with him to the left.

“Otherway!” Cassie said. She dug her heels into the floor, snapping Peter to a halt.

“You want to go armory first?” He said.

“Well, yeah,” Cassie said. “Just because Morgan probably didn’t shrink down or turn invisible doesn’t mean she for sure didn’t.”

Peter’s face dropped further.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Oh my god, Pepper’s gonna strangle me.”

“Pepper’s not going to strangle you, dude. Morgan’s a kid! Kids love hide and seek! She’s probably just really good at hiding.”

Peter paused, facing Cassie. His grip tightened for a moment.

“Cassie. I have been ‘seeking’ for Morgan for over an hour and a half.” Peter said.

Cassie was quiet for a second.

“Oh my god.” Cassie she finally managed.

“I know.” Peter said.

“Oh my god.” Cassie repeated, with more feeling this time.

“Uh-huh.”

Cassie began to rush toward the armory and Peter quickly fell into rushed step beside her.

“Dude, don’t panic," Cassie said. "It's probably nothing."

"Nothing?" Peter questioned.

"Yeah, it's probably nothing! But um, Hope doesn’t lock up her gear and, uh, we should check it. Maybe."

Peter sharply inhaled, his pace doubling and then passing Cassie's.

"Peter, I said it's probably nothing " Cassie said, overly calm. She too quickened her pace to match Peter’s new speed.

“Why doesn’t she lock her stuff up!” Peter hissed. “She’s so… Professional! She’s dating a professional former thief!”

“You always have to be ready!” Cassie said. “And who would steal from her- it’s in the most secure room probably on the whole planet! Most of the time it works out!”

"Cassie, no six year old is this good at hiding." Peter said. "Morgan could be on the moon at this point!"

"She's not on the moon."

"The quantum realm then!"

Cassie got quiet.

"...Just because it’s possible doesn’t mean you should say it out loud." She huffed.

Peter rounded a corner, sticking his fingertips to the wall as he pivoted in the new direction. Cassie swerved on foot, her feet sliding against the slick floor. She caught herself before she could stumble out of control.

"We're so dead." Peter said.

The pair reached a large metal door. It was reinforced with braces. A large keypad was imbedded in the wall beside it, outfitted with a camera and small touch screen scanner.

“Oh, that’s fantastic.” Cassie said, huffing between her heavy breaths. “It’s still closed.”

Peter gazed at the door for a second. His eyebrows furrowed, then he turned to the keypad. He punched in a series of numbers, then pressed his whole palm against the touchscreen. It illuminated light blue for a second, then disappeared. Something behind the door hissed. Cassie reached forward and opened the newly unlocked-door.

“Morgan, are you in here?” Peter called.

He squeezed past Cassie and slipped into the open room. There were no windows. Just walls and air vents. Lockers lined a row of disjointed walls. Some contained old suits, broken armor, and partially functional prototypes. Behind the wall of lockers was a large set of containment bars. Some contained large suits and others broken pieces of large scale equipment.

Cassie rushed to one of the lockers at the end of the row. She opened it- it was unlocked.

“Hope's spare suit’s here.”

Peter walked down the row of lockers, peering into the bars of each one.

“Nothing looks gone that shouldn’t be.”

Cassie planted her hands on her hips. She sighed.

“Maybe Morgan wandered outside.”

Peter shook his head. He pushed away from the last locker.

“I don't think so… we made a rule that we would stay inside.”

“You should have made a rule to keep to just one room.”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah, I know. How was I supposed to know a six-year-old would take advantage of such a huge space! I thought she would go behind the curtains or something! ...I’ve never babysat before. I think I’m bad at it.”

He sighed, then ran his hands through his hair again.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s check outside.”

Peter turned to the door and Cassie fell into step beside him.

“Have you asked Wanda? I think she’s around her somewhere.”

“For real? I thought-"

The pair were cut short as an alarm cut through the building.

“Peter?” Cassie yelled. Her voice was nearly lost in the sound. “What is that?”

“I don’t know!” Peter yelled back, covering his ears.

The alarm continued for several seconds before it cut out. The lights flickered out after it.

“That can’t be good.” Peter said.

A ear-piercing boom shattered through the air from somewhere in the building, shaking the walls and lockers. Cassie dropped to her knees.

“Peter?” Cassie repeated.

Red light suddenly illuminated room. A female voice played over a set of loud-speakers.

Emergency power online.

“Oh my god, I think we’re under attack.” Peter said. He turned to Cassie, his own shaken expression reflected in her face.

“We gotta find Morgan.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LAST RECORDING FROM DAMAGED CELL BLOCK CAMERA B.

TIME OF RECORDING: 12:35 PM, EASTERN TIME. RECORDED APPROX. TWO HOURS AGO.

BEGINNING PLAY-BACK.

“Get back into your cells!” Barked a guard. He opened his mouth to speak again, but a prisoner swung a chair at the man’s head before he could manage. The guard’s head snapped backwards. His form tilted toward his back and pivoted over the railing he was against. The man who hit him smirked, then rushed into the fray of moving bodies.

Among the crowd that had gathered near the lunch tables, a man in a yellow hazmat suit appeared. He stepped onto a table and held his arms out to the room.

“Attention!” He yelled. “I am Doctor-”

A can flew across the room and nailed the speaker in the head. He stumbled forward but caught himself before he fell off the table.

“Shut up, asshole!” Shouted someone from the crowd. The A.I.M. scientist scowled, but continued.

“I am a scientist, with Advanced Idea Mechanics! You might know us as the international agency A.I.M.!”

“The egg-heads?” Shouted another prisoner.

“Yeah, the nerds with M.O.D.O.K.!” Shouted another.

“The gross floating head?” Said yet another.

“M.O.D.O.K. is a breakthrough is techno-organic technology!” The doctor yelled. “But that is besides the point! I was the lead researcher on that project, and my work was critical, but again, besides the point! A.I.M. has decided to release you all as a thank you for your cooperation!”

“For what?”

“Yeah, we haven’t done jack-shit!”

“Speak for yourself! I totally killed that guard Roswell!”

“I thank you for your upcoming cooperation!” The Scientist corrected. “We have released you all in our efforts to recruit your minds! We look for intelligence, skill, and determination! We look for your doctors, scientists, and mechanics!”

The crowd grew quiet. Finally, a prisoner in the back spoke up.

“...You want us to work for you?”

“Some of you.” The scientist replied. “We look for the smartest among you to join our ranks.”

“Only some of us? That’s elitist.”

“Bro, I think it’s called mentalist.”

“No, stupid, that’s a show on CBS.”

The scientist waved his hands over the crowd, again grabbing their attention.

“Gentlemen, please!” The A.I.M. man called. “Let me explain our first job! Surely this will interest you- all of you! We have a credible reason to believe that tech taken from you, ourselves, and other global efforts are currently being stored at the Avengers central compound. A.I.M. has already caused threats world-wide, pulling almost every known avenger away from the facility! With your help, we can overwhelm their remaining defenses and steal the most powerful pieces of technology this side of the galaxy!”

A wave of murmuring overtook the crowd. Several groups formed around the tables. One man pushed through the crowd, forcing his way to another man.

“Schultz!” Hissed the man who had moved through the crowd. Schultz jumped, rearing back his hand in a balled fist. He sighed in relief as he met the man’s eyes.

“Adrian!” Schultz said. “You scared the hell outta me, boss.”

"Prison riot- I know. It ain't great for the nerves." Adrian shouldered past the last man between them, elbowing the stranger out of his way. Schultz sighed, letting his shoulders drop from their defensive position.

“What do you make of the show-boat?” Adrian asked, nodding his head to the A.I.M. scientist. Schultz frowned.

“I don’t like it boss. It seems too easy.”

“Yeah. I thought so too. Doesn’t mean we should toss the idea.”

Schultz shook his head.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about it.”

“Hell no,” Adrian said. “They’re going to dump us as soon as they get into the Avenger’s lock up.”

“That’s where they’re keeping our gear, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Schultz and Adrian both sighed.

“I mean, we’re already in prison, and we aren’t getting out anytime soon.”

Adrian sighed. He crossed his arms, shaking his head as he thought.

“What if we break into the Avengers compound first? Before they get a chance?”

Schultz nodded.

“That could work.” He said. “Easy buck off materials we already know how to sell. We still need a way to get there.”

“What if we stole their jet?” Adrian said.

“Excuse me?” Schultz hissed. He leaned in closer to Adrian. “Adrian, neither of us know how to fly.”

“Did I hear you boys mention something about needing a pilot?”

Adrian and Schultz turned to the new speaker. He was shorter than the two of them and spoke with a thick southern drawl.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“Somebody who knows how to fly.” The man said. He held out his hand in the shared space between Adrian and Schultz. “Name’s Montana.”

“Montana…?” Adrian trailed off.

“Just Montana.”

“Just Montana.” Adrian huffed. “I’m sure that’s a real name too.”

Adrian huffed again, placing both hands against his hips. He bit his lip as he thought in silence. After a moment he sighed.

“You can fly a jet?” He finally said.

“Anything with a half-decent engine. I bring my boys with and we can get a damn dinosaur back in the air.”

“Fine. We'll take ya.”

“Boss, you’re sure?” Schulz said.

“No, I’m not sure, but I’m not hanging around mid-prison break until I make up my mind.” Adrian said. He turned to Montana. “Grab your crew- we’re getting outta here.”

Montana nodded, and he disappeared into the crowd. Adrian and Schultz began to make their way toward the exit.

“Boss, I don’t know if we can trust that guy.” Schultz said.

“Neither can I, but I’ll take my chances with the hick before I try my luck with A.I.M..”

Montana reappeared near the door, with two other men in tow.

“This your crew?” Adrian asked.

“Yessir,” Montana said. “Meet Ox and Dan.”

“We’ll have time for pleasantries in the air.” Schultz said, brushing past the group. He disappeared into the hall.

“You heard ‘em boys,” Montana said. “Let’s go.” They too disappeared.

Adrian sighed.

“You’d think being the ‘boss’ they’d wait for my word.” He huffed. He walked into the hall, out of view of the camera.

The scientist on the table held out his hands once more to the crowd.

“Gentlemen!” He cried. “Do you have your answers? Are you ready to join the ranks of wondrous A.I.M.?”

“Fuck no!” Came a voice from the crowd.

The scientist stepped back in surprise.

“E-excuse me?” He said.

“I ain’t going anywhere with somebody who could use me as a guinea pig!” The man yelled.

“Hey, man! Shut up! These guys are getting us outta here!” Shouted another man.

“No way! I’ve heard about the experiments these sick fucks commit! I ain’t going anywhere!”

The man reeled back, punching the second prisoner in the jaw. He fell backwards, tumbling into the crowd. The effect rippled, and chaos broke out among the prisoners. Shouting quickly filled the space. The scientist who had spoken before was thrown from the table he stood on as a prisoner tipped it over. He was lost in the riot. Other A.I.M. soldiers entered the room and began to fire into the crowd. A prisoner leapt off a balcony and plunged a make-shift weapon into the side of one of the yellow clad-men.

A stray gunshot was thrown into the air. It struck the camera.

The recording went black.

#avengers #avengers fanfiction #mcu #marvel #fanfiction #not gonna its basically superhero home alone #spiderman #lila barton #shuri #cassie lang #peter parker #morgan stark #wanda maximoff

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jounetsulovers · 7 years ago

Text

Top 11 Inazuma Characters

Tagged by @blueberry-pastel! Thank you so much. <3

11. Senguuji Yamato.

For all my talk about the villains of Inazuma, it feels fitting to have some kind of rep on that list, even though he’s more of the final rival than anything else. The first season of Go holds a special place in my heart, and I think Yamato is an especially fun and thematically appropriate final boss. His Avatar his cool, his relationship with his dad warms my heart, his design is nice, and the way he’s animated, especially when using King Fire, always looks really nice! He’s my go-to goalie in the Go games, and on that basis alone it didn’t feel right to have a list without him.

10. Raimon Natsumi.

Natsumi was my favorite manager for a long, long time, and there’s a lot of things to absolutely love about her. Her arc, tracing from the beginning of the original series to the very end, where she slowly lets her defenses down and engages earnestly with soccer and the team. Her extremely sweet friendships with all of the managers. Her relationship with her dad, which is an often-underlooked but no less important part of the entire story. The little background details, and how we learn throughout the Chrono Stone games that she’s become the chairman of Raimon after Fifth Sector collapses. Her recent appearance in Orion had me grinning the entire time. For sheer character growth, it’s hard to compete with her.

9. Kidou Yuuto.

Somehow, Kidou Yuuto exists, and the show is better for it. If someone were to ask me who had the best and most complete character arc, I’d point to Kidou without question. He’s the complete package: great and memorable character design, strong personality, growth, excellent moves, great character dynamics, downright iconic scenes. His backstory and everything involving his and Haruna’s family makes me cry every time, no matter what format it’s in. From enemy to rival to best, best friend, Kidou Yuuto is stellar character work on the part of Level-5.

8. Teres Tolue.

The anime does not do Teres Tolue justice. For all the brief but excellent scenes he does have, they are nothing compared to the wonderful scenes he gets in the third Inazuma game. This is a shoutout to the defender who isn’t afraid to speak his mind, even at the cost of sounding callous. Who cracks jokes at the worst of times, but also has a heart of gold. Whose confidence is genuinely matched by excellent work on the defense line. Liocott Island is full of captains with big personalities and sad backstories, and it’s a shame Teres seems to often be left out of the conversation, because he was my favorite back in 2012 and now, finally getting to play the games in full, he’s even better than I remembered.

7. Yamana Akane.

If the anime did not do justice to Teres, they did an absolute disservice to Yamana Akane. Much like Teres, she has wonderful moments in the anime. But they are limited, and do not capture the true delight that is her personality. Everything she is, she’s even more in the games, and I genuinely think she has the best one-liners in perhaps the entire series. Even if she isn’t the deepest manager, she’s the one that makes me smile the most. She’s funny, she’s creative, she’s bold and not afraid to speak about the things she likes. Yamana Akane, best manager.

6. Saginuma Osamu.

Saginuma Osamu is a character that exists in a constant duality. He’s a terrifying, imposing presence as Desarm, but also an admirable rival. He’s absolutely unmatched on the soccer field, with the technical know-how and talent to easily slide into three positions on the field, but also one of the hardest-working characters in the entire series. He’s also a huge, huge dork while at the same time being inspiring to his team when he’s in the captain role. He was my favorite Aliea captain, and continues to be my favorite kid to come out of Sun Garden. I’d personally choose him as the greatest rival in all of Inazuma, as he perfectly captures the thin, thin line between serious and ridiculous the series so eloquently toes.

5. Kira Hitomiko.

Best coach, hands down. Not the most skilled, or the nicest, or the one with the best teams or most effective coach. But the best one. She’s complicated, and maybe her apology at the end of Season 2 doesn’t begin to make up for the bad calls she made. But the fact she’s allowed to make those bad calls... the fact that she’s part of a larger, extremely sad and complicated backstory that almost feels like it should come from a drama, and not a sports anime... the fact that she spends a lifetime of penance for it, actually doing the hard work of trying to do right by her own mistakes and continue to watch over Sun Garden... Man, I love Hitomiko. Ares didn’t even begin to do her justice.

4. Amagi Daichi.

Amagi Daichi, best defender. Enough said.

...Okay, no, there’s more than that. I love everything about Amagi, from his character design, to his moves, to his personality and how much he brings a strong, brotherly presence to the team. I love his dynamic with Hikaru, and with the other third years, and how much he cares for his friends in general. But I think I love his story most of all, because it’s extremely relatable. It’s simple, but effective, and the presentation of his flashback--the sound design, the visuals, hell, even the editing--is some of the best Inazuma’s ever done. Episode 33 of Go is my favorite episode of Inazuma Eleven. Amagi Daichi, best defender.

3. Giris and Meia.

Is this cheating? I don’t think so. Giris and Meia are two characters that demand to be taken and analyzed as a pair, and, well, you don’t really see them apart, ever. They are my pick for the most terrifying and interesting rivals in all of Inazuma, for their unique combination of memorable visual aesthetic combined with the encroaching fridge horror that is the true nature of the SSC. Two kids, whose entire aesthetic revolves around young love and death in all aspects: their avatars, their signature move, even the soccer team uniform, which could easily be reworked into something for a period piece. And yet, they’re also overdramatic. They get distracted by each other to the point where they forget to finish trash-talking the opposing team. They dance on the soccer field to summon their avatars. They’re ridiculous and tragic in equal amounts, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them, or the Second Stage Children, since I watched Chrono Stone.

2. Megane Kakeru.

Not only is Megane one of the funniest characters in the series. Not only is he one of the most important and yet underappreciated side characters in the franchise. Megane Kakeru is the perfect example of the profound impact Endou has on everyone he comes in contact with, and here’s why: Megane Kakeru is a coward. That’s a fact established in episode one. He talks a big game, but as soon as Teikoku gets serious, he runs off in tears. And even if the anime will never let him live that fact down (seriously), he never runs from another match again. Without him, Raimon’s victory streak would have ended with Shuuyo Meito. With him, we see a self-centered nerd come out of his shell, and genuinely grow to love the game of soccer, even as he knows he isn’t cut out to play and cannot match the skill level of his peers. Even while he’s terrified, he still steps out onto the field against Zeus when his teammates are injured. He stands against Aliea, even as other teammates find the situation hopeless. In season 3, his easy out, what does he do? He joins the team as a manager. He supports the Resistance numerous times in Go, both in the anime and in the games. Even as the chips are down, Megane Kakeru does not run, because he loves the game just as much as everyone else. He’s got a protagonist’s heart. I just love this kid.

And now, some honorable mentions, because there’s far too many to list:

I initially intended to have a member of the Earth Eleven on this list, but I genuinely could not decided between Morimura Konoha, Kusaka Ryuuji, and Nozaki Sakura, so I decided in fairness to not pick any, as an omission would be doing a disservice to them. The same could be said for several Protocol Omega members. Senguuji Daigo and Saryuu Evan are excellent villains and I love them, even if one is significantly more developed than the other. Matsukaze Tenma is one of my favorite protagonists of all time, and I love him a lot. Edgar Valtinas would have taken Teres’ spot if I didn’t choose him, and it was a very close choice. Kudou Fuyuka and Seto Midori were also this close to taking one of the manager slots. Fei Rune and Nanobana Kinako bring me unending joy and tears in equal measure. Domon Asuka, Sangoku Taichi, and Mahoro Tadashi are wonderful side characters whom deserve more love than they get, and I don’t think anyone is surprised to know how much I love Kousaka Yukie. I am deeply enjoying Ares and Orion’s characters, but considering their story has yet to finish, it did not seem fair to include them on the list, so for now they’re relegated to this one. But I adore Haizaki Ryouhei, Kozoumaru Sasuke, and Goujin Tetsunosuke. Zanark Avalonic should just be on every list ever because he is the best.

1. Nishiki Ryouma.

No character in Inazuma can make me smile like Nishiki Ryouma does. No character brings me quite as much joy as Nishiki Ryouma does. He is not the deepest, nor the strongest, nor the user of my favorite hissatsu or owner of my favorite Avatar. But he’s the complete package: relatable, funny, courageous, and even inspiring in his own goofy way. I love his passion, and how he tries not to sweat the little things, and that he isn’t afraid to do things in the name of trying, no matter how ridiculous he may seem. He has a large heart that is open to the world around him, and even for his enemies. He has stellar moves, a genuinely awesome aesthetic, and a smile that’s infectious. I knew pretty early on in my watch of Go he’d be a favorite, and every time since my love for him has grown more and more. I can’t even explain in adequate enough terms why I love him so much--I just do!

Not directly tagging anyone, but if you haven’t done it, DO IT. You know who you are.

#meia.txt #meta tag #I SPENT.... AN HOUR ON THIS

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pumpkinpatchinglife-blog · 6 years ago

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Paths

Alexandrian Wicca: The Alexandrian Tradition was created by Alex Sanders and his wife Maxine, who were members of the Gardnerian Tradition and initiated into one of its covens in the early 1960s. There are three degrees of coven initiation, the coven is led by a High Priestess, and there is a belief in a supreme Goddess as well as a God. However, the Alexandrian tradition brings in an additional facet to the worship of deities: the ancient archetypes of the Oak King and the Holly King, aspects of the God who take turns defeating one another as the seasons turn from warm and light to cold and dark and back again. The Alexandrian tradition isn't necessarily quite as secretive or dogmatic. While there is some emphasis on respecting tradition and following protocol, there is a greater emphasis on growth and living out your own path, allowing for many changes and adjustments as practitioners see fit.

Dianic Wicca: Dianic Wicca differs significantly from the older traditions it grew out of. Originating in the United States as opposed to the UK, this is a feminist tradition, with a cosmology that focuses solely on the supremacy of the Goddess, rather than emphasizing the gender polarity of the Gardnerian concept of deity. Dianic Wicca differs significantly from the older traditions it grew out of. Originating in the United States as opposed to the UK, this is a feminist tradition, with a cosmology that focuses solely on the supremacy of the Goddess, rather than emphasizing the gender polarity of the Gardnerian concept of deity. The original and most well-known form of the Dianic tradition was founded in the 1970s by a woman named Zsuzsanna Budapest. Another form of Wicca sharing the name “Dianic” was later started by Morgan McFarland and her husband, Mark Roberts. This latter tradition does admit men into covens, as do other traditions inspired by the original Dianic Wicca. However, those initiated through Budapest’s lineage remain female-only.

Seax Wicca: Buckland had been a High Priest in the Gardnerian Tradition and started the first Gardnerian coven after moving to New York in the early 1960s. However, he found that the hierarchical structure of Gardnerianism resulted in ego-battles among American initiates, so he founded Seax-Wicca as a way of continuing what was useful about Gardnerianism but in a fashion that was more suited to American culture. Its main deities are Woden and Freya, who represent the God and Goddess as found in the original Gardnerian Tradition. There is an emphasis on studying herbal lore and several forms of divination, including Tarot and runes. There is no oath of secrecy for coven members, so it’s not such a challenge to find out what goes on in covens, how they approach their rituals, etc. In fact, rituals and Sabbat celebrations can be open, if the coven so chooses. There is also no Book of Shadows in this tradition, and adding new material to rituals, magic, etc. is welcomed if practitioners see fit. Raymond Buckland’s Book of Saxon Witchcraft (originally called The Tree) was written to serve as a guide to the Seax-Wicca tradition for any who would like to explore it. If you’re not already fairly familiar with Wicca, however, you may want to read it in tandem with Buckland’s The Complete Book of Witchcraft for a more well-rounded picture of his form of Wicca.

Norse: A relatively new path within the Wiccan community, Norse Wicca is infused with the beliefs, practices, and deities of the ancient Norse traditions of Scandinavia. Unlike other forms, it is not an “official” tradition with a single founder, but rather an emerging trend among Wiccans who wish to work with a specific pantheon of deities and may draw inspiration from the ancient Norse sagas such as the Eddas and the Grimnismal. One chief difference between what we might call “standard” or traditional Wicca and the Norse-influenced form is the potential for a richer and more nuanced sense of the afterlife. Indeed, the Norse religious belief system has a dense complexity that can make Wicca’s cosmology seem almost two-dimensional in comparison. However, many followers of Norse Wicca adopt a syncretic approach, weaving the elements of the Norse system that resonate with them into their personal practice. Norse Wiccans tend to be solitary practitioners, with known covens being rather few and far between.

Celtic: The Druids were the priestly class of Celtic society, serving as healers, poets, and philosophers, who practiced divination and magic as part of their role. Therefore, they were part of the fabric of Celtic life and would have influenced any practices that have survived over the centuries to become part of Celtic Wicca. As implied by the name, Celtic Wiccans work with deities of the Celtic pantheon—whether Irish, Welsh, Cornish, or even Gaulish—and use Celtic names for Sabbats, such as Lughnasa instead of Lammas. The Ogham—a Gaelic writing system with a similar function to runes—may be used in magical symbolism and divination, and some practitioners adopt the Celtic classification of elements (Earth, Sky, and Water) rather than the standard Wiccan system.

Solitary: Solitary Wicca simply refers to the practice of Wicca by individuals on their own, rather than as part of a coven. Solitaries may follow a single tradition, learning through books and/or through participation in informal Wiccan circles, or they may create their own unique practices out of a sort of “patchwork” of many traditions, while also adding elements of their own invention. This second approach is known as Eclectic Wicca (see below), and is quite likely the most common form of Wicca practiced today.

Eclectic: The degree to which eclectic Wiccans “invent” their form of the religion (and not all Wiccans in this category would even necessarily agree with the term “religion”) depends on the individual. Some might create highly unique ritual structures completely from their own inspiration and imagination, while others might simply blend two or more traditions with little to no original material added in. The reasons for creating an eclectic practice are many, but it often has to do with being a solitary Wiccan with no immediate community to reach out to and learn from. Indeed, most Eclectics are solitary practitioners, though there are certainly covens and plenty of Wiccan circles that fit into this category.

Gardnerian: Gardner is known as the father of modern Wicca/Witchcraft as this was the first tradition to step out publicly. This tradition requires initiation and works with a degree system. Much of their information is oathbound, and cannot be shared with anyone outside of their path. There is much debate in the Wiccan community as to whether this is the only "true" Wiccan path. This system places an emphasis on the Goddess/female over the God/male.

#wicca #wiccan #pagan wicca #pagan #paganism #witch #witchcraft #witches #witchblr

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cv-nobody-and-associates · 3 years ago

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"Are we sure about this?" Delgra considered herself a very patient woman. Living for 806 years taught a person a thing or two about that. But with Beet asking the same question for the seventh time in the past few hours, she struggled not to snap. She sighed, placing one of her hands in front of her face.

"Yes Beet, we're sure." She answered, doing her best to hide the irritation in her voice. She was leaning on a rather fancy computer chair that was at odds with their surroundings, a barren castle-like room that wouldn't have looked too out of place in Dracula.

Beet was squirming in the seat, having finished working on the computer. His beetle-esque wings seemed to shiver nervously on occasion, and a frown formed on the boy's green-skinned face.

The computer was one of the two pieces of technology in the room. Well, three if she counted LT, the cyborg third member of their team. He was sitting on the floor near the back of the room, his eyes fixed on the last piece of tech, that which was connected to the computer.

Delgra wasn't sure what the proper term was. Stasis Chamber? Reanimation Receptacle? Quantum Field Stability Unit? Something equally sci-fi?

Off the top of her head, "metal coffin" seemed the most fitting. It had a singular black pane of glass that served as a monitor, and was otherwise featureless grey steel of a little over six feet in height.

"It's just protocol." She explained, smiling a little to put the young bug at ease. "We haven't heard from her for a pretty long time. Long enough that we got the signal from the base to come here."

"Indeed." LT confirmed, not moving their gaze from the metal coffin. "Though I must say, my internal perceptions of her basement were...different." Delgra rolled her eyes whilst Beet seemed to straighten in his seat.

"There's more!" Beet announced, happy for the distraction. Delgra gave a subtle wink to LT, who nodded back slightly in return. "It's an old spell on the door, it means we can only access this level. It responds to the signal on that rune! Cool, huh?" Beet said, turning and pointing at the watch Delgra wore.

It's shining silver stood out against the deep maroon colour of her scaley skin. Upon it was, rather than a time display, was an image of a small symbol. A rune, as Beet called it. She was a fair bit out of touch with tech/magic combinations. All she knew was that it pulsed when it was held up to the door.

"Does the rune respond to temperature?" LT asked, causing Beet to giggle in amusement. "It's odd that a draconic being like Delgra was asked to hold it then."

"It's just an expression, LT!" Beet laughed. "Cool doesn't refer to temperature in all contexts. It's...it's like saying something is impressive."

"Noted." LT nodded to Beet. Delgra got the sense that if their black metal helmet had a mouth, it would have been smiling.

There was a sharp hissing sound that interrupted any further thoughts. The metal coffin was starting to open, screws at the ends slowly undoing themselves.

Delgra backed up, taking a ready and tense stance directly in front of the metal coffin.

"Okay team, form up." She said firmly. "LT, take left. Beet, you take right. We don't look if what comes out will be hostile or not, but knowing Nobody I wouldn't be surprised if it needs souls for breakfast."

"Doubt it. The soul in there feels normal." Beet said. Delgra glanced over to her right to see Beet's eyes glowing green. He held his hands out, a spinning ball of energy in between them.

"Vital signs match complenious humanoid." LT added. Delgra didn't respond, but she did raise an eyebrow as a metallic BANG rang out through the room.

The walls seemed to shiver uncertainly, as though the entire room wasn't clear on how it was meant to react. A white mist filled the air, within which Delgra could see a figure collapsed onto their hands and knees. For a time, there was no sound aside from the figure's desperate, hungry breaths.

They appeared to be female in form, Delgra noticed. A well-built form, not especially bulky but clearly with some muscle. Well developed as well, around early to mid twenties if she had to guess a human age range. They - she? - wore what appeared to be a one piece bodysuit that left their legs below the knee and their forearms exposed.

The suit was black as night, save for the symbol of its creator - a pale white question mark - clearly visible upon the stomach. The figure's skin was stone-grey, and they had what appeared to be rather short, white hair.

"W-what…" The figure slurred. Their voice was a little higher than Delgra expected based on their body, but it matched the form in that it was clearly feminine. The figure didn't even have a chance to look up before slender steel serpent-like appendages emerged from the coffin.

The figure screamed in agony as the steel serpents seemed to connect to her neck. Her eyes went wide, and Delgra saw that they too were pitch black, though there was the exception of yellow sclera that couldn't seem to decide between a round humanoid eye shape and the narrow slits of an animal.

[ERROR - SUBJECT INTERNAL STORAGE IS INSUFFICIENT. DATA TRANSFER FAILING]

Delgra motioned for Beet and LT to assist in removing the silver plugs whilst she approached the figure carefully. Her nose appeared to be bleeding, and even when Delgra was right in her face she didn't seem capable of registering her presence.

"Can you hear me?" Delgra attempted. No response. Beet and LT struggled to pull out the plugs, managing to dislodge one from each arm. They moved to the slightly larger cable connected to the figure's neck.

"My team and I are here to help you." She pushed on, hoping that her words were reaching the figure on some level. "My name is Delgra, and I'm going to make sure you come out of this okay."

"Just a little more…!" Beet pulled on the neck cable with all his might, his wings carrying him off the ground and allowing him to pull it even more. LT was using a finger-mounted precision laser to carefully remove it from its matching socket on the neck.

"GOT IT!" Beet staggered a little in the air as the cable tumbled back. Similar to the severed tendrils of a squid or octopus, it flailed around for a few moments before it seemed to be pulled back within the metal coffin. The figure's bleeding had stopped, and her head now faced clearly forward. Delgra took a few steps back.

The figure was glaring. She didn't quite understand why, but she could easily see the hostility in her gaze.

"Intruders...program interrupted…" She muttered, managing to pull herself to a standing position. Delgra noticed the figure's hands were curled into fists, so she held up her arms defensively.

"Easy there, hun. You're in no shape to start a fight." She gave a small and patient smile.

"Indeed. Scans indicate a lack of exterior damage, but you may still have some internal-" LT didn't get a chance to finish their diagnosis as the figure suddenly leapt towards them. They tried to move back, but the figure seemed prepared for that.

The sleeve of her pitch black suit shifted, growing and forming a blade over her arm. She thrusted it forth, managing to tear through LT's armour. They made a sparking hiss sound in response, about the closest the cyborg ever got to grunting in pain.

"Hey, stay away from him!" Beet charged, but again the figure's suit seemed to react. The figure had barely looked back before a series of tendrils spring from the blackness to stab at Beet, who managed to evade them with surprising grace.

The figure's blade expanded out and changed shape, forming a rough grip around LT. With a yell, she flung him savagely at Beet, who was pushed onto the wall as he tried his best to steady his ally.

"Guys, stay back!" Delgra called out. Beet looked ready to protest, but she was insistent. "I can handle this. Besides, orders were clear on not damaging her."

"Looks like she didn't get the damn message!" Beet called.

Delgra managed to easily dodge an incoming blow, this one a simple punch from the figure's non morphed arm. She seemed surprised and nearly stumbled before pushing back and switching to a slightly more wary stance.

"You're strong. LT'S armour was meant to be practically unbreakable." Delgra commented, taking a fighting stance. She and the figure began to circle one another slowly, each waiting for the inevitable end to their stalemate. "But you're not thinking, you're just reacting. That suit's faster than your thoughts right now. Your head's still fuzzy, isn't it?"

The figure growled, but she made no gesture of denial. Her eyes narrowed, and Delgra brought her arms together for a block. The figure began to charge forth, until suddenly she stopped.

Delgra's watch glowed a bright blue, the symbol upon it expanding and forming a pentagonal pattern with a single curved line within.

The figure shifted immediately, falling out of any kind of fighting stance and instead standing upright with arms held at the sides. Delgra raised an eyebrow, but Beet seemed to catch on to something, pulling himself up.

"Oh, I get it now!" He rushed over to more closely examine the symbol. Delgra shot him a worried look, but he ignored it. "That symbol doesn't just act as a signal to the house. It's a control seal!"

"So it's controlling her?" Delgra asked. Beet shook his head.

"No, this isn't complex enough for that. See how it only had a single line? All it does is calm and steady the target when activated. It would seem the watch has it keyed so it only responds to her." Beet explained. LT pulled themself up and stood by the other two.

"A genetic lock, perhaps?" They speculated. "It seemed to activate upon eye contact with the target. A retinal scan may be involved."

"I'm just glad it stopped the fighting." Delgra sighed. She noticed the figure in front of them all was now looking more confused than hostile. She seemed almost completely different, looking around the room uncertainly.

"How are you feeling?" The figure's head quickly snapped back to Delgra, her expression nervous.

"I...know that." She pointed at the symbol displayed upon Delgra's watch that had projected itself outward into a shield-like fashion. "Wait, no, sorry." Delgra raised an eyebrow as the figure apologised.

"The sigil is recognised." The figure said. "I am designated as the Nobody of project Alternate, Omega protocol variation. Identify yourselves with your given designations."

"BugBoy." Beet declared first.

"Lord Terronus" LT continued.

"DragonGal." Delgra finished, holding her hand out. The new Nobody looked at it uncertainly. "There's nothing in the protocol that says we can't shake hands, right?"

"I...I don't think so." She replied, before wincing. "Sorry, your statement is acknowledged and confirmed." She stated, swiftly taking Delgra's hand and shaking it in the gentlest way possible before releasing it.

"You can relax, you know. She's not here to yell at us about etiquette or anything." Delgra chuckled, managing to draw a laugh out of the new Nobody in turn.

"If you say so." She shrugged, seeming to relax somewhat. There was still a sense of stiffness to her movements, though Delgra guessed that might have been linked to the metal coffin and its confined space. "The instructions I was given suggested individuality wasn't permitted."

"Pretty hypocritical, given she left to do some work on herself and not for a mission." Beet commented. The new Nobody-

"You should probably her your own name actually, this is getting confusing in my head." Delgra sighed. The new Nobody paused for a moment.

"I was given permission to do that much, I think." She said quietly. "I'll keep it simple - call me Nao."

"Nao?" Delgra asked.

"An abbreviation. For Nobody Alternate Omega, correct?" LT deduced, to which the newly dubbed Nao nodded.

"That's right. It's simple and efficient." She hesitated before quietly adding, "Plus I like the sound of it."

"As good a reason as any." Delgra nodded. "Welcome to the Realm Defence Squad, Nao. And whilst we're on the subject, welcome to Internia. Creatorverse, specifically."

"I'm honoured, ma'am." Nao bowed briefly. Delgra wasn't keen on the formality, but she didn't want to start anything over it and so she endured with only a slightly uncomfortable expression. "I trust that given I'm awake, the original is absent?"

"Correct." LT confirmed. "Nobody had not been seen in this Internia dimension for some time, and with her absence there has been an increase in interdimensional activity."

"Really? How bad is it?" Nao asked. Delgra sighed for a moment before replying.

"Nothing too difficult to handle, but we figured the extra hands would be useful."

"And the powers!" Beet chimed in, prompting Delgra to nod.

"And the powers." She agreed. "Plus, without Nobody there isn't anyone keeping watch over this city. A lot of crazy stuff happens here, even without extradimensional threats to worry about." She couldn't help but notice that Nao's expression had shifted, their mouth set into a frown that seemed to radiate a sense of shame.

"I-I see." Nao stammered. "I'm sorry, but my powers are...incomplete." She looked down at her hands, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Delgra raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly do you mean by 'incomplete?'"? She asked. "You seem capable enough in battle."

"I…" She seemed hesitant to explain, as though the state of her powers was embarrassing. "The original Nobody wasn't compatible with any kind of recreation tools, neither science nor magic. So my form is made from a series of beings meant to match her as close as possible." The suit Nao wore seemed to shift as she spoke. Whether it was Nao's unconscious reaction or the suit itself possessed some form of autonomy, Delgra couldn't say.

"That explains the insufficient data thing." Delgra said. Nao flinched at her words, no doubt recalling the painful neck wires. "Don t worry about it. We don't need you to be on her level any time soon. For now, I suspect your current power should prove sufficient."

"Thank you." Nao seemed to relax, prompting Delgra to smile. It was nice to see her at ease, she couldn't help but think. It was a good look for her.

"So, wanna head out of this basement and get out into the city?" She extended a hand forth. Nao took it, a small smile on her face.

"Gladly."

---[E N D]---

#creatorverse #Nao cv #meet the new character!#she's gonna be around for a while!#and whilst we're here meet the RDS!#Nobody's hand picked team of people tasked with fighting interdimensional threats #Delgra cv #Beet cv #LT cv #I'll happily elaborate on any of them when asked!#the RDS are gonna come up every now and then!#hope you enjoy this!#also I may not have edited this too well so please forgive some small mistakes

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flamestoillusions · 7 years ago

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I made this a while ago that was supposed to follow a list of some ships the duo have on this blog. It’s mainly over possible relationships with canon characters from the game they’re based in. A lot are AU based because for a decent amount of them, they don’t have enough time with these characters to develop a relationship or it’s under certain circumstances it stands a chance.

Rune/Maya - Maya, at least by my writing, has a one-sided crush on Rune and he likes her well enough. She’s the main person at his side in the prologue and they can geek out over books and stuff. Only really happened in Librarian/Barista AU where Rune flirts with her via writings on her cups and leaving notes in books to be put away.

Tannim/Tomix - Tomix is one of the first people Tannim met on his venture on his own. And as the person that called Tannim out for ignoring his own well-being and the one that did a hard no on changing something so fundamental in his being...Tannim has so much respect for him. And he likes Tomix in his actual adventures, not just any shenanigans I do on the blog. The Tomix saga was so important, I wrecked my plans for book 3 because it was that important for Tannim to be present for that. There’s a reason why he put it as why he can’t sleep at night.

Rune/Zhoom - I am very wary to place them as a relationship. They have sassed each other and have grown to respect the other. Zhoom is Rune’s mentor as a ranger but good god, I’d be lying if they hadn’t blurred lines every so often. Both would easily say that the other’s attractive but neither are interested in anything serious. Friends with benefits on occasion but mainly a reliable hand for bounties and quests.

Tannim/Galanoth - Okay this is only due to a lot of talk with Syn over it. Galanoth slays dragons in more ways than one. It is definitely mainly for AU things such as arranged marriage AU and Tannim being tortured by the Rose then cared for by Gal AU. Pretty much, Galanoth gets all of Tannim’s sweet affection poured on him and Galanoth is just one of those ones that is Tannim’s type, even if he doesn’t know what that is.

Rune/Demento - They were a decent duo when it came to planning and dealing on the battlefield. In some aspects Demento’s the one that got away and even then we don’t know how they’d work out. But it’s a minor thing Rune feels a bit guilty for not taking Demento up on an offer the night before his death.

Tannim/Xan - Can be a ship but I wouldn’t mind if it stayed broship. Xan broke protocol when he saw how genuinely freaked out Tannim was by fire. He calmed him down and started Tannim’s conquering of his fear. Tannim was sent back during the Alexander saga and befriended Alex then. And since they oddly are friends despite being on opposite sides. He actually never advocates anything bad to come down on Xan, even if his fellow adventurers do not share the same sentiment.

Tannim/Serenity - Only in two circumstances: where Tannim was turned to a vampire (long story) and in the AU where Rune’s soul was obliterated in order to destroy the Mysterious Stranger. For the most part, I think it’d be a broship otherwise. But in the cases where they’re together, they’d be like...everyone’s parents. Together. Oh god.

Rune/Lugosi - It was a crack ship that was logical. It was totally some anon’s fault too. I challenged to give me any character with mine and I could make a legitimate thing from it. And I didn’t dislike this one? Lugosi had a crush on Rune when he went by Noita and only fell back into the crush meeting Rune. Rune wasn’t interested because well, he’s not that into smithing and he can only tolerate cowardice. Because Rune tells him pretty much to work on himself first, Lugosi tried. Then he got turned and his acceptance and conquering of his turning (with Safiria’s encouragement) got Rune’s attention.

Rune/Sepulchure - Please let them remain in a blackrom so that they never conquer the world. They don’t inherently dislike each other. They dislike one getting a leg up over them but are rather impressed with the other’s prowess. Based on relations, they have met prior to Book 1. Rune’s grandfather was Valen’s mentor and cared for the kid. So while it was only as many visits as you can count on your hands, they were fin. It’s mainly AU stuff such as Rune having an affair with Sepulchure during the events of the Orb Saga or where Tannim was a traitor out to take all of Greengaurd for himself that they’ve happened.

Tannim/Sepulchure - There’s a certain OT3 with Serenity that came apart because of SOMEONE’S suggestion. It spiraled out of control quickly. There’s also the rare AUs where Tannim took more after his father’s side of the family and in a ‘rivalry’ with Sepulchure. Like more chill than yandere but definitely wants to maintain Seppy’s attention. And also...others...I blame Syn for the sin behind that one.

Amal/Drakath - Because I feel like Rune would NEVER be a decent pair with Drakath...but with ONE AU this came about. Pretty much in a scenario where Rune and his brother grew up and was friends with Drakath. Amal is somewhat aware of his feelings but Drakath is playing dumb and denying it to the end. And Amal’s just unapologetically a shit to Drakath but does ultimately care about him. He lies to his friends and allies and makes up various excuses just to get Drakath through. And then he just sometimes just hangs out at the bandit camp just because he can hang out with Drakath.

Rune/Circe - Canonically, they kinda dislike each other. I mean, almost killing you with an avalanche tends to put a damper on any relationship. However at the same time, I think they would have been fine. Not exactly a relationship that’s ‘end game’ but they were on weird limbo between physical and something further. This only gets put into spotlight were the partners-in-crime AU and the AU where Rune is a rebel leader that Circe attempted to assassinate. I honestly prefer them in a poly with Vaal.

Tannim/Wargoth - You know who the fuck you are and you all who encouraged this should be ashamed. I say as this such a guilty pleasure. I know it’s bad because this a homicidal warlord with a sweet summer child that does not deserve this. I know this. There’s nothing much to say about it other than it was from shenanigans on the blog for a plot point that may or may not still be in my timeline. I still have to acknowledge it because Amaterasu exists and she’s adorable.

Rune/Vaal - I debate about if this would be canon or not. As if it was, it’d fall in Book 3. They actually get into snark about both being disgraced by this time. Developments with them usually surmount to ‘I don’t like you but then I see this other side to you that I have to respect you now.’ Mainly a thing in the neighbors AU and the royal advisers AU and fall apart because Roirr’s a fucking cockblocker. I also prefer them with Circe as well.

Amal/Valencia - By the duo’s timeline, Amal and Valencia do date. He met her while exploring the Ruins of Sil. He calls her a thief rather than a treasure hunter and is corny as hell saying how she steals his heart. And it’s a lot of corniness and adventure with them. But I mainly deal in the sad because canonically, Amal is dead and Valencia never learned of his fate. Rune only figured out Valencia was who his brother was dating during the Earth Orb saga and breaking the news to her at that time was not the best idea.

Rune/Theano - I tell myself that Rune will stop fucking the bad guy eventually. And then it happens again. Good god, man, where are you priorities? Anyway, there’s nothing but fighting with this one. Although I guess it could end up being a battle of wits/ideals as Theano is something of a scientist of magic and Rune is a magic wielder that understands principles behind the magic. But I feel any moment of ‘sweet’ is immediately ruined when either open their mouth. I...I have also a weird sort of poly including Rune’s ex, Emile, because apparently my characters don’t suffer enough.

Tannim/Falwynn - They’re just so adorable. Like I guess they’d fall under cliches of the lovey dovey type of couple to which, what’s wrong with that? They’re both excitable and well-intentioned adventurers and I find that their sweet energy would just end up mixing so well. I found an unintentional drama that comes with Falwynn supposed to be learning from the Hero in game (which Tannim serves as) and just how much danger that Tannim would willing put Falwynn through if he’s dating her. While they could be in actual events, I also think of them in modern verses taking a lot of selfies together and stuff.

Rune/Nythera: Only for the Young Fables AU. Rune is supposed to be Aqualad and Nythera Speedy. They actually work out as like the most mature of the bunch and have a hold on each other’s secrets. And it’s like, ‘hey, you had a shitty day, wanna help me on case?’

#long post #smoketomirrors #dragon of the valley #secret hunter #relations

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jazzmckay · 7 years ago

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@teenwolfexchange gift for @liveandletrain who asked for something braeden-centric

words: ~2600 tags/warnings: mild violence (aftermath of her injury in 3a), brief braeden/derek

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you to do something you think is wrong,” mama tells her. “Call your own shots.”

Braeden is young at the time, young enough that the message behind the words doesn’t entirely sink in. Instead, she remembers the intensity in her mama’s face, an expression that’s reserved for important things. She remembers a creased brow and an unwavering gaze, and the memory stays with her until she can properly understand it.

Eventually, she puts the pieces together. She connects mama’s words with the timely move she and her parents made to a new town only a week later, with how she never saw her mama’s side of the family again, after that.

‘Call your own shots,’ she thinks to herself, years later, ‘no matter the cost.’

“How did you meet?” Braeden asks her parents one night over dinner. From what little she knows about the kind of upbringing they both had, she can’t imagine how they ended up married.

“Not how you’re expecting,” mom says. “It had nothing to do with werewolves.”

Her mom isn’t wrong - she had anticipated a story about them being on opposite sides of a fight, one of them hunting a pack and the other advising it, until they’d somehow gotten a chance to meet each other properly.

“Really?” she asks.

“Really,” mom says, grinning. “We never even crossed paths as a hunter and an emissary, we were both surprised when we found out about each other.”

Mama chuckles. “I thought your mom would break up with me on the spot if I tried to convince her werewolves really existed, not realising I had nothing to worry about.”

“You were acting so strange,” mom says, looking gleeful at the memory. “Then when you started telling me, and I just said, ‘oh, I know about werewolves’... your face. I’ll never forget.”

Mama turns to look at Braeden with an exasperated expression. “And she’ll never let me forget it, either.”

Braeden laughs. “What happened?”

“By that point we already knew each other fairly well,” mama says. “We trusted each other, and had no problem talking it out.”

“Packs with an emissary are rarely a problem for hunters,” mom continues. “The pack I advised was longstanding and stable. I had a good relationship with them and any hunter who followed a code wouldn’t have bothered them.”

She glances over at mama and Braeden watches the two of them share a look. Mama reaches a hand across the table and mom takes it, threading their fingers together.

“So, how did you meet, then? You still haven’t said,” Braeden asks.

“Oh, I accidentally knocked over a paper towel display at the grocery store,” mom says. “Your mama made sure I was okay and helped me put everything back.”

“What? That’s it?” Braeden asks incredulously.

“Not every story gets to have werewolves in it, no matter how much you wish they did,” mom teases.

For Braeden’s sixteenth birthday, her mama takes her to a shooting range and teaches her how to handle a pistol.

When the gun is in her hands, she’s holding her body steady, and she has her eyes trained on the target, an energy courses through her. The first few shots rock through her like a shockwave and the bullets hit off center, but she gets into the swing of it quickly.

Mama whistles in appreciation when they bring the target forward and see how close she got to bullseye.

“You’re a natural, hon,” mama says as she helps Braeden load a second clip, and Braeden beams.

Braeden sits in the passenger seat while her partner drives them through the city on their patrol route. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel to a beat that’s only in his head, eyes focused on the road.

It has been a slow day. A slow week, really. This city isn’t exactly a crime hotspot, and for awhile now she’s felt like she could do more good elsewhere. She’s thought about it a lot, and has even started preparing for it, which is as good as making the decision already, she figures.

“Hey, McKenzie.”

McKenzie makes a noise of acknowledgement but doesn’t look away from the road.

“I’m going to apply for the U.S. Marshals.”

That gets her partner’s attention. He looks over at her, like he’s gauging whether or not she’s serious, before turning back to the road. “Yeah?” he prompts.

“Yeah,” Braeden says, nodding. “Thought I’d give you a heads up. I’m going to talk to the Captain when we get back.”

“Wow,” McKenzie says lightly, suspiciously casual.

Braeden has spent enough time weaseling confessions out of suspects to know when someone is holding something back. It’s obvious McKenzie is stunned and skeptical, but just doesn’t want to say so outright. McKenzie’s not a bad guy, they’ve worked together just fine for awhile now, but Braeden sure wouldn’t call them friends. He doesn’t know her, doesn’t know what she knows about the world, doesn’t know what she’s been taught on the side.

“Don’t think I can make it, huh?” she says, because for some reason she has trouble letting sleeping dogs lie. McKenzie’s opinion doesn’t matter and she’ll show him wrong eventually, but she pokes anyway.

McKenzie sighs. “Only a small percentage of people get accepted to the program.”

“Not a problem,” Braeden says.

“Okay. Just, don’t get your hopes up too much, you know? If you make it, that would be great, but keep the odds in mind, just in case.”

Braeden knows her odds better than McKenzie does. “Thanks for the counsel,” she says sarcastically.

“Look, it’s badass that you’re even going to give it a try. It’s good to stay realistic, though.”

Gritting her teeth, Braeden manages to stop herself before she snaps at him, not for his sake but for her own. They still have an hour of patrol left and she isn’t going to spend it with McKenzie doubting her strengths and trying to talk her down from a decision she’s made for herself after considerable thought.

“Well, we’ll find out just how realistic my expectations are,” she says with a tone of finality.

McKenzie gets the message and doesn’t bring it up again.

A month later she’s shaking her Captain’s hand as she’s saying goodbye, preparing to make the move to a new office and take on the title of U.S. Marshal.

On her way out, she passes McKenzie’s desk. “Good luck with your new partner,” she says, and then keeps walking.

Being a U.S. Marshal is fulfilling and satisfying, until it isn’t. Braeden enjoys staying busy and solving mysteries and catching bad guys, and for a year, it’s just that simple. All the people she investigates are human, her coworkers are human, and her department’s protocols are written with humans in mind. She almost forgets about the supernatural world, until she’s given the assignment to bring down a particularly elusive assassin.

‘The Desert Wolf’ as a moniker is a bit on the nose, for a werecreature, but after tracking the assassin for months and gathering enough information to notice patterns and connect pieces that other people wouldn’t notice, Braeden is certain of her theory.

The Desert Wolf is smart, fast, rarely spotted, and has even shrugged off being shot two times. Braeden almost never has to put a bullet into someone to catch them, but with the Desert Wolf, she’s had resort to it twice without result.

And, once they have enough on her to figure out her identity, Braeden finds out that the Desert Wolf used to live in Beacon Hills.

She knows, as soon as she’s convinced herself that the Desert Wolf is a werecreature, that she’s never going to catch her if she has to stick to the rules of her station. If she has to go through official channels, if she has to set up task forces full of people who can’t be fully briefed, if she has to do things the safe and sure way, the Desert Wolf is going to continue killing people, unimpeded.

Braeden likes her job, and she worked for it.

But the Desert Wolf is dangerous and Braeden is growing tired of the hunt. She’s tired of filing reports stating that she let the assassin get away, that despite her otherwise impressive ledger, she just can’t seem to get the better of the Desert Wolf.

‘No matter the cost,’ she reminds herself.

��Don’t you dare die.’

She’s on the floor of the locker room, slumped back against the cold, tiled wall. Blood oozes down her throat from three long claw slashes that run deep, deeper than any wound she’s received before. She’s been injured a lot over the years, come face to face with a lot of dangerous people, but she’s never felt quite so close to death’s door.

The clacking sound of Deucalion’s cane and Kali’s sharp toenails slowly fades as the alpha pack disappears as quickly as they’d appeared. Braeden’s heart pounds on rhythm with their departure.

It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to think. Her body is somehow both on fire and stone cold. She thinks she might be going into shock.

Instinct leads her to pat a hand down on her pocket in search of a phone to call for help, but there’s no phone there. It had been taken off her at the hospital, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to gather her personal effects before sneaking out. It hadn’t been the priority at the time.

She supposes it’s ironic that only an hour after escaping the hospital, she’s wishing she could get back in. If she doesn’t get medical treatment, she’s going to die.

Braeden doesn’t want to die, especially not at the age of twenty-six on the floor of a high school locker room. ‘Stay conscious,’ she tells herself. ‘Deucalion doesn’t get to tell you when it’s time to check out.’

Years ago, her mom had tried to teach her some basic things like how to use mountain ash, how to cure aconite poisoning, and how to make natural remedies infused with healing power. She hadn’t taken to it the way she’d taken to her mama’s hunting lessons, but she certainly remembers it well enough that she can recall it even while on the verge of passing out.

Moving her hand over to her opposite forearm, she draws her finger across her skin in the shape of a rune, and thinks of her mom, teaching her symbols for health, safety, strength. She doesn’t have the same raw power or years of intense training, but just thinking of her mom bolsters her. Braeden hasn’t seen her, hasn’t seen either of them, since she traded in being a Marshal for being a gun for hire.

“Not going to die here,” Braeden rasps out loud. She can’t leave things the way they are.

The alphas will be long gone, thinking she’s no longer a threat to be dealt with. All she needs to do is get up on her feet and make it far enough for someone to help her.

Ignoring the pain that flares through her entire body, Braeden plants her shaking palms against the wall at her back and pushes.

The motel room is sweltering. The AC is busted, summer seems unwilling to break into fall, and Derek is like a space heater in the bed next to her.

Braeden slips out of the bed and walks over to the window, pressing her forehead down onto the glass in hopes that it’s at least a little bit cool compared to the rest of the room. For a minute, as she leans there and looks out at the night sky, the window does provide some relief until it warms up from her body heat.

She hears the shifting of bedsheets behind her, the creaking of the thin mattress as Derek moves.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks quietly.

“Too hot,” she answers, with her head still pressed against the glass pane.

The bed creaks again as Derek stands up and comes up behind her. He gathers her long hair in his hands, sweeping the strands away from her neck, which both makes her feel slightly cooler and sends a pleasant tingle over her scalp.

“Want to leave?” Derek asks. “If neither of us are sleeping anyway, we don’t have to wait until morning.”

The thought of rolling down the car window and feeling wind on her face as they speed out of town on empty, dark streets is compelling. The problem is where they should be headed.

They’re only in this small, humid town because it’s the site of the Desert Wolf’s latest crime scene, and the more Braeden thinks about it, the more she thinks she knows where the Desert Wolf will be next. They’re not too far from Beacon Hills, again, closer than they’ve been since leaving a few months prior, and the full moon is quickly approaching.

“Derek,” she says. “I know you don’t want to go back to Beacon Hills. I get it, I really do.”

“But you have to go back,” Derek finishes. “I know.”

“Just to see this through.”

She knows her hunt for the Desert Wolf has become more than just a job, it has become personal. Putting away her badge so she could pursue the people that the U.S. government just isn’t equipped to pursue was the right choice and she doesn’t regret it, and she knows her pursuit could be considered obsessive, but she doesn’t regret that either. She’s going to win, and then she’s going to move on and there will be one less harmful person in the world. The Desert Wolf is a threat to the Tates, a threat to the pack Derek might be able to call his own, someday.

“I get it,” Derek says, repeating her own words back to her.

Braeden exhales a long breath, and makes up her mind.

Years have passed since she last stood in front of this door, since she last spoke to the people living in the house behind it. The longer she stayed away, the more impossible it felt to go back, and the wider she let the breach become.

Braeden rings the doorbell and then awkwardly takes a step back on the porch, turning to look at the neighbour’s yard as she waits, feeling like an intruder.

After a few seconds, she hears footsteps and then the door clicks open.

“Braeden,” her mom breathes in surprise. She’s out on the porch in an instant, wrapping her arms around Braeden tightly. Her fingertips dig into Braeden’s back as she holds her close.

The plan had been to not get emotional but that goes out the window as soon as Braeden relaxes into her mom’s hug. She missed her parents, plain and simple.

Her mama appears in the doorway a moment later, and Braeden sees her expression switch from curiosity to pure happiness so fast, as soon as she sees that it’s Braeden at the door. Braeden’s heart clenches.

They both look older than when Braeden last saw them, but still healthy and happy.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Braeden says quietly into her mom’s shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay,” mama says softly as she joins into the hug, one arm around her wife and the other around her daughter.

Years ago, Braeden had worried that they’d be disappointed in her for the sharp turn she’d taken on her career path and she’d cut ties rather than face their reaction. There aren’t many things Braeden would choose to do over in life, but that is one of them. It had been their lessons that motivated her, and she should have known better.

“Come inside, hon,” mama says.

Braeden does. She’s going to tell them about the choices she’s made, the choices that she thought were right even if most people would have disagreed, and she’s going to tell them where those choices have led her - to Beacon Hills, and the McCall pack.

She knows, now, that they’ll be proud of her.

#teenwolfexchange #jazz writes

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embermourne-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Rewind

(Mature themes such as death, gore, etc. If you’re uncomfortable by any of that or squeamish then this is not for you!)

Kyren’s fingers traced along the glass to one of Catherine’s many display cases within her study, staring down at the mass of temporal energy kept in stasis as it endlessly churned. Finnigan had been reported found and was in the process of recovering at Northshire Abbey, leading the elven magistrix back to her former colleague’s collection of temporal artifacts and antiquities, searching for a way to use something within this vast arsenal of knowledge to enhance her abilities to protect Catherine’s son as she had sworn to do. Her left hand lifted the glass casing, right hand surging with magic to continue the stasis protocol implemented on the torrent of raw power, turning the orb about in her hand and watching as it slowly danced and shifted around it with a mind of its own.

“What object am I currently holding, Coriadus?”

“Catherine’s records label that artifact as “Nascent”. Her reasoning indicates that it was energy collected from an accidental rift in time she had forged. It has not ceased attempting to grow, only the stasis field around it prevents it from growing further.”

Kyren’s eyes brightened with admiration at the chaos made manifest in her hand and how it innocently tumbled through her finger tips and settled in her palm. Nascent.

“And there isn’t record of a way to stop it entirely?”

“There is. It would involve a magus siphoning the power into themselves. Very few would be able to survive the predicament without being lost to time if not entirely erased.”

“So, in other words...”

“Nothing useful, Lady Ebonmourne.”

Kyren’s lips pursed with mild aggravation, reaching her right hand down to place the dormant rift back into its home. Her left hand grasped the casing and began to lift but felt no movement. She attempted again with a risen brow with no improved results. The case would not open. The woman’s eyes widened and glanced down to the artifact in her hand. Maintaining the stasis field manually was draining her mana quickly; she had seconds, maybe even minutes to act.

“Coriadus! Why are the cases not opening?! What is going on?!”

“I detect Catherine’s signature at play.”

“How? What? Why?”

“You act as if you did not fail to uphold your end of the bargain with her, Lady Ebonmourne. This could be a result of the navyman venturing to Argus like you were supposed to prevent him from doing. Must I always be the observant one in these scenarios?”

Kyren’s face contorted into one of pure horror. What was she to do now? Her hand released the small rift and slowly backed away, continuing to channel what magic she could to continue restricting the growth of the time storm.

“You have a choice, Kyren.”

“I’d love to hear it right about now!”

“Release. Me.”

Kyren’s head snapped toward the staff with a scowl, “You little snake! You dangle my freedom before my face in exchange for your own. You will just use the power to try to kill me again like you have every other year!”

“You have no choice. Release me and allow me to absorb the storm while you still live or be destroyed. This entire room, everything you’ve worked to protect and live by will be for naught. There is no telling how large that rift will grow. Perhaps the size of Azeroth, who are you to know? You may damn this very world that you treasure so intensely.”

Kyren released a cry of rage and finality as her mana ripped itself from the storm and surged into Coriadus, relieving the beast of the crystalline spirestaff. The elemental’s form loomed over the rift, pulling the cancer into itself and melding its energy with its own. For the first time in a long time, Coriadus felt... satisfied. But only for the moment. Slowly, Coriadus turned toward the magistrix as she struggled to garner mana. With a mixture of her addiction and the overwhelming power she was just attempting to restrain, Kyren was left in a state of vulnerability. Coriadus’ right hand lifted and shot forward a beam of temporal magic at the elven sorcerer. With what power remained in herself, Kyren redirected the blast back at Coriadus. A powerful rift would open itself in front of the elemental being, pulling it into a space between spaces; a time between, before, and after all possible presents, futures, and pasts. Kyren slowly reached for the empty spirestaff with a sigh of relief until she felt a strong force tug at her body, forcing her through the rift as well. There was a brief scream of terror and then... nothing. The study fell absolutely quiet as the rift closed.

Kyren was locked in a physical struggle with the elemental, its form shifted to the same height as her own -- or was she the same height as the elemental? It mattered not. What did matter is that both of them flew through a nexus of geographical locations, uncertain of where they’d both end up. Kyren’s pushed at the elemental with a grunt, “I took precautions this time. This won’t end as you wish it to!”

“Oh, it shall indeed! With this power, time is at my whim. The power of Aman’Thul dances from my fingertips -- you know nothing of what -I- can do, ignorant little mage!”

There was a flash of crimson light and then the sensation of gravity tugging at their forms. Kyren was falling. The magistrix began to panic, arms flailing about as she tried to grab hold of something!

Slow fall!

Nothing. She still possessed no mana. There had to be something! Some way to...

There was pain. There was such sharp pain. Then there was darkness.

Coriadus’ core slammed against a rocky surface, mere seconds passing before it recollected itself and was able to perceive its surroundings.

“Freedom, at last! Years trapped with that insufferable woman as a jailer -- oh how I’ve longed for this day.”

The elemental’s form slowly danced along the rocks as it moved, its pale eyes focusing on a sight it did not expect. The magister was at rest upon a spike; blood drained in a steady stream from the tip of the spike as it was angled more downward than upward. Kyren’s form was limp and her body hunched over, arms and feet dangling loosely. The body still twitched, Kyren’s head still lazily moving up and down as the life was drained from her. The wildlife of this hellish landscape did not offer even a moment’s rest; already several small insectoids crawled up to the jagged spike the elf was impaled upon, a mere grunt of pain uttered from the elf as her throat was torn out. Blood spilled from the tear in the elf’s flesh, quiet gurgling heard before the twitching ceased. Kyren was dead -- made into a warm meal for carniverous bugs.

“A fitting end for your years of torment, mortal swill.”

The arcane elemental watched as the elf was devoured for a few more seconds before it bored of observing the insects ripping out the organs within the elf’s head, turning and moving away from the elf’s grave. Coriadus turned its head upward, observing the several magical highways that crossed the sky; Outland. With the jagged rocks all around itself, Coriadus assumed this was Blade’s Edge Mountains. The elemental being began to channel itself away from the area, wishing to return to an area of magical potency -- perhaps Dalaran? Karazhan? The Nexus? There were so many areas to feed and grow in strength now that it was free of that damnable staff and the crystal prison it held for it. Just as it’s essence began to transport itself away, something yanked it back.

What?

Coriadus attempted once more. No results. Again! Nothing. This had to be a joke, a prank. Was the being low on mana? No! It was made of it! There had to be...

Coriadus’ eyes settled upon the staff that lay inches away from where the thrashing of Kyren’s flesh sounded. Upon the staff were several runes attuned to his being. It was Coriadus’ signature as well as Kyren’s. He was... -bound- to it. And if the staff was destroyed? It was the elemental’s prison, it would simply fade and cease to be. This is what Kyren meant. This is why it would not end the way Coriadus planned. It was either be imprisoned and fed by that damnable mage or remain here until Outland completely destabilized OR until it was found by some "lucky” adventurer.

“Even in death you mock me, mortal! You filth! You damn... -sinister- genius. Bah! Outwitted again by this damned mutant troll.”

Coriadus hovered itself toward Kyren’s corpse, the insects that feasted upon her remains scattering as the arcane being hovered in front of her maimed face. Both eyes were missing, half of her face had been eaten off -- the corpse was a mess.

“How I wish you would remain this way.”

Kyren gasped back to life, looking around in confusion as she was falling yet again through the nexus between all possible destinations. What happened? She was falling out of the nexus and now... she was right back into it! Where was Coriadus?! What happened?! Kyren weakly glanced back down to the staff in her hand, brow raising as she saw Coriadus trapped within it again. The staff whispered to the elven mage.

“What was to be was not in your, or my, best interest. I know what safeguards you placed on this damnable staff. I submit. But that does not mean I will not make you -suffer- for your treachery, mage.”

Kyren rose a brow... what was Coriadus talking about? What was to be?

The next thing Kyren knew, she was skidding across cobblestone until she came to a stop upon a rug. Coriadus flew out as well, clattering upon the stone until it came to a stop. The bronze temporal rift that allowed her escape shut immediately after she exited, causing the room to go eerily quiet. Kyren slowly looked up from where she rested, so exhausted that she could barely perform -that- action. A navyman beside an injured woman looked at her in confusion and shock... as well as hatred. She was still in her elven form.

Light DAMN you, Coriadus! You little SNAKE!

Weakly, Kyren lifted her right hand toward the navyman as if pleading for help.

“Finnie...”

#roleplay #ic #world of warcraft

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thetriplesnake · 8 years ago

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Ἀκέφαλος - A Headless Rite Experience

Ok, take this with a grain of salt. Writing about a magical experience can seem like insanity. I have reread my magic diary notes, tried to gather my thoughts and form some type of thesis.

Backstory Over a year ago my life had become rather chaotic, frustrating and uncertain. Family and work life had drastically changed and no conventional ideas seemed to improve matters. At my wits end I began looking for "magical" solutions to break out of the rut. I don't remember exactly how but I came across Gordon White's Rune Soup blog. This discovery thrust me back into something I had spent the last decade trying to ignore and that was practical magic. Feeling very curious I purchased The Chaos Protocols by Gordon and was inspired to give the Headless Rite a go. However please note, my ritual is not as prescribed by Gordon, I'll explain why later.

Ritual It was performed during the day on a Sunday on the planetary hour of the Sun in my backyard. The choice of day was not in my control, as it was the only day I could have my place to myself. But I did choose to perform it in the hour of the Sun to take advantage of the various Sun correspondences.

I began with a meditation to relax and enter a light trance state. I lit white candles located at the four directions as well as frankincense resin. Cast a circle by walking incense around a central altar (it's just a small table). Read out barbarous names printed on paper, held to my left and right temples facing North. Then facing West towards Orion (who was below the horizon at the time) I read out the Headless Rite. I'm Greek Australian, so I read the rite in the Ancient Greek and not the translation. I don't think the language used matters as long as the barbarous names are unchanged (that's possibly where some of the magic is). I then activated some sigils using Gordon's method of staring at sigils until they flash/fade and go back to normal. Then more meditation to cleared my mind. I ended the ritual and banished by clapping my hands and laughing. Tidied up the backyard.

Considerations and observations Gordon suggests combining an invocation to the Demon Kings. I didn't, mainly out of fear to be honest. Calling a demon back then felt sacrilegious and conflicted with my Greek Orthodox upbringing. It technically still does, but I've subsequently expanded my beliefs/views... not very Orthodox any more.

I don't feel that the Demon Kings are demons anyway, well not in the biblical fallen angel style. I now view them as very significant spirits who represent/influence the cardinal directions, similarly to the Ancient Greek Anemoi (winds) and the Chinese Heavenly Kings. They are not a part of the Headless Rite, so their omission didn't break anything.

The incense that was happily puffing smoke did flare up doing the ceremony, which did get the heart racing. The self lighting charcoals can do this which is normal. However I do find it amusing that it tends to happen as an accent or during the climax of a ritual.

I do remember feeling very invigorated once I completed the entire ritual. I didn't think it was successful, but I felt good. Then the fun started.

As crazy as it sounds I believe that performing the Rite opened me up to contact from the spirit world. The contact I received however was not what I expected, surprise surprise. My dreams three days later felt very, very real. I can lucid dream, but the feeling was far more intense. The first dream was a blend of nightmare and lesson. I won't describe the entire dream, but basically I was given a lesson, I can either continue wasting life/vitality/energy by being sucked into base desires or I could channel my vitality/energy into meaningful magic. This choice was emphasised by two menacing black hounds with glowing green eyes giving me very threatening looks and growls. Oddly I felt a compulsion to give thanks for the dream after I woke up.

The hounds returned on two more nights. But on the last night within the dream, after I crossed a large canyon the angry black hound split into two dogs. One old, calm and friendly, the other young and active. I had worked through a few personal things so I felt the hounds were happy with me.

"So what, you dreamt of dogs?", I hear you say. Well yes, but I'm trying to change my life and rediscover magic by performing an "exorcism" possibly written in the 2nd century BC, calling upon Egyptian Gods. No point in rejecting experiences because they sound trivial now.

Conclusions To me the Rite when spoken in Greek has the same mouthfeel as prayers to God I could say in church. I kinda think it is, as it even mentions an "Angel of God". Please note that I'm definitely not suggesting that the Headless Rite is a Christian prayer, far from it. Calling upon a Headless daemon (Akephalos), Osiris, Set, Bes and others would make a Church Father have apoplexy. I'm talking about the feeling.

I do think this Angel made contact with me and the hounds represent... her. Yep, I think the angel was female. Why do I think this? Well I've researched the words in the Headless Rite and symbolism in my dreams. The Headless Rite is included in the Greek Magical Papyri, other "spells/rituals" in the PGM include many of the same deities and barbarous names. A certain female deity is featured quite extensively in the PGM. One of the epithets she has is "Angelos" or Angel of God, so there's the connection. This Angelos is also more typically known as the Goddess of Magic Hekate. Her heralds are "black hounds".

That's when the penny dropped. I got the result I needed but not what I expected. I had not considered Hekate in any way prior to these dreams. It also explains a series of events I experienced as a young child and many other bizarre correspondences throughout my life.

What's interesting is that it has unlocked the PGM and how I perceive magic. Whether it's Greco-Egyptian, Solomonic, Cyprianic ( another rabbit hole right there), Chaos or Eastern magic I know that it's actually real. The spirit world is real, divinity is real and the universe is not just a mistake of randomness explained only in materialist ways.

So call the loony bin, we've got a real nutter here. Life will never be the same again. Here is a recording of the Headless Rite spoken in Ancient Greek.

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ruffsficstuffplace · 8 years ago

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Of Rocks, Romantic Rivalries, and Rune Rangers (Part 7): Invitations and Trepidation

Pidge and Hunk spent the rest of the afternoon repairing the titans and making prototypes for defenses against sonic attacks like Mero’s singing.

Though modifying their gear and the giant constructs was as easy as changing values and drafting designs on a terminal and letting the magic of the runes do the rest, making up entirely new magitech far beyond the boundaries of what both the humans and the Fae had achieved was still no mean feat.

They called it for the day at six. The titans were fully repaired and recharging their power cores for the next fight, while a team of golems tried to recreate the exact frequency of Mero’s singing for testing whether or not the new upgrades would hold up in practice as they did in theory.

<Not looking forward to hearing that tomorrow...> Hunk muttered as they cleaned up the empty bottles, cartons, and boxes of snacks they’d left around their work space.

<Who would be?> Pidge asked as she vacuumed up the crumbs and stray bits, then polished the counters till they were gleaming once more. <At least we can test it by blasting the golems instead of one of us—her ‘song’ is still ringing in my head.>

<I’ve been meaning to ask you what it was like under her spell, actually,> Hunk said as he put his armload of trash onto a teleporter. <You know, if it’s not too traumatic to bring up.>

Pidge winced. <How do I describe it...> she said as she opened up the supply cabinet. <It’s like having an off-key, tone-deaf voice in your head screeching the most annoyingly catchy song imaginable, and the it’s saying the only to get it to stop is to do everything the lyrics tell you to, and yet it doesn’t:

<What was she saying?> Hunk asked as he pressed a button, and the trash disappeared through a rip in reality.

Pidge shrugged. <She wasn’t singing words, exactly, it was like how the titans talk to us: ideas, suggestions, emotions,> she said as she put the vacuum and the cleaning supplies back in their proper places. <If I had to hazard a translation, part of it would definitely go ‘Like, obey me, doucheschnozzle!’>

Hunk laughed, but he stopped and looked at her in worry soon after. <Are you okay, Pidge?>

Pidge sighed as she closed the closet. <No. Not going to be for a long, long while.>

Hunk walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. <You want to talk about it?>

Pidge turned to him then shook her head. <No offense to you, Hunk, but I don’t want to weigh you down with all this heavy stuff right now, we’re both pretty brain-fried from all that protyping.>

Hunk frowned. <Alright, but promise me you’re not going to keep it all to yourself again?>

Pidge smiled and held up her hand. <I promise! Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson about keeping secrets from my friends.>

Hunk smiled. <Good. Thought we’re going to have to do that whole song and dance again back when you were still working for Jahilliyah…>

<That time of my life is over, Hunk,> Pidge said. <I’m a Rune Ranger now. One of the good guys.>

But as Hunk bid her goodbye, and left to go cook dinner, she had to wonder: was it really over…?

“… No, ma’am, I’m afraid, I can not guarantee you that Keith will be your son’s temporary boyfriend for the entirety of his birthday,” Allura said as she sat at her seat in the Core, in front of the terminal built into her part of the table.

“Ma’am, Keith is a living, breathing Avalonian with rights and feelings just like you or me: he’s not property to be rented out willy-nilly!” Her eyes widened. She chewed her lip for a moment, before she quietly sighed, and said, “That is a very generous sum indeed, ma’am, but I’m afraid there is just no price that can be paid for Keith or the time of any of us.

“We’re the Defenders of Avalon, not a companion service.

“Besides, what if Zarkon’s forces decide to use the opportunity to attack Keith, have your son caught in the collateral damage? Would risking his safety and that of his guests really be worth it?” Allura paused. “Really now? Well, yes, I have heard of Crossfire-Cam, but I never—no, ma’am, I will still have to—ma’am, I’m truly very sorry, but my decision remains unchanged:

“Keith nor any of the other Rangers cannot be contracted for their time and presence, for companionship or any other reason.”

There was a long pause. “Ma’am, those situations were our voluntarily offering ourselves to the cause or the organization involved, we weren’t paid to appear at those events; any sort of monetary value assigned to our presence and the profits from the publicity and the exposure is not indicative of any sort of transaction nor payment.”

Allura frowned. “Ma’am, for security and privacy reasons, no, I cannot give you Keith’s private comm-line… no, I will not pass the message on, either.” She bit back a sigh. “Good day, my fellow Avalonian,” she said, before she cut the line.

She groaned, let her head hit the table. <Oh, Eluna, what happened these past 1,000 years?>

Coran sighed as he worked on the paperwork for some of the approved damage claims. “Lots of things, apparently, quite a few of them negative! Honestly, I never thought I’d ever see the day when you’d save a person’s life, and they’d still sue you for the Sentinel accidentally stepping over their car.”

“Suppose we’ll just have to deal with it, as we always do...” Allura muttered as she lifted her head-up, and reluctantly turned her attention back to her terminal’s screen.

She was about to answer another damage claim—seriously, did all those businesses have a rotating, dedicated staff on-hand to insistently call whoever had wronged them in any way?--when she noticed a new message icon.

It was from Pidge, separated from the others and easily distinguished by the icon of a green chinchilla with a paper envelope in its mouth.

The right thing to do would have been to ignore it and keep on working, read it later when she and Coran had both called it a day with sorting out the inevitably messy aftermath of a Galra attack. It couldn’t have been a priority message, either, as if it were, it would have automatically opened.

But, like so many others before her, she couldn’t help but get curious and click the icon.

The message was simple: <Hey Allura, can I come over to your room and talk with you after dinner, just the two of us?>

The emotions Allura felt afterward was a complex mishmash, overlapping and crashing into each other: Surprise, Elation, Curiosity, Worry, Fear, Confusion, Dread, and finally, Panic.

Coran looked up from manually putting in the few details Pidge’s “paper golems” couldn’t deal with, noticed Allura’s distress, her ears pulled back in worry and beads of sweat already appearing on her forehead.

<Your highness!> he cried as he rushed over to her. <Are you alright?!>

Allura tried to say <I’m fine!> but all she managed was look at Coran with terrified eyes, then point at the message like it was a giant, vicious banana tiger that had appeared in a plantation deep within the walls of Fae settlement.

Coran looked at the screen, and read Pidge’s message. <Ah.>

<She sent this an hour ago!> Allura cried. <An hour!>

<Fret not, your highness!> Coran said. <I’m certain Pidge understands that we’ve been terribly busy here at the Core, and wouldn’t blame you for taking your time responding!>

<How am I supposed to? Do that. Reply to her!> Allura sputtered, feeling all of her years of training in social norms, diplomatic protocol, and grace and wit fly out the window, then die horrible, messy deaths on the street outside. <I mean, this could be anything! Does she just want a friendly chat between us? Is this something much more serious? Or is this her way of trying to make a move, get the two of us alone and somewhere private?

<Well, first, I have to ask: do you wish to speak with her in private later?> Coran asked.

Allura groaned. <I do, but there’s still so much work to be done here!> she said, gesturing at the messages still flooding their comm-lines.

Coran beamed and put a hand on his chest. <Leave that to me! They’ll all still be persistently hounding us tomorrow, this is an opportunity that you might not have again! This could be your chance, Allura: make your move, tell her how you really feel, do what Shiro’s been trying and failing to all this time!>

Allura looked at the number of pending communication requests, then at Coran. <Are you sure you can handle this, Coran?> she asked.

Coran looked as grimly determined as a man about to dive deep into the thick of customer service could be. <For you, your highness? I will take on anything.>

Allura smiled. <Thank you, Coran, I am forever in your debt.>

Coran waved her off. <You just go get yourself and your quarters ready for your talk with Pidge! Starting with messaging her back and telling her yes, you will see her back at your room.>

Allura turned back to her terminal, started making a reply. <Right...>

Had the message been from any of the other Rangers—even Shiro—Allura would have made and sent a message back in a heartbeat, warm and friendly, with a reminder that she always available any time they needed her.

As it was from Pidge, she spent the next half hour nervously bent over the holo-keypad of her terminal, discussing and working out her reply with Coran, with all the graveness of a situation room in the middle of a prolonged and brutal war.

<Is the smiley face at the end too much?> Allura asked, her ears drooping in worry. <Maybe it’s too much. Especially because this could be a request for a serious talk, and that might make her think that I think this is going to just be a friendly chat, and then she’d just cancel and find someone else to talk with, and that might end up being Shiro and-->

Coran put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. <And I think that maybe you should keep the smiley face, add a personal touch to it. That’s how you show interest, don’t you? Give them the special treatment, go the extra mile where you wouldn’t with others.>

Allura frowned. <True…> She sighed. <Eluna, I feel like a teenaged girl panicking over her crush asking her out on a date!> she paused. <… Which isn’t entirely inaccurate, now that I’ve said it out loud...>

<Just calm down, Princess, and we’ll send her the best reply you can give,> Coran said.

And so they returned to discussing Allura’s reply, refining it, editing it, making sure that it conveyed exactly what she wanted it to, and that there wasn’t anything that could be misinterpreted or confuse Pidge in any way, shape or form, till she had the absolutely purest heart of her message, with just the right amount of personal touch and extra effort, without getting too blatant or desperate.

<Sure, Pidge. :)>

<’Brevity is wit,’ to quote one of the Old World’s great writers,> Coran said as Allura sent it.

She sighed as she looked at the holo-display; never had she thought the animation of one of her mice taking an enveloped into their mouth and scurrying off could make her so anxious.

<Message sent!> said Actaeon text on the screen as the mouse stopped and looked quite pleased with themselves.

<There...> she said as she slumped back into her seat. <It’s done. Now all I can do is wait… should I ask her to message me back?>

<Best not,> Coran replied. <There’s really no inconsuspicious reason for you to do so, and when she figures that out, it might strike a match to that legendary curiosity of hers. Then, there’d be no stopping her from prying you open instead of opening up to you.>

Allura nodded. <And here I thought courtship was complicated 1,000 years ago...>

Coran patted her again. <Just be yourself and prepare the best you can, your highness. You know: fluff up your nest, spritz something soothing into the air, maybe even doll yourself up and ‘get into something more comfortable’ as they say in Nivian.>

Allura blushed. <Coran!> she cried.

Coran looked confused. <What? What’d I say?>

<Your suggesting me and Pidge--!> she made a sexy animal noise.

Coran blinked. <When did I say that?>

<’Slip into something more comfortable’ is a euphemism for changing into lingerie, clothes more suitable for>--she made a sexy animal noise--<or just outright stripping naked,> Allura explained, cheeks still burning.

<Is it now? My goodness, only in Nivian could something so innocent and innocuous be given such a lewd spin...> he said as he shook his head.

<Just don’t use it again, Coran…> Allura muttered.

Coran smiled. <I won’t. And if I may point out, it seems you’ve been spending far too much time among the human settlements, too.>

Allura groaned. <I’m leaving!> she said as she got up and made haste for the door. <Good luck with the calls, Coran!>

<And good luck with your and Pidge’s ‘tête-à-tête!’> Coran said as he walked back to his terminal, put his headset back on, and forced a smile on his face. “Rune Terra, home of the Rune Rangers! This is Coran, Maiden Allura’s personal servant speaking, how may I help you...?”

#ORRRARR #voltron legendary defender #fanfic #shidge #pallura

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vivarionnightdrainer-blog · 8 years ago

Text

The New Viv

The big day has arrived and their awakening has passed, Viv in loose fitting casual wear of a cheaper than usual nature stands about while accompanied by the soon to be merged with Inquisitor of whom is garbed in the normal Inquisitor wear. Together with Fyri, they stand in the lowest level of the Rampage: a room three times the size of Fyri's bedroom, sparsely decorated besides a few weapon racks and crates, and with the expected wall mounted devices and stylings as the rest of the ship. While floating there Inoxal looks about curiously for any sign of the impending ritual, "I mussst sssay, the chance at sseeing one of Saaaragousss' ritualsss, or at leassst a versssion of it, at work isss sssplendid." At this Viv looks up and remarks, "Agreed...." The he turns to Fyri, "How do you suppose we start?" While Fyri and Viv chat Inoxal begins to wander about the chamber as a few notable Illidari flood into the room, "Oh...we are being watched?" The inquisitor remarks once his two eyes notice them; however those eyes do not stop wandering as they fly about and examine every nook and cranny of the room.

Infyrana is wearing a ritual robe made of shimmering black silk emblazoned with the Illidari rune on front and back. She is without her blindfold, her felflame eyes sparkling and trailing long tongues of her green flame. She nods to those in attendance; a tall Shivarran wearing very ornate armor attended by a number of her own kind and a handful of succubi and a half dozen other Illidari demon hunters and several sin'dorei initiates that do not yet bear the marks of a true hunter though they like all others in attendance wear an Illidari-emblazoned tabard. Fyri smiles as she approaches the two of them and approaches holding a black lacquered wooden case which she opens for them both to see. The case contains a pair of matching ritual daggers, very similar to a pair that Infyrana wears upon her belt but that Vivarion has never seen her use.

"We will begin this." Fyri and Inferna speak in their dual voice as she withdraws the daggers from the case and sets it aside. The black-handled weapons gleam in the green light of the room as she holds them high, the metal of the daggers drawing in streams of fel from the green flames in sconces all about the chamber until they glow like molten fel iron and exude a dark purple aura. The huntress turns to Vivarion and with a single quick motion slices upon his tunic before she gently pushes it back off of his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground. She whispers into his ear, "Steel yourself, I am going to cut your runes into you." Then, as all watch she goes about her work quickly, carving the required magic into her lover's flesh with graceful motions, each stroke drawing blood but feeling like an icy-hot sensation rather than a wound as the paths of the blades leave a vibrant purple tattoo in their wake upon his skin.

A simple nods relays the readiness of viv before Fyri etches the runes onot his body. As the blades cut into his skin Viv's hands ball up into a tight fist, his teeth clench, and rough grunts escape past his tightly pinched teeth. His darker then normal blood, due to presence of fel in his system already, drips down his body with every cut to eventually dribble into a plethora of tiny pools on the floor below. A few minutes into what could be a long process Viv begins a breathing exercise of rhythmic breaths in and out of his nose, but while he may be trying to draw the pain away his body's muscles tense up in unison exposing every vein, muscle, and mark as his body tightens in reaction to the pain caused from the continuing silcing of hos body. All of this goes on while Inoxal lightly chuckles to himself in the background in a sadists joyful way, "Doessss it hurt? IT loooksss like it hurtsss." This prodding question prompts Viv to voice his pain in a deep, rough, pained yell of "SHUT UP, YOU SOON TO BE BODILESS WEAK WILLED MAGGOT OF A DEMON." This does prompt Inoxal to keep his tight skinned mouth shut, and for his yet wandering eyes to retreat to his side, and for Viv's mouth to brace shut once more.

Fyri and Inferna chuckle at the exchange of words, though she does not lose pace in her work as she completes the marks across Vivarion's chest, shoulders and back. She quickly slices off his trousers and allows them to fall before she continues her rune carving across his muscled thighs and calves. "Watch these blades well, Inoxal," her dual voice intones, "For once I am finished here these blades go into Vivarion's hands and they will be used to carve out the fel heart within you for him to devour before they put out those beautiful eyes of his." She stands after the final stroke is put into the last rune on each of the warlock's calves. As she stands all of the runes upon the warlock's body begin to glow with an inner light, not fel green or blood red, but a deep royal purple. The floor of the Rampage beneath Vivarion's bare feet respond to the beginning of his awakening, patterns and runes lighting up, spreading from his feet to the edges of the chamber's floor, with an ornate binding circle enclosing he and the Inquisitor. Infyrana moves to stand before him and holds out the blades marked and glowing with his own blood for him to take. "Take these, the first gift of your rebirthing. Recite the Oath, and then do what you know must be done." She then steps back out of the binding Illidari circle and takes her place as ritemistress and chief witness before Vivarion and Inoxal.

A wide almost evil smirk spreads across Viv's now arched down in pain face as she says just what exactly he will be doing to Inoxal, and once she offers the blades Viv's pain has seemingly be overridden by anger tinted urge to rip the heart from Inoxal. Inoxal at that new bit of information however is understandably worried, and adopts a fighting like stance with both eyes trained on Viv and hands at ready for some spell slinging. However before the fight occurs Viv recites the initiation oath, and then immediately snaps his right fingers. Then as the sound of the snap echoes through the room numerous fel chains burst forth from nowhere and everywhere at once and chain Inoxal down to the floor atop his own circle. "WARLOCK....DON'T YOU DO THIS." Inoxal warns in a heavily worried voice as his eyes seemingly flee the scene. "OH....I PROMISE YOU THIS WILL HURT." Viv yells out to the inquisitor as he slowly strides forth with a pained expression on his face as each step draws droplets of blood from the newly etched runes on his skin. Stride, after stride happens without incident until he ends up a few feet from the Inquisitor where the two eyes appear from the shadows. These eyes lauch dual fel beams at Viv's person, as Inoxal makes a triumphant laugh...Viv however quickly snaps his right hand once more as a barrier of Fel energy surrounds his body; however the barrier was impeded slightly due to the new interference from the runes so while those two beams are not lethal they cause numerous lacerations to dot Viv's body. After the failed attempt at defense Viv binds those eyes as well, and sighs in pain as blood seeps from those lacerations, "NICE TRY."

Viv angrily says to him as the elf looks down upon the chained demon. Finally Viv grasps the daggers in his hands and plunges down in a ritualistic kneeling dive and drives the daggers into the chest of Inoxal. Slowly Viv slices out a circle from the demon's chest, prompting numerous hissing like screeches of pain from the demon, "Hurts right?" After a minute or two Viv finally slices up enough flesh to drive his hands into the demons chest to pull out the still beating fel heart of Inoxal. Slowly Viv brings the heart up to his mouth, with his gaze never leaving the heart, and he takes a large bite of the heart again and again until it is gone. Almost immediately afterwards Viv collapses down onto his knees in a deep pain, his screeches morphing into his deep rumbling combined with Inoxal's wispy screeches. In this sudden rush of Fel Energy Viv's cuts begin to seep fel green blood, the runes on his body glow, and even his neck scar illuminates in a fel green color.

Infyrana gasps as she sees that the Inquisitor Inoxal had a trap in mind for Vivarion; a desperate and futile move on the Inquisitor's part. Even had he felled his soon to be host, he would not have escaped the assembled throng of witnesses in any case. The huntress lets out her held breath in a relieved sigh as she sees that Vivarion deflected the sneak attack and quickly moved in for the ritual kill on the demon. As he slices Inoxal open and removes the heart she begins to chant, over and over, loudly, the Illidari motto, "Death to the Legion." Her dual voice is soon joined by that of the Matron Mother and her entourage as well as the other demon hunters in attendance. Lastly the trembling voices of the sin'dorei initiates join in, the chamber a cacophony of Illidan's promise to bring destruction to Sargeras's army and war machine as the newest Demon Hunter, a new kind of Demon Hunter, transforms before them to take his rightful place among their ranks and at Infyrana's side.

Slowly Viv rises from his pained kneeling position, the two eyes that had just tried to fell him now joining his side. With a stumbling and heavy leaning switching from leg to leg due to the pain. Once up Viv joins in the chorus, "DEATH TO THE LEGION." After the long loud chanting Viv turns to face Fyri as blood continous to seep from the various lacerations and runes, and questions while petting the two twin fel eyes that have since adopted a more eye of killrog shape "Time to take out my eyess then?....Ssomehow I doubt I will be reliant on just the normal Illidari sight." His voice is a mix of Inoxal and Viv, wispy but forcefulll and delicate, loud yet cunning and sly. This new voice surprises viv as he tightly closes his mouth while trying to stay upright.

Fyri steps forward, breaking protocol by entering the circle before the rite is complete and nods softly. "Yes, Vivarion, and do it quickly. The visions Sargeras will bring your mortal eyes will drive you to madness if they are not put out." She smiles to him, and her gaze memorizes the appearance of his dark green eyes as she views them for the last time. She nods, then, and steps back outside of the circle and waits for him to complete the ritual.

Viv nods as he is not yet used to his voice in the slightest, then he snaps both fingers as fel energy envelops his eyes on the inside and out. Then with a deep breath followed by a rapid flick of his hands he plucks them out, the energy ripping the eyes from their sockets. Their place being filled by intense Fel Flame. Once out Viv collapses to his knees, blood seeping from every cut, and flame exuding from his eyes. After a few long moments Viv shakes his head as if to free himself from a fevered dream, and he stands up slowly. "Death...to the legion." He mutters out loud as his face shows that he has seen revelations that have changed his view of quite a lot. Once up the two floating eyes turn to Fyri, and Viv mouths to her "I am me, and I love you."

Infyrana smiles to him and steps forward as the runes and circle upon the floor fade away and the room fills with the distant, indistinct conversations of the gathered Illidari. This was the first time any of them had seen one of the Inquisitors brought into the fold at all, let alone in this sacred and extreme manner. Infyrana stands before him, pride lighting her face as she greets him anew. "Selama ashal'anore," (Justice for our people) she replies back to him before she embraces him to whisper her feelings for his ears alone. She steps back after a long moment in that embrace, and then nods to the approaching witnesses, each of them offering their congratulations and the other Hunters and Huntresses offering a firm solemn handshake of brotherhood. "We have sacrificed everything," says one young looking Kal'dorei. "If we do not meet again, I know you will die well," says a gruff battle scarred Sin'dorei. Each of the attendants has words for the new hunter, then they all depart, returning to the Illidari flagship, the Fel Hammer.

Viv does his usual, and trained through the years, mock yes ok yeah that's cool kind of reply back to them all, except Fyri which he delivers a deep hug and fond words in response to her own. Once all the excess hunters leave Viv holds himself tightly, shivers, and begins to head towards method to their bedroom; although he is acting shaken their is an air about him where he is more coming to grips with everything that has just befallen him rather than any air of regret. Before he heads up however, with eyes in tow, he looks back to fyri and asks, "Iss my voice...ok? Do I look ok?" His skin has since turned a decent tan, the lacerations have stopped bleeding but leave a plethora of fel slivers that radiate along his skin, his eyes radiate fel flame, his nails have turned into short ebon claws, he has grown to meet her height and then some as he stands at 7'2 ft now, and has grown while more gaunt slightly he has gained width in the shoulders and a lean curved T shape to his body.

Fyri waits as the guests see themselves out and then moves to stand at Vivarion's side as a steadying presence as they both step onto the lift that will return them to the upper chambers. She smiles reassuringly as he speaks to her and she purrs back in return, "You sound fine, baby...and you're still a feast for the eyes." She lays a matchingly clawed hand upon his shoulder and takes his hand with the other. "Nice tan, by the way...the purple of your inner magic sets off your black hair in just the right way." Then she steps forward, pressing herself against him, "It is new, to have to look up into your eyes." She smiles as she angles her head up slightly, "I think I like it." She makes a concerned sound as she sees he is still slowly weeping blood from his ritual wounds. "Oh...we should take things slowly for a bit...you need to heal up." As she says this the lift comes to a smooth stop and deposits them upon the uppermost central chamber, where Infyrana steps out of the lift shaft, bringing Vivarion along as both of her hands are still about him.

Viv smiles weakly as she compliments him and chuckles before remarking on the lift, "It iss nice not having to gaze up at you now....not to mention the new reach I have." Once they reach their destination and steps out Viv stumbles a bit, only to be caught by her, and this prompts him to remark "Resst is good." After he regains his balance, and with her help, he makes his way towards their bed. "Do you have some ssalve? Or a sshirt that you are ok with lossing? I do not want blood to sseep into the bed, and all over you.....My entire wardrobe probably doess not fit anymore." That though drives a sad feel into Viv as his face drips down into a sad frown.

Infyrana nods as she sets him on the edge of their bed with care. "I have a robe I can fetch for you to sleep in while you heal." As she steps to her closet to retrieve a simple black silk robe she hears his words and then upon her return she sees his downcast face. She offers the robe to him and begins to slip it on, "Here, allow me to help you...and I wouldn't worry about your wardrobe...a fine tailor like you...I'm sure you left yourself some play to work with...dropping your hem and extending your sleeves should be simple for a man of your talents." having dressed him, she nods in satisfaction and then kicks off her boots before slipping off her robe, joining him on the expanse of their bed in her undergarments as she commands the room's lights to dim. "But you can start worrying about that tomorrow. For now, rest."

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werecogsinthemachine · 8 years ago

Text

End Times, Fall of Terra- Part One

>Activation Protocol Live, AI Ultimum Actum online, temporal data storage crystal: Stable >Dimensional Bouy Online, Relative date and time: Unknown Error, SSDTB (Shiva Standard Space/Time Broadcast) Not found, entangled partner missing >Lifeforms Detected, Class 4, Intelligent Humanoid, Sampling local dialect for translation if needed >Receptive device detected, Beginning preface data stream: Intro 001, video/audio recording

“Greetings. My name is Gaberil Reed. If you’re seeing this…well, hopefully we have won. Enclosed within this buoy is a compete record of the series of events leading to the launching of this device, including files on personnel. Last Light, the on board AI, will help you navigate these files. Know that what we did, we did for redemption.”

>Hello, I am Last Light. You may use your touch screen to navigate file selection. >… >You have selected Incident 34, Ley Line Necrosis >Beginning video/audio record. Please note: while one subject was interviewed for this, data was pulled from other reports and a clinically undead brain for a more complete picture for events. >Beginning playback of Memory Engram A-23, taken from infected individual: Jane Doe

>Sector 0034, Extreme Inner Disk area, 7000 light years from Galactic Core, Planetary system E289 “Daemon’s Playground”

Daemon class planets were the most inhospitable planets in the galaxy. The planets in the Daemon’s Playground were particularly bad. Liquid iron acid rain, unstable tectonic activity, winds like in the atmosphere of Jupiter, and problems with the flow of space/time due to their proximity to the gravity well of the galactic core were common.

Such rifts opened ways between worlds when reality was stretch especially thin, such as the cataclysmic end of the Cancer Mage, when his planet was torn apart by Nether Drives. Chunks of his infected world were ejected into the atmosphere of E289-3, one of the least nasty of the system with a few microbial species in its cave systems.

The chunk of rock that impacted was large enough to send ash into the atmosphere, wrapping the planet in a protective darkness, and coating the planetary fragment in a thick enough covering that what was left of the Cancer Mage was not dissolved. It slicked into the caves, infesting the microbes and twisting them to his needs. Calcium and iron deposits were drawn up from the ground, making a skeleton. Left over organics were pulled from a ship that had some remaining bits of humans left, and wrapped up in a cocoon of nutrients.

Two years passed, leaving E289-3 in the throws of an ice age, which in this case was a balmy temperature, helping the Mage to regenerate his body, while he gathered power from the Lay Line running through the center of the galaxy. The planet began to twist around him, reordering to his monumental will. Even the system’s star started to go gray and filmy, like an eye with a cataract.

As his influence slowly crept across space, infected individuals started coming to the system, taking orbit over the plague world, basking and mutating vile power that radiated from it. A massive fleet congregated after months, waiting for their master to rise from his world and lead them again.

>Beginning video playback of interview with subject Gaberil Reed, Fleet Admiral, Shiva Organization >Interviewer: AI Ultimum Actum, Last Light >Interview takes place aboard flagship Titanicus, enroute to Galactic Core

Last Light watched the Fleet Commander through his cameras and sensors for a moment before speaking. To an entity such as Last Light, who could run trillions of complex calculations in seconds and still have processing power leftover to do hundreds of other tasks, this was the equivalent of a few days.

The giant man was cleaning his armor. A relaxation ritual, or so his psychoanalysis subroutine was telling Light, that humans would fall into when under stress. Light wondered what the AI equivalent was to such a menial task. The Fleet Admiral was on autopilot as he worked on his armor, not having to think about

it much, since he had done this many times before. For an AI like Light, not thinking was impossible. He was, after a fashion, made of thought. There was no task he could really do simple to take up time. He filed the train of thought for later. Soon, he would have forever to contemplate such things.

Light did the AI equivalent of clearing his throat, playing a single chime to get Gabe’s attention, then projected his holographic form. An orange sized, crackling ball of flames sprang to life. Light felt his name sake was enough to choose his former for him, and he enjoyed the simplicity of it. He could convey emotion through shades of flame and intensity, and some humans seemed to find the tiny floating camp fire relaxing.

“Good evening, Fleet Admiral.” The AI said. His voice was a near baritone, tinged with crackles that would come with a camp fire, and sparks were projected to complete the hologram.

“Light.” Gabe said, not turning from his work. He was drumming a finger on a dent in his chest plate, using little pulses of kinetic energy to bend it back into shape. The rune etched metal glowed faintly from heat. “What can I do for you?”

Light’s projection floated forwards, seeming to look of the Fleet Admiral’s shoulder. An illusion, since Light was literally everywhere when he was loaded into Titanicus’s computer systems. “I’m here for our next interview. This one is a record of the Ley Line Incident.”

Gabe nodded as he worked. “The dimensional buoy. How are your other recordings coming?”

“Very well, sir. I have ten more to go.”

“Alright Light, I’ll start then.” Gabe set his armor aside and looked into one of Light’s many cameras, and began to recite his tale.

>Terra, Sol System, January 15th 2568 >Five weeks before Cataclysm

I knew there was trouble when news came down about the four ships exiting the Jump Gate. A Seelie and Unseelie ship, flanking a ship of the Circle. All three were instantly recognizable, the Circle blood red with gold trim and a gold circle on each side of the bow. She was a mage guild ship, and the golden trim and circle emblem were crisscrossed with complex runes and sigils that could be empowered for attack and defense.

The Fae ships were an exercise in opposites. To the right of the Circle cruiser, the Nova Court’s ship was golden, seeming to flow through space on her delicate solar wind sails. Her hull curved gently, a sight so pleasant it was relaxing to look at. While not obviously armed, I knew the ship could bring devastation through beams of pure Light strong enough to cook a Destroyer in a few shots.

On the cruiser’s left was the Unseelie, or Void Court, ship. She was like a predator stalking through the sky, all sharp edges hardly contained strength. She rode on a plume of darkness, an utterly black cloud that left a slowly vanishing trail behind her.

Behind all three was the last ship, wrapped in magic and being tugged along by means he couldn’t see, probably more magic. She was glossy gray and shaped like a dagger, her bow splashed liberally with something that looked like old, caked on blood. Her engine bank was dark, but a look showed she was a predator, and she held a pack within. Landing bays were across her flanks, ten to a side, and the smaller single Mas ships were buzzing around inside the magical shield like angry bees. A ship of the Wild Hunt, a group of Seelie who patrolled both the Solar and Void courts territories.

I wouldn’t have been worried if it had been one of these three ships coming to the heart of Shiva. It could have been a routine check in of an ally. But all four, together, represented most of the magical clout in the galaxy. Four power houses that could be a real problem for one another and Shiva, coming to his front door could only mean trouble. And one was being brought against its will

I found myself wishing for some wood to knock on.

Three of the ship’s requested docking in the massive orbital shipyard above Terra, and quarantine docking for the Wild Hunt cruiser. I sent a diplomatic shuttle up to pick up our guests. Royalty Didn’t like the bare bones military shuttles. Always send the comfort. I debated getting into something more official than my standard jump suit, which had “Reed” on the upper right of my chest, and two shoulder patches. One patch was the Shiva crest, a sword with wings coming from the hilt. The other was the crest of the Guardian Corps, a skull with a stylized blue eyes in the center of the forehead. The only decoration was on the tips of my collars, with the five starts of a Fleet Admiral. I figured that would be plenty.

My office was much the same, a spartan space, built for function, yet aesthetically pleasing. Six columns, three on each side, made the entry hall. Between each column was a work of art from an invaded parallel earth. A hold over from my past friend, Alberton Swift, when this had been his office. The hall led into the office proper. Four leather chairs were around a coffee table, and set into one wall was a bar with actual alcohol, rather then the cheap synthetic stuff. Further back was my desk and chair. The desk was a single slab of touch reactive computing crystal, could project images as well, and hovered over the ground on four repulsor units in each corner. Behind my chair was an alcove for my armor, and access to a private shuttle pad that would take me straight to Titanicus, which hovered above the building my office was in, ready to take to the skies at a moments notice.

A twenty minute wait later, a group of four was before me. I came from around my desk, shaking hands with the lead individual. He was dressed in the Circle’s power armor, crimson red with a circle of gold in the center of his chest. A cloak of white with gold edging hung from his shoulders, held there with a silver clasp. It was embroidered with runes and sigils, as were the edges of his armors plates. The clasp had a shield in the center, emblazoned with a crossed staff and sword.

“Arch-Mage Leon.” I said as I walked over, offering my giant hand to shake, looking down at him. It wasn’t in any way malicious, I’m just tall. Very tall. Through genetic engineering, all Shiva Marines are tall, usually seven to eight feet. I’d taken a bit too well to the engineering, and come out around ten. My hand engulfed his when he shook it.

“Fleet Admiral Reed. It would be a pleasure if things were no so dire.”

“I see that.” Between the two Fae Queens was another one of the Fae, though I had never seen one like this before. He was in armor of the strange metal that the Fae seemed to favor. It was fur lined and etched with scenes of great hunts. He was bound to a metal cross frame, legs together and arms spread. His head was pulled back and a metal bit, engraved with spell work was in his mouth, gagging him.

I bowed to two She Queens. “Queens Titania and Mab. A pleasure to see you both again.”

The two Queens were, like the ship’s they came aboard, completely different. Titania wore a warmly colored dress that seemed woven from the light and matter inside the heart of a nova with a necklace of bright rubies. Mab, on the other side of the prisoner, wore a body glove as dark as the void, fitting perfectly down to her feet. Diamonds, like glittering chips of ice, we’re about her wrists.

Titania came and clasped my hands between hers. “Gaberil, how lovely to see you again, child.”

Mab gave no such preamble, gesturing to the bound figure. “How have you been so blind human?”

I rolled my eyes slightly, walking to the figure. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”

Closer inspection showed he had been beaten, badly. His armor was pitted and scared, black shadows crawled across the surface, entering and exiting through rents in his armor. The bound Fae suddenly lunged up, mouth opening around the gag which unrolled and covered his mouth now. The lights in the room dimmed as he spoke words of power, the spellwork glowing red as it absorbed the curse. I leaned back away from him, looking at Mab with raised eyebrows.

“This is the Erlking, Lord of the Wild Hunt.” Mab said. “He took one of his hunting parties to fight a force invading Fae space. He came back like this.”

The Erlking’s attempted spell ended, and the muzzle folded back into it’s metal bit form. Black eyes glared at me. “What was invading you?”

The Arch-Mage handed me a data pad that he produced from a slot on the hip of his armor. A single image shown on the screen. A fleet of ships, all pocked and worn, hung in space. The lead ship was a mass of metal and tumors, radiating a sickly parlor, even though the image. “...the Cancer Mage?”

The Arch-Mage nodded. “He’s back, and worse now. He had learned to reach into the Ley Lines, and is drawing power from them. The King was able to resist, for a time, and gain some insight into the Mage’s plan before the hive mind overtook him.”

“And?” I walked to the bar, getting a bottle and four glasses. I can’t get drunk, more genetic engineering, but it was a strange comfort thing.

“He knows about Weaver King, and how to get to him. The Mage plans to kill it completely. He won’t have to travel for ages, he won’t have to bridge gaps between worlds. In one fel swoop he’s going to end everything, absolutely.”

The glass in my hand cracked. Information about the Weaver King was closely guarded. The universe as we knew it was the subconscience of a god like being. The spread of life was like a virus to it, and the Weaver’s immune system had reacted like any would, attacking the problem. We dealt it a debilitating blow, essentially lobotomizing it. Now it couldn’t fight back.

“How bad it is?” I asked.

“He’s spread over several systems.” Said Titania. “Absorbed several species we’ve not met yet. The void and stars are both sick.” As the Queens, both Titania and Mab had power over their respective domains. They could probably feel the sickness slowly spreading. “He’s turned his eye to Terra now.”

I set the glass down, turning to the Queen’s and Arch-Mage. “How long do we have?”

“You plan to stand and fight?” Mad raised her eyebrows. “This is suicide. We should be fleeing. Open the portals, let us leave this verse for a new one!”

“I can’t.” I crossed my arms. “Not with this plague. It may not even matter if we do run. He can take the knowledge of others and use it through the hive mind, use it to jump after us. But that may not be his plan...”

“You’re keeping secrets, Gabe.” Arch-Mage Leon said.

“Do you remember the visions?” I asked. The three went silent. Months prior, as far as we could tell, every living being received a vision, announcing the return of the Elders, and ancient race that created...well, everything.

“The instruments have dealt the blow, and Helios has seen it. Now you are summoned back, to become witness for the End you have brought.” Titania nodded. “We remember. We can’t forget it. None of the She can. What is it?”

“We followed the signal after the vision. It went to and Elder station that had activated. Life was a weapon. A disease created by the Elders to kill the their creations, the Weavers, who rebelled against them. We hurt the Weaver more than we realized, and now they have woken to finish the job.”

“What’s the End, then?”

“...which theory of the end of the universe do you subscribe to?” No reply. “Now multiply that by infinity, multilaterally speaking.

The silence was deafening.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Yes, we do. It’s being worked on now. I was going to contact you three for help, but since you’re here, I assume I can count on it?”

Mab, of course, was the one who took offense. “You assume of the Lady of the Void?”

“I assume you don’t want the End to consume everything, rather than just one verse.” I shot back. She fell silent. “The Elders have a machine called the Fate Driver. Think of it as a wireless power transfer and conversion system, that keeps the power from the Weavers in check and funnels it into the Elders, and keeps all the systems going. We’re writing a virus to reverse the Fate Driver, and give the Weavers the punch they need to win. But we need everything in its place in this universe”

“But what about when they turn on the life inside them?” asked Leon

“Only happens when life starts to consume too much.” I replied.

“I don’t understand something.” Titania said. “Why do you need everything from this universe?”

“In order to tip the power in the Fate Driver, it needs a jump start.” I took a keep breath. “It will require all the energy from this universe. Everything. Every being, every planet, every star. Every atom. Even if we ran, we would be picked out of whatever dimension we settled in.”

Silence.

“A suicide mission.”

“I like to think of it as a blaze of glory.”

A chime sounded from my desk, along with a flashing red light. “Fleet Admiral?” Came a voice from the desk. “We have a problem.”

#Shivaverse End Times Part 1

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