#also best that its out that tooths been bugging me for years now once it heals maybe I can chew on that s

[tillman]

God I wanna draw but oh I simply feel fucking miserable after all that …….. moping in bed with gauze in my mouth sucks worse tho

[frosted-night]

Do you have any headcanons for cast as humans? I mean as a human au. (If this is too big of an ask thats fine)

BOY DO I

Let me just get my tome out n read y'all the lore I've made for no reason.

Jack

Left home after graduating to join a caravan and traveled across the country. He came back home after his parent's sudden deaths. He didn't want to leave his brother to deal with the estate by himself.

He still has his van from his adventures and he wants to paint it again to symbolize his new phase in life. It still has living accomdations inside it and Jack has little desire to change it.

He has a few tattoos, such as a hurricane symbol on his neck and a snowflake above one of his ankles. Jack also has a few ear piercings he did himself and he's surprisingly good at it.

If Jack isn't driving he travels by longboard. He had a skater boy phase but it payed off since he can still do a few tricks here and there.

(Sometimes I see human Jack either as cis or trans. It depends on how im feeling. A trans Human Jack post will be seperate from this one)

He's a skilled forager and grower since he had to do that as his years as a nomad. Jack wouldn't claim he's as skilled as Aster but he can be a runner up behind him.

Jack never had a solid relationship on the road. It was very fleeting feelings but he didn't seem to mind. Settling back down at his hometown had reawakened some buried feelings though.

He's fairly well known in his hometown for being a mischievous bastard in his teen years and his past with playing on the local hockey team.

Jack would describe his aesthetic as a love child of punk and free spirited hippie lifestyle.

He has unmedicated adhd

He's 6 or 7 years older than his younger brother Manny and it can make their relationship a bit strained. These days they are trying to mend it while taking care of their parent's old home.

His hair was originally brown but he bleaches it and dyes it white these days.

Manny (Mim)

He's one of the youngest in his friend group, beating Tooth by a few months.

Manny is the 2nd shortest, Sandy being the shortest.

Jack leaving home wasn't easy for him and after a while Manny fell out of contact. He regrets it to this very day but never stopped thinking about his big brother.

He has Thalassophobia, a fear shared with Jack, and Pitch teases him endlessly about it.

He's a natural blonde and his mom used to tell him that he got it from his dad's side of the family. Manny has yet to meet any of his extended family for some reason.

Cleaning out his parents house of their things was one of the hardest parts for him and would have been impossible if his friends didn't help him. (Jack coming home really changed the game too.)

He was a fairly average kid but had a streak of being kind of mean in school. It lasted until high school but he still carries that silver tongue between his teeth.

Tooth jokes about how often Manny visits the local aquarium and he deflects any guesses she makes. North knows Manny is crushing hard on a employee there and has a code word for the guy, "Ocean Man". Aster hums the song whenever he feels like he can poke fun of Manny.

His occupation is working at a pre-school/daycare. He's shockingly amazing with children and has considered a teaching position there but he has yet to decide on it.

Manny has been called a "night owl" by all his friends since his productivity increases when the sun goes down. Thats usually the time he gets to work on all the cleaning he's missed.

He currently lives in his childhood home with his brother. Thankfully their home was paid off by their parents so they just split the bills, but they have considered getting a roomie to help with the expenses.

His dream is to have any kind of a pool in his backyard but he has to wait til the finances balance themselves out.

Pitch

Was the newest person in the group before Jack joined. He's also one of the oldest.

His occupation is a horror novel writer and lives off of coffee even when hes not crunching to meet deadlines.

Pitch fights with insomnia but Sandy convinced him to start taking medication to help him sleep. He got kind of sick hearing Pitch make quick meals at 3am and tripping over his cat.

He has a cat named Onyx and he has that backpack with a window on it that he can put Onyx in. Onyx likes it very much and if she knows hes leaving somewhere she sits by the backpack and stares at him.

Halloween is when he's at his strongest. If he feels like it, he competes with North on who has the best decorations. Jack gave Pitch the idea of using dry ice and its a feature he brings back every other year or so.

He's one of the tallest people in the group, only coming a few inches shorter than North. Contrary to people asking him, he was never into basket ball and was was in the military for a period of time.

Pitch was living a hermit life until he was adopted into the group. With his wife long deceased and freshly dumped, he softly considers it a saving grace that everyone accepted him.

Katherine

An aspiring writer, she currently works at the neighborhood library. She finds it really relaxing since its sat right by a river bed.

She tries not to bug Pitch too much but on occassion she asks him to beta read her works. His criticism and tips energize her to get her works out there ten fold. Kat really wants to write fantasy, a little romance and a lot of kid's books.

Her favorite task at work is reading to kids. Shes an animated storyteller and the kids eat her antics up.

She was great friends with Jack when they were growing up but she followed his antics on a few of his accounts online.

She listens to a lot of rock music and punk pop due to North's influence when she was growing up. He's taken to her to her first concert and she treasures the merch and memories.

She gets around by bike because she hasn't gotten her lisence yet but North gives her lessons on the weekends. Kat's become a local cryptid because everyone has seen her whiz past on her bike at least once though.

A child(Jamie) she read to got her into cryptids and now she eats up any lore she can. They like to infodump on each other when they have the time.

This is post is long enough golly gosh. If y'all are interested i can post the others but for now take these samples. (The Hockey player Jack hc n ex military Pitch hc were influenced by a lovely fic written by my friends over at @bunnimew. Their fic is Surviving On Twinkies And Hope and i highly reccomend it)

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Yup, Sure Was a Finale

I had an epiphany. The reason why I never re-watched the final two parts of Sozin’s Comet even though I’ve popped in episodes at random many times over the years isn’t that I can’t bear the sadness of seeing one of the best, most engaging narratives out there come to an end.

It’s simply that the finale isn’t all that good.

Some honorable mentions of what was enjoyable.

(+) This

Just this.

(+) The Church of Zutara has another convert

“Are you sure they don’t get together?” Hubster, 2020

(+) The tragedy of Azula

And the fact that it’s acknowledged as such. I hope Zuko will do his best to get her help and have a relationship with her…

(+) Sokka being a big bro

And the whole airship sequence in general. It’s wonderfully paced and plotted, with moments of humor, real stakes, Toph being both badass and a scared crying kid, Sokka strategizing and protecting, Suki saving the day, and non-benders being instrumental in thwarting the bad guy firebender’s plans. Would be shame if Bryke never portrayed them this capable ever again…

And now for the main course.

(-) Blink and its over

The wrap-up feels too quick (hashtag Needs More ROtK-style False Endings). A part of this is due to how fast the story goes from the thick of the action to hastily tying up a bunch of loose ends, but the larger issue is how Book 3’s uneven pacing comes home to roost. After spending half a season on filler episodes that at best subtly flesh out established characters while dancing around a huge lionturtle-shaped hole, and at worst contradict the theme of “no one is born bad” with “you’re a hot mess because your great-grandfathers didn’t get along too well”, the frantic “go go go” rush of the second half screeches to a halt with “they won and everyone was happy because now the right people have power and it will be all good from now on yup nothing more to deal with baiiiii”.

Yes, I know, it’s a kids’ show. But goddamn, this particular kids’ show has proven so many times it can do better than the expected tropiness. Showing the characters in their roles as builders of a new world was the least that could have been done.

Oh well!

(-) Ursa

We’ll never know. There will never be a story that delves into this. Yup. Shall forever remain but an intriguing mystery. Is good, though. Mystery is better than a story where Ursa shares her son’s penchant for forgetfulness. Imagine how embarrassing that would be. Speaking of which…

(-) What does Mai see in this jerkbender?

Look, I like to harp a lot on the mess of inconsistent writing that’s Mai but let’s unpack this scene from her perspective, shall we?

Zuko forgot about her! It totally slipped his mind that the one person who prioritized the safety of his dumb ass was rotting in the worst prison in the Fire Nation—because of him! And she was rotting there long enough after the final Agni Kai for the news of Zuko’s upcoming coronation to spread and her uncle to feel sufficiently secure to release her. But then the coronation scene is attended by every single member of Gaang & Friends that was imprisoned?

So what this tells me is that either a) the invasion force had the ability to break themselves out the whole time and for some reason decided not to exercise it until after the war was over, b) Zuko forgot about them as well and no one thought to remind him there were prisons full of POWs until Mai arrived, or, and that’s even better, c) Zuko took care to free every single resistance fighter while making sure Mai would be the one to stay behind bars.

Never thought I’d say this but Mai? Honey? You deserve so much better.

(-) “What does Katara want?”

Asked no one in the writers’ room ever, apparently.

This is not so much anti Cataang as anti romance stories that pay attention to the needs, opinions, and wants of only one partner in general. Over the previous 60 episodes, Katara actively expressed romantic interest in Aang exactly, wait for it,

Once.

And it got retconned out of relevance by the following two interactions where the possibility of a romantic relationship came up, making the Headband dance pretty easy to reclassify as just one of those examples where Aang “teaches” Katara to have fun (as if one of the main obstacles to her having fun wasn’t him constantly fooling around and offloading his duties). And because the writers not only didn’t succeed in portraying Katara’s internal state of mind, but also failed to root her reluctance to pursue a relationship in outside circumstances that could change, her sudden state of unconfused once Aang steps into the spotlight has a single canonical explanation that as much as approaches coherency.

The fact is, though, that trying to interpret canon Cataang from a Watsonian perspective is an exercise in foolishness. Because there is no Watsonian justification for the ship and never has been. Bryke simply conceived of Katara as nothing but a tropey prize for Aang, never saw her as anything beyond that, and were perfectly happy to go on and immortalize her as a passive broodmare for the rest of her life.

And I fully intend to die mad about it.

(-) Iroh dips

OK, it’s been long apparent that the show doesn’t intend to do anything about Iroh’s complicity in AzulOzai’s regime in any meaningful way, and that his sole motivation for doing anything whatsoever is Zuko whom he views as a replacement son which is supposed to be good for some reason. But the finale has him abandon even that, and instead turns him full-on YOLO, idgaf anymore. It really throws Iroh’s supposed love for Zuko into doubt when his last act in the entire show is to take a half-educated 16-year old with no political savvy or an heir to secure a dynastic continuity and plomp him on the throne of a war-mongering imperialist regime where the entirety of the militarist and ruling class is guaranteed to fight him tooth and nail for power.

(I sure hope Mai’s ready to start popping out babies by tea-time otherwise the whole country is fukd in about a week)

Christ, how hard would it be to have Iroh keep the throne warm for a few years while Zuko is getting ready to succeed him? Not only would it make the whole FN reformation bit quite likelier to occur, it would require Iroh’s hedonistic ass to actually sacrifice something for once. And not having Zuko ascend to power, instead spending some time bettering and educating himself first, would be a wonderful message that no matter what you endured and overcame, you never stop growing. A kids’ show, remember?

(-) The conquering of Ba Sing Se

Gee, I feel so blessed to have my attention diverted from battlefields which actually matter to an old dude vanity project I would have been perfectly happy to assume resolved itself off-screen.

The White Lotus in general just bugs me. I was fine with the individual characters and their overall passivity when they were portrayed as lone dissenters living under circumstances where it wasn’t really possible for any single person to mount a meaningful resistance. But as members of a far-reaching shadowy organization that’s left the real fight to a bunch of kids for 59 episodes straight and didn’t turn up until a perfect opportunity presented itself to take control of the largest city in the world and bask in the spotlight?

Yeah, no.

Similarly to the lionturtle-ex-machina, the White Lotus represents a huge missed opportunity for a season-long storytelling. Here’s just a brief list of what they could have been doing throughout Book 3:

orchestrating a Fire Nation uprising;

gathering those directly persecuted by AzulOzai’s regime to help Zuko keep his hold on power once he’s crowned;

establishing themselves as a viable alternative to Ozai;

sabotaging Fire Nation’s war efforts from the inside;

countering Fire Nation propaganda (Asha Greyjoy’s pinecones, anyone?);

running a supply network to alleviate the suffering of Earth Kingdom citizens.

Instead, they sit on their asses until the time comes to claim personal glory.

You know what, good on Bryke for making me conclude that in comparison, the Freedom Fighters were perfectly unproblematic, actually.

(-) Fire Lord Dead-by-Dawn

Yes, a kids’ show, I know! But ffs, this is the same kids’ show that came up with Long Feng and portrayed courtly intrigue, kingly puppets, secret police, spy networks, and information wars. Was it really too much of me to expect something other than “enlightened despot solves everything”? Especially if said enlightened despot has persisting anger issues, no personal support system, no base of followers, and no political experience whatsoever?

If Zuko’s actually serious about regaining the Fire Nation’s honor (i.e. by dismantling the country’s military machine, decolonizing the Earth Kingdom, paying reparations to everyone and their lemur, and funding any and all cultural restoration projects Aang and the SWT come up with), then there is no way, no way in the universe that he doesn’t face a civil war, deposing, and execution within a month.

One reason why his future as a Fire Lord seems rather bleak is that little’s been shown about the actual subjects of AzulOzai’s regime. While we get a vague reassurance that “no Toph, they’re not born bad” (le shockings), they largely remain a voiceless uniform mass of brainwashed clapping seals. What is their view on the Fire Nation’s crimes? Do they associate their condition with their country’s war-mongering? How will they react when Zuko starts dismantling the country piece by piece to rebuild it, bringing it to economic ruin? What will they do when noble Ozai loyalists come out of the woodwork and begin rounding them up under the banner of “Make the Fire Nation Great Again?”

I have no idea, and Zuko doesn’t either because he’s unironically more qualified to rule the Earth Kingdom than his own people.

You know what would have been better? Fire Lord Iroh, White Lotus pulling the strings to maintain the regime, and Crown Prince/People’s Champion Zuko travelling the Fire Nation with Aang and an army of tutors to promote the new boss, only to realize that absolute monarchy is kinda crap for the people he’s one day supposed to rule and gaining their support by ceding some power to them.

I’d laser holes into my TV due to how much I’d enjoy watching that.

(-) All hail Avatar Rock

Literally and metaphorically. Aang doesn’t sacrifice anything, gets everything, and the clever solution of going about getting said everything is handed to him on a silver platter, requiring no active participation on his part whatsoever.

He doesn’t work to unblock his chakras, spiritually or physically.

He only speaks to his past lives to get a pat on the back and a bow-tied solution he could mindlessly follow.

Energy-bending doesn’t require any sacrifice from him, leaves no lasting marks, and only serves for the narrative to praise him as the rare individual that’s unbendable and thus so very very special.

The most infuriating thing is, however, that Aang is clearly shown as being able to beat Ozai without either the Avatar state, or energy-bending.

And he chooses not to. From this moment on, Aang no longer fights to save the world. He fights to preserve his beliefs, going directly against the instructions of his past lives and effectively reneging on his duties as the Avatar.

Again.

It’s not like you can’t portray Aang’s faithfulness to his spiritual beliefs as the key to beating Ozai and saving the world. But that’s not what the show did. There is no link between Aang sparing Ozai and securing a better future, quite to the contrary—Ozai’s survival ends up being a massive problem for the continuation of Zuko’s rule, and consequently a threat to the world at large. His survival benefits Aang and no one else.

Aang’s spiritual purity and his status as a savior of the world are allowed to coexist only due to a deliberate stroke of a writer’s pen.

And I hate it.

Welp, nothing to do about it now except to bury myself up to my tits in fix-it fics I guess.

[buglife]

21 for Dadmaster Mato and Ghost :)

“What did you do this time?”

(Again no beta reader, sorry for any errors!)

The wind blew as harsh as they ever did, carrying the faint whistling sounds from far off places as it ruffled the cloth in the door way. Mato had since learned to listen to the wind since he made his home so far off in the Howling Cliffs. The wind carried so much that could be read if you knew how to do so. So it was there he sat, a small fire before him warming up some water for tea, in his typical position of meditation.  The fire and the wind tended to help his mind focus on what is important, but to also provide noise he can sink into and let his mind drift.

He thought about his child, mostly. It has been a while since they visited and even though he knew they were capable, he still couldn’t help but worry. Sly had told him similar, the last time they were able to speak. No matter how capable someone is, to be loved is to be worried about, plain and simple. So, he tried to cast his mind outward to listen to the wind and see what news it brought.

The wind had picked up in its howling, blowing the sound of scattering pebbles and the sharp slice of the nail cutting through. A thin scraping noise and the shrieks of lesser beasts told him that something was coming. Indeed, after some moments of listening, came the soft limping patter of tiny feet and the sharp dragging of metal just outside his dwelling. Mato opened his eyes long enough to see the inner cloth door waggle, before a figured messily fell through to land with a wet splat on the floor. Their small shining nail clattered a few inches away before stopping

The figure was familiar and Mato found himself climbing to his feet in record time at the sight. “Ghost!”

Said Ghost was face down on the floor. Their mask had cracked and their cloak was littered in burns and splashes of orange. A thin puddle of black dribbled out around them, no doubt hiding other wounds. Motes of black drifted from the visible cracks in their head as they shook, trying once again to get up.

They didn’t need to do anything, as Mato had already gathered up the small child, his child, in his arms. He felt them use an arm, the other seemed fit to just dangle, and patted his mask. He had learned to tell by the tilting of their head, the slight angle of their eye holes, and the way they relaxed on being held, that they were smiling at him. They were obviously glad to see him, just like any other time since the first when they walked into his humble home. But he could also feel their exhaustion, how they were struggling to breathe and not shiver too hard. Each expanse of their sides was a hard won battle and one he was deathly afraid of them loosing.

“Ghost, my dear little child…” Mato heard himself say. He snuggled the small form of the little warrior close. “What did you do this time?”

He knew of course, that his child, his student, was mute. They could write and knew some sign language, which was something he thankfully knew. Sly was insistent on all three brothers to know it, as a language that was completely silent was the best way to communicate deep within enemy territory. He watched as they patted his face once more, before messily attempting to sign with one hand.

<“Trouble.”>

“Trouble, you say?” He was already moving, kicking a switch near the door to drop down a heavy wooden wall, something to keep out said ‘trouble’ and the howling wind. The room instantly became warmer and quiet after the initial clang of falling shellwood. “Trouble you found, or trouble that found you?”

<”Both.”>

“Nevermind, my child. I will ask questions later. Right now you need help and I fully intend to give it to you.” It was getting harder for Mato to ignore the frigid feeling of void as it started to soak into the cracks between his armor and into the cloth below. Oh, his poor little child must be in a lot of pain, but besides the shivering, an outsider would never be able to tell.

But he had started to learn all about his child and was beginning to read them without words being needed. And he knew, here and now, that he needed to work quickly. Ghost had learned far into their past to hide pain and discomfort, something yes, that would help out in the field. But they didn’t need to hide their pain from him. It was something he was slowly working with them, but it takes a lot more than a few bare weeks to undue years of trauma and hardship.

Ghost patted him again, and then tucked their arm around his neck in a bid to stay upright in his arms. He at first wanted to put them down to gather up his supplies, but decided it was best to keep contact as long as possible. Ghost has learned to gain comfort from his embrace and if they felt like it was helping here, he will allow them to do so as long as it could be possible.

So Mato held them in one arm, letting them snuggle and bleed into the warm, fluffy ruff of his cape. With them comforted and warm, he could gather what he needed. The hot water now perfect for tea was dragged away from the fire and poured into a basin. Strips of cloth, a vial of glowing blue liquid, and a jar of paste assembled neatly in front of a pile of pillows in front of the fire.

“I’m sorry my child, I’m going to have to put you down for now to treat you.” He was careful to tell Ghost what he indented to do. It seemed to keep them calmer and helped them get used to the idea that they were deserving of help. Another thing that is taking time to work on.

He briefly held back his rage and his grief when he remembered the time Ghost opened up to him. He had watched as they wrote neatly on paper to tell him of their father, the Pale King. How they had been forced to climb out of the abyss on a carpet of their dead siblings. Watching more still fall as they attempted the harsh climb upward, hearing their little shells crack and splinter on the rocks below. Only to get to the top and watch their sibling be taken away and then sealed away to be forgotten. How they fell down and down and down and it was at this time Ghost had broken into tears and Mato had hugged them for hours. It was then he had told them that a mark of a true father was ones who were brimming with love and care and if they would like it, he could be their father. Not the loathsome pitiful creature who was once their king, that was no father.

He was surprised and honored when Ghost had hugged back harder and signed ‘yes’.

It was then he knew this was the first time Ghost had ever felt true love and caring from any other bug.

Mato set Ghost down on the pillows and made sure they were comfortable. “Now, don’t wiggle too much, and I will fix you some hot cocoa later.” Ghost had perked up at the sound of ‘hot cocoa’, the little vessel had a sweet tooth that was worse than Oro’s. They tried to stay still despite their shivering and Mato was not going to hold that against them as he worked quickly.

A wipe down with the hot water cleaned them off enough to see what he needed to work with. The gashes and burns in their carapace was quickly coated in a layer of lifeblood and bandaged up with clean cloth. The cracks in their mask was filled with shell paste and also wrapped to keep the edges as close together as possible. He had did his best to clean their cloak. Their cloak was strange and he suspected it was actually alive, perhaps underdeveloped wings? He wasn’t sure but he did his best to wipe it clean. Once cleaned and all bandaged up, Mato wrapped his little Ghost in the fluffiest blanket he could find, moving the entire bundle to his own bed.

Now that he was treated, Ghost looked more tired than they did pained, which gladdened him. He arranged them on the softer part of the bed.

“Now, do you think you can remain awake long enough for your much deserved cocoa?” He smiled as they gingerly nodded their head. They sat up a little straighter and made ‘gimmie’ motions with their hands. One still seemed weaker than the other, but that should do better after some rest.

Not wanting to keep Ghost waiting, Mato made a mug of cocoa as quickly as he could, adding a few teaspoons of honey to the mix. Not only did Ghost absolutely love honey, it was also a boon for healing. Mato added an extra tea spoon for that very reason and carried it out. After helping the vessel drink it, he tucked them in and added even more pillows.

“I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me a little longer.” He couldn’t help but grin again. “I hope you won’t mind a day or two of bedrest.”

Ghost shook their head sluggishly, the warm drink and the various medicines started to drag them out of the waking world. They lazily signed with one hand, the other snug under the pillows.

<“Training?”>

“If you’d like to learn some new techniques, I would be more than happy to teach you. AFTER, I deem you fit for it, and not a moment sooner!” He reached down to gently pat the space between their horns. They sighed and melted into the touch, snuggling further into the warmth.

He thinks they attempted to sign something, but the meaning was lost as they went limp in comfort. He merely took the small hand and tucked it back under the covers.

“Goodnight, my child.” He whispered softly, pulling up the covers to just under their eye holes. They were asleep, and the soft rise and fall of the covers reassured him that they were alive and on the mend. “I love you.”

If they heard that last part of not, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that they finally, in the first time in their life, they could expect to feel it.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH46

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 46: Star Death Reality Show (XXIX)

All of the blood in Qi Leren’s body had solidified, and every cell was screaming silently, "No, don't, don't be it"! But this useless prayer could not help their current dangerous situation.

The sound from the vent became clearer and clearer, and it came out through the metal shutters. Qi Leren suddenly woke up from the stiffness that was like being thrown into a freezer, pointed to the door, and shouted, "Open the door! Fast!"

Dr. Lu was closest to the door, and rushed to open it. As a result, as soon as he raised his leg, his left foot stumbled over his right foot, and he fell hard on his face. Du Yue reacted quickly and rushed to the door to unlock it urgently. However, Leviathan had opened the metal shutter in the vent, and its tentacles wrapped in tinfoil stretched out from the black tunnel.

Qi Leren fired three shots at the tentacles. Two shots missed and one shot hit, but like last time, with an ordinary gun’s offensive power, it was impossible to break through the octopus’s shell.

The monster fell down from above like a pool of mud and expanded to a size larger than before. Its mass had exceeded that of a human, and after it fell, those branching tentacles spread across the ground like dead roots, motionless.

Qi Leren retreated slowly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the door. Dr. Lu was struggling to get up from the ground while Du Yue was sweating as he struggled to unlock the door, because it had been Qi Leren who had locked the door just now, and Du Yue was unfamiliar with this type of lock.

No, I can't get out yet. I have to stall for time... But it would be difficult to stall by fighting. The best way is...

Qi Leren shouted: "Du Yue, use your skill!"

By the time the two rookies reacted, Qi Leren had been chased by the octopus and didn’t hesitate to jump into the vent!

"Stop, don’t move! There’s a kind of charge up!" Du Yue quickly launched this bug-like skill card [Protagonist Halo]!

[Protagonist Halo: When you use this skill card, you instantly become the center of attention, the protagonist of the story, and the fearless saviour! You, with the frightening aura of a king, can easily move people’s hearts, but you can always keep your last breath when you are beaten by a powerful enemy, because the enemy can’t help but explain his motives and modus operandi to you (although there may not be enough time). This skill lasts for one minute, with a cooldown time of three hours. During the start of the skill, persuasiveness increases by 20% and some people’s IQ decreases by 20%. You will not die if attacked. After all, you are the protagonist of this one minute.]

With He Yi’s brain, Leviathan was like any boss who had been faced with the lead character. It had forgotten who it was, where it was, and what it was going to do. It just stood there and listened to this guy who was 1.9 meters tall and 18 years old and could barely act as the teen protagonist. He shouted at it with a cracking voice, and sincerely advised it to abide by human laws and surrender itself quickly.

Ah, there was an invisible and intangible mysterious aura on this human being, which made everyone who saw him believe that this was the legendary protagonist! Although it was very angry, it still had to listen to the protagonist's words!

If it wasn't for its lack of vocal cords, it would probably explain its criminal motives and criminal record. Qi Leren took this opportunity to rush to the door, grabbing Dr. Lu with one hand and unlocking it nervously with the other.

This lock should be like this, wrong, so like this, wrong, how is it unlocked?

Under the Protagonist Halo, Qi Leren, whose IQ had plummeted by 20%, went crazy. It took half a minute to unlock the door and kick Dr. Lu out: "Run!"

Dr. Lu clutched his kicked ass and ran away in three steps.

The most delicious one had escaped the danger. Now there were less than 20 seconds left. Qi Leren shouldered the rocket launcher up off the ground and grabbed Du Yue to drag him out. Watching the "protagonist" run away, the monster finally woke up from the unexplained state of wonder, and the huge mouthparts hidden beneath its tentacles let out a sharp cry, rushing to catch up!

This speed was too fast! Qi Leren kicked Du Yue out with another foot, braced himself against the door, and aimed the rocket launcher at Leviathan, but it was too late. The monster had already jumped in front of him, and its tentacles suddenly stretched. He was dragged to the ground by his feet!

As soon as Qi Leren's hands loosened, the rocket launcher on his shoulder immediately smashed down and landed on his instep, causing a tingle of pain, and his left arm was swallowed by Leviathan's sharp-toothed maw!

"Qianbei!" Du Yue cried, looking back to pull Qi Leren out.

At this time, it was too late to save, and even if he loaded the file, he couldn't go back to the time before his left hand was injured. However, Qi Leren still saved. He felt the pain as if his arm was stuck in a meat grinder, everything below his elbow being ground by countless tiny teeth.

But this was also an opportunity. Qi Leren, who almost fainted in pain, used his quick wits, and a miniature bomb from his item bar appeared directly in his left hand—that is, in the belly of the octopus. Only six minutes were left before his privacy time ran out!

This explosion was even more devastating because it happened directly in Leviathan's body! This terrible explosion made the inside of its body turn inside out, and the brain hidden in it was more fragile than any internal organs. After the explosion, the human brain was useless.

Qi Leren's situation was not much better. The heat and impact of the explosion came out of Leviathan's mouthparts towards him, slamming him against the wall and breaking his neck. He died on the spot and was resurrected at the save point.

Du Yue, who witnessed the death of his senior, was still dumbfounded. Qi Leren had already judged the current situation—he couldn't continue to play! To say nothing of his left hand that was basically wasted, he would die in a few minutes if he didn’t stop the bleeding. Leviathan, though badly hurt, obviously did not lose its fighting power, and even became more violent!

At the moment when Qi Leren resurrected, it had already become like a giant spinning top, spinning wildly on the ground and rushing towards them!

Qi Leren, who suffered from the pain, relied entirely on willpower and kicked Du Yue out the door with one foot. After he slipped out of the door, he threw it closed. The sound of heavy objects hitting the door sounded behind him. Leviathan's bloated and heavy body hit the door directly, but it didn't open the door.

Because its brain had been destroyed in the explosion just now.

One destroyed hand, but he lowered the enemy’s IQ. This round was not a loss!

Damn, you shouldn't have forgotten to shoot He Yi's head before, otherwise, how could you play so badly?!

Because of the severe pain from the intense trauma just now, Qi Leren's right hand covered the elbow of his left arm. The part below the elbow has landed in Leviathan's stomach. The blood was spraying out like a broken faucet, reaching half a metre away. The ground was as horrible as a murder scene!

Du Yue looked at Qi Leren at a loss: "Qianbei, your hand is gone! What should we do! It's bleeding!"

Qi Leren glanced at his privacy time of only five minutes. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay awake. If he passed out now, with Du Yue's rookie first aid knowledge, he might really fall to the fate of bleeding to death. At this crucial moment, I have to rely on myself. Qi Leren took out the first-aid supplies that Chen Baiqi had once enthusiastically recommended from his item bar, and gritted his teeth: "Help me hold it."

Du Yue held his arm and listened to the thumping sound behind him. He helped Qi Leren to tie the rubber hose with trepidation. Qi Leren pulled hard and tied it around the middle position of his upper arm. The wound finally stopped bleeding crazily, but it still couldn't be stopped altogether.

Qi Leren remembered that Chen Baiqi had once said that if no measures were taken within three minutes, this kind of limb injury was basically equivalent to signing a death certificate. If there is no teammate who can treat it, take a soldering iron or flamethrower and burn it against the wound. Only when the blood vessels cauterize to necrosis would it stop the massive bleeding.

"Go, Dr. Lu certainly didn't go far, and time is running out," Qi Leren said, suffering from dizziness and severe pain, and hurried in the direction Dr. Lu had run away. Along the way, he was still thinking. He had had a fight with the big boss, and was injured and dying. He also ran away with the protagonist. It was like a life mentor of the leading role who was going to croak.

Bah, it's so unlucky!

Before running far, Qi Leren heard Dr. Lu’s voice: "You ran too far!"

Qi Leren and Du Yue stopped, looked intently, and Dr. Lu, who had opened the [Free WIFI] skill card, was squatted in the corner without any presence, shouting at them. Looking at Qi Leren's injury, he was shocked: "What's wrong with you, don't move, don't move, I'll give you quick first aid! Oh come on, this injury is too heavy!"

"There’s still four minutes left," Qi Leren reported the time, in too much pain to speak.

Dr. Lu immediately used "Doctor’s Orders". In the milky light, the continuously bleeding wound miraculously stopped. Although the amputated limb could not grow back, the wound healed quickly and new skin covered it. It was completely healed.

Dr. Lu was also shocked: "This effect is too good... Am I so powerful? Am I really a genius nurse?"

Du Yue said faintly on the side: "You’ve never had such a good effect in treating my injuries..."

"No, no, no, this must be because your IQ is not enough to affect the performance of 'Doctor’s Orders'. The skill card says that the more impressive the patient is, the better!" Dr. Lu said convincingly.

"But your treatment for others isn’t this good," Du Yue refused to accept it and refused to admit it was an IQ problem.

"Right, why is that?" Dr. Lu was also confused.

Just then, the pain that made him feel close to blacking out finally faded away. Qi Leren untied the rubber hose which left a bruise on his arm. He stared at the healed amputated limb on his elbow for more than ten seconds, and then he came back from the state of high tension just now.

Although he had died before, thanks to S/L Data, he has always completed the tasks with intact hands and feet every time, and this was the first time that he has lost a hand directly. He thought he would be disgracefully frightened, but because of these two rookies, he looked much calmer.

"Don't worry, there are people in the Twilight Township who can do limb regeneration. I know them. If you go back and pay a few survival days, you can grow it back." When Dr. Lu saw Qi Leren staring at the amputated hand, he thought he was sad, so he comforted him.

"Is it expensive?" As a poor player who has consumed a lot of survival days in the process of competing with Su He, this was what Qi Leren is most concerned about.

"It's okay, I remember it was just over a hundred days," Dr. Lu said.

Qi Leren, who had only seventeen days to live, didn't want to speak.

Du Yue was not rich either. He said gloomily, "That’s a lot, I only have thirty days..."

There was no harm without comparison, and Qi Leren suddenly felt that he was impoverished...

"It’s nothing, if you don’t have enough, I’ll pay for you. I usually charge for treating others. Healers are quite scarce, so I’ve earned a lot. Right now I have about two hundred survival days!" Dr. Lu said generously.

More than two hundred days… More than two hundred days… More than two hundred days…

Du Yue would be silent when hearing this number, and Qi Leren would cry when hearing it.

-----

Editor’s Notes: For anyone (me) who has forgotten the exact details, here’s the description for Doctor’s Orders:

[Doctor’s Orders] (Non-Binding Skill Card): The ability to work miracles comes with a price – a price for your patients. There will be no mercy given to those who do not deserve. Allows the holder to heal all who meet the following requirements: attractive, not a Virgo and an IQ over 100. The number of requirements met will determine the effectiveness of the treatment. Skill cooldown: 2 hours. (translated by Sigma)

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[lettersnorth]

It'd be nice to catch the breeze! It'd be fun! That's what Cravendy had thought on a whim. But now that she was up here, after crawling through several spaces far too cramped for any normal-sized person to fit through, she determined the effort to get here far outweighed any benefit. And eventually, she'd have to find a way down. Cravs puts that off for later and looks over the Lilly Hills.

After the meeting with Momori, Aislinn comes across a note left on the desk of her study. A request from Cravendy for Aislinn to engineer an undetectable tracking device. Questionable at best, downright shady at worst but also surprising, coming from Cravendy. She knows the clock is ticking on her own issues but before returning to her business in Ishgard, she goes in search of the oddly absent Seawolf to find out exactly why she would need such a device.

With a bit of searching Aislinn finally finds the woman out on the widow's walk on the very top of the Company House. What was it with the people in her life and high altitudes? She clambers out onto the high walk, with a puff of exertion after squeezing herself through the small attic crawlspace. "Nymeia's breath." she mutters under her breath as she appears and then, "Here you are." louder now, for the Seawolf to hear as she dusts herself off.

Cravendy waits in fearful anticipation as something is shoving its way through the crawlspace. When Lin finally emerges, Cravs doesn't know whether to laugh or cry from surprise. "What the 'ell?! Lin? What brings ye up 'ere?" "Ye look like yer 'alf dust bunny." Cravs, having been 'trapped' out here for quite some time, has had ample time to brush herself off.

Aislinn takes a moment to peer over the edge. The view up here was rather nice. She might even make use of this walk herself sometime when she needed some quiet. She made a mental note of it as she stepped back. "You." she replies, her voice as matter-of-fact as ever. "I came across the note you left on my --" she pauses, noting a bit of dusty cobweb still clinging to the edge of her spectacle frame. She sputters and swiftly brushes at it with a wave of her hand. Clearing her throat, she continues, "..my desk. What's this business about an 'undetectable tracking device'?"

Cravendy stifles a giggle as Lin struggles with the spiderwebs caught in her hair. "If ye've got 'alf a mind to come up 'ere again, we should bring in a team of professional cleaners. It was 'ard for me too, and 'arder still with bugs and splinters every ilm."

"But, ah. Mm." Cravs scratches the back of her head and turns away. This was something she had shared with Riylli and Rising - would Lin respond in the same way? Normally, Cravs would brush off the request, switch the topic. But with two out of two on her side, maybe...just maybe Lin would be receptive as well.

"To put it shortly, I need it to incriminate someone of bein' an arse."

"We should." Aislinn agrees, momentarily pulling the glasses from her face and inspecting them with a frown to be sure they were clean. "I'd wager no one's set foot in the attic in an age." Fitting the frames brusquely back on her face, she passes Cravendy a skeptical look. "Not saying there's not a time or place for that but that might be putting it a little too short for me. Is there a longer version?"

Cravendy grimaces, reacting as if Lin is suggesting she needs a tooth pulled. "Shit...the longer version? Uh, the full version? Ye really got time for that? Not that it's anythin' big." She wheezes. "I mean, relatively, it's small, in the grand scheme of Eorzea burnin'."

The more Cravendy hems and haws, the more Aislinn's concern grows. "I'm not asking for the -full- story if you've not the inclination. But you've got to admit that if you're asking me to hand you a device like that, I need to know at least a little bit as to why. Not only for the obvious reasons as to whether we're wandering into a gray area with a -tracker- but to inform the parameters of this project. What sort of range, for how long, and so on."  she explains.

"There's a loanshark that's botherin' someone I want to 'elp. I figure if I can bring 'em down, they won't be able to pester 'im anymore," Cravs eventually admits, arms crossed. "But on the surface, their record is clean. So I...I may 'ave broken a law or two in order to find some dirt."

"I need the tracker to prove the loanshark's up to no good. Evidence that'll be 'arder to trace back to my own lawbreakin'."

Aislinn expels a troubled breath. It wasn't the lawbreaking that bothered her. Far be it from her to lecture anyone about something like that. She stares out at the vista over Cravendy's shoulder with a considering tilt of her head. In the end, she couldn't hold it against Cravendy if she decided to hold information back. It wasn't like Aislinn herself was as forthright as she could be with her either. "A normal tracker would just tell you where a person's been. A trail on a map. Is that going to be enough?"

"As long as this tracker can't be sensed by Limsa's best, can lead me to wherever she's storin' 'er illegal goods, then it'll be more than enough." Cravs puts a finger over her lips. "....Oh. And if it can somehow be 'idden in a vat of toad ooze."

"I'm 'opin' to bait 'er with it, ask a favor from Dirtpatch, 'ave everythin' legally look....bad, tear down 'er reputation. Maybe even toss her into gaol." Cravs nods, satisfied. "A sound plan, eh?"

Aislinn shoots a glance over to Cravendy, a small measure of amusement sparking there despite her misgivings. "A vat of toad ooze." she echoes. She inhales and tries to think it through like it was a reasonable problem set and not at all the odd request it was. "Acidic? That depends. Corrosion could be a problem if you needed it to last longer than a few bells. And what makes you think she'd drag toad ooze to wherever you're hoping she goes?"

Cravendy frets by tugging on her braid. She didn't think about that, and after harvesting all that ooze, her hands did feel a bit itchy. "Uh, maybe? Is this somethin' ye can test? It's safe for me to dunk my 'and in for a while. It's sittin' in a barrel in my room if ye want to look at it."

"She's a spice trader, both the dust ye put on food and the, er, 'strong' stuff. I 'eard toad ooze is used by pixies for psychedelic effects, and it sure as 'ell ain't easy to come by. She won't resist tradin' for a vat for it, I think."

"Not just a loanshark, then." Aislinn notes. A bit of fire flickers through her eyes. The drug trading detail seems to have drawn the woman's ire. "I can test it." she affirms. "Once I know what I'm dealing with I can decide on a case of some sort. A shell that would protect the device. But that might limit my options, if it still needs to let an encrypted signal through. Maybe something with a delayed activation? She wouldn't detect it at first if she were looking. But then it'd wake itself up somewhere down the line not too long after she took the bait." Aislinn is clearly thinking out loud now, hooked by the challenge set before her.

"Then it'd be a matter of knowin' when to activate it. It could take a couple of suns for it to make it to 'er," Cravs ponders. "So when it activates, ye think she could sense it then? If that's the case, the moment it goes off, I better be ready to jump into action."

"'ow are ye gonna make a delayed shell like that? I've 'eard of slow actin' medicine, but a slow actin' tracker....and an undetectable one at that. Think that's in the realm of possibility?"

The planning and sketching going on in Aislinn's mind is halted by Cravendy's question like a pen scratching wildly off the boundaries of a page. "What do you mean, could she sense it? I thought she might, at best, scan the vat of toad ooze with her own equipment. How would anyone sense a ping of a device going online? Does she have something I don't know about?"

"That's the thing." Cravs snaps her fingers. "I 'ave no clue. If someone was storin' illegal goods, what sort of security measures would they take? I'm imaginin' an empty barn, maybe 'idden by some trees, but...eh. I dunno. What do ye reckown?"

"Depends on how sophisticated an operation you're dealing with." Aislinn answers with a half shrug. "Is this just a side job for her, something to make a little extra gil or is this her livelihood she has to protect? Is she an arrogant person who thinks she'll never get caught or is she paranoid? How long has she been at this?" Aislinn waves a hand through the air as if to say 'and so on and so forth'. "Let's plan as though it's the worst case scenario. She's wily, she's paranoid and she's been at this for years. If so, hiding something in the product might not be the best way to outsmart her." Lin drummed her fingers against her arm in thought. "Who's meeting her to make the trade?"

Cravendy considers this, is relieved to have asked Lin about such matters. "'ow do I put this...what I'm 'opin' to incriminate 'er of wasn't illegal until the Admiral got in charge of Limsa. So at the least, she's been hidin' her stuff for five years. But I would lean on longer, since hidin' from the law is one thing, hidin' from a rats nest of pirates is another."

"As for who's makin' the trade...a couple of old friends of mine. Nostalgically inclined friends."

"You're trying to catch a pirate." Aislinn said with a dawning realization. A conflicted look flitted across Aislinn's face for the briefest of moments. She had recently found reason to feel differently about certain pirates than most. But Cravendy was speaking of a drug trading, loanshark pirate, she reminds herself and stays the course. In every business there was the good, the bad and the downright ugly. "Do you think money will change hands? Or a drink of some sort. I could work with something like that." she shakes her head. "Either way just give me some time to think and I'm sure I can come up with something. When are your friends meeting her?"

"I wouldn't call 'er a pirate. Too old...or...." Cravs looks into the distance. Mindred might have been a pirate in her heyday, and that explained a lot. She blinks. "Ahem, anyway, when everythin' 'appens is up to me. When everythin's ready I can tell my friends what they need to know."

"Back when I 'ung out with 'em,  exchanges were drink free, actually. Everyone 'ad appearances to keep up, and no one wanted a deal to go sour cause Bob can't keep their 'ands off the bottle. But money, aye. Money was exchanged."

Aislinn nods. "Alright, then. As I said, give me some time. I'll come up with something." she hesitates, knowing time wasn't exactly something she had in spades at the moment. "Sooner rather than later, you can be sure."

"No rush. I expect we'll 'ave our 'ands busy with Momori's bullshite anyway. Cheeky lil' red eyed bugger." Cravs shrugs. "It ain't as pressin', is what I'm sayin'."

Relief seems to relax her upon hearing that Cravendy didn't need this device right away. "She says this is all about saving the star. But I still don't trust her an ilm. She isn’t the altruistic sort." Lin turns for the door, preparing to scoot herself back through. "Just...be careful with this drug deal business, alright? Generally, they aren't the best people to be messing around with, you know?"

"There's some other angle she's playin' at, I'm sure of it. Either that, or she's just plain bad at actin' normal." Cravs laughs - she's heard stories about Momori's attempts to smile. "Aye, don't worry. I've dealt with 'er kind afore. Not against 'em, but eh. Same difference."

With the details ironed out, the only thing left now was to figure out how to get down. The passageway through the attic beckoned to the two, promising hair full of webs and dust up the nose. Cravs groans.

[bestworstcase]

my most controversial tangled opinion is that the sundrop/moonstone lore isn’t confusing, it’s just a soft magical system in a story that wanted a harder one.

what i mean by this is: there are zero theoretical limits on the powers of the sundrop and moonstone, but their actual established powers are nebulous and controlled by vague concepts (“faith” and “feelings”) without any hard explanation. this works as long as the magic is a mysterious quest object and its actual use is largely incidental, but once cass takes the moonstone, the magic becomes a central component of the plot and the system fails.

for those unfamiliar with the soft/hard magical system distinction, in the most general terms, a hard magical system is explained—it has defined rules and limitations so the audience can understand How It Works—while a soft magical system isn’t. neither is better than the other per se, but which type works best for a given story depends a lot on how the magic is used in the plot.

to give an example, bending in avatar: the last airbender falls into the “hard” category. bending is a martial art with a strong spiritual component; there are four types of bending, each tied to one of the four nations; with one exception, benders can only bend a single element, and the exception is explained and given his own set of rules, like the requirement that he must learn the four types of bending in a particular order. even the last-minute introduction of a fifth type bending is logical within the context of the universe: humans learned the other four types of bending from powerful magical creatures, so the lion-turtle’s ability to gift energy bending to aang follows the established rule for how humans acquired bending abilities in the first place; and aang himself has long been established as valuing and prioritizing the spiritual aspect of being the avatar, so it makes sense that when he entreats the spirits for a way to defeat ozai without killing him, the spirits basically go “sure, here.” 

and of course, we the audience need to understand these rules, because bending is integral to the plot and to the way characters solve problems. if the characters in atla were constantly pulling new powers out of their butts to deal with the problem of the week, would that be as satisfying a story? characters do discover new powers (katara’s healing, toph’s metalbending, iroh’s lightning redirection, hama’s bloodbending), but when that happens the series is quick to establish how those powers fit within the framework of what we already know. we see this happen in fanworks too, because the audience understands the underlying mechanics and we can extrapolate new powers that fit within the defined rules, eg: could a sufficiently skilled and motivated firebender manipulate the electrical signals of the brain? taking control of a pre-existing electrical discharge and manipulating elements inside the human body are both possible, so i don’t see why not.

now back to rta.

the magical system in the series is very soft. for the purpose of this discussion, we’re going to focus on the sundrop, moonstone, and zhan tiri, because those are the core pillars of the magical system—the assortment of enchanted artifacts that pop up are sort of tangential and irrelevant here. 

let’s start with what we know. 

the sundrop and moonstone are two halves of an ancient cosmic power (hereafter ACP). the ACP was destroyed by an unknown calamity, the two drops fell to the earth, and they have been longing to reunite ever since. 

whether this “longing” implies a degree of sapience or if it’s simply an attractive force like a pair of magnets is never specified, but based on the way the two forces behave i think the magnets explanation makes more sense.

the sundrop and moonstone are said to be inverses of each other. the sundrop heals, the moonstone harms. simple enough. 

...but the moonstone also has a secondary protective ability, which it gifts to rapunzel in the form of her unbreakable hair. and the moonstone has the black rocks, which seem to exhibit both the destructive and protective/invulnerable facets of the moonstone’s power. 

and the the sundrop also has a secondary destructive ability in that it. explodes.

so...

sundrop heals ↔ moonstone harms sundrop destroys ↔ moonstone protects

now this internally contradictory set of powers for the drops does make sense when you remember that they were originally just one thing. the ACP was theorized to have basically unlimited powers of destruction and creation, so it makes sense for its two halves to exhibit that duality within themselves as well.

if we consider the wording of the four incantations (and the events of BVA), we can kind of get a sense of what else the drops might be able to do: 

i think there’s a strong argument to be made for understanding the healing/decaying capabilities of the drops as temporal manipulation. the sundrop doesn’t “heal” so much as it reverses time so it’s like the damage never happened (“make the clock reverse!”)—which incidentally would explain how gothel stayed fertile for two thousand years a lot better than “healing”—and the moonstone’s decay does the same but in reverse, so fast forwarding rather than rewinding.

they both alter/manipulate fate (“change the fates’ design”/“end this destiny”). this may be a metaphorical reference to the temporal manipulation thing, or it could be that the tangled universe truly is deterministic and the drops powerful enough to literally change fate.

a case can be made for a third dichotomy of sundrop faith ↔ moonstone will. by which i mean that the sundrop runs on belief/faith while the moonstone runs on feelings/willpower. the sun incantation focuses on hope (“and let our hope ignite”) and eugene having faith in rapunzel in LAF is what allows her to activate the sundrop nuke even without the incantation. meanwhile, the moon incantation focuses on willpower (“bend it to my will”) and in BVA, the moonstone is shown to react intensely to cassandra’s feelings and is also able to manipulate the feelings of other people (meaning that, presumably, the sundrop could also inspire faith). 

...but notice, here, how much of this is postulation. very little of this is explicit textual information; instead, i’m drawing connections between the lore given in LAF and the things that we see the sundrop/moonstone do on screen in an attempt to line up what we see with the loose, vague framework of “two halves of a broken whole that are opposites/complements of each other.” 

and i really think this is what people mean when they say the sundrop/moonstone lore is “confusing.” unlike in a hard magical system like atla, the series dedicates no time to explaining how it all works. it’s just There, and while we can make some extrapolations based on what we see, it’s not really a system that is meant to hang together in a coherent, rules-based way. and—unpopular opinion—that is FINE. hard systems are not innately better than soft systems. 

do i personally have a preference for hard systems? yes. are hard systems in vogue in modern fantasy? also yes. does that make soft systems inferior to hard systems? no. can i suspend my disbelief enough to enjoy a fantasy story with a soft system? absolutely, yes, though no force on earth can stop me from picking over it with a fine-toothed comb to develop a personal theory on how it all works, or from breaking it down into its component parts and then building a hard system from scratch for my own fanworks like i did with bitter snow. 

but—the key thing is—it’s not confusing if you go into it with the understanding that the magical system is soft. the nebulous vague what you see is what you get thing is a feature, not a bug. 

the same goes for zhan tiri. i’ve already expounded at great length about her canon lore and i’m not going to get into it again, but suffice it to say: she’s some sort of powerful ancient shapeshifting demon with nature-based magic, a side helping of dream/mind-based magic, and a penchant for deceit and manipulation. and again, the underlying mechanics of any of this are not explored, because rta has a soft magical system.

but farran, you said rta needed a harder system, so why are you now saying that soft magical systems aren’t bad? 

i did say that, yes, but it’s not because soft systems are bad. it’s because soft and hard systems are different tools used to accomplish different things, and rta as a series tells a story that, ultimately, would have been better served by a hard system rather than a soft one.

let’s start with cassandra’s control over the moonstone. in RR, she uses its powers instinctively and effortlessly. then, she loses that ability, and zhan tiri tells her that it’s because she needs to focus on her rage because that’s what the moonstone responds to (this is an obvious lie ziti uses to get cass to wallow in her anger, but the basic principle that the moonstone responds to emotion appears to be sound). and then, in BVA, cassandra’s fear about attacking rapunzel causes her to spontaneously manifest a completely new ability that sends magical fear-empathy rocks all the way to corona where they start giving people nightmare visions and petrifying them. 

that’s huge! we had no idea the moonstone could do something like that. but then they go away and cass never uses them again. why? who knows!

next, zhan tiri (off screen -_-) evidently tells cass that it’s not actually a matter of trying harder to master the moonstone’s power, she needs to use the moon incantation to unlock it. this is inconsistent with what we’ve seen before (RR and BVA proved that she could access the full range of the moonstone’s power, she just doesn’t know how), and could be explained by zhan tiri lying again... except that when cass recites the incantation it works as-advertised. 

and “mastering the moonstone’s power” turns out to be... black rocks and lightning, but bigger and more elaborate. that’s it. there’s no expansion on the withering incantation, or the empathy-rocks or petrification abilities introduced in BVA, it’s just black rocks and a light show. and black rocks shaped like dogs that one time in plus est. 

the same thing happens with the sundrop. it glows and it blows things up and it heals things and that is all it does. it just does it... bigger, and flashier, after rapunzel recites the sun incantation. 

and when zhan tiri acquires both of the drops, something that we are told grants her the (undefined) “ultimate power,” she... uses them to make rocks, but they’re golden now. what do the golden rocks do? who knows! and she uses the decay incantation, which works exactly as it did when rapunzel used it except faster and bigger and not uncontrolled. 

and then she’s beaten by whacking her over the head with a frying pan and tricking her into clapping her hands together, which blows her up. and then rapunzel takes the unified drop and revives cass everyone before letting it fly off into space. yay!

but... do you see the problem here? why so many people felt so dissatisfied with the lore surrounding the drops and zhan tiri in season three? people say it’s “confusing,” but i think that describes a symptom, not the root of the problem. a good, well-utilized soft magical system doesn’t cause confusion; it blends into the story and doesn’t call attention to itself. it’s like... lighting. it’s just there and it just works and it enriches the story but we don’t question it. 

whereas a hard magical system is an actual component of the narrative, almost like a character in its own right in the sense that we understand what makes it tick. there are rules, and we understand the rules, and because we understand the rules we can make predictions about what influence or role the magic will have in the plot. to use atla as a very simple example again: when iroh teaches zuko how to redirect lightning, we can predict that this ability will become a vital form of defense against azula and ozai. atla sets up lightning bending, then sets up a defense against lightning bending, and we don’t need to wait around for it to happen to understand that this is going to become Very Important later.

now compare this to rta season three. a whole episode is dedicated to establishing that the moonstone is connected to cassandra’s emotions in a pretty significant way. after bva, there was a lot of speculation about how this fact would play out in the events to come; speculation about other types/colors of rocks and what effects they might have; speculation about how this would tie into cassandra’s emotional arc; speculation about how zhan tiri’s manipulation might interact with the moonstone’s emotion-based magic. and... absolutely none of that happened, because that was rules-based speculation built on the assumption that rta’s magical system had definitive rules. and that was an assumption made because, in s3, rta’s soft magical system started to behave as if it were a hard one. ie, it jumped into center stage and went “look at me! i’m important.” 

except it was still a soft magical system with no definitive rules, so any rules-based speculation was impossible and pointless. it is like trying to build a house out of beams of light. you can make a house shape, but if it rains you are still going to get wet. 

and i made this mistake, too! i also made the assumption, after BVA, that answers were coming and we could expect the magic to continue to develop into, if not a hard system, at least a hybrid one, and a lot of my speculation after that point came from a place of expecting answers (and trying to unravel the answers on my own before the series showed them to us). 

but rta’s magical system just was not built that way. it wasn’t set up to play this central role in the plot, it didn’t have definitive rules, it didn’t have a preexisting framework that could be used to expand and elaborate on characters’ abilities in a naturalistic, predictable way, so... as is often the case with mis-used soft systems, the magic just got vaguely Bigger whenever the narrative called for escalation, and the “ultimate power” ended up being completely underwhelming because it was just More Of The Same, But Make It Yellow. 

as... a point of comparison here, because i’m struggling to articulate what i’m driving at, let’s consider my take on the sundrop/moonstone lore—the hard magical system i created for bitter snow. 

1) magic is drawn from a powerful magical entities (deities, demons, spirits).

2) magical abilities are based on the abilities of the patron.

3) the sundrop and moonstone are artifacts belonging to/created by a solar deity (huma) and lunar deity (turul). they are basically teeny tiny shards of those deities that fell to earth when it was still a molten lump of raw material and then molded it into a world capable of supporting life. the drops themselves can serve as direct conduits to huma/turul, and both have extensive root systems; the sundrop’s roots support the outer crust of the earth, while the moonstone’s roots (the black rocks) form the inner core. 

4) the magic of the sundrop is restorative, and it also “casts” a shadow in the form of destructive magic. the restorative/destructive magics are always equal (hence the “shadow” metaphor). the restorative magic heals, creates and nourishes life, offers strength. the destructive magic is the opposite: it destroys, it kills, it weakens. 

5) the magic of the moonstone is transformative. it takes the sundrop’s “shadows” and refashions them into the black rocks. it adapts, it moves, it alters things. it is neutral, centered, and stable in comparison to the sundrop’s intense extremes. 

6) both huma and turul (and by extension the drops) are also connected to zhan tiri, as all three formed very early in the beginning of the cosmos. like huma and turul, zhan tiri’s magic is centered around change; hers is corruptive. zhan tiri’s magic manipulates strengths into weakness, and weakness into strength. it gives by taking away. it feeds.

7) to put these three types of magic into more concrete terms: let’s say alice, bob, and carol all break their arms. alice calls on the power of the sundrop to heal herself, and her arm is instantly and perfectly repaired, but some destructive, uncontrolled magic is unleashed into the world to balance the scales. bob, meanwhile, calls on the power of the moonstone, and it transforms the broken arm into solid stone; the pain is gone and the arm is no longer broken, but it is also no longer, strictly speaking, a human arm. and finally, carol entreats zhan tiri for healing, and zhan tiri sets the bone but also infuses it with her own magic, so it festers/grows into a well of power for carol.

now, if we apply these rules to a plus est en vous type of situation where zhan tiri claims both of the drops for herself, what does that look like? it’s the power to instantly unmake and re-make the entire cosmos. it’s the power to transform the entire world and everything on it into stone or ice. it’s the power to cure every disease and heal every injury suffered by every living thing on the planet instantaneously, and to inflict those same sufferings on everyone and everything with a snap of your fingers. it’s, literally, limitless. (it also fuses zhan tiri, huma, and turul into a single entity called jinarche but that is a little beside the point for the purpose of this discussion.)

and... how do you beat a creature like that? well. you sort of can’t, on paper, but in practice the overwhelming shock of the fusion of that much power into a single being would cause a few minutes of intense disorientation and that creates a window of opportunity to break the fused power apart again... but this isn’t a “win” scenario either, really, because when you do that it is going to cause an explosion of power violent enough to shred the entire cosmos so it is basically hitting the reboot button on the whole universe.

so, operating within the bitter snow magical system, the key to defeating a zhan tiri who wanted to acquire the sundrop and moonstone (and fuse with huma and turul in the process) would be to stop her before she gets her hands on both drops. because of the framework created by this hard system, the plot of this alternate plus est en vous is all about preventing zhan tiri from acquiring the drops, because the second both of them are in her possession it’s game over even if you manage to kill her. you either get an unkillable, omnipotent god or you get the entire universe self-destructing. the stakes are that high.

*deep breath*

with this in mind, let’s wrap this back around to canon. when zhan tiri takes both the sundrop and moonstone, what... are the stakes?

in TOTS, when zhan tiri revealed her plan to take both drops for herself, did the stakes feel high? we are told at several points that the drops have the potential to destroy the world, but does the stinger at the beginning of TOTS feel like an “oh, shit, the literal planet is at stake here” moment? 

does zhan tiri in plus est feel like a super-powered demon who has just acquired the ultimate power of creation and destruction? no! the golden rocks and turbo-charged decay incantation don’t even feel like an escalation over the cassandra vs rapunzel battles in CR and earlier in plus est—in fact, frankly, they feel like a downgrade by virtue of being less flashy!

the series has given us no frame of reference for what the ultimate power looks like while simultaneously providing no internal scaffolding on which to build that kind of escalation. this is the biggest downside of a soft magical system—it’s really damn hard to keep raising the stakes if you don’t have the basic framework of “here’s what the rules are, here’s the limitations.”

back to bitter snow: neither zhan tiri, turul/the moonstone, nor huma/the sundrop on their own are powerful enough to rip the whole universe apart. zhan tiri is the most individually powerful of the three, and while she could probably destroy the planet if she really put her mind to it, that would take centuries to come to fruition. it would be a matter of planting the right seeds, worming her magic into the right cracks, growing and feeding and hollowing it out from within, and then hitting the pressure points at just the right time. it is only in combination that these three become strong enough to just unmake the whole cosmos in the blink of an eye. this kind of escalation is possible because i know what the limits are. 

in a soft magical system version of bitter snow, it’d be more like “well zhan tiri is really powerful, the sundrop and moonstone are pretty powerful too, if you put them all together they’d all be... like, Really Really Really powerful.” because the whole point of a soft magical system is that it’s vague. it’s not supposed to have this level of clarity and precision in how it works. this doesn’t make escalation impossible, just super difficult, because it’s so easy for escalation or new powers to come across as plot contrivances (BVA) or deus ex machina or purely aesthetic in nature like the gorgeous and dramatic fight in CR or the golden rocks zhan tiri uses. and from an audience perspective, there is literally no way to guess what might happen next because there are No Rules. you can predict character beats and plot developments, of course, but you can’t make accurate assessments about the magic.

and when you’re using a soft magical system in this way, where escalating stakes based on magic use are integral to the plot, you are basically inviting your audience to go “hey, wait a minute, how does this work...?” for the same reason audiences try to analyze and understand why characters are acting the way they do. 

and that’s why rta’s magical system ultimately failed. not because it’s confusing, but because it was too soft for what the story wanted to do with it. 

[rotten-games]

The Wolf | Arke

No thoughts, only werewolf Arke. This is the first of four Halloween shorts I made that came out early on my patreon. The rest will be coming out scattered throughout the day ;)

The woods are silent tonight, the moon scarcely filtering in through the canopy as you traipse through the underbrush. The lantern on your hip just barely lights the way in front of you, the magic flame within undying even in the oppressive dark of the forest. Any sane person wouldn’t be here tonight of all nights—even any idiot would know to stay clear—but you’re on the hunt, you have been for years, trailing a creature intent on destroying everything it touches with claws and teeth and red hot anger.

You’ve been training for this moment for years now, you’re not going to let a little superstition stop you. Not now, not after so long.

The silver blade in your hand weighs heavy, even as stained with blood as it already is. You’ve killed many a beast by the end of your blade, and this one will be no different. This one should be no different.

You feel your entire body seize as a twig snaps somewhere in the darkness behind you, a low, rumbling growl vibrating through your very bones. Fear grips your heart but also… anticipation. He’s here. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, readjusting your grip on the blade and spinning with a practiced ease. The creature is clumsy and loud, but it isn’t blind in the dark like you are, and it’s had your scent for years, ever since it cornered you one night and gave you that scar that mars your stomach. How you survived, you’ve no idea, but that night only cemented your ire.

Jumping into a sprint you let loose a mighty cry, met only with a roar filled with mindless, frothing wrath. Heavy footfalls crush the plant life underneath the creature as it tears through the forest and as you run you can see its golden eyes shining between the trees as you turn to ensure you’re followed. A wild grin tears your face in twain because you know you cannot defeat it with strength or speed alone, no. You need your wits as well.

Trees buckle and bend under the sheer force of your prey bounding after you, a distorted howl echoing out through the woods like a strangled cry for help. The unwary would fall pray to such a call, as is by the creature’s design. Dodging and weaving, jumping felled trees and ducking underneath arching branches, the mindlessness of your pursuer worms its way into your mind until you’re not sure whether you’re running the beast into a trap or running to get away.

Just ahead there’s a clearing, you know this because you were here during the day just to set it up. Maybe you’ll succeed; maybe it’ll work and at the end of the night the creature you’ve been chasing for years will be dead and you can finally return home. But you doubt it.

The creature has eyes only for you, and by now your energy has waned. It’s gaining on you, hot jaws of death snapping at the back of your neck. It’s just a few paces ahead, it’s got to be, just a few long strides and you’ll—something trips you up; maybe your foot catches on a tree root or maybe the beast catches up for good, but either way you flounder as you fall, your mind doing flips as your balance utterly dissipates. Your ankle is wrenched by the motion and then you taste dirt.

Your prey becomes your predator and you become the prey as it lunges at you, the weight of years feasting on cattle baring down upon you mercilessly. Golden eyes meet your own and for the first time in a long, long time, you feel fear shoot through your veins like ice. The Wolf is here.

The acrid stench of rotten flesh and gore infiltrate your nostrils, suffocating you as the hulking brown-furred beast pins you into the dirt and huffs its overheated breath into through its flared nostrils. Slowly its long tongue unfurls from its jagged-toothed maw, thick globs of saliva dribbling down its chin and splashing onto your face as it inches slowly nearer, as if it’s savoring the moment it finally gets taste your flesh once more.

There’s no humanity left in those eyes, nothing mortal, nothing alive but the unending hunger, the bloodlust that drives the beast ever onward. Yet, there’s a flash in those eyes, a stutter in the motions, something you could almost mistake for… hesitation. Not even in that moment you’re given can you move; your body is utterly petrified, your arm, hand, fingers, unable to move to even attempt to scrambling for your blade.

It’s so close; if only you could reach it. If only you could… your own anger flows through you like wine at a soiree; generously and without end, those golden eyes matching yours in the sheer ferocity behind them. Yet the creature does not move, it does not lunge to tear your throat out. You’re not dead. It simply… watches you, golden eyes glowing in the dark, framed by a shaggy, blood-matted pelt. The claws that pin you, however, they sting, and already you feel blood seeping into the earth below you. A low growl rumbles through the beast’s chest, your entire body vibrating  with the sound.

It almost sounds… human. Oh, it’s monstrous in it’s own way, certainly, but there’s a familiarity to it, like a distant memory of an early-morning embrace amid the sheets, tired grumbles as you push a man out of bed, golden eyes pleading for just five more minutes. Your body goes slack under the weight of the beast, blood blurring your vision as claws sink into your tender flesh. It hurts, more than just physically, as if your soul is being torn from your very body with the memory. You’re stuck, and you have little choice but to accept it. And think, think, think.

Yet why hasn’t the beast struck you down? Why aren’t you dead? Is it waiting for something? For you to scream and cry and you both know that’s never how you’ve been? No… this feels different. Slowly, your try to reach for your blade; the hilt is right there at your fingertips and if only you could—the creature growls like it knows what you’re doing and pushes you deeper into the blood-soaked earth.

For fear of your bones cracking under the weight of your captor you freeze, body trying its best to relax into the hold as if you aren’t at the volatile mercy of a bloodthirsty beast. You inhale sharply, and try to reach for a name you haven’t allowed to leave your lips in years. “Arke?” The beast freezes, bulky muscle going rigid, its hold tightening momentarily like a twitch. Your heart jumps, whether it’s for joy or fear you don’t know, but it writhes uncomfortably in your chest and you suddenly want to throw up.

He’s still in there.

“Arke it’s me, you remember me, right?” You try to slap on a smile but your face is loathe to obey, your body shivering as if in fear. But it’s not fear, and your breath isn’t laboured and harsh, and your eyes aren’t starting to sting with water years in the making. You’re choking on your words now because the emotions you’d thought were locked up are mangled in your chest; they’re ugly and mutated beyond belief after being suppressed for so long. You want to scream, you want to cry, you want to love the man. And you want to kill him. Because this is not Arke. It can’t be Arke. The creature huffs a hot breath across your face and you swear you see its body pulse. You manage to find your grip on your blade but you don’t have the strength to stab the creature, you don’t have the strength to stab him.

“Please tell me you’re there.” You find yourself whispering, unable to do anything but tremble and fight back the tears. The creature pulses again, its maw twitching open in a strangled whine. It’s like the world blurs in that moment, as if you can’t quite tell the difference between the wolf pinning you down and the man in your thoughts, your dreams, your past, grimacing in front of your face. Golden eyes flare almost amber, the weight that held you down releases you and suddenly you’re free. You can breathe again, but the creature is cowering up against a splintered tree that shines moonlight down against the bloody being before you. Arke, to be certain.

The wolf whines and scratches at its muzzle as if attempting to tear it off entirely, as if trying to release itself from its monstrous prison. There’s no anger left within the beast, just fear and hurt and loneliness. In the light now, despite how strong it makes Arke’s kind, a ragged scar, an ugly mottled burn, is highlighted down the better part of his side. You drop your lantern, rolling it away, and suddenly you’re cast in your own darkness. “Arke,” You take a step forward only to receive a low growl, a warning not to take another step. Yet you do, murmuring his name in that way that always comforted him. Eventually you’re barely a meter before him, curled up and whining by the felled tree. You kneel. “Come on, let’s go home.” He doesn’t budge, golden eyes squinting dubiously. Indeed, you’re not sure he should go home with you; he’s killed a lot of people. And even if he was forgiven how would he readjust to life outside the hunt?

You can’t help but hiss as your open wounds continue to bleed, and suddenly you can’t climb back to your feet. You’re weak, like there are ropes around your limbs that tie you to the ground. As you press your now shaking hands to your body they come away covered in thick blood. Your vision blurs. All you see is darkness.

A bird chirrups loudly above you as you’re slapped awake by the sunlight, an ache in your bones keeping you exactly where you are. Your skin stings and itches from little bug bites, your hair a disheveled mess matted with blood and saliva and—Arke! You can only curse when your attempt to sit up ends in pain; it lances up your sides and throbs in your head, but at least you’re not dead. Yet. A low grumble radiates out a bundle of cloth beside you, black fabric stretched taut by… broad shoulders? Arke pops his head out from under your coat, his mouth covered in dried blood and golden eyes bleary with sleep. The two of you stare at one another for a long time, perhaps too long. He’s… human. His body is covered in mud and blood, and his hair and beard have grown in too much, but he’s human. Yet despite that, all you can say is, “You took my coat.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Arke’s voice sounds hoarse as he looks down and wraps it around himself even tighter. Underneath there’s nothing but scars and wounds still open, hair where there wasn’t when last you truly saw him. He’s gaunt, you realise, his muscles doubtlessly there but… he doesn’t look healthy. “I… um.” His hand wipes some shaggy brown hair from his face but flinches as a sharp claw nicks his cheek. When he growls his teeth are sharp and there’s something animalistic in the way his body rumbles with the sound. You guess you were wrong, he’s no human.

“The bite,” Is all you can think to say, gesturing to the horrible scar that mars his forearm—the fool thought he was helping some stray dog. “I thought it was meant to make you…”

“I don’t know what happened. First I was me and then I was an animal. Even when I transformed back every morning the wolf was still controlling me,” Arke coughs behind a knuckle shoved into his mouth, angry teeth gnawing the joint raw as he struggles to find the answers you both seek. Eventually his hand falls away and so do his eyes, guilt morphing his brows into something horrible and ugly. The burn you now see extends up his neck and along his jaw, the mark you left on him those years ago just as ugly as the mark he left on you. “It was only anger and… and… You should have killed me. You should kill me.”

“Do you want to die?” This isn’t a normal conversation, your mind protests, but it feels as if you’re talking to the monster that you’ve stalked for years; you can’t remember how you talked to Arke, how you acted with Arke, how you loved Arke. Maybe a part of you should feel proud for bringing him back, but you’ve trailed him for so long it feels like you’ve just lost your prey to another hunter.

He’s silent for too long, as if afraid of the answer, but eventually he shakes his head. “No. But I did. When I was the animal.” He swallows, then tentatively reaches across to check your wounds. He’s clumsy with his claws “You should get to a doctor. There’s one in town, I’m sure and—”

“Come with me.” You blurt out, snatching up Arke’s wrist as he tries to pull away. “Come with me.” You repeat. An ache courses through your body but the heartache would be worse. At least physical pain dies, at least you eventually get better. You’re not sure you could stand another loss. There’s a low growl at the back of Arke’s throat, lips curling over sharp teeth as if to snarl out of reflex. “Arke, please, I can’t do this again.”

It looks as if he’s about to protest but his hard stare turns tender as he sighs in defeat. His arm goes slack in your grip, years of being apart coming back to him all at once. “I missed you.” He admits almost silently.

“I missed you too.”

[anathewierdo]

Waiting for Roses

Pairing: Dean x Reader... kind of 😏

Summary: Fridays are special. He waits for her on Fridays... and he waits for her with roses.

Warnings: mention of major character death, Dean’s daughter being cute and sad, Daddy!Dean, overall bittersweet sadness :)

Word count: 2.1K

Extra notes: Dean has a daughter here. Her name is Joanna. He calls her Jo or Joey. Also, I didn’t describe a lot of Jo and Y/N because I want you, the reader, to imagine yourself and the little girl in whatever shape or form you want. Dean loves you both with all he has.

This fic is based on the song “Rosas” by La Oreja de Van Gogh. You can listen to it here!  

So, this is my first angsty one-shot here... and if I may say so, I’m pretty proud of it! I hope you guys like it! :D

Special thanks to @percywinchester27, @flamencodiva and @superfanficnatural for beta’ing this little fic. I cannot thank you enough <3

===========================================================

He’s done the same damn thing every Friday for years now and he’ll do it for years to come. Though, there is a rare occasion when he doesn’t follow through with it, and it’s more likely for him to have no plans on a Friday evening because of this little thing. It’s incredibly stupid (he always takes that thought back) and some days he finds himself swearing that this Friday would be the last, that he should’ve stopped doing this a long ago, but fuck it. It’s more of a tradition now rather than a bitter memory. 

A young girl is sitting beside him on the park bench, a bouquet of pink roses lying on her lap. She looks at the matching bouquet of roses in her father’s hands as the people in the park come and go on this particular grey friday. She’s wearing small jeans, a colorful shirt and a pair of light-up tennis shoes that took months of begging on her part, until he gave in and bought them.

“Dad, can we play now?”

Dean takes a deep breath as he takes in the question, eyeing the now almost empty park in front of them. He has to admit, ever since Jo asked him to take her with him on his Friday outings, they’ve become a little less sad, a little less heartbroken and a lot more, dare he say, enjoyable.

He knows how much his daughter likes their Fridays now. She’s made sure that he does more than sit on this very same bench, with no other company than his spiraling thoughts, every fucking Friday until it’s time for the next destination. So he turns to look at her, takes the roses gently from her hands and lays both bouquets down on the bench before he smiles complicitly, “Pit stop at the swings?”

Joanna Winchester wastes no time in dashing out of the bench, “Last one to get there is a rotten egg!” she screams back at him.

Dean has to fight a knot that begins to form in his throat at her little taunt. So much like her mother.

The one thing he can still do at the moment is run, so he does. Dean screams exaggeratedly and loudly, telling his daughter, ‘it’s not fair! You're too fast and I’m too old for this!’ 

Her giggles in response are music to his ears.

Dean groans in defeat once more as he watches her take a seat in a swing and wave her arms and legs in a little dance, whooping and claiming victory.

He makes a show of falling to the ground, holding a hand to his chest and panting, “One day I’m gonna win, bug. Mark my words.”

Joanna giggles again, teasing him about being a sore loser. 

They spend the next hour playing and goofing around the park. Both Winchesters keep looking back at their bench, making sure the roses are still there, beautiful and unharmed.

“Dad, can we go to Mom now?”

Her father stops dead in his tracks as the laugh dies right away. With a quick look at his watch, Dean nods, “Yup, time to go to Mom, bean.”

Bouquets in hand, they start walking out of the park and towards Baby. As soon as Jo has her seatbelt on, they’re out of there.

Dean checks on her every few seconds. She’s caressing the roses delicately, even playing with a few of the petals to open them up a little bit more. She has questions. He braces himself for a bomb.

“Dad, why do we always sit on that bench?”

“What bench?”

“The one at the park. Our bench.”

He has to clear his throat a couple of times as the memories flood back, “That’s where Mommy and I used to meet. For our dates.”

“Really?” her little eyes widened in wonder.

“Uh-huh,” he confirms. “I used to wait for her right on that bench with roses ready for her. Every time. We liked to go out on Fridays.”

Joanna stares down at the roses in silence for the next few moments. The next time he looks into the rearview mirror, his little bug is sniffling and he catches sight of a little droplet falling down her face, “But then Mommy had to go,” she sniffles.

“Mommy had to go,” he croaks in agreement. “But, she loves her roses. And I like waiting for her.”

“You don’t hate that I come with you?”

“Joey, there is nothing that could be better than waiting for Mommy with you.”

“Okay,” another sniffle.

“Bug, look at me,” he pleads softly, giving his daughter his best smile once she does. “I love you very, very, very much, alright? And there is nothing I would rather do than be with my wonderful little ladybug.” Dean takes the last turn, getting into the parking lot of the cemetery. With trembling hands, he kills the engine, takes his bouquet and gets out of the car to help Jo out of the backseat. As she steps out, he gives her a big hug, careful to not ruin her bouquet, “Okie dokie, Joey?” he mumbled to her ear.

Her little fist tightens in his shirt as a trembling and small ‘okie dokie, Dad’ is mumbled back. 

They stay there for a few more seconds, clinging to each other with all their strength before stepping away to look at the gate that leads to the graveyard. Taking a hold of Jo’s free hand, Dean smiles down at her as tears begin to run down his face.

“Let’s go, bug. We can’t miss Mommy’s birthday.”

It’s fairly easy to spot that particular grave. It’s unmissable to both of them by now; the path is so familiar that they could find it blind. The funeral was the second worst day of his life, with a trembling six year old Jo clinging to him as she cried, an uncharacteristically quiet Sam, a crying Castiel and the few friends (more like family) they had left. He’d fought tooth and nail to not give her a hunter’s funeral. 

Burning her was a point of no return and he couldn’t imagine how he’d live knowing that he’d completely closed the door on the possibility of her coming back. Back then, he’d reasoned that if she ever came back, (if he found a way to do it) she’d need her body.

But no demon ever agreed to bargain, no matter what he did. Angels were dicks, like always. Billie had gone on about balance and how the Winchesters couldn’t go around avoiding death forever, no matter how much she’d respected Y/N back when she still breathed. Rowena, Castiel and even the Winchester brothers themselves couldn’t find a spell strong enough to bring her back (or maybe Dean hadn’t been told if they ever did). She was gone. After two years, he still wasn’t okay with that, but fuck if he hadn’t learned to brace himself and be there for Joey.

Dean feels Jo squeeze his hand tighter when they’re only a few feet away from it. Her grave is simple, typical gray stone engraved with a name, a date and a quote in front of a large patch of grass where the coffin had gone down. There used to only be one vase for the roses he brought in weekly, but a second one had been added after Joanna began to ask her father to let her buy Mommy flowers, too.

They dust away any leaves or dirt that may have made its way onto the stone. Dean takes out the now dead roses from last Friday before setting the new flowers on the vases either side of the grave and sitting next to each other in front of it. Dean lays one arm across his daughter’s shoulders and takes a hold of one of her hands with the other. 

“Happy birthday, honey,” he croaks.

Joey has begun to sniffle again beside him, “Happy birthday, Mommy.” 

Dean screws his eyes shut at the way her voice cracks and turns to kiss the top of her hair, whispering how he’s here and mommy’s here as well, and that it’s okay, before looking at the stone one more time. 

“We got you your favorites,” he smiles softly. “Most beautiful roses we could find. Joey thought you would be in a mood for pink roses.”

“I’ll try to find white ones next time,” the girl promised.

“I’m sure she’ll love them,” he chuckled sadly. “We miss you, babe. A lot… but we are doing good lately, don’t worry. Joey’s doing great at school. You’d be so proud of our little ladybug; she’s super smart. Like, super duper smart. Just like you. We learned how to properly bake cakes a few days ago, so we can surprise uncle Sammy next year on his birthday,” a little poke on his stomach has him rolling his eyes playfully, though the tears won’t stop coming. “Alright, and so we can also bake Joey’s birthday cake in a few months instead of buying it from ‘the creepy lady’ bakery.”

The kid is quick to defend herself, “I don’t like how she always grabs my cheeks!” she complains. “Dad and I had a flour fight when we made cakes. He even let me watch the Lord of the Rings!”

“She loved it, by the way. I’m telling ya, our kid is super awesome!”

The talks are the best part of every Friday most of the time. Both Winchesters get wrapped up in whatever ducktales they had during the week, or plans and aches and such and they tell her everything about them. Sometimes they stay for hours, sometimes mere minutes, but they visit most Fridays without fail. If they really try, it feels like she never really left. Dean can still hear her laughter, her jokes and puns and all the love she used to give him and their daughter. Joanna told him once that sometimes she gets scared because she can’t remember her clearly, but he’s quick to solve that with a quick trip to the living room in their house –where the photo album lives– and as many anecdotes he can tell her about.

They stay by her side for about half an hour. 

Reluctantly, they get up and once again, they tell her they love and miss her. Dean promises they’ll be back next Friday and Jo is quick to confirm it. By the time they’re back in Baby, both Winchesters’ smiles are not so wobbly, not so sad. 

Halfway home, Jo breaks the comfortable silence, “You really think mom would be proud of me?”

“Oh ladybug,” he huffs. “I know so. She’d be incredibly proud of you.”

When they get home, Dean feels lighter and he knows his ladybug is feeling better, too. 

Fridays are special.

So he claps his hands together and proposes a movie marathon, followed by board games tomorrow morning. Jo’s excitement at the sole mention of the plan has him taking out popcorn and setting it in the microwave. She runs to the living room to pick out the movies they’re watching and get some blankets as well as changing into her pajamas.

Treacherous thoughts begin to invade his head: how he misses Y/N, how he wishes she could enjoy Fridays like always. All the big and little things that used to make this house a home (they couldn’t risk anything supernatural happening to Jo). Dean shakes his head. No. She is gone, but this house is still a home and their family is still loving.

Hunting is thousands of miles behind him; something he never thought could be possible. Joey will grow up. More important than that, he’ll be there for their daughter. He’ll do whatever he can to make sure she has a future and he’ll do it for Y/N, because if she can’t see it then damn it, he’ll be there to raise their little lady bug.

As the microwave lets him know the popcorn is ready, he makes his way to the couch in front of the TV, and Dean finds peace. He can do this. He’ll wait for as many Fridays as he can, with roses in his hands and love in his heart and all the cheesy things Y/N used to love.

He’ll wait to see his wife again even if it means it’ll take decades for that to happen. 

Dean passes the popcorn over to Jo as the opening credits for The Princess and the Frog begin and he lays an arm over the back of the couch. 

He has hope that next Friday will be good as well.

===========================================================

I really hope y’all liked it! Please lemme know what you think, whether it’s with a reblog, an ask, everything and anything is welcome! :D

Tags: @katehuntington @winchest09 @emoryhemsworth @talesmaniac89 @whatareyousearchingfordean @deanwanddamons @maximumkillshot @malfoysqueen14 @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @percywinchester27​

[vateacancameos]

I Won't Let You Let Me Down So Easily

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: The Locked Tomb Trilogy Pairing: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Post-Gideon the Ninth, Post-Harrow the Ninth, Pre-Slash, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, they're working on the lovers part, POV Gideon Nav, Gideon watches Harrow Word Count: 1804 Part 2 of the Watching series (read Part 1 here)

For all of her short years of life, Gideon Nav has never wanted anything more than to ignore the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House. To pretend she doesn’t exist. Unfortunately for Gideon—and the entirety of the Ninth—Harrowhark Nonagesimus has made that impossible from day one. She’s always there, one step away from Gideon, not looking at her, but making her own presence known, making sure she’s seen. That shrill, commanding tone is there from the moment she says her first word. Bones follow her every command, and she’s a tiny tyrant in black and wearing a painted mask. Where she is, skeletons follow, and Gideon is left behind, bloodied and beaten on the floor.

She never asked for this. She’s never wanted to be the bane of everyone’s existence. In fact, she tries her hardest to get away, time and time and time and time again. But Harrow demands an audience, and with most of the House being blinded from old age, Gideon is the one forced to watch. So she watches. Mostly, she watches her back, but over time, she watches just to see. What she’s looking for, she’s not sure.

She’s never wanted this, so why does a part of her now ask for it?

*** 

 (read the rest under the cut)

***

Somehow Gideon isn’t surprised that even in the afterlife, she’s forced to watch Harrow. The Dark Mistress of Drearburh is a necromancer after all. If Gideon couldn’t get away from her during any of her eighty-seven escape attempts in life, it’s doubtful a little something like lacking a body would stop Harrow from forcing her to stay.

The really annoying part is that this time, Gideon actually does want to watch, but she’s got less a front-row seat and more like she’s using binoculars turned backwards so the thing she’s looking at is tiny and the lenses are smudged and she’s got cotton stuffed in her ears. She’s grateful for that when Ianthe tries her hand (haha, hand) at flirting with Harrow—she’s never felt such intense second-hand embarrassment in her life—but seeing what’s happening on The Mithraeum would be rather helpful right now.

Especially considering she isn’t allowed to do her job (protecting) thanks to one pointy-faced emo chick performing an at-home lobotomy with only a sociopathic princess to watch over her. Oh yeah, pre-surgery, Gideon could watch everything just fine. Why is it always that she’s forced to watch when she doesn’t want to, and she can’t watch when she does want to? She’s more than a little ticked by that.

No one ever asks her what she wants.

***

You know what’s really fucking annoying? Dying for your best frenemy so she can become the thing she’s wanted to become since she was four, then getting not only walled up in a tiny corner of Prissy McBitchFace’s brain, not only forced to see how awkward God is during tea time, not only stuck watching Harrow fumble her training and social interaction, but ALSO, unable to make her fucking necromancer work out or learn one single thing about a sword.

IT’S A FUCKING POMMEL, HARROWHARK. You can learn all the bones of the body by age two and a half, but you can’t learn the very few parts of a fucking sword? Sigh.

She’s being willfully ignorant on purpose. Gideon knows it.

***

You know what’s really fucking sad? Watching Harrowhark unable to function. Not just in her usual disconnected with reality and living in her special world where she’s the queen and everyone bows to her way. No, Harrow is … not Harrow. She’s barely human now (not that she was ever particularly human, more like a pointy, annoying bat), she’s paranoid (granted, someone is trying to kill her on the daily), she’s not sleeping, there are more wards in her tiny room than in all of the Ninth House, and she’s trying to … make soup?

It’s embarrassing to watch, and once again, Gideon is grateful her view is fuzzy and distant. Except that since she only gets a far-off snapshot of events a few times a day, she has lots of time to think and contemplate. And the more she thinks about it, the worse she feels. It’s sad, Harrow’s life is. And not in a oh she’s such a dork, how sad way, but more in a way that hurts Gideon’s heart, if Gideon had a heart still, which she guesses she doesn’t, not properly.

But still, she aches for Harrow. She wants to do her job, to be the big bad protector, but someone decided to be a selfish jerk and not let Gideon do the one thing she literally died to do.

Some people suck.

***

Swear to John (who’d’ve thought God’s name would be John), Gideon is really fucking tired of watching. At least when she was forced to watch Harrow in the past(life), she had a sword in her hands and a cocky smile on her face. Oh, what she’d give to go back to being able to watch and do, rather than watch and … watch, but not really watch, because time moves funny for her and it sounds like everyone is talking under water and faces are distorted (oh, no, wait, Ianthe’s face is always like that, nm).

She needs to be able to do again. She needs to force her dumb necromancer to get some sleep and then some exercise and then some brain surgery, in that order (what? squats are important). And then maybe learn the parts of the sword. SERIOUSLY, HARROW, HOW HARD IS POMMEL?

She wishes she had Harrow’s dumb army of constructs to fight. Even without a body, she has excess energy to get rid of and– HOLY SHIT. A CONSTRUCT JUST BURST OUT OF THE SKINNY/BUFF LYCTOR’S abdomen.

Okay, Harrow. You win this round.

***

Sleep does not help Harrowhark’s mood. She’s less of a zombie, sure, but she’s still a bit bananas. Watching her cut off Ianthe’s arm is pretty great, though (less great is watching her climb on top of Princess Bitch to do it). And the sex thing with God and two of the saints is … well, the jury is still out on that one. She actually got quite an eyeful of that scene. Perhaps all the wine allowed Gideon more freedom to move about in her necro’s brain.

None of that shocks her like watching Harrow save the lyctor whose been out to kill her for months. Gideon would definitely save him if she were in Harrow’s shoes (except she’d never be in those shoes because, one, they’re too small for her, and two, SHE KNOWS HOW TO USE A FUCKING SWORD). But even after everything that happened at Canaan House, and all that she’s seen of the disaster that is Harrow’s current life, watching Harrow save the man she’s absolutely bloody terrified of is … staggering.

Gideon’s not sure what to do with this information. Harrow with a normal human conscious is not something she thought she’d ever see. It’s not the Harrow she knew for seventeen years. It’s not the girl she fought tooth and nail with almost all of her life. It’s not the tiny mad genius who broke into the Tomb just to say she could. It’s not the tyrant who puppeteered her dead parents’ bodies for seven years for a power trip. It’s not the necromancer who longed for nothing more than to become a lyctor, even at every other person around hers expense.

It’s not the bone magician who performed possibly deadly surgery on her own brain rather than share soul space with the woman who died for her.

And if Harrow’s actions now say she’s not those things, then what else doesn’t Gideon know about her?

***

For once, Gideon is the watchee instead of the watcher.

Leave it to Sextus to be the one to see her.

***

Gideon takes it all back. She’d rather spend a myriad watching helplessly and foggily as her necromancer bumbles through life because she refuses to accept help in becoming a real lyctor. She’d love to go back to watching her make soup and avoid kisses with Tridentarius The Lesser and grimace at tea and cut her hair every three days and fuck up Gideon’s beloved two-hander by covering it in bone glue.

Because the alternative, of Harrow just up and leaving her body, which has just come to pass, is untenable. It’s wrong. Not just Gideon’s eyes and her WTF expression on Harrow’s face, but also the pure lack of Harrow in the room. For such a tiny little witch, she takes up a lot of space. She always has. It’s why Gideon had watched her their whole lives. Harrow would enter a room, and her presence would draw Gideon like a paperclip to a magnet. It was hateful, but it was comfortable, a known entity.

But Harrow being gone is so wrong.

Luckily, there are plenty of bug-human-acid-monster things that hold her attention for a time. That, and trying to figure out how to work Harrow’s limp noodle arms so that she can use a sword that weighs about the same as she currently does. As Gideon hacks and kicks and watches Harrow’s extremities regrow (trippy), she avoids thinking about why Harrow has left her. She fights Princess Peach and avoids thinking. She bickers (and maybe falls just a tiny bit in love) with Ianthe Tridentarius and avoids thinking. She listens to confessions twenty years in coming and avoids thinking. She finds her (very fucked up) family and avoids thinking. She (maybe?) befriends the lyctor who tried for nine months to kill her necromancer (except its actually not the lyctor anymore and she’s definitely going to have to learn more about that at some point when she’s no longer fighting for her [lyctor’s] life) and avoids thinking.

She’s going to have to think again at some point, but she’ll avoid it as long as she’s able.

***

When Gideon finally escapes and gets somewhere safe, she has time to watch again, and she hates it. She watches Harrow’s face in the mirror. She wills her necromancer to come back. She begs Harrow to come back. She paints the best skull she’s ever painted on Harrow’s face. She puts on the rust-black robes. She stares at the mirror and tries to find Harrow in the frown lines and pointy chin. But she’s not there, and it looks wrong. Gideon screams and punches the mirror. The broken flesh repairs instantly. She hates that. She needs the pain the last.

She has always associated pain with Harrow. The physical pain of their fights. The emotional pain of being unloved. If the pain is no longer there, does that mean Harrow is gone for good?

Gideon Nav’s eyes sting, and she watches the paint melt off Harrow’s face.

[theramblingscriblerian]

Noodles on 51st And 3rd

The noodles at the corner of 51st and 3rd were the best in the Lower City, even if they were frozen and off of a truck.  Hell, that was WHY they were the best.  Go to the larger eateries in the district, and you find the crap homemade stuff, where half the protein is probably made up of bugs and general filth.  The little kiosk where I was busy slurping down a bowl full, though… THAT was good.  And safe.

And it gave me a good view of the square.

Even at 2am and change, the square was alive with people, bathed in the ever present neon glow from a hundred signs, and the shifting shadows generated by no less than five mega-screens that were hawking everything from shaving cream to women ready to turn your night into a decadent dream of sheer pleasure.  All of it also held the unspoken promise of emptying your credcard.  I snorted to myself as I swallowed the last of the noodles; this joint was pricey enough.  The last thing I needed was a synthetic whore and a shave that smelled like cat piss.

The steady undercurrent of a thousand human voices thrummed at my ears, punctuated with traffic, both ground and sky-based.  The city never slept, never paused.  Only the crowds changed.  Gone were the daytime suits and drones, talking into their pads as they negotiated everything from multi-million dollar deals to home deliveries of groceries.  Now the streets belonged to an entirely different subset of the business world, the seedier subset, the subset that kept the city running while at the same time infusing it with a thousand different cancers.

Even the sky changed.  During the day you had the sun, of course, struggling to break free of the smog layer that seemed to perpetually hang just above the tops of the highest mega-scrapers.  At night, though, it was as if the world were finally letting go of a long held breath.  Clouds formed among the higher buildings and would, for an hour or two, let loose the weeping rains that scrubbed both sky and street of the accumulated filth.  It wasn’t raining now, but the streets were still slick with precipitation and oil, and the gutters were still clogged with miniature jams of garbage and things less savory.

I tipped back my head and drained the bowl of the last of the juices, chopsticks held between two fingers as I did so.  Letting out a long sigh, I dropped both on to the counter and took out a cig from my coat’s inner pocket.  It was bent, had been partially smoked already, and tasted wonderful when combined with the aftertaste of the noodles.  I looked up and from under the rim of my hat at the elderly man behind the counter, and tilted my head up at him.  He just looked back at me and snorted.

“That gǒu shǐ will kill you, Man,” he wheezed at me with a dry smirk.

“Your noodles will kill me first,” I countered gruffly, voice hoarse.  “Synthetic crap grown in a vat…”

Chuckling, he magically produced an old lighter and held it to my cig.  “You go to Kwon’sfor the real thing,” he quipped. “But my synthetic gǒu shǐ must be better than the gǒu shǐ he uses.”

I barked a short laugh; he was probably close to the truth.  But then, hell, everything in this world was set to kill a man.  Food, pollution, other men…. I took a long deep drag, reducing the length of the cig by another quarter, and let the smoke escape through my nostrils, into the still damp-smelling air.  This thing was probably my healthiest habit.

A sudden, discordant noise caught my attention, a rising in a group of voices, their tones turning angry, loud, contentious.  The old man nodded to me knowingly, and I turned my head just enough to peer back towards the other side of the square.  Five men were pushing their way through the crowds, going against the grain, heading into a small theater that had stood in the spot for a century at least.  No movies had played there for at least 25 years, but I knew that games aplenty were its hallmark.  I didn’t care about that, particularly.  It was the gamemaster that would be there tonight that I was interested in.  And those were his goons.

Slowly I stood, adjusting my my hat, drawing my coat around myself, and turned to go.

“Hey!” the old man snapped, a crooked and boney finger tapping on the plastic counter.  “You pay first.”

I stopped and looked back, cig still clenched in my teeth.  One hand went to my left side, under the coat, checking the pistol that was securely strapped there.  “Put it on my tab,” I remarked absently.

“Your tab is no good if you dead,” he muttered back.

“Ye of little faith,” I retorted, turned, and promptly walked into someone’s outstretched hand as it landed on my chest, fingers splayed.  I stopped on the spot and looked down with widening eyes.

“That shouldn’t be a surprise,” the woman with midnight hair drawled.  Her eyes never left mine as she used her free hand to throw a couple of silver coins on the old man’s counter.  One of them bounced into my abandoned bowl.  He looked down to them, frowning, then let his eyes widen in surprise, finally grinning a gap-toothed smile as he cackled, sweeping them up greedily.

Slowly she let her hand fall from my chest, but I didn’t move.  I was still too surprised to see her.  Here. Now.  Standing there like she had always belonged at my side.  Well, hoolies.  Once upon a time, she had.  Her mouth twisted into a sardonic grin, black lipstick and dark eyes both sparkling under the red neon lights.  “What’s the matter, noodles strangling you?” Her refined British accent still made me feel a warmth deep in my heart.  “Maybe they will be your death after all.”

“No, not them,” I responded in my hoarse voice, head tilting up enough so that the rough scar along my throat became visible, sliding up from beneath my shirt collar.  “But you sure as hell tried.”

Her grin turned into a full blown smile.  “Now, darling, you know that was just a bit of foreplay.  I wanted to make things look good.  Had to fool the mark and his boys.  It’s how the game is played.”

“You cut my goddamned throat,” I murmured.  Despite myself, my hand reached out and cupped her cheek.

“And I knew,” she responded slowly, eyes closing for a moment, “that your nanites would seal it up in less than a minute, helpful little blighters that they are.  Although,” she added, almost wonderingly, eyes opening again, her own hand reaching up, a single finger tracing that scar, “I didn’t think they would leave a mark.”

A snort was my initial response, and then I added, “You left the mark.  More than one.  And most of them can’t be seen.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve missed me?” she asked softly.

I stared down at her for a moment, then tilted her head up.  My lips came within a whisper’s breadth of her own.  “Want to go play?” I asked quietly, nodding towards the old theater.

Her grin, at the same time feral and eager like a child being offered a piece of candy, was answer enough.

“Hey!” the old man suddenly shouted.  He looked up from one of the coins that he was still admiring, clasped in his grimy fingers.  “Stop flirting!  Get to work so you can pay your tab!”

I looked back down to her, then began to laugh.  A real laugh.  The first I had had in a long while.  Throwing an arm around her shoulder, I drew my gun with the other.  She had already produced her own heavy-barreled pistol and held it at the ready.

“Yeah,” I said, puffing out more smoke, starting off with her across the street.  “Let’s get the game a-foot.”

Abruptly her delicate fingers snatched the cig from my mouth and tossed it into the scummy waters of the gutter, where it briefly hissed and was lost amongst the rest of the trash.  “That gǒu shǐ will kill you,” she remarked.

Behind me, all I heard was the old man cackling.

[raleigh-ocean]

over my skin (where you left your own mark), part 3 | audrey tindall & dara ann lynch

words: 3,739

summary: series of drabbles about how Audrey got to know, one day at a time, little by little, one of the two women she wished to meet in every one of her lives. Part 3: when Audrey made Billie jealous; and also how Audrey started to act more like the advice giver than the receiver.

n/a: I strongly recommend reading ‘troubles of a learning heart’ before this one!

"I still can't wrap my head around how you manage to keep yourself in line," Audrey scratched her eyebrow a bit, looking at Billie in the kitchen from the couch. "It's beyond me, darling."

Billie's laughter sounded all over the apartment, lightening it up from its gloomy aura that autumn day. The medium had picked Audrey up from a meeting with her manager a few hours ago, bringing her over to the apartment just to spend time together since Dara was working a late shift in the shop. Audrey pouted again, resting her arms and chin better in the back of the couch so she could look at what was Billie doing in the kitchen.

Hoarding a plate full of brownies like some kind of gremlin was something very unlike of her, for anyone who knew the medium of the stars in like a street level basis, but she was doing it right now with like zero shame.

"My line of work has both perks and cons, I'm afraid," Audrey rolled her eyes hard upon noticing the tone in which Billie spoke, trying to sound a bit mighty with her mouth full of brownie. She swallowed, humming contently, and then shot Audrey the most perfect smile she could do. "But I think it's probably spinning twice a week what does the actual trick and-"

"Please, don't finish that sentence," warned Audrey, because she was like a million percent sure that Billie was going to say that sex helped her greatly as well. "I think you two have a problem at times."

"Do we now? Thought you enjoyed it as well, pumpkin," Billie laughed once again and Audrey felt herself blush to the root, cheeks and ears ablaze. It only got worse when the medium moaned a little upon munching on another brownie.

"Are they really that good?" Audrey felt necessary to change topic, coughing a bit, and trying to focus in the kettle that was over the stove. "Where did you buy them?"

"Nowhere, that's the best part," hummed Billie, retrieving cups from the cupboard and some milk from the fridge. "Dara bakes at times, she's really good at it, so I'm supplied of these delicious mortal chocolate bombs for a lifetime."

Audrey couldn't help but scratch her ear, feeling a bit out of place suddenly. There were many things about Billie's daily life that she was missing completely at times and those all were related to her actual girlfriend. Of course Audrey knew Dara was there, how not? A constant reminding her that she was actually the added one in the relationship, but hearing about those kind of simple tiny details wasn’t something she still got in her head easily.

It was weird, to be fair, because Dara could be eating her out one night but not get a wind of her in days if it wasn't because Billie mentioned her often...and that was as of now, in which Audrey thought their relationship was improving in someway. It all had going for the better after that morning in Audrey’s apartment, but they still had a long way ahead.

Audrey and Billie had been ‘together’ for a year and half as of now, while with Dara barely joined them half a year ago, so just imagine the whole thing.

"Well let me try them then," Audrey wanted to be courageous, trying something 'new' and having a new opportunity of interacting with Dara. She was pretty sure that complimenting her baking was another step to a good direction. "I don't have such a sweet tooth like you, but I'm willing to have my cheat day earlier if you say that they are so good."

Upon hearing that, Billie stopped her munching to look at Audrey, as if she grew another head all of a sudden, but she did walk towards her with the brownies' plate to let her have as many as she wanted. She wasn’t used to Audrey not being picky with everything she ate, so it was a surprise that she was indulging, a good one to be honest.

Until she heard Audrey’s moan.

It wasn’t something she didn’t heard before, but in that moment it was in a new light. One that made Billie’s stomach swirl and settle in a feeling she despised with her whole being, even if it was just a little.

“Well, so...where did you say Dara had her rings? I think I’ll give a jewelry downtown a call, because wow, if she’s down for it I’m marrying her right away,” Audrey’s laugh was soft after swallowing, trying to look at Billie. “How can she bake like some kind of God?”

From all the things that Audrey could expect, she didn’t expect to see such blank face in Billie. She was about to ask if there was something wrong but the next second Billie was taking the plate from her hands with a scowl on her face.

“Ha, ha, so funny,” Audrey was another million percent sure that Billie was about to pout at any second for some reason. “Find your own baker, miss Tindall.”

It only took Audrey what it took Billie to go back to the kitchen to actually know what was going on. And if she was being honest, it totally weirded her out that she managed to acknowledge that Billie was jealous.

Finishing the treat, Audrey left her friend room to clear her mind, just merely observing her going around the kitchen again to finish from fixing tea time. It also gave the actress time to think of some kind of action plan in case Billie was more annoyed than she thought. 

The next minutes, almost next hour, Audrey didn't add much verbally but left Billie be the one carrying the conversation. Having her talking about everything and nothing made the actress feel more at ease in some way, but still be worried sick because Billie always got like that when there was something else in her mind. Doing things that made her avoid altogether what was bugging her so deeply, a classic at this point that Audrey was getting a bit annoyed by.

She neither stopped Billie or suggested following her when she announced that she was taking a shower, only indulging a bit on the kiss before watching her walk away. Without knowing what else to do, Audrey decided to take the videogame controller from the coffee table and maybe keep playing that game Dara showed her - and in which she got really invested - was a good idea.

Billie looked at herself in the mirror after getting out of the shower, feeling how her stomach churned uncomfortably. 

Audrey didn’t deserve being the receiving end of all her frustrations, that was for sure, but the soft joke had hit her with an unexpected might. 

Three weeks had already passed since their vacations in Sacramento, the topic of everything that happened there not showing up at all nor close to, and Billie saw each day how Dara seemed to get a bit more lost in herself. She always had some magic way to separate every aspect of her life, but many times Billie had had to snap her out of a way too deep rant about work - when Dara herself was the one that always reminding her that work things were left at work after the clock ticked. Or even a few days in which Dara seemed out of touch with what was happening at the moment, making her to drop and hit things out of the blue, or worse: getting herself injured - Billie shivered with how she still had an oil burn she got a few days ago or when she hit herself in the head with the window by accident or all the tiny bruises in her legs from bumping into things.

All of that didn't help at all neither with trying to manage her own past discomfort and try to do something for her.

Billie sighed deeply, getting in her pajamas quickly, to spend some minutes in silence in her bedroom. She looked through her messages, trying to see if she got any important but the only one she got was from her assistant reminding her of something about tomorrow schedule. Tapping in Dara's chat, she looked at the few texts they exchanged that day and wondered how busy her girl was, taking in count she didn't respond to her last one. 

She really should stop from over worrying, Billie thought putting her phone down and rubbing her forehead a bit. Taking a peek to the living room, she saw how Audrey was really focused on the television, game controller tightly held in her hands and maybe a bit of a scowl.

Yeah, Audrey didn’t deserve her being mean for no reason.

If it wasn’t because Billie moved her legs to sit and leave them in her lap, Audrey wouldn’t have noticed her best friend coming back. The game was really fucking addicting, to be fair, and the music catchy which made a perfect combination to not think much.

She didn’t stop playing because Billie didn’t do or say something, so she only smiled at her sideways when the medium started to draw slow patterns in her legs with her thumbs. This was kind of a unexpected calm date, as far as Audrey could discern, but even when she kept playing the game she decided that she wanted Billie to speak her mind once and for all.

“Are you going to tell me whatever is burning your brain or are you going to just sit there brooding while I play?” she asked, thinking a bit the choices the game gave her.

It took Billie the incredible amount of ten minutes to finally answer, but she did it and Audrey felt herself to freeze on the spot.

“Do you think I am enough for Dara?” Audrey blinked, trying to discern if Billie really said that. “Sometimes I feel like I’m failing her, that she can do way more better than..me,” Billie rubbed her eyes a bit. “I don’t know Audrey, it’s weird, I feel bad.”

Pressing pause at the same time Billie sadly chuckled at admitting she was feeling bad because of those questions, Audrey looked at her in another light. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice before how Billie changed the moment she crossed the door of her home, but for someone she always saw so sure of herself...well, this was new and a bit scary.

“What made you think that, sweetheart?” she asked, taking one of Billie’s hands in hers, trying to run her thumb soothingly over her knuckles. 

She wasn’t ready for the flood that was Billie’s thoughts and words for the next twenty or so minutes, that was for sure. Everything that truly happened in their vacation, from when they landed in Sacramento to the moment they woke up that very same day. It made Audrey feel how her heart broke in a few pieces, listening to how unsure Billie was of everything in that moment. 

For a few seconds Audrey didn’t know what to say, how to give advice to Billie, and she wondered if her best friend was going to cry and let all that frustration out.

“You should have seen them Drey, they gravitate around each other and if he wasn’t with Dara’s sister, well,” Billie’s voice broke a bit and Audrey couldn’t help but bring her hand to her lips. That was Billie’s fatal flaw: the overthinking, it made her overlook many other details and go full beeline with everything and forgetting the rest. “So hearing you say that hit me like a fucking truck, you sure will swoop her off her feet and away easily.”

“I think Dara would slap the shit out of me if I ever suggest taking her away from you,” Audrey was really serious about that statement, looking at the controller with that unlike scenario in her head. “Did you hear her arguing with her sisters over the phone? Bloody hell, I bet she’s a feisty one.”

“Oh dear, she totally is,” hearing how Billie laughed for a bit was something good. “You should see them arguing face to face.”

“Next time Dahlia invite me over,” Audrey smiled with that, because after all, Dahlia still was her best friend and she was invited over a few times at some family gatherings. “But going back to the point...when Dara’s mom told you about them, did she tell you who left who?”

By the look in Billie’s eyes, her whole demeanor and obviously how she shook her head, Audrey knew Dara’s mother conveniently left that detail outside of the talk. She felt herself frown a bit and pulled Billie closer, kissing her temple tenderly, lingering softly to convey all that she couldn’t put in words. It was hard to give a good opinion, taking in count she only knew Billie’s side of the story, but she was about to do her best.

“Then you really should ask Dara about it, don’t you think?” Billie groaned at Audrey’s words. “Listen Billie, I know you two from not that long maybe, but I know how deeply you care for Dara and how much she loves you, how much you love her,” Audrey said those last words in a whisper because you should be blind to not see it yet at the same time she knew how much her best friend struggled with that point. “Do I think that sometimes you should be more forward with her, more vocal? Absolutely, but I don’t think you’re failing Dara. How long have you two been together, please do tell me.”

“Seven years.”

“Seven fucking years, you already surpassed anything she could have achieved with that guy and, as much I can see, you two are going forward,” how strange was to give her best friend and also her lover, for the time being, those words but she did it the same because it was what Billie needed to hear...or that she hoped. “Do you think Dara doesn’t know what’s best for her? If she decided you were that, the best for her, then why are you worrying? Wouldn’t she say something the second a doubt came to her head?”

Maybe Audrey shouldn’t have say that so promptly, because it made Billie to finally breakdown, but maybe she did have to say them to prompt that reaction. Let her go of those nasty feelings, she thought, because if Billie started to cry it was because it was needed. Billie wasn’t one to sob loudly - Audrey was that type of crybaby, being honest -, but her tiny whimpers were very heartbreaking. Audrey had to hold her own so Billie could take all the tears for herself.

She usually didn’t like to mingle with Billie and Dara’s relationship, mostly because she was the added one in this, but she had come to clash more with that side of Billie that Dara seemed to take and wrap with millions of bubble paper sheets so she didn’t explode. Maybe that was one of their main problems, as much as Audrey could have seen in the time they three together, but if it worked for them, who was she to snoop around? Only in times like those, which were pretty much rare, was that she suggested something to Billie or asked about.

Audrey thought sometimes Dara needed to be more forward as well with Billie, but this time it was Billie’s to take and do everything.

Letting Billie to cry to her heart content, Audrey tried to come up with something to tell Dara once she saw her girlfriend - again, Audrey refused to address both as anything different in her head, as much as she knew they never formalized their relationship - like that. She shivered a bit with the possibility of the other woman coming right in that moment, but it didn’t happen and for that she was grateful.

It wouldn’t be for another hour that Dara didn’t come home. Billie was fast asleep over Audrey’s chest while she decided to keep playing the game, not knowing what else she could do, when she overheard keys at the front door. The medium woke up in automatic, making Audrey to break her concentration and lose what she was doing, taking in count she was playing with the controller resting in Billie’s back.

“I think I’m sweating in places I’m not sure I should sweat,” Audrey saw Dara not looking at the living room, going for the kitchen immediately and a sleepy Billie trailing behind her like a lost puppy. “I hope you two are hungry, my cousin the super duper ultra chef gave me a recipe for a quiche that’s to die for and I’m going to cook the Hell out of that,” from her position in the couch, Audrey saw how Billie took the groceries bag from Dara’s arms and Dara thanked her a bit out of breath, her smile bright like the sun upon seeing how her partner was wrapping her arms around her middle after that. “How was the nap honey? Bet it was amazing, you can barely keep your eyes open.” 

Audrey smiled to herself when Billie replied to that with a mumble she couldn’t hear, the kiss the blonde gave her girlfriend as sweet and slow that for a moment they both only existed in the tiny kitchen.

If only Billie could see what she could, any doubt in her head would be erased from eternity. Billie said Dara and her ex seemed to gravitate around each other? That’s why she couldn’t see how she gravitated around Dara. How the whole apartment, all this time somewhat gloom even for a mild summer day, seemed to come alive the moment the woman with the cane entered; how Billie herself was more relaxed and the tears were long forgotten the second Dara circled her neck to keep kissing like in those old black and white movies.

How Dara seemed to just have all her focus in Billie because, for her, nothing else mattered.

“I’m starving, Billie only gave me tea for afternoon snack,” chided Audrey, going back to the game to fix the mess Billie left her with.

“Only tea?” it took Dara five minutes to reply, Audrey didn’t have to turn around to see how they were making out. “Bills.”

“She was mean,” Billie mumbled and Audrey overheard the soft smack of a new kiss. “Only tea it was.”

“Is that so, my love?” Audrey wanted to throw Billie a shoe if she didn’t catch the raw emotion behind the pet name. “It’s okay, I’m here to protect you from the big meany, but I need you two on table duty while I get out of this before going all crusader on both dinner and avenging.”

When Dara was out of view, Audrey finally turned around to see Billie. Billie was also looking at her, cheeks a bit blushed but not regretting a single thing. Ah, there she was again, thought Audrey standing up and doing as she was told, since her best friend decided to take out first the ingredients for dinner from the bag. They bumped into each other like kids, bickering a bit just like that, but this time Audrey did not go for a kiss like always.

She felt like today Billie wanted and needed every ounce of affection from the woman that was now walking towards them slowly, pulling up her hair into a ponytail and smiling at her girlfriend with the force of a thousand suns. 

Audrey didn’t add much after getting her task done, only sitting at the counter to watch Dara cook, Billie close to her as well and always touching her in some way. It also seemed that today she was going back home after dinner, she thought when Billie hugged Dara from behind and started kissing the back of her neck with care, tracing with her lips Dara’s tattoo just like that. She shook her head, giving Billie a teasing soft kick in her butt and Dara reminding both she was in front of a hot pan.

They needed each other too bad and Audrey simply didn’t have the heart to not let them.

So the best thing Audrey came up with was to go back to the game, for the third time in the day. She wasn’t of much use in the kitchen, anyway, so waiting in the couch didn’t sound half as bad and, if she was completely honest, she had discovered it was a nice spot for just observing.

A nice spot for watching two of the people she was so strongly attached to, which she loved in a way that not many could understand.

However she didn’t expect to overhear the private conversation the couple had while waiting for the ingredients to fry. It made her try to focus in the television, but it was of no use at this point.

“I’m sorry I’ve been acting weird these days,” the apology coming from Dara’s lips was not what Audrey expected to hear. “I know I’ve been worrying you, it’s just that...my head isn’t in a good place right now.”

“You don’t have to apologize Annie,” Billie sighed and Audrey was pretty sure she was hugging her tightly. “It’s not your fault or something.”

“Still, you don’t deserve be treated like this Bills,” Audrey tried to not be too loud pushing the buttons of the game controller. “I...look, you’re the most important thing I have, and I don’t want you to feel bad or something because I’m an asshole that can’t handle well her head.”

“I won’t let you call yourself an asshole, baby,” yeah, Billie, that’s it and a kiss to make it even more serious! “Not when you also aren’t feeling well...sometimes you don’t know how to handle your head, but maybe I can help with that...if you let me?”

Audrey couldn’t help herself, smiling as big as she could, when Dara seemed to agree partially with Billie’s proposal. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was a start, and that was very much a big step for them. As if they were keep building that beautiful bridge between them, little by little, and learning from each other at the same time.

It made the quiche taste even better and all.

[cheemerthelizard]

Crusader of Life (Kakyoin x Reader) Chapter 3

Yup, these will be posted every day until I get done. If you’re wondering, I counted, and there’s 18 chapters. That means two and a half weeks of consistent content! You guys are gonna be disappointed when it goes back to my regular “schedule” all the time.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Hi! I know you're probably very worried about me, but I'm perfectly fine. You know how I've always been talking about making a difference in this world? Well, I got the chance! However, it was a bit of a last-minute thing, so I never got to tell you. I just want you to know that I love you very, very much, and I'll be home before you know it!

Love,

(Y/N).

You sighed, putting the envelope in your jacket pocket before leaning back on the soft, cushiony airplane seat. Your parents must be worried sick. You felt bad about leaving them behind, but what more could you do? "Hey, Mom, Dad, is it okay if I go to Egypt with two of my classmates, a fortune teller, and an old guy to fight an immortal vampire bent on world domination?" Heck, even if you just left it at, "Can I go to Egypt?" they would never let you go. They didn't know what Stands were, and telling them about it sure wouldn't confuse them any less. Well, one thing's for sure. When you get home, you'll be grounded until you leave the house, and a few years after that. But enough worrying about the future for now. If you wanted to be ready for anything tomorrow, you needed sleep, so you closed your eyes and wiped all thoughts away from your mind...

And then you heard a fly. A large fly, too. Groaning, you lifted your head up to see where it was, and how far away you had to walk to kill it. That's when you noticed that it was most definitely not a fly. It looked like a beetle of some sorts, but you couldn't figure it out.

"A stag beetle," Jotaro said, not specifically to you. In fact, when you actually turned your head to his voice, you noticed that rest of the group was standing up, in battle-ready positions.

"Jotaro, you don't think it's another Stand, do you?" Kakyoin asked.

"I think that's a bit of an overstatement," you answered. "It's just a beetle, it's not like-"

“Jotaro, it’s by your head!” Kakyoin shouted.

"Be careful," Avdol warned. "There is a Stand user who commits mass murders and makes them look like a horrible accident. This plane is the perfect place for his next round of victims. He's also very well-known for taking those victims' tongues, so don't let that beetle near your mouth."

“Guys, we just fought a Stand user a day ago,” you said. “There’s no possible way that-“

Before you could finish, Jotaro had already summoned Star Platinum, and the Stand had already swung its arm around to hit the beetle. However, before Star Platinum had even finished moving in its direction, the beetle darted away. Great. It had only been a day, and you had to deal with another Stand.

“Fool!” the beetle laughed. “My speed is far better than yours! You’ll never even get the chance to hit me!” It shot a strange, tooth-like appendage at Star Platinum, and it seemed to be going straight for the mouth. Star tried to block it with his hand, but it went straight through. Luckily, he was able to catch the appendage with his teeth.

“He went for the tongue!” Avdol gasped. “It must be the Stand which suggests the Tower card, Tower of Grey!”

Star Platinum, in his panicked rage, sent out a volley of punches against Tower of Grey, round after round, punch after punch, with seemingly no space in between them. It was a bit frightening, therefore, when the little bug was still completely intact, not a scratch on him.

“I already told you, Jotaro,” Tower of Grey spoke in its sinister voice, “my speed far exceeds yours! You don’t have a chance against me!”

Then, as if to show what it meant, it had darted out of sight within the blink of an eye, and before you knew what was happening, it had taken a whole row of tongues, and left the bodies lifeless as they dropped down, only being caught by the seat in front. Once he had the tongues, he used the blood dripping out to write a word on the wall of the plane: Massacre. The worst part? A poor old man, who had nothing to do with this, got up from his seat to go to the bathroom, and accidentally rubbed his hand on the blood. It took him a while, but after he read the word on the wall, he started shaking from fear. The only way to not wake everyone up from their seats was to make the man pass out. The whole thing made you really question if going to Egypt was a good idea.

“Magician’s Red!” Avdol summoned his Stand, but Kakyoin quickly interfered.

“Wait, Avdol! I think my Stand is best suitable for this job. I’ll take him on.” Kakyoin summoned Hierophant Green, and quickly let out a move you hadn't seen. Hundreds of emeralds suddenly emerged from Hierophant's hands and shot straight for Tower of Grey. You assumed the move was called Emerald Splash, since that's what he shouted when he used it. But when the move was finished, and the emeralds had vanished, the pesky little Stand was still perfectly fine.

“Noriaki Kakyoin, was it?” Tower of Grey laughed. “Lord Dio won’t be so pleased that you’ve joined the Joestars and their little group.”

Kakyoin tried his Emerald Splash again, and again, and again. Each and every time, Tower of Grey dodged it. You were starting to think that maybe you should duplicate Kakyoin before it was too late. Somehow, he didn’t seem to notice that his Emerald Splashes were ineffective against this Stand with seemingly no weaknesses. He’s trying again and again, but he’s doing the same thing, expecting a different result. It took you a while, but eventually, you noticed Hierophant’s appendages shooting out from beneath the seats. Of course! It’s a diversion! You dared not say a word, though; you didn’t want the enemy to hear.

“Don’t you get it, Kakyoin?” Tower of Grey laughed. “My Stand is invincible! Once it rips out your tongue, you’ll go mad from the pain!”

“Oh, Hierophant will go mad all right,” Kakyoin said. Suddenly, the appendages that you had seen before shot up towards the beetle, and pierced it from every angle. “Mad with joy!” All at once, each little string from Hierophant Green ripped through Tower of Grey, dissolving it into nothingness.

A bit further down the aisle, that old man who had witnessed the Stand attack sounded like he was in pain. You and the rest of the crew turned, and saw that his tongue had split apart, and he had fainted. Looks like he wasn’t such a poor old man after all.

After setting him down in a chair and covering him up, Joseph said, “Hey, does the plane seem to be flying crooked to any of you guys?”

You took in your surroundings, and it did seem to be that way a little bit. You saw a cup roll forward and stop when it reached the top of its arc.

“It is flying crooked!” Joseph exclaimed. “Don’t tell me...” He started running to where the cockpit was, and the rest of you followed suit.

“Sorry, but only the staff are allowed back here, sir,” one of the flight attendants said, but Joseph pushed her and the other one out of the way. Coming up next was Jotaro. “Excuse me, you’re not allowed-“ the girl started to say.

“Move,” Jotaro pushed both of them very forcefully, much more forcefully than Joseph. Each of them landed in Kakyoin’s arms.

“Sorry about him, girls,” he said, his smooth voice seemingly putting them in a trance. “That’s no way to treat a woman. But this is very important, so you’ll have to let us by.”

“Okay...” both of the girls looked at him with longing eyes, and you felt a twinge of jealousy. Why? What were these feelings?

“(Y/N),” Avdol said, breaking you away from your thoughts, “why do you have Ace of Pentacles summoned? We’re no longer in danger.”

“Hm?” You looked, and there she was, bright as day. “Strange. I don’t remember summoning her.”

“You know, if a user is exhibiting a lot more emotion than usual, then sometimes a Stand will appear without being summoned, and will show what the user is truly feeling. And it seems that Ace of Pentacles is looking pretty longingly at Kakyoin.”

You looked, and Avdol was completely right. Ace was staring right at him, with loving eyes. Oh, no. That’s what those feelings were. You were in love.

“You’ll keep this between us, right?” you asked Avdol.

“My lips are sealed,” he replied. “Although, you might want to work on controlling your Stand. It would be awkward for Kakyoin to be talking to you, and Ace suddenly show up.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, knowing full well it wasn’t a joke. “Perhaps you could help me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Avdol! (Y/N)!” Kakyoin exclaimed. “Joseph is going to make an emergency landing! Prepare yourselves!”

“Got it!” you said, and looked back at Avdol. “Not a word?”

“Not a word,” he confirmed.

[purplesurveys]

831

When you were a kid...

Were you happy or sad when you found out your babysitter was coming? I didn’t have a babysitter. My grandparents took care of me and my siblings and cousins when we were growing up; and if they were both busy I was usually the one expected to care for everyone. Which was okay with me, since I was the most ~motherly~ one in our little group anyway.

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? I studied in an all-girls school from kinder to high school. Outside of school, also no boyfriends. The boys at my neighborhood were super rowdy and hated girls, so I didn’t like hanging out with them.

Did you ever play hopscotch at school? For sure. I was a little mischievous - I would steal a bunch of chalk from the classroom so I can doodle a hopscotch court on school grounds for me and my friends to play on. I definitely wasn’t the most goody-two-shoes kid in the beginning, lol.

Did you refuse to eat your vegetables? Yeah, hated them. We have this local brand of instant noodles that have pieces of carrot in it, and I remember grouping all the tiny carrot bits at the edge of my plate. I didn’t learn to feed myself until I was around 8 or 9 though, so prior to that my elders would just include vegetables in all my meals and I’d have no choice.

What did you usually dress up as on Halloween? Some basic costume like a witch or pirate. My mom wasn’t super into Halloween and would just get us costume packs from the toy store. I wanna be the complete opposite for my kids.

What was your favorite television show? As a much younger kid I was into Hi-5. When I got a bit older I liked Pokemon, SpongeBob, The Fairly OddParents, My Life as a Teenage Robot, etc. Then when I got slightly older I started watching the real-life shows too, so like That’s So Raven, Suite Life, Drake and Josh, Zoey 101, Hannah Montana. Did you have D.E.A.R. time in school? (Drop Everything and Read) Yes, a few times each year. When I was still a bookworm it had been one of my favorite segments in school because I got to see other kids reading, which was my favorite hobby then. But by the time I was in high school and stopped reading, I remember always struggling to find a book to bring because I didn’t read anything anymore D: If I remember correctly, I think Athenna lent me most of the books I brought for DEAR time since at the time she was into John Green and YA in general. Did you ever read the 'Magic Treehouse' series? No. I googled it to see the cover, and I know as a kid it wouldn’t have interested me enough to pull it out of its shelf. How about the 'Bailey School Kids' series? Nope. Kids my age were into the Geronimo Stilton and Mr Men/Little Miss series. Do you remember the first movie you ever saw in theaters? Yes, it was a Stuart Little movie when I was maybe 3 or 4. I’m guessing it’s Stuart Little 2, because Google says it came out in 2002 and I was 4 years old then, so it checks out. Who was your best friend in elementary school? Angela was my best friend in some grades, but you know how kids are...once they vibe with someone else, they’ll hang out with them 24/7. Angela was a way more sociable kid so she got close with everyone, while I remained terrible at making friends. If she wasn’t my best friend at the time, I had no one. Did they continue to be your best friend in middle school? We don’t have middle school but I’ll guess that this is like Grade 6 and 7 for us? Anyway, no. ~Middle school~ was worse for me because this was when cliques started to form and material trends became the basis for being visible, e.g. owning a Blackberry, wearing Nike Roshes, getting side bangs lol, etc. I had none of those, so I was left behind both in terms of visibility and having friends. I only had a best friend again by the time I entered Grade 7, in which time I met Gabie and the ball started rolling from there. Did you ever watch 'The Land Before Time' movies? No, I didn’t. Did you ever watch the show 'Arthur'? I don’t think it aired here, so no. I did read Arthur books though; they were one of my favorites. Did the tooth fairy give you a lot of money? I honestly thought the tooth fairy was real. I never told my parents whenever a tooth would come out because I thought it was none of their business. That said, they just genuinely never knew to put money under my pillow because my dumbass never told them hahaha. I’ll never forget how crestfallen I was when I woke up to no money though. How often did you visit your nearest grandparents? I lived with them until I was 10. I only visited my other set of grandparents whenever my dad would come home from abroad, so I didn’t and haven’t ended up being close to them. Did you ever play with 'Little People' toys? Never heard of them but when I looked it up the toys looked familiar, so we probably did. How about Polly Pockets? Yes. Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Pokemon cards and pogs, heh. I also had my fair share of notebooks. Did you get an allowance? No, my parents didn’t teach me how money worked early on. I was a packed lunch kid until high school, and when I did ask for money I – and I’m not kidding – would only get a ₱20 bill, which was only enough to get me a tiny snack. What was your favorite sport to play? What is it now? Track, but then it shifted to table tennis when I joined the table tennis club initially out of peer pressure. What foods did you not like then that you do like now? Chicken curry, definitely. Were you into American Girl dolls? No. What was your first pet and what did you name it? It was a goldfish but I don’t remember whether I named it Goldie or Fishy, lol. Did you ever read the 'Junie B. Jones' books? No. What did you want to be when you were a kid? All the things I wante to be were astronaut, firefighter, veterinarian, and writer. What was your first word? Your first sentence? (If you remember) My parents didn’t keep track of either...I definitely would with my own kids. Have you moved into a new house since you were a kid? Yes, several times. When I was an infant we briefly lived with my dad’s parents in Manila. My mom couldn’t take the poverty and pollution there so we moved to a city in Rizal, where my mom’s parents + some extended family live in a duplex. At one point we switched houses in that duplex, and the unit that we switched to was where I lived for most of my childhood until we moved to our present house by the time I was 10. Were you friends with your neighbors? As a child, yeah. I was mostly friends with the girls though because like I said, the boys were super rowdy and sexist in that they never let us play basketball with them and stuff. Did you enjoy exploring your backyard? We didn’t have a backyard. Did you bake cookies with your grandparents? Sometimes! I would mix the dough and turn them into balls. :) What was your biggest fear when you were a kid? Flying cockroaches, because we had a lot of them in our old duplex unit. I also had an irrational fear of catching TV ads at night because I found them too loud and too vibrant. Who did you look up to most? My dad because I barely saw him as a kid. When he was lower down the ladder at his job he’d be gone six months and only stay with us for one. It wasn’t until I got to high school and he had a much higher position that he was away for only four months and home for one and a half.   Did you ever play the 'Reader Rabbit' computer games? I don’t think I’ve heard of that. Did you have a swing set in your backyard? No but we had a relative who had a playground at their place, and we’d go over there often. I spent a good amount of my childhood going as high as I can on their swings. How about a sandbox? Same relative had a sandbox too! It’s my favorite part of a playground and even during playtime in school I would usually be found alone in the sandbox. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? I’m 22 and still don’t know how... Did you ever spy on your neighbors through the window? Sometimes. Our houses were very close to each other and their open window is right across the part of our house that also has an open window, so sometimes we’ll fool around and peek. Were you a teacher's pet in kindergarten? No, but I gave my teachers a reason to remember me because I was the kid that peed their underwear everyday and had to go home in shorts. I’ve always been shy and even as a kid I was unable to ask permission to go to the washroom. Did you ever build a treehouse or a fort in your yard? No, ours was too small to build anything like that. Did you ever find anything interesting in your yard? No, just different types of bugs and caterpillars. Did you ever have 'themed birthdays'? Kinda? My 7th birthday party was mostly a plain, theme-less birthday party, but so much of the decorations and giveaways were Bratz-themed because I was into Bratz at the time. Did your parents let you drink soda? They would have let me but I personally never liked it. Did you ever watch 'The Powerpuff Girls' or 'Dexter's Laboratory'? I watched Powerpuff Girls but not Dexter’s Laboratory. Did you sleep with a blanket or stuffed animal? For the most part I preferred cuddling with a pillow. Did you ever have a night light? For some points in my childhood, yeah. Ultimately, I preferred lights out though. Did you watch 'Winnie the Pooh'? Nope, just read Winnie the Pooh books. Did you ever have an imaginary friend? What was their name? I named them Katrina but I wasn’t imaginative/creative enough, so when seven minutes passed after I created her and she still wasn’t talking back to me, I gave it up haha. What kinds of games did you play with your friends during Recess? Dodgeball was a favorite. We had a big field just right outside our classroom so we’d all go out, pick our teams, and play for the whole 30 minutes. We’d do it for lunch, too. Fortunately our teachers never barred us from playing, because I guess they knew it counts as exercise for us too. Did you dream of being a princess or did you not really care about that? Not really. I wanted to be an astronaut more haha. The only princess-y things I did were to wear my blanket around my neck like a cape, and to wear a tiara on my 7th birthday party. Did you have a special name for your pacifier? What was it? No. Did you watch 'Blues Clues'? Yesssssss. I grew up with Steve and Joe. It was such a fun show to watch. What kind of car did your parents have? I don’t remember the make anymore but we had a black sedan until I was around five. It was mostly broken-down and had no aircon, but it was my dad’s first car so it was his absolute baby and I never had the heart to complain about the car’s flaws to him. He eventually sold it and we had a blue Mitsubishi Lancer after. Did you ever flush anything down the toilet by mistake? I don’t remember ever doing that, thankfully lol. Were you afraid to sleep by yourself? No, I think I was excited to start doing it. Growing up in a cramped duplex, I shared one bedroom with my entire family until I was around 9; so when we moved to our own home, I was the first one to call dibs on a bedroom. What was your favorite subject in elementary school? Language, which is a class where we were just taught basic English grammar. I loved reading as a kid and got fluent in English early on, so I was always a top student in that subject. How often did you go to the park? We don’t have parks. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Chocolate cake from Red Ribbon. Did you ever want to grow up? I never actively ‘wanted’ it because I was already kinda forced to grow up early, what with all the issues happening at home and me having to shield my siblings and cousins from whatever screaming match was happening inside.

[bloomeng]

MDZS/Hogwarts au Headcanons

This au is a classic, but per usual I have opinions so here we go. (Also let’s pretend we do not see you know who)

All the patronuses are based on the official list and descriptions (I’ll leave the link below).

Wei Wuxian:

Gryffindor

Do I even need to make an arguement for this??

Patronus: Crow or Dolphin (I genuinely can’t decide)

Has friends in all houses and floats around among the tables in the great hall

Has been in all the houses common rooms tho

Probably good at most subjects, but he is amazing at defense against the dark arts

Definitely plays Quidditch, and is definitely the seeker too

Y’know typical over-achiver, star of the show, but without really trying

Steals books from the resticted section, not because he wants to read them, just because he was told they were off limits

He also steals food from the kitchen on his way back from the Hufflepuff common room (visiting Yanli ofc)

Is the kid that looses all of the points for his house, which means he also has most of the names in trophy room memorized (just from the sheer amount of time he’s had to clean them in detention)

Curfew is more of a suggestion, in his opinion nightime is the best time to roam the castle

He’s ended up in the hospital wing so many times that he basically has a bed reserved

Jiang Cheng:

Gryffindor

Between the loyalty, courage, ambition to “attempt the impossible,” and secret heart of gold, he could rival wwx’s Gryffindor spirit

Patronus: Chow Dog

Grumpily follows around during his misadeventures to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself

Or rather he’s the one who drags wwx’s ass to the hospital wing when he does hurt himself

Only one out of the trio (wwx, nhs, jc) who actaully studies

Hates divination, thinks it’s all a hoax, and it bugs the crap out of him that nhs actually belives in it

Is the captain of the Quidditch team, started as a chaser but now he’s the keeper

Was chosen to be a prefect

His favorite perk is the fancy bathtub, which nhs has definitely bribed him to gain access to

Shares his dorm with wwx, and he’s always complaining how he has to drag him out of bed

Lan Wangji:

Ravenclaw

He do be out here being super creative with that Guqin, and also owning our asses with his intelligence

Patronus: Wild Rabbit

I’d estimate that he spent 90% of the first 3 years of school in the library

Insert intense glaring at wwx as he tries to sneak into the restricted section

Somehow missed that wwx played Quidditch until his brother dragged him to a game

Needless to say he never missed a Gryffindor game after that

Somehow he managed to score one point off of a perfect grade on his OWL

Y’all already know he’d be a prefect, do I even need to say it

His favorite place in the castle is the window seat in Ravenclaw tower

Pretends to protest wwx sneaking into his common room

Imagine: Wangxian Hogsmeade dates and wwx trying to get him to wear his Quidditch jersey

Lan Xichen:

Hufflepuff

Although I feel like you could make a strong case for Ravenclaw, but the compassion and open-mindedness wins out

Patronous: White Swan

Professors love him, even Snape manages to tolerate him, probably by his 5th year he’s friends with half his professors

His favorite class is herbology but he’s also really good at charms and transfiguration

Owns an owl that he shares with his brother that he named something dumb like “Harold”

Has the Daily Prophet delievered every morning, and always thanks “Harold”

He grew up in a pure blood family so he is fascinated by muggle culture, and he is constantly asking jgy questions

Once jgy shared music from his ipod (yknow like one of the og ipods) and it blew his mind

Probably tried to help the house elves in the kitchen at some point, but was kicked out because he caused more damage then actual help

Somehow he was made a prefect in his fourth year???

He just roots for the under dog in Quidditch games, which often leads to a friendly competition between he and his brother (Gryffindor is never the underdog, not with wwx and jc on the team)

Nie Huaisang:

Slytherin

Again do I even need to make a case for this???

Patronus: Sparrow

Doesn’t even try and hide the fact that he let’s wwx and jc into the Slytherin common room

Often sits at the Gryffindor table because he wants to sit with wwx and jc

Instead of studying, he is constantly trying to find ways to cheat by designing bewitched items

By his 7th year he has his own business selling his cheats

His favorite class is divination, everyone assumes it’s because he’s a believer, but in reality he finds the subject hilarious and he’s amazed how a scam can go so far as to have a full educational class dedicated to it

Forged his brother’s signature on the Hogsmeade form, because Mingjue told him he wasn’t allowed to go if he was failing a class

Can’t fly a broom for the life of him

Barely passed his OWLS

In general he’s far more concerned with gossip and playing match-maker then doing any of this school work (who do you think told lxc to bring lwj to a Gryffinsor Quidditch game??)

(My monkey Xiyao controled brain likes to think that he’s been trying to set the two of them up for years, but that might just be me)

Jin Guangyao:

Slytherin

AGAIN do I really need to explain my thought process on this??? He’s cunning and manipulative, case closed, I do not take critism

Patronus: Grass Snake

Struggles in conjouring magic, but makes up for it in written work and testing

In general he works very hard and is most likely top of his class, despite the lack of natural ability

His favorite class is potions, because it’s simply a matter of following directions

The first friend he made was lxc after realizing as first years that they had really similar class schedules and decided to study together

His mother was a muggle, and thus he was raised in the muggle world, so there’s a lot of prejudice from his housemates

Every once in awhile he’ll quietly ask lxc to explain something about the wizarding world

To the annoyance of his house, he was made a prefect

Somewhere along the way he befriended nhs

The relationship dynamic is as follows: jgy forces nhs to study, while nhs forces him to come with him to Hogsmeade (mainly so that he doesn’t have to pay for his own food)

Jiang Yanli:

Hufflepuff

She’s just so sweet, compassionate, and kind not to be a Hufflepuff

Patronus: Doe

Her favorite classes are Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures

She’s really good with animals

She read that you were allowed to bring an animal and immediately went out to buy a cat

Buys wwx snacks on the Hogwarts Express, even though she made him lunch

She brought a phonograph and a collection of records from home, and set it up in the common room

No one knows where it came from, but people started to slowly add to the collection of records

Now the common room is just constantly filled with music

Lxc knows it was her, but he didn’t see the harm in letting it stay, so he let it be (plus he also enjoys music)

She goes to Quidditch games and roots for Gryffindor despite... not being in Gryffindor (she’s a supportive sister)

Spent most of her 4th year stopping wwx from fighting Jin Zixuan (the year before she started dating him)

She really do be living the cliche dream of the Hufflepuff/Slytherin relationship

Jin Zixuan:

Slytherin

He’s the typical pompous, preppy, asshole, that people assiociate with Slytherins

Patronus: Peacock

The first thing he did when he got to Hogwarts was set up his side of the dorm room to make it more up to his “standards”

His dad tried to convince him to play Quidditch, but he refused

Basically ignores jgy’s existence.... even though they’re in the same house

Loathes herbology because it requires getting his hands dirty

Is racist(?) towards muggleborns

He always has a mob of girls surrounding him at all times, yet doesn’t know how to properly process his own feelings for Yanli

I’d say he’s trying his best but that would be a lie, he thinks he’s doing the most though

He takes school very seriously, and he scored pretty well on his OWLS

One time in potions something went wrong and his potion blew up in his face quite literally, and wwx hasn’t let him live that down

Xue Yang:

Slytherin

He is bad man grrrrrr and a sly bastard, so ofc he’s the house of snek

Patronus: Weasel

Everyone hates him, his professors, his housemates, even the ghosts avoid him

Except Peeves, in fact Peeves love him

Probably because he’s constantly messing with people

He’s the only person to rival wwx’s detention record

He is fantastic at defense against the dark arts

He likes to mess with Trelawney by purposely making death omens in his readings

He just doesn’t do assignments, yet does really well on exams and passes???

Snape would vouch for him, that’s the vibe I get

He plays as a beater on his Quidditch team, and he’s known for knocking people out

Xiao Xingchen:

Hufflepuff

He’s kind, selfless, and is always trying to see the good in people, which screams Hufflepuff

Patronus: Dragonfly

Is really good with charms

Even though he’s of age, he hates appariting and will do a lot to avoid it

Runs group study sessions, with the help of sl

A big activist in freeing house elves working for old families

Stops to have full conversations with the paintings

Is the only person in the school that tries to be friendly to Xue Yang

Song Lan:

Ravenclaw

He seems to have that very principled and intelligent nature of a Ravenclaw

Patronus: Dun Stallion

He doesn’t really have a lot of friends outside of xxc, but he doesn’t seem to mind

He’s that one person who actually enjoys professor Binns’ History of Magic class

He lets xxc drag him to Hogsmeade, even though the crowded shops make him uncomfortable

Shh it’s a secret but he also has a major sweet tooth and he will buy a shit ton of candy

Because of his scary amount of knowledge of Hogwarts and its history, he managed to find the room of requirement

So he and xxc end up moving their study sessions there when their group size outgrows the library

Anyway that’s all for now, but if you have a request be sure to ask!

Anyway I’m proud of the patronus choices I made for these, mostly. I know that it’s inevitable that someone will disagree with the house placements, so just note that these are purely my opinons.

Patronus info link:

[whispersafterdusk]

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 20

Once he'd calmed the guards down and kept them from attacking he'd gone with them to meet up with the other remaining guards and the few adventurer types who'd survived the attack.  There wasn't much he could do except help carry the wounded into the inn and afterward, according to Aranea, he'd sat down on a bench out of the way and slumped backward into the wall ("asleep before you head touched the wood" was how she'd phrased it).

Onmund woke with a massive pounding headache, no idea how long he'd slept, and a body that felt made of stone -- heavy, unyielding, not wanting to move in the slightest, and it didn't seem like anyone around him had moved much either so perhaps he'd not been out for too long.  He did have a bit of magicka back in him to work with and he ambled about healing the worst of the injuries that Aranea had not already tended to, working his way from the back of the inn where he'd fallen over and out toward the front where he gathered a few others with him and headed back toward the bridge. ((Continued below cut))

There was a handful of townsfolk gathering the dead; men and women were laid elbow to elbow along the sides of the frozen street while the twilights were heaped in a careless pile on the foundation of a ruined building (one that had been in ruins for years, not because of anything the twilights had done).   As the thought crossed his mind Onmund peered a bit closer at the buildings of the town and could see scorch marks and spots where the wood had been blasted and splintered, holes in roofs, and a door completely off its hinges and in seven different pieces.

Winterhold had taken a beating and had lost many of an already small population but it had ultimately survived.

Onmund led his little group toward the bridge but stopped at the nearest ruined house; a lot of the wood had been scavenged over the years but there were still some sturdy planks left, and he helped the men to pry those up and carry them to the gap in the bridge.  As the others held the planks in place Onmund sank them into the stone -- definitely a temporary measure, and not exactly sturdy, but it held his weight and that of the men with him.  One of them retreated back across for rope to tie across the gap as a safety measure while the others continued forward with Onmund at their head.

Inside the courtyard they were greeted with angry shouts from those walled into the stone jail cell Onmund had created hours ago; it was a massive relief to see them all alive and that the firewood had not run out (Onmund felt slightly guilty that he hadn't told anyone about them -- if he'd slept long enough for that firewood to run out...well, he didn't want to think about it).  As he raised a hand to melt the bars away one of the men standing with him - clad in bloodstained guard's armor - reached out to stop him.

"Is it safe?"

That...was a good question.  The guards in the cell were awake and seemed normal but that could easily be a ruse.  "I...actually, I'm not sure."  He tried to examine them magically and couldn't sense anything except his own armor as radiating magic but as the mark or spell or whatever he wanted to think of it as was of daedric magic he wasn't certain he could trust what he saw (especially since the dagger proved inert to his attempts to sense it, even now).

The guard's hand moved from his arm to uneasily pat him on the shoulder.  "As much as I would like to free them, given what's happened I think it best we wait.  Until we're sure."  That guard turned to the remaining man with them.  "-go fetch a few hands more and bring these poor souls more firewood, and food if you can."

The man wrinkled his nose.  "You would feed and protect the enemy?"

"They're not the enemy, they were forced to do this," Onmund corrected him.   "The mages inside as well.  None of this was something they did willingly."  The man didn't seem convinced but turned to leave anyway; Onmund looked to the remaining guard with him. "What's your name?"

"Gormir.  With the captain's death I suppose I lead what's left of the guard here in Winterhold."

Onmund nodded.  "All right, Gormir -- inside are the surviving mages.  I didn't have time to make a cell like I did for these out here.   I'm...hoping they're back to normal but I can't guarantee that any more than I could for the guards here."

He glanced at the cell; the guards inside were all glaring at him but had fallen silent.  Gormir's gaze followed his own and Onmund heard a heavy sigh come from behind the helmet.  "I'm not sure I understand what even happened here."

"I can explain it more in-depth once we've checked on everyone."

"We will need to set defenses -- I don't dare let those mages into the town, not after this.  The Jarl was forced to ride with an escort to Windhelm, to request reinforcements."  Gormir sniffed and looked to Onmund.  "He was furious when he was made to leave. You know how many see magic, especially here in Winterhold.  You and the mages will be lucky to survive the Jarl's wrath."

Whether he meant Korir or Ulfric wasn't clear but it was definitely a thought that had crossed his mind; the relationship between the College and Winterhold had been poor ever since the Collapse, and it had largely been a policy of the mages to avoid doing anything to antagonize or harm the town.  After Ancano...and now this...

Onmund sighed and turned to head into the College.  "I know. I don't need to be reminded."

Inside the mages were awake, and seemingly aware -- and also angry and confused at being tied up. As they were all still gagged he couldn't completely understand what they were attempting to shout at him but he understood the sentiment behind it.

"Calm down, all of you."   Onmund moved into the middle of the room and looked around; no one seemed in dire straights or any more injured than when he'd left.   "Whether you want to believe it or not, or remember it or not, Varea had you all under her control and you were summoning daedra to assault Winterhold with.  I'm sorry but, I can't set you all free until I'm sure Varea's been dealt with or until we figure out how to remove whatever hold she may have over you."

There was a chorus of disbelieving noises, and several angry half-voiced objections, and Onmund hated all of it -- hated that any of this had happened and that he had no way to fix it.  At least, not yet.  Maybe there was a book in Kestrel's library...assuming he could find it quickly enough and learn it and--

Where WAS Varea, and Kestrel?  Was their fight even still going?  ...is THIS the time Onmund was supposed to be there, to help?  He tried to put it out of his mind and sighed.  "-we'll keep you safe but you have to stay here, and the restraints and gags have to stay as well.  I'll be back to check on you all later, I promise."  With that he moved back over to Gormir, trying his best to ignore the mages as they raged and pleaded at his back.

Gormir had remained silent and stiff as a board, watching from the doorway. "We will properly bind them with whatever we have at hand," he said finally, when Onmund was back over to him.   "Feeding and pissing might be a problem."

"We'll deal with both of those when the time comes," Onmund grunted.  He and Gormir left then; for a moment he thought of placing the mages into a cell like he had with the guards but that was too dangerous -- the guards at least couldn't lob fireballs at them.

Outside there was a cluster of people near the jail cell -- men and women from the town, carrying bundles of chopped wood and cloth-wrapped parcels that he had to assume were foodstuffs.  Beyond them a few others were working to drive wooden stakes into the cracks of the stone on the bridge to create a rope railing that stretched across the gap; there were a few more planks laying alongside the pair that Onmund had sunk into the stone and he quickly sank those in as well, and helped get the stakes into place too.  It was hard to tell if the Nords here were happy for the help -- everyone wore the same stony expression and hardly seemed willing to look at him.  At the very least none were openly hostile to him though what they thought of him was anyone's guess.

Gormir quietly took charge to direct others into standing guard at the cell, and to bring in more rope to bind the mages inside properly.  Onmund left them to it and headed back into town; he only jumped a little bit when the twilight matriarch fell out of the sky and landed just ahead of him.

"What do you want?  Why are you still here?"

The twilight didn't answer nor did she move as Onmund brushed passed her and kept going, heading out of Winterhold and into the mountains.  The storm he'd encountered out on the sea was finally closing in on the town and the wind was beginning to pick up; aside from the wind and the crunch of his footsteps it was quiet out in the mountains however and there was no sign of Kestrel or Varea, and the magicka trail they might have left was already dissipated. Onmund let out a disappointed sigh -- with no trail there wasn't much use for him to go wandering aimlessly in the wilderness. He turned to head back to Winterhold and nearly tripped over the twilight.

"Go away - shoo-" he growled.  "You aren't supposed to be here.  At least go back and bug Aranea or something."

The twilight - a matriarch, he recalled - flashed him a pointy-toothed grin.  "Azura does not wish for me to return just yet, mageling.  So, I remain."

"Well, go 'remain' somewhere else then."

"No.  As it was Azura's will that the priestess return to the altar in time to meet you I too am where she needs me to be."

Onmund wrinkled his nose at that; it sounded a lot like what Quaranir had told HIM as well: there was somewhere he was supposed to be to help Kestrel but for the life of him he had no idea what that meant or could have meant.  He knew, since Kestrel's spirit hadn't overtaken him again, that she was at least still alive...if she was injured he doubted Varea would let her escape, or if she somehow had escaped Varea would likely have returned to menace Winterhold by now.  And with that thought in mind he urged himself in a jog to head back into town; if there was even the slightest chance Varea could come back he needed to be ready to try and face her down...he needed to rest and try to plan, and...

"Exactly what else does Azura intend you to do?  I can tell you right now I don't intend to convert or, or anything like that, no matter how much she helps me.  Does she know Varea is coming back?  Is that why you're still here?"

"We shall see when the time is upon us."

Onmund bit his lip to keep from growling.  "--so does that mean you don't know, or won't tell me?"

"Patience, mortal."

"I can't be patient when it means more people might die."

The twilight's shadow (barely noticeable as the storm clouds approached) passed over his head and she landed on a rock thrusting out of the snow, about twenty feet ahead of him.  "She knows but requires patience.   There are many things that cannot be rushed."

Hmmph - daedra.  Why anyone would ever want to deal with the damn things or their Princes was beyond him.

The twilight's shadow passed over him several more times before he was back on the road and nearly into Winterhold again; there was a small gathering ahead of him - four people it seemed, one of which was on horseback - and as he drew closer he could hear their voices slowly raising in volume and getting nastier.

"--LIVE here, you know who I am!" came one voice, and recognition hit Onmund hard: Nelacar.  How had he forgotten- Nelacar lived in the inn here and Onmund should have remembered that but in the chaos it'd slipped his mind.  At no point could he recall seeing the altmer mage anywhere all this time; a glimmer of hope filled him as he hurried over to the group.

There were two guards here, Nelacar, and surprisingly Brelyna as well.  At his confused look Brelyna gave him a sheepish shrug of the shoulders.

"I met him on the road and when I told him what was happening... I'm sorry Onmund, I couldn't stop him from coming back to Winterhold."

"It's fine," he sighed, standing there and waiting for a break in the ongoing argument between Nelacar and the two guards.  "--it's fine, I'll handle it," he finally broke in.  The two guards glowered at him but fell silent (and their hands fell to their weapons as well); Nelacar turned his horse and Onmund nearly headbutted the creature on accident as its head was abruptly moved into his immediate space.

"Onmund!  What's going on here?"

"It's a long story and I'll tell you all about it in a moment.  Did you ever meet a woman named Varea?"

"What?  Why does that-"

"Just answer," Onmund interrupted sharply, reaching up to grab the horse's bridle to hold it still.  "Did you meet Varea?  Were you around her for long periods of time?"

Nelacar shook his head.  "No, I can't say the name is familiar.  You know I don't enter the College - the only ones I see with any regularity are Enthir and Arniel."

Onmund bit on his lower lip silently; it could be a lie, or it could be the truth, and there wasn't any way for him to tell.  He wanted to believe the man, though -- he was right in that he didn't enter the College (he'd been banished for...something, in the past.  Onmund didn't know the reason though) and for the most part the altmer kept largely to himself, and communicated with the College mages through written letter.  It was likely he'd never met Varea, and maybe Varea didn't even know he'd been here the whole time.

"--where have you been?"

"Morthal, gathering reagents for my -- well, my research isn't important.  What IS important is an explanation as to why I am being kept from my home."

Onmund ran both hands over his face, thinking; if Nelacar was in league with Varea there wasn't anything he could do aside from handle it if something happened, and he was moderately certain he could handle the man - especially with Brelyna here too as he knew for a fact that she was clean of any mark or influence of Varea.  And, he supposed, there was also the twilight...while he didn't know what the creature was waiting for maybe it could be convinced to help him again especially if whatever she was waiting on required him to remain alive.

Finally he turned to the guards.  "Let him through - I'll trust him for now.   And Brelyna too, because I know she's free of anyone else's control."   He took a few deep breaths then gestured for the two of them to follow. "I'll fill you both in and then we should find Gormir, see where we can help or shore up defenses.  We're not through this yet."

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

Nelacar was able to sense the markings on the guards and mages, and was able to somewhat clumsily teach Onmund how to sense them as well.  Daedric magic required a sort of...structured mindset to use, and an "understanding" that it wasn't a school of magic on its own but was a sort of expansive pseudo subset across all of them along while being largely considered just a term used to refer to the magic used by daedra themselves.  Being as he knew the schools of magic were sort of...well, pointless, in addition to not having any sort of teachings on this form of magic it was little wonder he'd not been able to sense or use it.   Nelacar had also stressed many times that daedric magic was dangerous and difficult even for advanced mages to learn and control, and seemed convinced that Varea's marks combined with the daedric power of the crystal dagger were what had allowed the mages to summon the twilights (and daedroth, as he'd so helpfully identified the monstrosity that had almost killed Onmund twice).

It was a bit encouraging to learn even that tiny bit of knowledge but neither of them had any idea how to remove the marks; Brelyna had reminded him that Kestrel had physically cut away the flesh around her mark, and had shown them the spot on her shoulder with its strange, rune-like scarring in the middle.  Nelacar had taken an immediate interest in it, poking and prodding with fingers and magic alike.

"A fascinating means of it all," he'd muttered.

"...means of what?"

They'd followed the mage into his room at the inn and watched him dig through a trunk of papers, parchment, and old books, until he came up with a book about the size of his hand and the width of three fingers; he leafed through until he reached a stretch of pages that, to Onmund's eyes, looked like crazed scribbling and random geometric shapes.

"It would seem these marks are a sort of curse, growing in power due to proximity of the one who cast it.  I've not seen it in person myself but I've read and studied such tangential topics due to strange directions my old research has taken me."

"So...how do we remove them?  Can we cut them off the others like she did with me?"

Nelacar shook his head.  "I believe the longer one is around the caster the further and deeper the mark will spread.  I'd rather not have to remove entire arms to be rid of it."

Onmund rubbed at his arm unconsciously.  "-then what do we do?"

"That...I do not know.  Not yet.  Let me review these old notes of mine and see if I can think of something."

Onmund nodded, then looked at Brelyna.  "I guess you weren't around her much so yours wasn't too large."

Brelyna smiled faintly.  "I was around her quite a bit, at first - I think I might have bored her since I didn't have much interest in what she was there to do and I had my own studies to tend to that I considered more important than humoring a Thalmor.  But when you were brought back and started calling her actions into doubt, and when no one seemed to care that you were in danger of dying, I started to distance myself even further.  I guess that's what saved me."

"It's quite possible," Nelacar said, nodding slowly.  "Reduced exposure to the origin of the curse would slow, but not stop, the spread of the mark."

Onmund nodded as well and stood, grimacing a bit as aches and pains made themselves known again.  "-right.  You find out what you can and Brelyna and I can get wards into place around the town.  We can meet back here, with Gormir, and discuss more defenses we can get placed just in case Varea kills or escapes Kestrel and comes back here."

He left the room and picked his way among the people that were laying on pallets of furs and blankets on the inn's floor.  Aranea was over at the counter, speaking in low tones to Dagur in between spoonfuls of a hearty looking stew.  Between her and now the trio of mages all of the injuries had been mended as best as they could manage -- there would still be scars, and a few permanent limps, but for the most part everyone was patched up and just in need of rest.

Rest was something he knew he needed more of but Winterhold's defense was more important in this immediate moment.  As he headed outside and into the roaring storm he could just manage to hear Brelyna's footsteps crunching along in the fresh snow behind him.  He wordlessly signaled for her to head to the left, to take the College and bridge while he turned on his heel and headed off toward the right; there were seven points where he needed to place the wards to make sure they overlapped enough to cover the town and meet up seamlessly with the ones Brelyna was placing, and then together they could both move down the road and out into the mountains to get some further flung wards placed -- the farther they managed to get them the earlier the warning would come if danger was on its way.

He'd gotten two in place when something began ringing in his ears -- some sort of low hum that seemed to be getting louder but didn't seem to be coming from any one direction.  Very carefully he raised himself from the crouch he'd been in, the foundation stone of an abandoned house cleared off in front of him but forgotten as he tried to pin down the source of the hum.

All at once there was a massive noise - a clap of thunder but twelve times as loud, and it was accompanied by a physical force that lifted Onmund from his feet and threw him back five feet only to skid another three in the snow.  With his head humming and his ears ringing all he could do was lay there, stunned, and wonder what the hell had just happened.