#and he means it I bet he’s done necromancy before

[adastra121]

MC: If I died, how much would you miss me? Leander, doing the sus smile with that hand pose: It’s cute that you think death can get you out of this relationship.

[liesmyth]

Anon with the friend who's reading tlt on the reverse order: Yes, he knows he's being a lab rat, he doesn't keep motes on the books because he's very much a casual reader (and thus perfect for the experiment) and so far we have only done Nona The Ninth and The Unwanted Guest, plus some chapters of HTN & Doctor Sex. There's the slight chance of osmosis corruption because I occasionally reblog modern au memes on my main blog, which I think is how he got Palamedes' whole deal.

There's not much he guessed, and even less he guessed correctly. He did call the fact Crown and Ianthe are related a pleasant plot twist, and he initially thought John was Varun.

The most interesting guess he had, which he arrived through flawed means, was Paul's existence, and the fact Pyrrha had some sort of connection to Gideon The Ninth — mostly because he guessed the average Lyctorhood to be Camilla and Palamedes', and with the reference of Gideon and G1deon as 1) permanently dead, in a setting where he's aware necromancy exists and he thought zombies to be actual resurrected people 2) connected to Pyrrha, and 3) the fact Pyrrha had "some weird vibes" (he refused to elaborate) led him to thinking Pyrrha was half Gideon, half someone else, and the reason Kiriona was vaguely off-putting to people was because she didn't have a full soul. Anyways he did think the same would happen to Palamedes and Camilla, which it did, and that Kiriona was pissed at Pyrrha because of an ambiguous degree of relationship

We have paused rn, as the labrat experiment is in return for me reading a webcomic per book

Oh yeah also im doing this because i either dreamt a post proposing it up or actually saw it, and honestly i wanted to see how much biases and previous narrative impacted the relationship of the reader with tlt characters, their relationships, and worldbuilding, as i absorbed tlt by osmosis as an agender aroace. so yeah giving a gay guy tlt without previous context in the reverse order to complete the trifecta (lesbian woman reading it in the correct order, aroace agender getting to know it by osmosis and figuring out the plot best I could before reading it, gay guy reading it in reverse)

ANON THANK YOU FOR COMING BACK! @mayasaura and everyone who wanted a follow-up to the first part.

"Thought John was Varun at first" is soooo big brained actually! I'm always thinking about John's more RB-like traits. I'm also very amused that he cast Pyrrha as the zombie puppeteer, I bet he's going to love tiny Harrow walking around her dead parent's bodies for a decade.

I also feel like the worldbuilding in NtN is veeery different from the general #vibe of the first two books — it feels like an "anime filler arc" kind of sidequest plot — and I'm very curious if going from NtN to HtN is going to make the settings vibe changes feel stronger or weaker than reading it normally would.

Anyway, I love that you decided to do this, and please let us know what he thinks about HtN! I hope you enjoy the webcomic :D

[tiramegtoons]

Weird question, but what does Snatcher think of necromancy? Raising the dead and all that. Personally I think he'd be iffy on it, as typically necromancy is a means to control the deceased (potentially reminding him of his past). (And what do *you* think of necromancy?)

Hmmm.. This is a pretty cool question. I looked more into this since the idea hadn't come to me before(Snatcher living in a haunted forest and all that) Now, apparently it doesn't always mean to raise the dead, but to also call forth spirits of the deceased for whatever reason. And Snatcher, being one himself; I don't think he would mind that. Heck, he even took the souls of the children in the village and reanimated them into their new doll-like bodies.

However, he could've used their own corpses. But the reason behind this I'm not sure. Maybe their frozen bodies would've not rendered them useful or perhaps he thought it was immoral for him to do.(i mean- ahit rated E10+ lol)

Which brings me to your theory and I like the idea that certain aspects of necromancy is just unethical, even for him. I recall seeing a particular book in the sleepy subcon time rift concerning the ethicality of consumption under capitalism(the pages are empty... lol) He is a villain, but he has standards. And being a lawyer, I bet he has run into a lot of these sort of moral principles. A bit unrelated, but it makes me think if he really did go easy on hat kid for this reason and didn't kill her off the bat.(also baby room in Vanessa's manor kinda sus)

I digress though. As for me, I think it's pretty cool to conjure a dead guys spirit to be able to just chat or vibe with them for some time. Like, imagine being able to share thoughts and knowledge from the past with someone from the 1600's or maybe way older who knows. Like Napoleon. Just tell him how the world's done him wrong because of this one comic artist. (oh man I got a whole long list of deceased people I'd like to tell them how much I appreciate their work and just how much of an impact they've made and how we could really use them in the world right now-besides snatcher of course-hehe. And who wouldn't want a lawyer like him to defend you in your time of need. :3)

[millenniumdueled]

The Day of Judgement: part 2

The bridge creaks under each step, but the Other Yugi doesn't waver or flinch as he walks to the mesa where Raphael waits, an island towering over the desert floor below.

"What've you done with Professor Hawkins?!" he demands.

Raphael smirks. "Oh, I left that old man somewhere in the desert. He served his purpose already. But since you've come all this way... You might as well stay a while.

As soon as Yugi reaches the stone platform, the man across from him draws two large throwing knives from his coat, hurling them simultaneously in Yugi's direction. But he doesn't flinch as the blades wizz past either side of his head, nor as he hears the taught rope supports snap, not even as the bridge crashes against the cliff far across the chasm from the mesa where they stand.

As he readies his Duel Disk, Raphael speaks of a dark and lonely world, poisoned by mankind. How his God and Guardians have promised a new world, free from the people who've ruined it. That it starts by defeating the Nameless Pharaoh. That it's an honor to do so.

"What do you know of Honor?" the Other Yugi growls, drawing his first hand. "You think killing all of these innocent people is justice? Don'tyou see the God you're following is a God of evil?"

Raphael scoffs, but the looks he gives his opponent is pity.

"We each walk on the road we believe in, with our own justice in mind. Which direction does Doma go? Justice or evil? Only history will tell. And all we can do at this moment is bet on our own justice."

The Other Yugi narrows his eyes, and their Duel begins.

As they play, Raphael explains his past. That his family was lost at sea after their luxury cruise was caught in a storm. That Raphael was the only survivor, that he was protected by Guardians of the island on which he found himself. That when he returned to society, he found it cold and uncivilized. That Dartz had promised to save the world by starting it anew.

The cards he plays keep him drawing cards, keep his monsters from the graveyard at all costs. The Other Yugi tries to play fast and hard, to end this thing before his opponent can draw that cursed card. Maybe no one has to lose their soul here, if he can just win quickly enough--!

Raphael plays Purity of the Cemetery, a card that deals both players damage for every monster in their graveyard. But he's been careful, keeping his own monsters from the grave by any means necessary, speaking of the Guardians who had protected him before. But Yugi grits his teeth, glancing at his own discard pile, filling up fast as he tries to rush through this game before the stakes are raised.

The odds are against him, but he summons the great dragon Timaeus to fuse with Dark Magician Girl. This has to be it!

And that's when the tables turn. Raphael actiaves the magic card Exchange, demanding both players choose a card from their opponent's hand. The Other Yugi feels his chest tighten. There's only one card in both their hands.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, the nervous way that Yugi addresses them inside their heart. Head held high, he walks across the mesa to meet Raphael in the middle. As the other man towers over them, their eyes meet, and there's that look of pity again. The Other Yugi says nothing as he exchanges his Necromancy, and he doesn't even need to look at the card he receives.

"you can't play that, other me," Yugi gasps.

"I know, Partner."

But the stone around his neck glows, burning against his collar bone.

But as the Duel resumes, he draws, and his lifepoints drop again for every monster in his graveyard, while Raphael's hold steady. He orders Dark Magician Girl the Dragon knight to attack, but Raphael activates a trap that leaves her encased in crystal and useless.

Behind Raphael, the first rays of dawn break from the horizon.

"I know you want to use that Seal," Raphael muses. "I can see it in your eyes. You know that's the only way to win, Nameless Pharaoh."

The Other Yugi curses under his breath, sets a monster in defense and ends his turn. Raphael attacks both Yugi's set monster and his lifepoints too.

That stone burns the Other Yugi's skin again.

"other me you can't. if you don't play it, nobody has to lose their soul, please--" Yugi begs. But the sound makes his Other Self's head throb. He stares down at the card in his hand. "we might lose, but we can all just walk away and--"

"I can't lose," the Other Yugi gasps, out loud but under his breath. For a moment, he remembers the last time his Partner begged him like this, pleaded with him as Kaiba stood precariously at the edge of Pegasus's castle. He remembers the fear in Kaiba's eyes then. The desperation in Yugi's voice now. The humiliation as his attack was called off as his lifepoints dropped to zero. He can't do that again. He can't fucking lose again!!!!

He feels Yugi tug at the reins, try to take control of their body.

He feels that stone burning like fire against his skin.

"other me, don't do this! don't do this don't do this!!!" Yugi screams, but his voice is already drowned out, pushed aside as his Other Self locks the door of his soul room and plays his only option.

As the Seal of Orichalcos disappears into the Field Card tray of his Duel Disk, a rush of heat and power washes over him, feeling like his skin is burning away as the glowing Seal appears on his forehead. He screams, falling to his knees as the Circle spreads below them, trapping both Duelists inside their cruel fate.

All Yugi can do now is watch helplessly as he gasps, "what have you done?"

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

OC in Fifteen Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @illarian-rambling! :D

I'll do this for Ilaran from The Power and the Glory:

"Believe me," the prince said, in a quiet but composed voice. He picked up the candle snuffer and began to extinguish the candles. "I'm only making this journey now because of my uncle."

"How can you deliver a message? You don't have pockets as a snake."

"Let me get this straight. You're trying to raise the dead to win a bet?"

"How in the world is it preventing blackmail?" Over the last few minutes Ilaran had gained the bewildered expression common among people who talked to Abi. "You're just creating more blackmail material."

"You're approximately the two hundredth person to tell me that today."

"We'll need alcohol for this discussion. A lot of alcohol."

"She claims a walking corpse interrupted the festival. Very well then, the empress will say, show me the corpse. Obviously she can't. The next question would be, Are you certain it was a corpse? Haliran will be in a predicament. If she insists it was one, she'll have to explain how she's so certain and why it didn't act like any of the other reanimated dead in the records. If she claims you raised it, with no evidence to support any of her story, she'll be laughed out of the palace."

"Well, what are we to do about it? I don't think she'll give up necromancy because we ask nicely. She's obsessed with it. Besides," he remembered the ghosts in Haliran's house, "a necromancer could be very useful in some situations."

"What's happening out there? Another assassin?" Ilaran appeared in the doorway behind Koyuki. "Oh, it's you. What's she done now?"

"What do you mean, I'm not going to stay dead? Dead people don't come back to life."

"I won't let you win. You'll win anyway because I'm terrible at chess."

"Forgive me for not trusting the word of a bastard. Especially not one who'll inherit everything if I die before our dear father."

"I'd like her to see me become king before she dies," he said wistfully. Then he turned to Nuvildu. "Would you help me kill our father?"

"I wish I could go back in time just to tell the emperor of Seroyawa what I think of his parenting methods."

"All right," Ilaran said at last. "But if this goes as badly wrong as I expect, I'll do my best to drag you down with me."

Tagging @sam-glade, @iamwritehere, @emelkae, @dogmomwrites, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D

[abigail-pent]

mmmm another interesting GTN detail to chew on! This time from chapter 20.

Mercy's avulsion trial has two names. The first is diversion; the second is avulsion. I never noticed that before, and I don't think it really gives us new information, but it's quite interesting. Avulsion means "the act of pulling or tearing away" -- which makes sense in context, given what siphoning feels like for Gideon -- but diversion is, well, a much kinder and gentler version of the same. It's interesting too that both words are used in conjunction with rivers. Rivers are diverted by dams and the like, and per the OED, the legal definition of the word avulsion is "the sudden separation of land from one property and its attachment to another, especially by flooding or a change in the course of a river." So... all signs point to "ripping a soul away to change the course of a river". Does that.... sound familiar.... to anyone????

I would bet several money that John renamed this trial avulsion, to scare people off, in a way that's linked with his condemnation of the practice of siphoning. Honestly I'm feeling another 8th/9th parallel coming on. Harrow's parents created a mini Resurrection in conceiving her, while I'm feeling more and more sure that the 8th house practice of siphoning is a similarly miniaturized version of a big transgressive necromancy thing that John did or still does. John never forbade repeating the Resurrection in miniature, possibly because he thought it couldn't be done. But whatever siphoning is the miniature of, must be replicable. And as I type this I become suspicious that siphoning-writ-large is the thing that created the dam in the River. Not Resurrection, but its opposite. If the Big Siphoning caused the death of the 10 billion -- ripping their souls away, insert Macbeth reference here -- then that's the source of the dam in the River. Diversion, and avulsion. One and the same.

I know none of this is news to anybody who's been following meta for the past year or so, but I still think it's interesting, and I'm really fascinated by reading it with an eye towards the 8th/9th parallels.

[capricious-and-melodramatic]

Necromancy

It’s past Midnight, here’s #2 prompt

“I cannot believe of all the people, you had to go for the guy who brings people back from the dead.”

“He’s not a Mortalitasi.” Arn argued.  

“No, he’s a fucking necromancer. Not a fucking neck-romancer. Those two a very different things.” Thomas raised an eyebrow at Arn. All his life getting thrown from Circle to Circle, he lands with the inquisition and dealing with some rather dense lad.  

Arn looked at him blankly.  

“Inquisitor Adaar, you are afraid of the dead. The Fallow Mire really reinforced that.”

“I don’t-- That’s not the same.”  

“Inquisitor I hate to speak out of turn, but how the fuck isn’t that the same?” Thomas was blunt, he was too tired and too old to give a damn how people viewed him, Arn apricated that.  

“You bedding a bloke that could kill you and then bring you back to make you his fucking puppet and shit.” Sera interjected from her comfy spot at the table. The Tavern was lively so no one would here this conversation. “I can’t believe I'm siding with the mage here, but you thinking right?”

“He’s not gonna do it to me!” Arn argued.  

“Yes he will!”

“If he would, he would have done it already. He actually heals me rather than bringing me back from the dead.” Arn argued.

Both Thomas and Sera stared at him, bewilder that he didn’t see their point.  

“Look, if you two are just going to attack me for a friendship with Dorian--”

“It’s not a friendship.” Thomas scoffed. He knew a man head over-heels for someone. He’d been there more than once in the last 40 years.

“If you’re just going to keep poking me for an answer you want, you need to stop.” Arn left the table. Thomas and Sera watching him as he went.  

Arn found himself wondering, following his usual path to the Library. Dorian sat there, in his large pink chair, book in hand, ignoring the world around him. However he was the first to speak.  

“What brings you here, Inquisitor?”  

“You don’t have to call me that, remember?” Arn sighed.  

“Darling, we are out in public. If I don’t call you by your title, a loud hen will run up the stairs to cluck at me for hours.” Dorian quipped.  

“I’ve never seen the Chicken come into the library before, the furthest she’s got was the Tavern.”  

“Arn...” Dorian said in a low, quiet voice. Arn realized he wasn’t talking about the chicken they had found on their way back from Redcliffe that one time, it was about a chantry mother in the gardens below.   Arn snapped back once he processed Dorian’s tone. The way Dorian said his name though, oh did that make him pay attention. His smile under his mustache, the way he would fold his book up. But it wasn’t about that. While Arn moved close to some seclusion in Dorian’s little alcove, he remember why he came.  

“Dorian, I need to ask you something.” He asked as Dorian’s arms snaked around his wait.

“Oh?” The tone was questioning, lingering with something else, Arn couldn’t quite place it. “Did you want to do something together?” Dorian’s tone changed back. Arn noted that.

“No-- I mean yes, but not now. Maybe.” Arn sighed, straightening up. “Dorian. I need you to promise me something.”

A look a dread flashed over his face. Arn steeled his nerves.  

Please don’t ask me what I think you’re about to. Dorian thought to himself over and over. He wasn’t ready for anything like this, there was too much going on, he had no time to think. Arn held Dorian shoulder firmly. Oh Maker, please don’t tell me you're dying. Well maybe that then the other thing. Maybe neither, hopefully NONE.

“Please don’t bring me back from the dead.”  

Dorian waited for an ‘and’.  

There was nothing, only Arn with a worried look on his face.

Dorian nodded, “If that’s what you want, I will comply.”

“You will?” Arn was shocked.

“Of cause! I don’t think Lady Seeker will be too happy to find that I, not only got the Inquisitor killed, but also doing the thing she hates the most and bringing you back to life.”  

“She would get very mad.”  

“I would bet my life she would kill me. Besides what brought this on?”

Arn let out a long sigh.  

“Did Thomas by any chance decided to have a talk about my necromancy?”  

“Yeah, how did you know?”  

“Florence, the wonder that she is.” Wonder she’s not dead yet, he thought. “Asked me about it the other day. She told me Thomas wouldn't have a bar of it, so I gave her something on it. Thomas is a Circle Mage. He’s not as opened minded about certain Magics as some of us are.”  

“You can call him a crotchety old man if you want, I wont tell him.”  

“I’ve told him enough times, don’t worry.” Dorian laughed. “And don’t worry, I won’t use my skills to bring you back from the dead. If you’re that way inclined. I know how much you are not a fan on the dead.”

“You too?”

“Darling, it’s not that hard to notice. The Fallow Mire, for starters.”  Arn huffed.  Dorian cupped his face so gently. “If that’s you’re only fault, I think I will live.”  

[goattypegirl]

Harrow the Ninth Live Read: Chapter 6-11

Con: It’s been a while

Pro: We finished part 1!

Con: this post is hella long now.

Chapter 6

Eighth House icon. Oh no. Gotta say, not a fan of the characters from the Eight House in Gideon the Ninth, whose names I now forget. There was Big Dude and Mayonnaise Twink. 

OH OK WE’RE STARTING OFF WITH SOME LOCKED IN SYNDROME SHIT. 

So, panicked person wheeling Harrow is given the title “Sacred Hand.” I vaguely recall seeing that before; is that a title given to Lyctors? Is this one of the OG Lyctors finally making an appearance? Wheeling the frozen Harrow to the Emperor to “unfuck accordingly?” Well, maybe not. Presumably another Lyctor would be able to “unfuck accordingly” themselves.

Oh disregard it is a Lyctor! And if we go back to the Dramatis Personae, this should be... Mercymorn! Originally of the Eighth House! She seems nice.

“It was his order that she not be touched.” Did the Emperor do this? But hwhy?

Calling Harrow and Ianthe babies is kind of hilarious. Aaaand Mercymorn just knocked this random person unconscious. OH wait is this the person the Emperor said to make static-y noises at? Survey says... maybe? They were called the Saint of Joy, which seems a unique title?

The whole description of the Lyctor and the way she visually dissects Harrow is so poetic, but something else catches my eye here. Harrow says her eyes did not have such a startling transition, which helps confirm my theory that Harrow is suppressing or undid the Lyctor process.

Also using the power of Cringe, Harrow partially(?) undoes the paralysis spell done to her. “An emotion was playing out over her face that was- not unfamiliar to you- but nonsensical; you discarded it.” Eh? What emotion could this be referring to? Confusion over what Harrow did? Awe? Fear? All of the above?

OH okay before I forget, Harrow formed a bone hook inside of her to do that, and she made that bone sheath to hold on to the sword, so maybe her necromancy isn’t being suppressed? Well, maybe. That feels more... internal? Like she hasn’t grown any full ass skeletons from bone dust yet.

...Why is Harrow afraid of telling Mercymorn her actual age? Why is the Body telling her to lie? Why fifteen??

Relief? That’s what flashed across Mercymorn’s face? Oh, duh, because Harrow did that and didn’t immediately die. Duh. Also she straight up said “hiss”? That is weird. Also, thinking back, it is weird there wasn’t an age requirement in the Lyctor trials. Also Mercymorn took Ianthe too???

“You’re not as pretty as Anastasia.” Anastasia being the member of the Ninth House listed with the Lyctors, but not as one of the Saints. Doing this liveread has its advantages, namely that I can remember shit that happened earlier! 

OH WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. “AS Anastasia,” not “As Anastasia was.” Implying Anastasia’s still alive? Matches her name not being struck through in the Dramatis Personae, and Mercymorn said there were 3 OG Lyctors now. Which matches with Anastasia not having that line about being a Saint! I’ve connected the two dots!

Okay there’s a lot going on here. Why is this normal necromancer so fascinating to Ianthe and Harrow? What she’s doing is pretty dope to be fair. Mercymorn called Ianthe 12... which... huh. More on that in a second. First, I need to google what the fuck an animaphiliac is... probably in an incognito window. Oh, okay, it’s just a style of necromancy in this universe okay thank God. Mercymorn also said Ianthe wasn’t as attractive as Cyrus... which is weird... And it reminds Ianthe of being with Mummy... I assume she means her mother, comparing her to Coronabeth? Oof.

So, back to the lowballing age thing. Mercymorn assumes Ianthe is 12, probably  because she’s super old and has forgotten how mortals age. Harrow seems to have subconsciously picked up on this, which is why she lied about her age. I’m still in the camp of the Body being non-supernatural in origin. Yes, she has Gideon’s eyes, BUT, she spoke in the voice of Harrow’s mother and Aiglamene. SO, my theory is that the Body is a product of the trauma Harrow’s gone through, that’s kind of externalizing Harrow’s inner thought process. Like I said earlier, I’ve read Twig, and this is reminiscent of that.

OH hey we’re headed to the frontline apparently? Because 3 warships got shot down suddenly? Which begs the question I’ve had in the back of my mind since first picking up this series, who the fuck are they fighting??? Probably not Ressurection Beasts, given what we know about them. Other humans, probably? Dominicus (probably) isn’t Earth or humanity’s home planet. 

Okay, hold up. The Emperor is trying to get to the frontline now, Mercymorn wants him to return to “the Mithraeum”, which is presumably the capital of the Empire outside of the Dominicus system? Also, Emperor’s been on the ship for 80 years, and been away from the Mithraeum for 100... Once again, the math’s not adding up...

Okay, so God hugs Mercymorn, she freezes, he confirms that he is leaving, and that he knows exactly who shot down 3 warships???

Okay cool we’re not headed to the fronline, we’re headed to the Mithraeum, whatever the fuck that is.

Ohhh and the Cohort necromancer girl died, or committed suicide? And the Emperor brought her back? ...There’s a story there.

Ohhhh Mom and Dad are fighting.

OKAY ONCE AGAIN A LOT TO UNPACK HERE BUT THE MITHRAEUM CAN ONLY BE REACHED BY ONE MEANS???? AND IT MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING A LYCTOR???

...Hey. So. Here’s something. In the description of Mercy’s sword, it says it has a white knob at the end of, and I quote “-you didn’t know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though.” There’s a disconnect there, between Harrow’s knowledge, and the narrator’s knowledge. This has happened a few other times, like just a few pages ago, Harrow says a room is used for bodily functions, but the narrator jumps in and says no one in the universe would call it that, it’s a toilet. And this is going to sound kind of batshit, but like 6 years ago i was in to Undertale, and there was a popular theory that the narrator in that game was a separate character from the PC and... a lot of the points used in that theory kinda ring true here... even the use of second person narration...

So the narrator is a separate character from Harrow? Now, whether this narrator exists in-universe, or if this is a really cool stylistic choice, is another story. Right now I’m leaning towards... I don’t know. Well, hm. If the Body is a kind of externalization of Harrow’s inner thought process, maybe the narrator is an internalization? 

That makes no sense.

Something to keep in mind.

Anyway, the shuttle detaches. There’s a sort of irony, in God being tired of people martyring themselves for him, but giving a speech saying “hey if you die in my service I love you.”

OKAY I think we’re about to go faster than light using necromancy? This should be good. OH OKAY WE’RE TAKING A SHORTCUT THROUGH HELL. COOL.

...so what was their original method of faster than light travel that turned out to be unusable? did it have to do with neutrinos in italy?

okay I love Mercy and the Emperor’s dialogue here. Again, objectively, I’m sure they’re bad people who have committed several warcrimes... but the way they bicker is just hilarious.

I’m googling hyperpotamus, and i’m only getting other Harrow the Ninth livereads, so it appears to be a term made for the book. But I have a terrible feeling it’s a pun on hippopotamus.

There are so many quotes here that I absolutely love, including “said the Lord of the Nine Houses, who apparently existed within a complex power dynamic.”  and “The magma metaphor falls apart from here.” 

...Oh. Okay, serious time. Even at the very start, just post-Resurrection, two of the Lyctors fell to the Resurrection Beasts. Well, one died, and one was “removed from play.” Which sounds horrifying.

So we’re dipping into Hell because you can move fast there. Hell is full of angry ghosts. This explains the ghost ward. Lyctors have hacked the system, and so can kind of survive there. And we learn what happened to Cassiopeia, one of the deceased Lyctors. (Interestingly enough it says she baited physical portions of the Ressurection Beast. Not a beast. Nor is it given a number...)

ALright so entering the River physically sounds fucking horrifying. I’m very glad we only have to do it this once and it definitely won’t come back later in the book nope definitely not.

“and that you felt alone in your head.” ;_;

Chapter 7

Sixth House icon.

There’s not a lot to say here, besides how freaky this is. How much do you want to bet that the faint wail Harrow hears is coming from the coffin with Cyntherea’s body?

JOHN. GOD’S NAME IS JOHN?? #NAME LORE UNLOCKED. IM JUST SO HAPPY I FINALLY HAVE A WAY TO REFER TO HIM WITHOUT STRUGGLING TO SPELL EMPORER EVERY FUCKIN TIME.

Also, Mercymorn knowing his like actual human name further implies some stuff about the timeline of the Ressurection, which I was wondering about previously... but that’s a discussion for later because Harrow’s in Hell!

Not a lot to say here besides 

fuck.

A few things. One. I think they’re going to get out of this okay? And by okay I mean alive? We know Ianthe, the Emperor, and Harrow live up to the point of the Prologue, and I don’t think Mercymorn is going to die already. 

Two. Cassiopeia was from the Sixth House, going by her Cavalier’s last name, which explains the chapter icon.

Three. The lights? The last page or so is very metaphorical, but, at the beginning it says Harrow perceived herself as a “sickly radiance”, and that she perceived the others on the ship as a light as well. She later said she was an “ova cluster of two hundred pinpricks of light.” So I think in this deep part of the River Harrow accidentally sent herself to, souls (maybe?) are displayed as lights. Harrow’s own soul is literally made up of the hundreds of dead House Nine kids, which is. Spooky. But then, at the end, when they jump out of the River, they bring 5 lights with them. So... either something hitched a ride with them, or it has something to do with Harrow suppressing Gideon and the Lyctor ritual. Everyone else on the ship has undergone the Lyctor ritual (or something similar, in John’s case), and they only have 1 light each. At least to Harrow’s eyes. BRUH IDK WHAT”S GOING ON. 

Chapter 8

No further answers here, this is a flashback chapter! So, sheared skull = flashback. And this chapter is going to feature the Fourth House, apparently. Who was Fourth House again? Oh no it was the kids. Oh no. ;_;

So, we are continuing through Harrow’s re-imagination of the events of Canaan House, with her Ortus OC in tow.

Of course Harrow is overwhelmed by normal tea, and of course Harrow thinks dressing up skeletons is stupid. 

AND of course Harrow would have a private prayer wishing doom on anyone that looks at her with any kind of emotion.

Hold up, the Anastasian tomb? Reserved for warriors? And presumably derived from the word Anastasia, the mysterious not-Lyctor of the Ninth House?? 

I can already tell Anastasia is going to become my Pepe Silvia. 

Ohhh this is going to be a lore bomb about the timeline of the Ressurection and I’m going to need to pull out my copy of Gideon the Ninth to see if any of this shit actually happened. 

TEN? TEN NORMAL ASS HUMANS? AND FIVE NECROMANCERS?? BUT THERE WERE SEVEN LYCTORS. THE MATH DOES NOT CHECK OUT.

Okay so I checked and none of this shit actually happened! In fact, Teacher actually said there were 16, 8 necromancers, 8 cavaliers. Where the fuck is Harrow getting 10 from? Who knows! And rather than explicitly saying “hey check out the basement labs to see how to become a Lyctor,” Teacher actually said fuck if I know. Not actually. But still.

Oh of course it’s called the Sleeper!! I had Kill Bill sirens playing in my head when I first read that. 

So,  had a whole ass monologue here, but this is already very long and im sleepy, so to very quickly summarize, the Parahumans series had an entity known as the Sleeper that was intentionally very mysterious and raised a lot of questions amongst fans, and the fact that there’s another entity here known as the Sleeper is flooding me.

So, I’m spooked. Again, this entire conversation did not actually happen. Teacher’s dialogue is precious. “go where I durst not go: because I love my life, and I love noise, also.” and “I do not know the answers to any of these questions, only that, already, you are being too loud.”

So, the rest of the chapter plays out with Ortus complaining to Harrow. Intriguingly, he says that Harrow doesn’t have much of an imagination, when she says there was no one else to choose as her Cavalier... And then one of the skeletons says, “Is this how it happens?” harkening back to Parodos, when the Body says something similar. There’s a lot to unpack here. One, like I said previously, because Ortus, and apparently the entirety of Canaan House, is a product of Harrow’s mind, they can maybe give some insight into Harrow herself. However, the fact that Ortus seems to break character and chastise her for her lack of imagination is... I don’t know.

Okay, theory time. “The Work” alluded to in the letters is not only the suppression of Lyctor-hood, it’s also the erasure of Gideon, and the creation of these false memories. Meaning Lyctor!Harrow somehow crafted them; there was conscious effort behind it. Which means we can totally pick these scenes apart to gain further insight into Harrow! The skeleton and the Body asking if this is what happened, and Ortus breaking character (maybe) are her subconscious breaking through... Maybe that ties into my idea of the narrator being an internalization or compartmentalization of Harrow’s trauma? Hmm...

Chapter 9

Seventh House skull, and not a flashback. I’m guessing this is because we’re going to inter Cyntherea’s body here.

Okay, so time seems to have passed. IDK how much of the River Harrow remembers here. It seems like she recalls it like a bad dream. Ianthe’s here, and they’re in a chapel made of bone. Or at least one absolutely covered in bone. 

Here’s a question. The necromancy Harrow excels at, that’s creating a whole ass skeleton from a single bit of bone. Is she actually creating a new skeleton? Or is she reforming one. Like if she had two teeth from the same skeleton, could she use that to make two new skeletons? In the last chapter the Ressurection was described as not creating anything new... does that apply to all of necromancy, or just what the Emperor did?

Also another side note, Harrow says the stars glow with an unearthly light, which matches what the Emperor said, that they restarted the stars near the Mithraeum with thanergy, so they’re weird now. Except... wasn’t Dominicus restarted the same way? Or is the Dominicus system a hybrid of thanergy and thalergy? I’m getting my energies mixed up.

Anyway yep it’s Cyntherea’s funeral, and Harrow is checking the fuck out.

Okay we have a new Lyctor... and I’m guessing it’s Augustine, since he and Mercymorn are fighting.  

Okay and John’s giving a speech and giving more lore about the pre-Ressurrection and it’s confirmed that this guy is Augustine and-

First gen? Second gen? Sixth installation?? Valancy? ANASTASIA?

bruh im so flooded and this is supposed to be such a reverent moment.

Ohhh this is awkward now that they’re pulling Ianthe and Harrow forward. Okay we get a formal introduction to Mercymorn and Augustine. Augustine trails off before the third... and asks if he, the third surviving Lyctor, knows about the missile strikes...Is the third Lyctor the one leading the people who shot down the warships, which is sounding increasingly like a rebellion rather than a battle against others? Who’s the third again ah fuck it’s ORTUS.

ORTUS is apparently interested in “you-know-what”. Which I don’t know what. Please elaborate. 

ORTUS is here and he’s skeletal. OH AND SO IS RESSURECTION BEAST NUMBER SEVEN.

FUCK.

(bruh what the fuck is a pseudo-Beast)

Okay yep time to fight an eldritch god.

Speaking of which, God’s name is John confirmed.

And Harrow bled from the ear and fell unconscious, hearing the name ORTUS.

Chapter 10

Pog we’re almost done with part 1. Fifth skull, sheared, so it’s flashback time. 

I don’t recognize immediately where we are; apparently this is in the library in Canaan House? Though I don’t remember one from Gideon the Ninth. We see a bit of personality from Ortus, when he complains about Fifth House poetry, which is nice. 

Oh, wait, never mind, that was Magnus speaking. Ortus remains as boring as ever.

Hehehehe dick jokes.

Hey so no fake vow of silence in the false memories of Canaan House! That’s interesting. As is Magnus and Abagail being here, and them being pretty fleshed out characters. As are these cooking instructions from the Lyctors...

HOOOOOOOLD the phone here. The cooking notes mention an M and Nigella... which was the first name of Cassiopeia’s cavalier... How would Harrow know that? The easy explanation is that this is a note that Harrow actually found, and is placing here in her fake memories... The other explanation is that something funky is afoot...

Ooohkay Magnus is asking if this is how it happens now. The simulation is breaking down. AND ABAGAIL CAN TELL THAT HARROW IS A LIVING WAR CRIME. PANIC.

Okay now we’re getting Ortus emotion! He is a grown ass man Harrow. At least, he would be, were he not a figment of Harrow’s imagination.

HEEEEY

WHAT THE FUUUUCK

WE’RE CONTINUING ON THIS DYING EGGS THING

PROBABLY WILL BE RELEVANT LATER.

Okay and the simulation breaks down further when Ortus says “you did have a cavalier with a backbone, I’m not them.” Interestingly enough, it’s hours later Harrow realizes something’s weird... Huh...

Chapter 11

Seventh House skull.

Literally just a paragraph saying Harrow sleepwalked and stabbed Cyntherea’s body.

...She sleep walked... the Sleeper from the fake Canaan House...

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Part Forty-Four

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum​

A/N: trigger warnings for mentions of suggested abortion

Amara flopped down on her couch. Cin was still with Renee, which- well, it sucked. She missed her mate. And she needed help getting rid of all their shitty furniture so she could let him buy some better furniture for the better apartment she was planning on moving to. As soon as she found one anyway.

She was still laying there, staring at the ceiling, when she heard Nik come in the door. “What happened to your door?” He asked.

“Ash. Shut it behind you.”

“No.”

When she levered herself upright, he was setting the piece of plywood she was using as a door against the wall. “You’ll let in a breeze, dickhead,” she said, flopping back with a groan.

“Good,” Nik said. “Maybe it’ll get rid of the charred wood smell.”

“Not my problem much longer. I’m moving.” Amara threw an arm over her eyes. “Hopefully.”

When Nik didn’t speak, or move closer, Amara groaned loudly. After sitting up, she crossed her legs, peering at how Nik’s arms were folded across his chest.

“Come, sit on the shitty couch I plan on replacing.”

“Why are you leaving?”

Amara squinted. “I’ll tell you if you sit down,” she wheedled.

“When were you going to tell me Destris was dead?”

Guilt pricked at Amara, but she lifted her chin stubbornly. “Sit, and then we talk.”

“No. You lied to me.”

“When?” Amara asked, spine straightening.

“I thought you were done not telling me the truth.”

“Not like I’ve been around much to tell you anything.” When she looked at Nik, he looked close to tears. “Seriously. Sit. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why tell me now?”

“Because you’re here, dumbass. And no one’s here to interrupt me this time.” She patted the couch insistently.

“Name calling is not going to work in your favor,” he said, pursing his lips.

“Name calling is my way of showing love and you know it.” Amara leaned back. “I was afraid to fail again. I wasn’t going to put you through that. Besides, I was on a tight schedule. I killed him quick. I had to. I needed his soul. And I felt like shit for bailing on you, but- I needed Lev back. You needed him.” She screwed her face up. “And then Cameron kicked me out of the house.”

Nik gave a grim little smile. “Everyone needs Lev,” he said. He sat down on the couch, facing away from her.

“Yeah well, you were kind of out of commission without him. I need my best friend functional. Or as close to it as you usually are.”

“Doesn’t excuse the fact you lied to me. Again.”

“Right. Next time I’ll drop everything I’m doing on a time sensitive mission and tell you what i'm doing.” She crossed her arms. “I wasn’t trying to leave you out of the loop. That’s not a lie. Shit just happened fast, and then Cameron pushed me out of the house, and I haven’t seen much of you since.”

Nik got up with a muttered, “Whatever.”

“Hey, no,” Amara said, jumping to her feet and grabbing his wrist. “Wait. Please. You’re here. Please. Let’s talk, now that you’re here.”

Nik pursed his lips, clearly thinking about it, before he flopped back down. “Speak.”

“Cyrus said the spell we tried didn’t bother to offer anything in exchange.” Amara tipped her head back. “He’s the one who thought of killing Destris. He killed Lev, he should die. So I killed him. Cameron wouldn’t come, which. I expected. He’s got baggage I don’t think anyone wants to unpack. I wish I could have dragged it out, but I was afraid of Destris getting away if I toyed with him. So I gutted him when he opened his front door. Cameron wouldn’t let me stay while they did the magic. So I came over and cried on you, but you know that. And then we spent days waiting for Lev to wake up, and that’s all I could think about at the time.”

She paused, touched his shoulder. “I’ve been ignoring you,” She finally said. “Worse than usual. And that’s not fair.”

“You didn’t kill him fast enough.” Nik’s voice broke. He curled into the couch, looking away.

“Noted for next time.” Amara hesitated. She leaned against him, closing his eyes. “Hey. I won’t apologize. You hate those. But. I’ll try to be a better friend.”

Nik stared into the couch blankly. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’m pregnant,” he finally said, voice cracking. “He’s the father.”

Oh. Amara had no idea what to say. “You keeping it?” She finally asked.

“I don’t know.”

Amara considered him. “You don’t have to, you know. If you don’t want to.”

“You mean not carry a sadist’s spawn in my weird omega uterus? Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Plenty of angels are weird about abortions. Won’t even say the stupid word. It really is an option.”

“If i want to get an abortion, I will. I just don’t know what I want.”

Amara considered that. “Okay,” she finally said. “Whatever you decide, it’s the right decision.”

Nik gave her a really tired look. “Okay,” he said dryly. “Thank you, Ash.”

“Ouch,” Amara said, smacking his shoulder. “Take that back right now.”

Nik curled into the couch and rested his head on the back cushion. “What, exactly,” he said, “is Cameron going to say when he finds out I slept with his brother of all people? Cameron puts up with a lot of my shit, but he’s not going to put up with this. Not Destris.”

Amara considered him. “Cameron isn’t going to do anything,” she said. “It’s Destris.”

“Destris did not come onto me,” he said. “I came onto him. I went to him for the drugs and I was more than willing to let him fuck me- and knot me. Even if it’s Destris, I am not Destris, and… this kid sure as hell isn’t either.”

“You went to Destris?” Amara frowned. “You knew it was Destris, and you went to him anyway?”

“No I did not know it was Destris,” Nik said, irritably. “But that doesn’t mean shit.”

“Kinda think it means everything,” Amara said. “If you don’t know who you’re fucking, how the hell do you consent.”

Nik’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Easily. With my mouth. And ass apparently.”

Amara rolled her eyes. “No.” She said. She poked his cheek. “Not how consent works, dumbass.” She leaned against him, and sighed. “But I’m not going to change your mind. I know that. Just... know Cameron will understand.”

“Sure he will,” Nik said. “Because Cameron is capable of forgiveness or empathy or literally anything else on any form of emotional spectrum. Not to mention we already have one kid in the house that he wanted to kill the moment he laid eyes on. And that kid isn’t even a hybrid.”

Amara nodded. “Cameron is just a freak of nature who doesn’t feel shit normally. But I know it’ll work out. I just know.” She tapped her temple.

“Since when were you an optimist?” Nik demanded, voice cracking. “Ugh, stars. I am so sick of crying.” Nik wiped hastily at his tears, his glower faltering. “I’m a horrible person.” he closed his eyes. “Lev literally just got brought back from the dead and I’m pissed off everyone cares more about him than me.”

Amara shrugged. “You’re allowed to be selfish. And everyone will stop fawning over him soon enough. Or, as much. Everyone fusses over Lev. You do, I bet. If you need more attention, more love, more- whatever, ask for it. You know no one will mind. You deserve it too.”

“Do I?” Nik asked, silent tears slipping down his face. He palmed his eyes, sniffling. “I’ve been selfish my entire life,” he said “Now I’m just being an asshole. Not like I was just brutally murdered and then necromancied back into life.”

“You are,” Amara said. “Now go be selfish, or I’ll tattle to Lev and Cameron that you're not getting enough attention that you need.”

“I decided to go out and get high and completely blow off everyone, making Cameron turn into a skeleton, Lev try to make me stay dead and everyone try to handle me. I’ve been nothing but selfish and smothered and now I want erven more attention and it’s even worse because Lev doesn’t remember anything and now I’m pregnant and if i say a word to anyone about it, especially Lev, then he’s going to try to bend over backwards to parent me and Cameron’s going to hate me, even more than he already does, and Nate’s going to get even weirder about me being in Cameron’s house and-” Nik’s mouth snapped shut and he took a deep breath. “Point is, being selfish is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

Amara sighed. “I don’t know how to logic you out, Nik. You'll have to find someone else to do that, but I’ll always be here for you. Cheesy as that sounds. If you can't be selfish around anyone else, then, be selfish around me.”

Nik blinked rapidly, scrubbing his face before moving over to lean against her. His entire body trembled with barely suppressed tears while she put her arm around him. He sniffled. “You’re annoying,” he finally said, petulantly.

“It's my job,” Amara replied. “You wanna stick around a bit longer?”

“Yeah,” Nik sighed against her.

---

With Nik gone for the day, Lev was stuck in bed, though at least Cameron was there. In the chair. Out of arms reach. Lev lasted an hour, ignoring the vague ache pulsing through him, before he cracked.

“Cam?” Lev asked.

“Hm?”

“It hurts,” Lev admitted. “I- can you hold me?” He was quick to add, “I can sit in your lap if you still want to read, but- not being touched… hurts.”

“Sure,” Cameron said eventually. He settled more comfortably, and then shifted so Lev’d have room.

Lev wobbled the few steps it was to Cameron’s lap, and curled in immediately. Cameron pulled a blanket around Lev, and started to play with Lev’s hair absently as he read. Slowly the ache faded, and Lev sighed softly into Cameron’s neck.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“Mmmhmm,” Cameron replied.

“I guess we should let Ash know… I didn’t realize… I didn’t know it hurt like that. Nik hasn’t let me go since he arrived.”

After a few seconds, Cameron said, “Nik will be back soon.”

Lev nodded. He knew that. And he didn’t begrudge Nik his time away. “I like time with you too,” Lev said. “I like it when you hold me. I feel safe.”

“All you have to do is ask.”

“I know. That’s the hard part.” Lev pressed a shy kiss to Cameron’s cheek. “I’ll work on it.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

Lev snorted softly, and snuggled back into Cameron. “You haven’t changed much.”

“I’ve been at work. I’ve been too busy.”

“That sounds about right.” Lev absently traced Cameron’s collarbone. It stuck out more than he remembered, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Cameron went back to reading, but Lev didn’t mind. His alpha’s hand was still playing with his hair, and Lev was content to let him.

Lev had dozed off by the time Nik came home. Lev only stirred when he ehared Cameron tell Nik… something about dinner. That was enough Lev’s head shot up, peering blearily around.

“Nik?” Lev asked, finally focusing on his boyfriend.

Nik gave him a tired smile. “Hi.”

Lev scrambled clumsily out of Cam’s lap, and wrapped himself around Nik tightly. “How was it?” He mumbled.

Nik wrapped his arms around Lev’s waist. “Amara was being Amara, as usual.”

“A little annoying, and not really helpful, but you feel a little better anyway?”

“Yeah. Exactly that,” Nik said.

“She’s good at that.” Lev pulled away, long enough to flop on the bed wearily. “Nap with me?”

“Yeah,” Nik promised, joining him. “That sounds nice.”

---

Lev had sent the sentries back for proper pillows twice, though he wouldn’t give back the others. He tucked them around Nik, though he tossed a few chosen to the floor. Nik didn’t offer to help, and just watched Lev sleepily. Lev took several breaks, and napped frequently.

He occasionally took small laps around the room. As long as he didn’t stray too long, Nik just waited for him in bed. Lev poked around in the adjoining bathroom, puttered around in the walk in closet. He dragged several pillows in there with him, and one of the extra blankets, too. He left them there, out of the way, and crawled back in bed with Nik once again.

Nik tugged Lev close. “If you keep getting out of bed, you’re going to get in trouble,” Nik mumbled.

“You’re with me,” Lev said. “I’m supervised. And I don’t stay long.”

“I see you’re going to drag me under the bus with you.”

Lev burrowed close. “I didn’t mean to. I- I can stay in bed.” He touched Nik’s cheek lightly, and then, “I’ll try anyway. I’m supposed to try to walk a bit.”

Nik whined at him, and curled into Lev.

Lev stroked his hair. “I’ll stay,” he promised, more firmly this time. He pressed a hesitant kiss to Nik’s forehead. To Lev’s delight, Nik began to purr softly.

Lev settled deeper in the bed, and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he was dead asleep, one hand fisted in Nik’s shirt.

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @caelisis

[terezis]

the timeline of god’s ascension

so @tea-pizzaz​ and i were wondering where god might have gotten his power from and she made a really good point about how thanergy and thalergy must be naturally occuring phenomena that people learned to manipulate.

and if that's true, if they're just scientific principles that humanity gave names, then other aspects of necromancy must be this way as well... like revenants, perhaps??? i mean, germs were around way before we "discovered" them LOL. i bet ghosts were, too.

so what if, before everything, john touched something or someone he shouldn't have, and alecto's ghost attached herself to him? we’ve seen revenants do this; wake’s ghost attached herself to the sword, and then to harrow when harrow touched it, and then to cytherea’s body when they stabbed it. (i'm also assuming this is why her soul is following harrow around now; harrow touched the body when she saw it in the tomb.)

previously one of my hang-ups about the source of god's power was that, if necromancy wasn't a commonly known or done thing until a few hundred years post-resurrection, then where did he learn about it? how did he learn to do it?

but we've seen how continued exposure to thanergy can affect the body. look ianthe, who almost died at birth and then went on to become a necromancer while her sister, who was born healthy, didn’t. look at harrow's parents, who were unable to conceive... until they were. if alecto's revenant attached herself to john, then i'd bet that that continued exposure to thanergy (do revenants give off thanergy? i feel like they have to, with what we know about souls and lyctorhood) predisposed him to necromancy.

and alecto, constantly whispering in his ear, must have convinced him to use that ability to bring her back - or maybe he just became endeared enough to want to try it on his own. hence john saying that he was her first resurrection. 

(also i think he fucked up the process and either brought her back wrong or brought something else back with her, but that’s neither here nor there.)

this clears up a lot of their timeline for me. alecto the revenant sticks herself to john, john becomes able to do necromancy as a result, john (badly) resurrects alecto. 

at some point afterwards they must have used his newfound power to become lyctors (although how they managed to figure out that whole process is still beyond me.) and if they were lyctors at the time of the apocalypse, then that also explains why they survived it when nobody else did. they were the only people who couldn’t die!

“It wasn’t gorgeous dust to be left in, Harrow. I was dazed … I was bewildered … and she was my defender and my sole companion, and my colleague in the scholarship of learning how to live again. 

and if they were already juiced up on each others’ souls, well...

“It was bloody difficult. I had never been God.”

i think this (coupled with the idea that john is more powerful than a normal lyctor because alecto isn’t fully human - maybe full of the river or what lies beyond it, like colum the eighth was when he got possessed?) is how he managed the resurrection of the system.

BOOM!!! THAT’S WHERE HIS POWER COMES FROM. MYSTERY SOLVED, MAYBE???

[cami-chats]

Bare Strings Of Breathlessness

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Pairing: Geralt/Renfri

Warnings: None

Geralt walked down the street, one hand on Roach's reins. He glanced at Jaskier then grimaced; he was waxing poetic about his newest lover. Or maybe it was the newest woman he wanted for a lover, it was hard to tell sometimes. As he looked up the street again, his eyes glanced over Renfri. He kept walking. He didn't look at her again, but from the corner of his eye he could see her approach them, taking up space next to Jaskier. 

"Oh um, hello there. Geralt why is this woman following us?" 

He stopped, turned to look at Jaskier. It was still Renfri next to him, not someone else. "You can see her?" 

"Of course I can, she's wearing bright red, it's rather hard to miss. Can I help you with something?" 

"You can't. He can." 

Geralt's eyes flitted to her. She looked much the same as the last time he'd seen her alive. The gouge on the side of her neck had turned into a pit of whitened scar, but the smirk was the same, her bob of brown hair was the same, and the way she was looking at him was familiar of the night before their fight. She didn't have the brooch on her cloak because he'd taken it-- still had it in his bag somewhere-- but she had the same sword at her hip and she probably had that dagger somewhere too. "I killed you," he said, and started walking up the street again. If it really was her, she wouldn't be so easy to forgive him. Butcher of Blaviken and he had deserved it. Not the way everyone else remembered it, but he'd killed all her men, then her. Whatever fake forgiveness she was offering, he wasn't interested. 

"You- I'm sorry," Jaskier said, hurrying to keep pace with him since he'd learned that Geralt would leave him behind, "did you say you killed her? I've seen the people you kill, they aren't walking around a month later like a goddess from the heavens to grace us." 

"Thank you for the compliment, I think," she said, easily keeping up. "Who are you?" 

"Oh, Jaskier, the Witcher's bard," he said, offering a hand, which she took. "I'm sure you've heard my work. White Wolf, that was my doing." 

"Good marketing," she agreed. "Wish I'd had one of you around when I was working." 

"Feel free to have me around now," he hurried to say, only to stutter to a halt when Geralt glared at him. "I- I- well what I mean to say is, you're here for Geralt and I would never do anything to upset my best friend, because we are friends, aren't we Geralt? So if you're around long enough, I'm sure you'll be made into a song or two yourself. What's your name, again?" 

She hadn't introduced herself in the first place, but she said, "Renfri." 

"Renfri, of course, pleasure to meet you. Um, how do you and Geralt know one another?" 

"We met when there was a... possible monster in Blaviken." 

"Blaviken?" Jaskier repeated, looking to Geralt then back to Renfri. Neither of them offered more details. "Right. Well. I'm sure that was most interesting, I'd love to hear the story sometime." 

"No you wouldn't," she said softly. "I have a story for Geralt though. Maybe he'll tell you about it someday." 

Geralt looked at her again, and it seemed she'd only had eyes for him for that entire conversation. "Jaskier." 

"Hm?" 

"Go entertain yourself in a pub." 

"Al...right. Consider me gone. I'm out. I'll just be, y'know, up there," he said, pointing towards a random building and taking off at something like a march. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I wanted to see you." 

"The man who killed you." Geralt grunted. 

"It didn't last." 

"Necromancy is forbidden magic." 

"That's not the fault of the subject. I didn't have time to ask a necromancer for help if I failed." 

"Did you fail?" 

She tilted her head in question. 

"You're alive. I take it Stregabor is dead." 

"After what he did, wouldn't you agree he is the lesser of the evils? That is the phrase he used, isn't it? Lesser of two evils." 

"Hm." After the rest of the town had seen her dead at his hand, Stregabor would have thought himself safe. Whoever brought her back must not have made a fuss over it. "Why are you here?" 

"I already said." 

"To see me." 

She nodded. 

Geralt snorted, then started walking again. This wasn't exactly a city, but it was large for a town. There was a stable up ahead that could board Roach for the night, and for once, he had the coin to pay for it. 

"You think you can escape your destiny." 

"There's no such fucking thing as destiny." 

"There is." The girl in the wood, she had said before she left that morning, The girl in the wood is your destiny. 

"Destiny for some mage cunt to break the law and resurrect you?" 

"I wouldn't call that destiny, I'd call it a fucking good run for me. Destiny didn't do shit, I decided to help you on my own." 

"Hm." 

Renfri grabbed his arm, and he froze. Despite Jaskier talking with her, he'd still half expected for her to be a hallucination. "I only had vengeance on my mind. It's done. My men are dead, and I'm not a princess anymore. I'm just as lost as you are Geralt. I can help you a lot more than that bard of your's does, I bet." 

He looked down at where she was gripping his forearm. "He does plenty." 

"I'm sure," she said, tone not changing. "What harm could come from letting me travel with you?" 

"My throat cut in the night," he offered, and she rolled her eyes as she let go. 

"Don't be so dramatic. If I was here to kill you, I would've declared it and run at you, sword drawn." And she might actually win that time. 

Geralt grunted, and they walked towards the stables. He didn't welcome her back or anything of the sort, but he didn't object to her presence again. He paid for Roach's stay and gave the horse a parting pat. Grabbed her brooch so he wouldn't forget to return it. Whether she thought of herself like a princess or not, it was still a piece of the life she’d known. "Let's find that fool bard before he gets his balls kicked in." 

"He that annoying?" 

"He takes to sleeping with married women." 

Renfri snorted. "Maybe he deserves to get his balls kicked in." 

"Hm," he said in agreement, but they were still going to protect him if he got into trouble-- which he would, he always did. They walked into the tavern, and while she gave the room a scan, he walked up to the bar. "Two ales." 

The barkeep looked at his eyes then his necklace. "Not sure I want your kind settin' up shop. Trouble follows you." 

He tossed some coins on the counter. 

A pause, then the barkeep shrugged and swept the coins into his hand. "Your funeral mate," he said, but he got the drinks. 

Renfri joined him at the bar and Geralt pushed an ale towards her, followed by tossing her brooch on the counter next to the cup. She downed half her drink before she paid it any attention. She picked it up, rubbing her thumb over the metal. "You kept it." 

He grunted, taking a pull from his cup. 

The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she pinned it on her cloak where it belonged. "Thanks." 

He didn't say anything, and a minute later, Jaskier stumbled in the front door. He saw them, frowned, and made his way over. "Every time you meet a woman, you forget all about me. I'm starting to take it personally Geralt, I really am." 

"Take it however you like." 

"All these women you meet, hm?" Renfri asked, looking supremely amused. 

He took another drink, and she laughed. It was good to have her back. For however long that lasted. 

[foegold]

people be wanting to know about a lil blue bastard. this ones long as hell so its under the cut jsdhfg

Your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

farmer! he’d just keep living the way he’d been living. it’s the sort of life he imagines he’ll return to one day, after he’s seen and done enough. ‘enough’ is a really arbitrary end goal though

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

who in the party wouldn’t he trust with his life tbh. in the most literal sense he’d trust Eli with it just because he knows Eli can bring him back from dying in some stupid and ill-advised way

What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

frogs are good, try to be nice to people but if they’re mean to you first then at least a few bets are off, the rich should probably be eaten. killing is sometimes necessary but maybe try some other stuff first

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings?

he doesn’t have any siblings, and his relationship with his mom and recently present dad is. a little weird, and not all the way comfortable, and not like really bad, but just confusing? it’s confusing. at least he’s had more transparency from his mom recently than just about any other time. it’s a start

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

he trusts other tieflings a little quicker than other races but its not really saying much because he’s not smart and if you’re good at talking and sound like you know what you’re talking about he’ll just believe you. he doesn’t have the good sense to second think it without prompting

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority?

so far just about every interaction with nobility has been messy or bad or scary or all three so right now the opinion is “not great”. also thats just too much money. whaddahell would you do with that much money.  he’s generally uneasy with authority figures at best, and flat out paralyzed by them at worst. he’s easy to bully when he doesn’t have anyone backing him up and he knows and hates it

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

he cycles through an assortment of sweaters but the one he wears the most is the heart sweater he got in Wunjo that’s been altered a few times in the last few months. he do keep collecting those scars tho, before starting adventuring he had a handful of minor scars just from working around the farm with the animals and the equipment and from romping around in the country. now he’s got all sorts, but the most prominent ones are: the thin scar on the left side of his face, starting just below the eyebrow and curving gently below his eye (the last time Leo would leave a mark on him); the twisted angry scars across his torso from being mauled by a giant undead horse(?); and the fluid, patterned necromancy scars slowly spreading across his back, creeping along inch by inch

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most?

besides his own house, Roman’s house has been the nicest! its warm and theres soup and friends there. there was a run down little ranch house somewhere at some point, but he’s not so sure anymore that he didn’t just dream about fixing the place up with his best friend

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship?

he doesn’t have a god he actively worships, but he’s peripherally aware of the god in the mountains that’s responsible for some of the most brutal storms in the region. he doesn’t care much about religion but hes got the same amount of concern most people would have about evil deities and what their followers do

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

probably woodworking! its handy, it’s useful for living out in the country where you have to either make the tools or furniture or fun items to put on a shelf you want, or go out of your way and also spend money to get them. maybe an actual alchemy set and/or poison kit but 1) playing with poison just a fun hobby for him and Xan to get into when they have the time and the plants for it, and 2) man he wouldnt follow the instruction manual anyway so whats the point

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?)

will his friends be okay? will he be okay? is there an FAQ for tieflings learning that they’re much closer to fiend lineage than they originally thought? that would be convenient and helpful. is john gonna figure out more about the little men named ‘adam’ that’re allegedly everywhere?  if he could know one thing about the future, he’d like to know if everything will end out okay. if things will turn out as nice as he’d like them to.

What colors are associated with your character?

looks at the camera like im on the office

blue, white, and black are the big ones but im trying to pepper in a few other colors. reds and yellows are a close second

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances?

everyone sits squarely in the #1 spot on the rescue list

that aside john and roman are extremely high priority, they’re not the sturdiest and if something looked at them too hard they might keel over. baster and xan come next, he knows baster’s a shit brick house but he keeps seeing bad things happen to her and really hes just had Enough of it. eli’s a little lower priority because they can heal themselves if they’re in a tight spot, and then blu considers himself least concern. he knows he can get thrashed around some and still survive, he’d rather take a beating and know he’ll walk out of it than let someone else take it and wind up dead

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos?

pathos, it’s easy to make him feel for u. legit any of them work though as long as you talk it up good enough he’ll believe you and if there aren’t any glaring conflicts between what you’re selling him and his base morals then it’s relatively easy to get him on board

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for?

idk probably something really simple that he put all of .5 of a second of thought into. hes not smart and doesnt have good foresight so he’d probably ask for a frog or smth unless there was something very much more pressing and present

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.?

favorite(?) spell is life transference. it hurts a bit but it keeps his friends safe so it’s worth it. invisibility is up there too, its fun and easy to steal from stores when ur not visible

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party?

he doesn’t like lying and also lies really poorly. he’s usually just honest from the get-go, its easier and feels better. if he has to lie its through omission, bold faced lies really just dont work

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by?

all sorts....bro the world is full of animals and lots of them like to be pet

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?

he thought he’d grow up and be a farmer like his mom, the adventuring thing was extremely unplanned and impromptu. he hoped he could be a kind and brave person though, the way Canna described his dad.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond?

random roll says it’s Roman, he’d probably laugh because the only reason that would happen is because the party is fooling around with potions again. Roman’s very married and very in love with his husband and makes sure everyone knows it all the time

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with?

that doesn’t seem like a very viable circumstance, the only npc thats important enough that he’d listen to for something like that is his mom and she actively encourages him to take care of himself and his friends, and lets him make his own decisions about what he’s doing with his life, so

What unusual talents does your character possess?

idk if its all that unusual of a talent but he got really good at stealing and pickpocketing and he can do a sick flip. also does some black magic sometimes

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?)

it’s his name, u kno. bluebell is his middle name, but Canna called him bluebell growing up and he latched onto it a lot more than arden, and he thinks its a nice name, and a nice flower, and it sure would be nice if people would stop laughing when he introduces himself as “Blu”,

(blu was originally a stand-in name until i named him something else but it really grew on me and it fit him so! it didnt change, he just got other names too)

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character?

The Moon. 👀

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it?

he’s def scared of magic sometimes, especially his own. he also really wants to understand it better though, and be less scared, or at least control it better. imo it’s a healthy fear, theres been lots of magic mishaps 

How did your character learn the languages that they speak?

he learned common and infernal from mom! and he’s learning draconic from xan. it’s a nice downtime activity, sit down with ur best friend and homie and learn a new language just for fun

[numeronubisexualhawkeye]

Be Kind, Rewind

2278 words

@thatahjuma

(ngl cheif, almost didn’t do this one cause it was kinda hard for me lmao)

It was Quill's idea. All of the guardians and Thor had been onboard in an instant, but Clint was hesitant when Nebula had come forward to tell him the plan. He missed Natasha more than words could describe, but Clint wasn’t one to try to fuck with the dead.

He had already time travelled twice in one week, fought an alien army for the second time in his life, and ran around with a glove with stones powerful enough to wipe out a planet, all in the course of 72 hours. Necromancy was something he probably should have expected to be next on his involuntary to-do list, but not like this. Not with Natasha.

She had quite literally given her life for the fate of the universe, so that he could live to see victory. Undoing her sacrifice felt selfish, and a part of him feared that undoing her death would somehow undo the battle against Thanos. It also felt incredibly unfair. Who was he, or any of the guardians, to play G-d? Clint could understand Quill’s need to do this, Gamora had had no choice in Thanos being her father and being killed for the soul stone. But Natasha, she was different. It felt disrespectful to go for such a long shot to bring her back. She had wanted to jump, had bet her life that it would work, and it did. They won. Hurt like a bitch, but Clint was ready to accept that she had died as she had lived; working to save the world. He wasn’t sure if he was willing to undo what she’d done all because he missed her.

But Bruce confirmed the math (even if almost all of it was completely theoretical), and everyone onboard was willing to give it a shot. Worst case scenario, everyone hangs it up, and tries to move on with life, try to carve out something new among the old ashes of a missing loved one. Best case scenario, well Clint knew what that was, but he was still too afraid to think on it. What if she came back angry? Would she even come back the same? Would the Red Skull even let her come back at all? There was only one way to find out. He packed his bags, boarded the ship, and held on as Rocket piloted them to lightspeed back to Vormir.

Clint was almost mesmerized when he saw Vormir appear out of the vast blackness of space when Rocket pulled them out of lightspeed. But when the realization of what they were here to attempt to do flooded his mind again, he felt uneasy. This felt like a mistake waiting to happen. It wasn’t going to work, there was too much working against them for this to work. They were about to mess with a magic Clint had never seen before. Even after being around aliens for the last 24 hours and seeing the Infinity Stones’ power for himself, he still felt like they were meddling with something completely out of their realm of comprehension.

They exited the ship, Quill leading them at first, but Nebula stopped them halfway up the mountain and turned to Clint. “You should address the guardian.” she said.

He had been nervous before, but hearing her suggestion, it made him want to turn around and wait on the ship. The plan had originally been for Quill to go first, seeing as Gamora had died more recently than Natasha had. If everything went smoothly and she came back, then that would mean that the chance of bringing Natasha back were better than the some odd million to one chances that Bruce had offered when he hypothesized their plan back at on Earth. If he went forward first and this didn’t work, he didn’t know what he would do. He had failed to turn up to fight Thanos, wasted five years brooding and killing, left Natasha alone to deal with trying to run the Avengers and save the world by herself, and when he finally came back, he barely had any time to appreciate those last few hours they had had together. He had always envisioned the both of them making it out together. That they would be together right now, leaving the guardians to fight their own battle alone and finally leave the world in the hands of some of the fresher Avengers. But all of that had dropped into oblivion when Natasha let go of his hand. But now, well now he had a chance to get it all back. A very fragile and slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. Their plan wasn’t foolproof, but he would much rather stick to it than wing it and hope for the best.

“Nebula, seriously?” Quill said stepping towards Clint. “I really doubt some guy is gonna be able to handle whatever Hellraiser here is gonna throw at him.”

Nebula’s expression didn’t change. She simply shot a glance between Quill and Clint. “You’re wrong. He’s been here before. Tried to give his life to save Natasha so she could bring the stone back. He can do it.”

“I’m flattered,” Clint started, “but,” he didn’t have time to formulate a full answer.

“Clint, son of Edith.” the Red Skull said. He floated down from the cliffs above. Had he been able to hear them this entire time? “Nebula, daughter of Thanos. Peter, son of,”

“Okay, enough with the role call,” Quill cut in. “We’re here to bargain.” Quill reached inside his pocket and held out the soul stone. It had been agreed upon that he would be the one to carry it, seeing as he had held the power stone years before without dying.

The Red Skull didn’t say anything. As a matter of fact, he looked, confused. His eyes squinted and he reached out his hand for the stone when Quill held it out. “No one has ever brought it back.” he explained. He paused again, and looked at Clint. “You have come for an exchange?”

Nebula’s plan to have Clint speak instead seemed to be set in motion even though no one had agreed on it. “Yes. You remember me?” Clint asked.

The guardian nodded. “Of course. Few ever follow through with the exchange for the stone. But even fewer willingly give themselves for it.”

Clint fought against the lump in his throat as he remembered he and Natasha fighting each other as they raced to the cliff’s edge. “It should have been me. If I switch places, and you bring Natasha back,”

“Barton what are you doing?” Quill hissed beside him. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“We’re fucking with death Quill, you really think any kind of plan was going to hold water here?” Clint whispered harshly. “We have to play by his rules, or turn around with our tails between our legs. If this doesn’t work, then nothing else will.”

Clint was willing to give his life for Natasha. He had done it so many times before back when Shield was still around, G-d all those missions seemed so trivial compared to what he was trying to do now. Jumping in front of a fire fight to pull Natasha to cover felt like a walk in a park to this. But he was willing to do it. He was already willing to give his life for the soul stone before, and not just for Natasha, but for the fate of the universe. Now that the dust had settled and he had a second chance, a chance to do things right in his eyes, he wasn’t too eager to screw that up because Quill suddenly had a penchant for doing things according to plan.

He held his hand out to Quill. “Give me the stone.” he instructed. “I can’t make any promises, but I will try my hardest to bring Gamora back.”

Quill looked away for a moment, his face twisted as he weighed the very limited options. It was either this, or they both jump and hope the Red Skull accepted 50/50 deals. “Fine.” Quill said at last. “But if this doesn’t work, I swear to G-d, I will dig you up and kick your corpse’s ass.”

He hadn’t said it to be funny, but Clint smirked anyway. “It’s going to work. He took the stone from Quill and walked to the Red Skull. “A soul for a soul, that’s what you said right?”

The Skull’s expression was unchanged. “Follow me.”

Clint gave one last glance over his shoulder to the guardians as he walked to the mountaintop. This is the only way. He thought. It’s better this way. Natasha was going to come back, the scales would be tipped to order. Clint just prayed that his promise to Quill would hold up, he couldn’t stand to think if he had wasted another life and kept another couple apart because of his selfishness.

At the mountaintop, Clint swore he could hear the ghost of he and Natasha’s conversation in his ears. To the Red Skull, that had been almost a decade ago, but to Clint, it had barely been two days. He walked to the edge, the Red Skull following closely behind him.

“A soul for a soul.” he repeated. He looked back to the guardian, “Will this even work?”

The Skull didn’t answer. He just held out his hand. Clint looked at the stone in his hand one last time. For a moment, he wondered if he could bring the Red Skull down with him. When he and Natasha had first come to Vormir, he had said that he knew all there was about the stone. He had seen G-d knows how many people come to try and get the stone, the few that did leaving half the person that they had been before. Those souls and bodies didn’t just disappear. They had to go somewhere. The stone was the only logical answer, but if that were true, then they would have been released when Bruce snapped his fingers.

A soul for a soul.

Clint held his hand out toward the Red Skull, and when he brushed his hand with his to take it, Clint lunged forward off the cliff. He tried to be quick with his grappling hook to catch himself, but the added weight of the Red Skull pulled him down too fast. Falling through the air, he felt impossibly slow, but he still reached out for the cliff wall, praying to find any ledge to take hold of. But there was none, and he finished the fall with the Red Skull, the soul stone forgotten in the air around them as he met the stone floor of the ground below.

There was a rush of sound around him. Wind? An explosion? No, no it was quieter than that. It was voices. Only a few of them, but he was sure that’s what he was hearing. But as quickly as they came, they were gone, the air in his ears popping as if the air was rushing to fill in the void that the voices had left when they vanished.

Clint’s eyes snapped open, he was staring up at the same purple-black sky that he had seen when he awoke with the soul stone. He bolted upward, his back soaked, he was in the same pool of water as last time.

“No.” Clint whispered to himself. He looked down at his hand, and there was the soul stone, the soft glow a beacon in his hand, telling him that he had failed twice now. “No. No, no, no, no.” he cried.

It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t work. Just like he had suspected, they had tried to play G-d, and G-d played back.

He put his face in his hands and heaved out a sob. He didn’t care if the guardians heard him. He had failed again. Now, not only had he gone against Natasha’s dying wish and every conceivable law of nature, but himself as well.

“Who the hell are you?” a voice nearby said.

Clint looked up and saw a woman, no, an alien, green skin and all, standing a few feet away from him. “Gamora?” he whispered. She backed away slowly when she looked down and saw the stone in Clint’s hand.

“Hey, hey, no. I, I wasn’t supposed to get this. It was supposed to be a tra-”

“Clint.”

This time the voice came from behind him, but he didn’t need to turn around to see who it belonged to. He would know her voice long after he had passed on. Natasha.

Slowly, he allowed himself to turn around. When he saw her, he broke. They walked toward each other, his arms stretched wide, ready to pull him into his embrace. When they met in the middle, she pushed him away with tears in her eyes.

“I told you to go. You weren’t supposed to come back. I told you it was okay!” Despite the anger in her voice, she cried. But he wasn’t listening. He pulled her to him and kissed her, letting the stone drop to the water as he pressed his hands against her back. She was there, she was alive, she was real.

“You know I’m a jackass.” he said when he finally paused for air.

Natasha let out a short laugh. “Fuck. Me dying to save the literal universe just wasn’t good enough, huh?”

Clint didn’t even know what to say. He just kissed her again and took her hand, as he lead them and Gamora back to the guardians and the ship, so they could finally live in the victory they deserved.

[dork-empress]

A Nightmare’s Nightmare

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)

Relationship: Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone)

Characters: Kravitz (The Adventure Zone), Taako (The Adventure Zone)

Additional Tags: Nightmares, simulation of dying

Kravitz hasn't seen the need to sleep in centuries. When Taako convinces him to, it isn't as relaxing as Taako makes it seem.

Kravitz wasn’t just sitting around doing nothing but work before he met Taako, despite what Taako seemed to think.

The Raven Queen wasn’t a hard boss. He had earned time off occasionally. He went into some new town and enjoyed some of the culture, to see how time had changed things. Obviously he was most interested in any music and how it had developed. He loved going to concerts, and had strong opinions on how music had changed (In the Raven Queen’s name, he was so glad they moved past Baroque. All that extra flourishes for absolutely no reason just to prove they could. Where was the heart to it? The emotion? He...may have annoyed some of his fellow reapers with this line of thinking.)

The point was, while he wasn’t as in touch with the living world as he was recently, he wasn’t exactly living under a rock either.

The one thing he hadn’t done in a long, long while was sleep. There didn’t seem much point to it. It didn’t change or develop with culture, like music or the arts. He didn’t really need it. It just seemed like a waste to spend 8 or so of his precious free hours doing….nothing.

Taako didn’t need sleep either, but he loved it. Kravitz initially mocked him for being too lazy to meditate, but he did seem genuinely more refreshed after a long sleep session. And a refreshed Taako was a happy Taako, so Kravitz was happy too.

It wasn’t an ISSUE really. Kravitz loved cuddling with Taako, and Taako apparently loved balancing the cold from Kravitz skin with the warmth of his overly fluffy blanket, “Thermal equilibrium, babee,” Taako yawned at him one day, moving his head around Kravitz chest to find the optimal pillow placement.

Kravitz was happy to have Taako curled up beside him, but it left him with very little to do. He didn’t want to move, and disrupt Taako’s sleep. Looking and admiring Taako’s sleepy face was nice…..for a couple minutes, and then he was bored out of his skull. Which was impressive as he WAS a skull.

It couldn’t hurt, he thought, to doze a bit. Maybe Taako was onto something, maybe the best thing to refresh was nothing at all. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. How was he supposed to do this again? Was there a switch in his brain he could flip to just….send him off? Could he even sleep? What if he was incapable of it? What was he supposed to do with all this time and--

Taako was snoring. Very, very lightly. It was so damn cute, the little rumble in his throat vibrating against his chest.

Kravitz calmed down, breathing in sync with Taako, and letting himself just listen to those snores like he was a concert of one.

Kravitz had his violin clutched in his hands as he ran through the halls. Where was the damn orchestra hall? He was late, he was running SO late, and he couldn’t remember where he was going.

He tried to follow the signs, but he couldn’t read them. Who put signs up in infernal? He was really going to get it now. “Hey babe,” Taako said, walking down the other way with him, “Where’s the fire?”

“Not now,” Kravitz said, “I’m late for rehearsal, and I can’t find the practice hall.”

“It’s right behind you, dingus,” Taako said, “Have fun!”

Kravitz turned around. He hadn’t even seen the door before. He opened it, facing a million eyes.

The Raven Queen towered over the room, “Late again, Kravitz,” she said, “You’ll get a failing grade if this keeps up.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said, going for an empty seat. As soon as he sat, he realized he didn’t have his violin, “I...I think I left my instrument in the hallway,” he said, “I need to...to go and…”

“No,” the Raven Queen said, “You must conduct the orchestra.”

Kravitz nodded. He always wanted to do this, but he thought he’d have more time to prepare. He stepped up, taking the conductor’s baton. As he stood, facing the awaiting crowd, he realized he didn’t know what song they were playing. 4/4 seemed like a safe bet...but what tempo…

He raised his arms and the band took a breath. As he started the beat, a horrendous noise shuddered around him, a roar of a thousand beasts. He covered his ears. The roar faded, into pleas, a hundred, maybe a thousand people, begging for their lives, for the lives of their loved ones. Begging for peace. It echoed, turning his brain to sludge. He knew these voices, every one of them, melded together. He’d killed them.

“You took my child from me,” a woman’s voice broke through, “I had her in my arms again and you took her!”

“I would have given you anything,” a man, this time, “It was just a little necromancy, I wasn’t hurting anybody.”

“You killed us,” “You MURDERED us,” “We were innocent” “You’re a monster” “You’re not even alive either,”

“You’re not even human.”

Kravitz fell to his knees, clutching at his ears, but it did nothing to counteract the voices. He tried closing his eyes too, but he could still somehow see their gaunt faces.

His legs felt wet and he looked down. The bandroom was gone, everything was gone. He was sitting on top of an endless plane of black sludge.

And he was sinking.

“No, no!” He shouted, trying to stand up and crawl out of it. But there was no solid surface on which to stand. There was nowhere to go and get out of it.

The sludge rose like sickly hands, grabbing at him, pulling him under. He tried to fight it, but they just held on. It was inevitable.

And he was alone.

He raised his head to the surface, trying to savor air while he had it. It was hard, the sludge crushing in on his chest, and his throat.

The sludge wasn’t sludge anymore, but simple water, frozen and still clutching at him like the hands had.

He reached up, trying to grab hold of the icy surface he’d fallen through, but he couldn’t get a grip. The icy water shot through him like a thousand swords.

He saw something just before his face went under the surface. A figure standing above him. It was Taako. He tried to yell for help, but the water filled his mouth, silencing him.

Taako looked down at him and smiled. The last thought Kravitz had was that he was going to die.

“Kravitz?”

Kravitz jumped to standing. All he knew for a moment was that he was in darkness, and standing on something soft.

Another second and he realized he was in a bedroom. After another, he knew it was Taako’s. He was standing on the bed, Taako still laying below him, looking up at him shocked.

“Y’all right there, buddy?” Taako asked, tone more relaxed than he was, “‘Cause you know I love the bones but they ain’t exactly cuddle material.”

Only then did Kravitz realize he was in his skeletal form, holding his scythe. He switched back to his body and sat back down, trying to piece together his memories and get his thoughts back in order. “It was just a dream,” he said, to himself and Taako.”

“Some damn dream,” Taako said, leaning on his elbow. His hair was untied as he leaned into Kravitz. “You wanna talk about it?”

Kravitz clenched his teeth, “It didn’t make a lot of sense,” he said instead of answering.

“Because dreams usually have great literary arcs.” Taako chuckled, resting his head on Kravitz’ thigh. “What’s goin on, what freaked you out?”

Kravitz shrugged, “I mean it, it didn’t.” he said, “I just….I think I was dreaming about how I died.”

Taako blinked, his elven eyes reflective in the dark. “Well shit. As someone with some expertise in that field, dying is definitely nightmare fuel.”

Kravitz took a deep breath. He didn’t really have lungs, it was just sort of...moving air around, but it felt better to do so. “How do you handle it?”

Taako stretched, sitting up to better hug Kravitz. “Cry a lot, ain’t gonna lie. Taako ain’t got time for that toxic masculinity shit.” He won a smile from Kravitz as he reached up, covering Taako’s hand in his own, “Eventually you remember it’s just a dream and can’t really hurt you. Even if it happened, it’s in the past. It’s just a dream.”

Kravitz rocked a little in Taako’s arms. “I haven’t had any dreams in a long time,” he said, “I don’t remember them being this unpleasant.”

“Eh, mostly they’re just fucking weird,” Taako said, pulling Kravitz closer. Kravitz lay his head on Taako’s chest now, listening to his strange elven heart beat. There were three pumps to it. Weird. “I was dreaming about these like, giraffe things? But they had teacups for heads and I was trying to see if they had any tea inside.” Kravitz chuckled, “And then, the bitch looked down at me, and spilled the goddamn tea all over me! My clothes were RUINED!”

Kravitz finally managed a laugh, clutching Taako all the closer. “Why do you like sleeping, then?”

Taako rested his head on Kravitz’ locks. “I dunno. Sometimes its nice to have something that doesn’t make sense. To not have stuff to do or logic to follow. Just….exist in this weird new world.” Kravitz could feel him smirking, “Plus going back to sleep in the morning is dope.”

Kravitz smiled. “You want to go back to sleep now, don’t you?”

Taako yawned, “Kinda,” he said, “But I can stay up. I think I got enough in to cover meditation.”

His ears were twitching, and Kravitz couldn’t help it. “Go back to sleep,” he told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe I’ll get a better luck of the draw with dreams this time.”

“Are you sure?” Taako asked, but he was already falling back into his bed. “Alright, come here, then. I’m gonna snuggle those nightmares out so hard, they won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Kravitz chuckled again, letting Taako wrap him up. He fought back the fear of what his unconscious mind would bring him this time….

[charlesoberonn]

Dr. Destiny #2

(Dr. Destiny #1)

A few years a ago, a Necromancer going by the name The Enchantress has raised an army of the dead and attempted to use it to take over the world.

After her death, her army remained. No longer under her spell, the ghouls, zombies, skeletons, phantoms and ghosts started wandering the Earth aimlessly, looking for a purpose.

Dr. Destiny, a graduate Necromancer, decided to take it upon herself to return as many of the undead as she can back to the other side where they came from, and grant them peace.

“You know, you’re why I got into this profession.” Dr. Destiny said to her current patient. She didn’t bother looking him in the eyes, since he didn’t have any. And even if he did, they would be covered by his helmet.

Her patient was currently standing well above her with his 2 meters tall stature. His rusty joints creaking as he tapped his fingers against the wooden doorframe, wind blowing through the many bullet holes in his body. Of course, he didn’t really have a body, seeing as he was just an empty suit of armour.

“I didn’t know that.” he spoke, and his voice echoed through the hollow metallic chambers and exited through the holes in the suits like whispers. His voice was like a ghostly recording of his voice when he was alive. It made nostalgic chills run up Dr. Destiny’s spine.

“Come, let’s go. I’d rather talk about it outside.” she got off her desk and exited through the door on the side of her office into the garden. The moving suit of armour followed her as fast as his broken steel frame allowed him. He had to duck in order to fit in the door.

It was a cold and cloudy day outside. The grey pallet, the little light, and the low temperature were the perfect conditions for a necromancer. The spirits of nature were low today, which meant little to no resistance to her unnatural magics.

Dr. Destiny walked slowly through her garden towards the graveyard in the far end of it, right next to the corner in the old stone wall. She stopped in her path and looked back at her patient. He walked slowly, struggling to make progress as each step seemed like an obstacle to him. Eventually he managed to reach her near the edge of the graveyard.

“You tried to bring me back.” he said, his voice seeming disinterested.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I loved you.”

“Huh.” he scratched his helmet out of habit. The metallic screeching sound was rather jarring, and made Dr. Destiny wince. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I never got to tell you before the accident. That’s why I wanted to bring you back so badly.” Dr. Destiny answered, her voice seemed disinterested as well. She pulled out an old engraved key from her pocket and opened the silver gate to the graveyard.

“I’m sorry if I don’t sound as shocked as I should be. It’s this form.” he said as he once again ducked to pass through the gate, but Dr. Destiny gestured him to stop.

“Yeah, that’s the thing about Phantoms. Since you’re meant to possess a single inanimate object and have no human or spirit form, your mind immediately recedes inward, to prevent you from fully reacting to the horror you’re in.” she looked up at him. “Here, let me do this.”

With that, she put both hands on his helmet and slowly unhinged it until it popped off of his torso. She took a step back as the rest of the armour went stiff and then collapsed onto the ground. She opened the door and carried her patient’s head with her.

“I’m sorry I caused you all this pain.” her patient said with the same infliction, as though unperturbed by the fact that he just lost his head.

“Don’t be, dying wasn’t your fault.” she explained as she walked towards an empty plot in the graveyard.

“Of course it was, I was the one who decided to get in the car with a drunk driver. I didn’t think of what I was putting at risk, who I was neglecting with my decision.”

Dr. Destiny chuckled. “How long have you been rehearsing this line?”

“Since my death.” he chuckled in response. “I thought I already told it for the last time. My parents were the most shocked. Laura was just kinda pissed. My brothers thought I was trying to be funny. I never imagined I’d be saying it to my doctor, though.”

“Well, unlife can be funny sometimes.” Dr. Destiny said as she put him down on top the designated tombstone.

“How long have you been saying this line?” her patient said, and made her laugh out loud, she almost dropped her runestones.

“Every single patient.”

“Did a patient give you this mansion?”

“Yeah, she did. How did you know?”

“You’re a smart gal, Destiny, but you don’t have the money to buy an old mansion by yourself.”

“Well, that’s rude.” she smiled. “There’s a lot of work for Necromancers out there nowadays.”

“I bet there is.” he said, and the two of them chuckled.

“Which does raise a good question.” he continued. “Why didn’t you raise me? From the dead I mean. The Enchantress was the one who put me in this armour.” he turned his helmet towards the pieces of armour lying on the ground outside, pieces of his former body. “A bit ironic you’d be putting me back in the ground after studying so hard to pull me out of it.”

Dr. Destiny sighed. She looked down at her work. Her circles were nearly complete and were already beginning to glow green. “You learn a lot about death in Necromancy School.”

“Duh.”

“Yeah... but I mean, you learn to detach yourself from death. Some schools of thought even teach that the dead aren’t really the spirits of the living, but copies of them, and there’s no point in trying to bring them back, because your real loved ones are gone forever.”

“Am I gone forever, Destiny? To you, I mean.” he asked.

Dr. Destiny went quiet. She avoided looking directly at the helmet, though she knew it didn’t really matter since his eyes weren’t actually there.

“What could’ve been between us. The relationship I wanted. It’s gone. By the time I was done with my degree, I realized that.”

“Maybe it’s the Phantom part of me talking, but I think we could’ve been a nice couple.”

“We could’ve.” she smiled.

“At least you got to tell me how you felt.”

“A few years too late.” she said as she was finishing up with her circle.

“Maybe. But you did it. You said what’s on your mind.” he responded. “You’re not a Phantom, Destiny. You don’t have to recede inward.”

Dr. Destiny paused. She sighed and chuckled one last time as she grabbed his helmet and put it on the ground by the tombstone, in the middle of the glowing circle. “That’s good advice.”

With that, Destiny began her spell, sending the patient trapped in the helmet back to the other side.

“Goodbye, Vena.” he said before disappearing from this realm.

“Goodbye, Johnny.”

The green light subsided, and the helmet ceased to move.

[theworldgate]

Okay, since Hour of Devastation predictions are likely to be incoming, well, uh, might as well post one of mine that I’ve been mulling on, since I totally could have got more bragging points if I’d posted my “Nissa will be Simic in Amonkhet” theory sooner.

So, if the ‘vanilla Mythic’ is in Hour of Devastation, I think it’s likely to be a zombie version of one of the Gatewatch, and honestly Gideon is the most likely option here.

Full reasoning under the cut, since it’s pretty lengthy.

We’d need a reason for the vanilla to be mythic. Just having a weird type/power-toughness combo/mana cost would be a thing, but having A Vanilla Mythic seems like, well, a very deeply odd goal. So we’re looking at some sort of flavour reason (i.e. representing a character who would be Mythic, and happens to be vanilla), but we can hardly have some big hyped up character turn out to be vanilla (like... wait, Razaketh is this powerful demon that’s meant to be tougher than Grislebrand and has these deep ties to Amonkhet’s afterlife... and he’s a vanilla? Really?).

However, one of the big rules of Mythic rarity is that all planeswalkers have to be Mythic. Sure, it’s probably referring to the type, but it can also be taken to mean cards that represent planeswalker characters (and we’re talking MaRo here, he totally would do that).

Given that planeswalkers (as in characters) are generally, well, Planeswalkers (as in card type), we’d need some reason for a planeswalker character to suddenly be a vanilla Creature.

Well, we’re on a plane with ambient necromancy, and We’re probably getting to the point where killing off a character is at the very least not-nonsensical.

Of course, killing off Bolas would be stupid (and also zombie!Bolas would have flying anyway), so we need to look at our team of heroes for a potential victim.

Chandra’s out of focus so killing her now would just be kind of out of left-field and also I think this is the one IP where being blatantly bi actually helps her survival chances.

Jace is also out of focus, and I think if he did die we’d be wanting to return to Ravnica (again) sharp-ish; we know that this isn’t going to happen. (also, y’know Face Of The Game and whatnot)

Nissa is quite possibly sort-of-possessed by an Eldrazi, so will probably survive until the resolution of that particular thing (she might not survive the resolution itself, but she’ll almost certainly survive until then, and we just got out of a bunch of Eldrazi blocks so it’ll be a little while).

Liliana has another demon hanging around, and also even if the Chain Veil didn’t provide plot-hook related death-immunity, it’s not actually clear at this point that Liliana could die even if she wanted to.

This leaves Gids as the least not-doomed of the lot. Plus, Gids can always turn into a whatever/whatever Human Soldier with indestructible (prevent all damage that will be dealt to him this turn). So seeing him, specifically, as a creature is something we’ve done before, and more than that, he has a specific keyword ability associated with him (well, when alive), that flavourfully represents an aura that he has to turn on consciously.

It’s not clear how sapient Amonkhet zombies are, but I’d wager it’s a fair bet that hypothetical zombie!Gids wouldn’t be capable of switching on said aura. The creatures that Gids turns into would otherwise be vanilla. So it would make sense, for a Gideon stripped of his ability to make himself invincible to be a vanilla creature. Boom, we have a vanilla creature that arguably has to be mythic. Plus, seeing Gids as a vanilla (which is also about as far away from a planeswalker as you can get while still representing a character) would really drive home the fact that Gideon died, assuming that Gids does die.

(also, there’s only 1 white/black legendary creature with the zombie subtype, so y’know)

(on the other hand, like, Gids is used to represent MtG for HasCon, but then again Ned Stark was in all the advertising for series 1 of Game of Thrones (... or something... okay, there might be a few holes in this but it’s the best theory for the identity of The Vanilla Mythic that I can come up with, alright))