#its because she apparently has no back sprite?? not one i could find at least

[epicfirestormer]

[true-blue-sonic]

what's the first sonic thought that comes to your mind right now? not necessarily espilver, just anything. i'm kinda curious

The ending of Sonic Rush, after I gave it some thought. I rewatched it for this ask, and it actually starts quite somber, which I find an interesting contrast with the altogether cheery Raisin' Me Up and its sweet, assuring lyrics. Blaze concedes she must leave because having the Chaos and Sol Emeralds in the same world will cause a crisis, and she and Sonic talk about how Cream will miss her and how Blaze finds it appropriate she leaves the way she came: as a stranger to all. Blaze's sprite is a bit closed off, with her eyes shut and a hand pressed on her hip, compared to Sonic's open-eyed look and more lax posing.

And I think Blaze really had not expected Sonic to come in and give her advice! At least, that is how I interpret the little moment where he says "Wait." with the ... afterwards and Blaze's "...!" as reaction, and Sonic saying that an unseen "that" is from him. The recollections of what Sonic apparently told Blaze that play once Blaze is in the Sol Dimension again are, if I remember correctly, not seen in the game proper. Thus, I figure his speech about how everything is fine as long as he's got the Chaos Emeralds must be spoken in that prior moment. Though I do find it strange, as Sonic's normal sprite is used instead of one of his Super Sonic ones. But I'm the fool who needed literally years to figure out that Cream gets kidnapped in the cutscene of Sonic and Blaze making up after their boss battle in Blaze's story, so what do I know, haha.

Afterwards, we get the handshake: I think it is a great showcase of everything Blaze has learned about friendship and trusting others that she is the one who both moves closer first and holds out her hand first. Interestingly, Sonic moves closer to her more quickly and shakes her hand with much more vigour than she held it out, and he's also the one who adds a second hand to hold on just a bit longer as their respective dimensions tear them apart. But Blaze seems to be the one who reaches back to him more... wanting? Yearning, maybe? As that happens, whereas Sonic's left hand actually drops down and his right hand stays outstretched basically the same way for the whole scene, compared to Blaze reaching back extra. With Sonic seeming the most confident about the two of them meeting once more ("I'll see you, again!" contrasted with Blaze's more quiet "Yes... Again..."), it might make sense that Blaze is the one who wants to stay with the two of them just a bit longer. And after that and Blaze thinking back to what Sonic told her, we get this altogether adorable sprite of her:

I consider Rush's sprite-work truly something else, I love it. This post kind of is a bit all over the place, but I think the ending of Rush is a perfect culmination of everything Blaze has learned over the course of the game. And Sonic is just an altogether sweetheart: he's supportive, he sees what is actually going on with Blaze, her past, and her powers, he understands this is why she acts the way she does, he knows she means well at heart, and he helps her learn about and embrace the love others hold for her. I wouldn't say Rush's storymode is perfect (I would argue Amy and Knuckles got the short end of the stick somewhat when it comes to their characterisations), but it's just... sweet! For me, it's truly a sweet, lift-me-up kind of game, and the ending could not showcase better Blaze's growth and Sonic's amazing personality to me.

Not entirely related to this post, but now I'm actually thinking about Sonic '06, and the similarities between Silver's and Blaze's separation there compared to Sonic's and Blaze's in Rush. Because I find it really interesting that in the former, Blaze also is the one who reaches back to the person she is leaving! It's with her left hand instead of her right, but I wonder if it means something more? Was it an intentional callback to Rush, perhaps?

[heloflor]

Something random I find interesting about Bowser is how his “modern” personality was actually there very early on, but it took forever for it to become a thing in the games.

(Tl;Dr is basically the last paragraph)

Like, when the first Super Mario Bros came out, Bowser was shown as a conqueror, destroying the Mushroom Kingdom and turning its inhabitant into blocks just because he could, only kidnapping Peach because she had magic that could counter his. All in all, he was nothing more than a monster.

But then one year later came the 1986 anime movie “The Great Mission to Rescue Princess Peach”, and for this movie, Bowser was completely revamped. Suddenly he became a hopeless romantic who kidnaps Peach to marry her, tries to comfort her at two instances which shows some level of being genuine in his feelings, and is a bit of a dumbass at times. It’s actually pretty funny to see the contrast between Bowser in this movie having done terrible actions (which we see through Mario and Luigi’s quest) but then when the focus is on him, he’s kind of adorable actually. Also there’s that post credit scene with him working where the brothers used to early on that shows him as nice.

And the funny thing is, that new side of Bowser that this anime brought actually stuck around…in everything except the games. In the following games (Mario Bros 2 Lost Levels, 3 and Mario World), Bowser is still the same monster who’s destroying things and kidnapping Peach for the heck of it. But outside of the games, we see that softer/goofier side of him shine. Or at the very least, in instances where he’s still pretty horrible/doesn't show that softer side, his motivation remains to marry Peach instead of going back to him wanting power first and foremost. And even then his defeats have some comedy to it.

It’s especially visible with Mario World and how, while the game doesn’t expand on him, there’s an interactive anime where he mentions wanting to marry Peach, and the Manga Super Mario Kun version of this game shows him to be a lot like in the 1986 movie, at least in his first appearance (I only found the first few chapters of this comic translated in english so I don’t know how he acts past that scene where he gives Peach an oversized ring; wouldn’t recommend those mangas btw, unless you like absurd humor with a plot that goes nowhere and wastes your time on stupid stuff). Same for the “Super Mario Adventures” comic where’s he’s yet again both a softie and a moron.

And outside of Mario World, there’s also a commercial for the very first Super Mario Bros with Bowser giving Mario flowers with no evil intention to it, or those three very badly made retelling of stories with Mario characters, two of which have Bowser wanting to marry Peach (for those wondering how the hell did I know about this compilation, I found a reaction to the 86 anime and the channel also had a reaction to those, so it was through sheer luck ¯\_(ツ)_/¯).

So overall, Bowser being more comedic and endearing through being an idiot + having romantic feelings had been a thing since pretty much the beginning, Nintendo just took a while to put it into the games. And even then, from my understanding, the first show of Bowser’s softer side was in the RPGs, with Super Mario RPG having him as part of the team and Paper Mario 64 apparently being the first time his crush on Peach was put into a game (for context I know very little of both of these games so I don’t know exactly how they portray Bowser, I just know RPG has a crying sprite + he’s a team member and Paper has him crushing on Peach). So it basically took a good decade for it to become his game personality.

(Note that him becoming a playable character as early as the first Mario Kart and remaining playable in most sport games could also be a sign of Nintendo wanting him to be seen as less threatening, but those games don’t exactly have a story to truly showcase it so I wouldn’t exactly take them into account)

As for the mainline games, we had to wait even longer to see that side of him, up until Super Mario Sunshine in the early 2000s. And funnily enough, Nintendo has ever since been much more open about taking Bowser a lot less seriously in mainline games (Mario Galaxy ends with the group waking up at Peach’s castle and Bowser seems rather chill in that moment, New Bros Wii and U have funny cutscenes at the end, same for 3D Land, New Bros 2, his losing animation on his car + him in the credits in 3D World, and Mario Odyssey also ends on a comedic note for him).

And since I’m talking Sunshine which showcases his softer side through his kid, that’s also a good show of how long it took for him to be like that in the games. Bowser had been a father since Super Mario Bros 3 with the introduction of the Koopalings, yet neither this game nor Mario World show the kids interacting with their dad. We had to wait until New Bros Wii for that to happen in a mainline game (the ending cutscene). And while I wasn’t born back in the 90s so I can’t fully back up this claim, from what I’ve seen Bowser in general mainly interacted with the Koopalings outside of the games, like with the Adventures comic (tho even then it’s minimal) and the US cartoons which focus on him as a dad.

So yeah, all-in-all, I find it interesting how Nintendo had clearly always seen Bowser as more of a comedic character, mostly through being a hopeless romantic and a dumbass with a soft edge despite his horrible actions, but for the longest time they put this wish to the side. It wasn’t until the RPGs that this side of Bowser came out, and it took even longer for it to become a thing in the mainline games. And while of course this makes sense given Nintendo is known for not having stories in Mario games, meaning there’s no point in making Bowser anything more than the bad guy, it’s still funny how, the second they gave Bowser that comedic edge in one mainline game, it was the push they needed to run with it and never look back. As a result, nowadays, even in the instances where Bowser is at his most dangerous/intimidating like Galaxy, Bowser’s Fury or the 2023 Movie, there’s always still at least one moment where he’s not taken that seriously.

(Last second addition : I guess it is worth pointing out how Bowser being less threatening started with his romantic feelings, with his role as a father not being that important; but nowadays it's sort of the opposite with him being a parent first and foremost while his feelings for Peach, though still very much core to his character, take a bit of a backseat at times, or at least him having Junior and parenting him is brought up more often than his desire to be with Peach)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Protector

Prompt: if prompts are still open: virgil as an adventurer who keeps accidentally befriending the monsters he’s supposed to be fighting (aka the other sides)? have a wonderful day! (and don’t feel any pressure to do this at all, and if your inbox is meant to be closed absolutely delete this ask)

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & deceit, some ptsd flashbacks but nothing super explicit

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic but Virgil’s definitely got some gay panic in there

Word Count: 8153

 Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

Or: 5 times Virgil helps a monster he was supposed to kill, and 1 time the monsters help him

He sighs as he walks outside, grabbing the pair of gloves from the rickety tray and tugging them over his weathered hands. The front garden isn’t nearly as overgrown as it was when he found this little cabin in the middle of nowhere, but it’s got a long way to go before he can walk through without tripping over at least one overgrown bramble.

 There’s a very persistent mint plant that’s slowly and surely trying to choke the flowers. Virgil bends down and starts to toil in the dirt.

 “Come on,” he mutters, because he’s allowed to talk to plants when no one else is listening, “let’s stop doing that, you don’t have to be literally everywhere…”

 The mint doesn’t protest verbally, because it’s a plant and plants can’t talk, but Virgil would swear it tries to hold onto the dirt as he pulls it up, holding his hand under the roots to catch the dirt.

 “Alright, come on out, then, let’s just…put you in here.”

 There’s a plot of dirt in a crate resting at his knee. He pats the soil. Fresh enough. The mint plant looks almost contrite as he tucks it into the corner.

 “Next time I go see the townspeople I’m sure you’ll make some tea-shop owner very happy.”

 The rest of the garden goes similarly. By the end, he’s filled the crate almost halfway when his hand catches something sharp.

  The blade gleams as it flashes through the air. The child screams. His eyes widen—

 “No,” he grits out, flattening his hands into the dirt, “no, it’s…it’s okay. We’re okay. It’s…hhhh.”

 As he exhales, his shoulders slump, head bowing almost to his chest. The sounds of blades swinging through the air fade as the breeze rustles the leaves surrounding the cabin. The faint smell of mint cleanses his nose of blood.

 Virgil opens his eyes and carefully moves his hand away from the rose.

 “When’d you get here,” he mutters, carefully lifting the leaves to examine the stem, “don’t remember seeing you.”

 The thorns snag on the little pieces of dirt hanging from his gloves. He glances around. There aren’t any other roses nearby, not that he can see. And it’s probably not very good for it to be growing in the middle of this choked soil patch.

 He stands and makes his way back for the sharper trowel.

 Something hisses.

 His grip on the trowel doesn’t waver but he turns his head casually to glance over his shoulder.

 Something crouches in the garden, just barely visible over the crate. A tuft of hair, not dark enough to be a bear cub, not light enough to be a squirrel. His arm relaxes against his side, trowel snug against his thigh.

 “Hello,” he calls, watching closely, “is someone there?”

 He blinks in surprise when a cat pokes its head over the crate.

 “Uh, hey, there,” he manages, “uh…what’re you doing all the way out here?”

 In response, the cat leaps elegantly over the crate. It’s a slim thing, but not underweight. Its fur is bluish-gray, almost like a stormcloud. As Virgil watches, the cat sneezes and its fur turns a dappled brown.

 Virgil sighs. “So you’re the mischievous sprite I’ve been told to get rid of.”

 The neighboring village has tried several times to make him seek and destroy the sprite’s nest. Apparently, it’s been causing all sorts of problems. Books going missing, glasses breaking in the middle of the night, jars of preserves broken into. Now, that’s not really what Virgil calls a punishable offense, but the villagers were insistent that he find it and fight it. He’s done one of those things.

 Well, technically, the sprite found him.

 “There’s not much here that would interest you,” Virgil says, gesturing at the unkempt garden, “but if you want to tell me what you do want, then—hey!”

 The sprite, of course, doesn’t wait for him to actually finish inviting it inside. Instead, the door creaks as the cat darts between his legs and vanishes.

 “Be careful,” he warns, “there are sharp things.”

 He pushes open the door to see the cat perched on a precariously high shelf, sniffing at the books. He sighs.

 “I can get those down if you want, it might be easier than doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing now.”

 The cat ignores him, pawing at the thick leather cover. He sighs and pulls off his gloves.

 “Alright, just—wait a damn minute.”

 Virgil grunts as he lifts the book of the shelf and carries it over to the table, opening it and waiting. The cat jumps up onto the table and sniffs at the pages. Its tongue laps at a word.

 “You want more about that? Okay, let’s just—“

 Yes, Virgil is talking to this sprite. He’s allowed to do that in his own home.

 He turns the pages until the cat chirps.

 “This? This what you want?”

 The sprite stares at the page. It goes unnaturally still.

 The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stand up.

 Then it breaks; the cat shakes itself off and jumps down.

 “That’s it? You done now?”

 The cat’s tail twitches gracefully as it struts back to the door. Virgil rolls his eyes and follows it out.

 “Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” he mutters as he closes the door.

 Something rough touches his hand. He looks down. The sprite looks back up at him and licks his hand again.

 “…you’re welcome.”

 The cat sneezes, its fur changing back into the deep bluish-gray. Without another look, it takes off, leaping effortlessly over the crate and disappearing into the woods.

 Well, stranger things have happened in Virgil’s life.

 Shaking his head, he gets back to his garden. He glances at the rose before deciding that, eh, what the hell, it can stay another day. He finishes filling the mint crate and sets it near the front door, ready for his trip to the village tomorrow.

 “Ah, thank you!” The tea shop owner beams as he hands it over. “I’m sure this’ll be plenty.”

 “I’ve got more than enough, I promise.”

 “Well, since that sprite disappeared, I won’t be running out nearly as often!”

 Virgil blinks. “Huh?”

 “Oh, the sprite you got rid of!” She smiles. “Thank you kindly for that, it was ever so pesky.”

 Virgil just nods.

 ————————————

Virgil opens his eyes and doesn’t quite reach for the dagger he keeps in the nightstand but it’s close.

 “There’s a dog in my bed,” he mutters, “standing on top of me, drooling on my face.”

 The dog just barks. And changes color.

 He sighs. “Are you the same one from last time? Was the book not enough for you?”

 The dog barks again, jumping off the bed and trotting to the kitchen, its nail clicking on the floor. Virgil lets his eyes close for a second before getting up and following it.

 “Alright, the book it—whoa.”

 The dog is, um. Not a sprite.

 A huge mastiff elemental sits in the middle of his kitchen. It looks up from when it was nosing at what remained of a chicken carcass and rumbles. Virgil raises his hands.

 “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says lowly, “even though you did break into my house and wake me up. What do you want?”

 The elemental turns and moves through the house, out toward the woods. Virgil stuffs his feet in his boots and follows, tucking a slingshot and his knife into his pockets as he goes. The elemental moves through the trees with an inhuman grace, the very edges of the leaves it passes smoldering. A thin tendril of smoke wafts past Virgil’s nose.

  “She’s still inside!” The guard shouts as Virgil wrenches his arm away. “I have to go get her!”

  “Sir, you’ll die!”

  “She’s still—“

  The top of the house crashes down as—

 Virgil closes his eyes and brings his kerchief up to his nose. He breathes deeply. Freshly baked bread. Honeysuckle. The slightly tacky smell of leather oil. Breathe in, breathe out.

 When he opens his eyes again, the elemental has paused, glancing back at him.

 “I’m coming,” he says quickly, “I’m coming. Keep going.”

 He shrugs the old ghosts off his shoulders and follows.

 The elemental leads him to a clearing. Underneath a large, dead white tree, there’s a small den of moss. Virgil’s breath catches in his throat.

 The villagers had sent him a warning about a curse in the area. Fires had been going out. It had been impossible to keep warmth in the houses over the long winter nights. They’d been seeing figures in the smoke, sightings of, well, a mastiff. They’d contacted him to try and get it to leave.

 Well, the mastiff elemental is here, under the tree, looking back and forth between Virgil and something he can’t see, buried in the moss.

 “Is there something you wanna show me,” he asks softly, coming a little further into the clearing, “in there?”

 The elemental whines. He walks forward until he catches sight of a stone in the middle of the bed of moss. It’s cracked in two.

 “Is this what you wanted to show me,” he calls, shifting into a crouch, “this stone?”

 The elemental huffs, nudging his hand. It reaches past him and tries to pick up the stone in its mouth, only for it to drop. It puts its nose down and whines.

 “…was this your favorite stone to play with?” The elemental butts its head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it broke. How’d it happen?”

 The elemental points its nose toward a jagged boulder in the corner of the clearing.

 “Ah, I see.”

 And you know what? Yeah, Virgil gets it. He’s dropped shit where he shouldn’t have dropped it before and it broke. What does it matter that this elemental is so upset over accidentally breaking its favorite toy that its warmth is so low the nearby villagers think it’s a curse?

 “Hey,” Virgil murmurs, reaching out to cup the two halves of the rock in his hands, “it’s okay. This rock—good choice by the way, very good choice—it’s part of the Perse Mountains, right? So it’s susceptible to fire magic.”

 He reaches into his slingshot bag and pulls out two small rocks. Using one on either side, he sandwiches the two halves of the broken rock together and holds it out to the elemental.

 “Now breath on it.”

 The elemental exhales carefully, bathing the rock in a steady stream of fire. Sure enough, in a few moments, thanks to Virgil holding it steady, the rock glows a soft yellow and reforges.

 “That’s good.” He takes it carefully between the stones and rolls it around the moss, trying to cool it. “Okay. Try now.”

 The elemental takes the rock gingerly between its teeth and yips.

 Virgil chuckles. “I’m glad I could help.”

 The elemental spins in a circle before turning back into the dog and licking Virgil’s cheek, barking excitedly.

 “Okay, okay, you’re welcome, jeez.” He half-heartedly shoves the dog’s head away. “You’re getting slobber all over me!”

 The dog pulls away and takes the rock into its mouth again, snuffling happily. Virgil shakes his head and gets up.

 “If that’s all, then I’m gonna go home.” The dog licks his hand one more time. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

 And if a fire is already burning when he gets back home, well, that’s just a surefire way to know there was never a curse for the villagers to worry about.

 Get it? Surefire?

 Shut up, he’s hilarious.

 ————————————

“Ah, Virgil!”

 Virgil turns. The blacksmith waves at him from the market stalls. Dodging fruit carts and weaving his way through passers-by, he stops in front of the man and gestures to the new wares.

 “Good season, Anbel?”

 “Oh, the best!” Anbel gestures to the coin chest behind him. “You know how it is, goes in and out of season.”

 Absentmindedly, Virgil rubs at the scars on his arms. “I know the feeling.”

 “Anyways, I got that dagger you gave me to repair.”

 Anbel reaches behind him and pulls the dagger out of a leather bag. He holds it up. The deep gouges in the blade are gone, the handle isn’t tarnished anymore, and it looks…good.

 “Thank you, Anbel,” he says, reaching for it, “so how much?”

 “No charge.”

 “Come on.”

 “No charge,” Anbel repeats, “not for you.”

 Unbidden, a flush rises to his cheeks as he tucks the dagger into his belt. “Anbel…”

 “Alright,” the blacksmith says, holding up his hands, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

 Virgil sighs. “What’d you do?”

 “Why do you assume that I did something?”

 Virgil just gives him a look.

 “…alright but this time it wasn’t me.”

 “Uh-huh.”

 Anbel smacks his chest. “I’m serious, there’s something wrong in the woods outside of town.”

 Virgil sobers, taking a step closer. “What is it?”

 “Dunno. But my horses won’t go past a particular stretch of land and I need to be able to make the trip next moon.”

 Virgil chews on his lip, thinking. “Did they run away or just refuse to go near?”

 “Refused to go near.” Anbel shakes his head. “Don’t know what’s gotten into them. They’re good mares.”

 “Have any others reported anything?”

 “Cindi had trouble getting through too.”

 “Where is it?”

 “Just before the bend in the river. Near the trees.”

 Virgil sighs. “I’ll have a look.”

 That’s how he finds himself wandering down the main road on the next cloudy day. He glances around to make sure there aren’t any other villagers nearby before he starts looking around. There’s a small grove of trees near the riverbank, a mound of rocks next to the bend in the road, and a rapid system rushing just out of sight.

 Maybe the horses were scared of the rapids? They’ve been known to spook before. But no, Anbel makes this trip every season. If the horses were going to spook at the rapids, they’ve done it before.

 Virgil frowns, coming to a stop in the middle of the grass between the road and the river. What could they’ve been startled by? There’s not enough space to hide anything here. The rocks are on the wrong side of the road. The river isn’t close or loud. And the trees aren’t close enough together to hide anything between them.

 …between them.

 Virgil holds very, very still.

 Out of the corner of his eye, one of the trunks shifts.

 He doesn’t move quickly, doesn’t draw his dagger, just lowers his eyes to the grass and turns, facing the trees, and takes a step backward. Then another. Then another. When he’s over ten yards away, he looks up.

 “I mean you no harm,” he calls, “I have no wish to interfere. I was told that there was something that scared a few horses and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

 The breeze rustles through the leaves.

 “I am happy to leave you here,” he continues, risking a step closer, “but I know that…this is probably not where you’d like to be. This isn’t an especially damp forest.”

 The trunk shifts again.

 “If there’s something I can do to help—“ he risks another step— “I’d be happy to.”

  There.

 The trunk shifts and seems to shrink inside as a jaculi unwinds itself from around its base. It blinks lazily at him with amber eyes, golden scales rippling in the faint light from the cloudy sky.

 “Hello,” Virgil waves, “can I—will you let me come closer?”

 The jaculi hisses and lays its head near the ground.

 “Thank you.” Virgil walks forward carefully, stopping a few feet away and crouching down. “Now, what brings you here? You look like you’re an awful long way from home.”

 The jaculi hisses again, its head swiveling toward the river. Virgil looks. Across the bank, he can see a much denser forest and what looks like a storm brewing.

 “You’ll be hurt,” he realizes, “if you try and stay here…”

 The jaculi coils tighter around the tree trunk.

 “How’d you get over here,” Virgil mutters, “you’d’ve needed to swim across…and that also won’t go well for you.”

 There’s a soft rustling as the jaculi buries its tail in a pile of leaves near the base of the tree. Virgil glances over to see it rubbing its face halfheartedly against the bark.

 His eyes widen.

 About a month ago there had been a terrible storm. His little cabin had barely held together. He’d heard reports from the tavern owner that it’d blown one of the old trees right over.

 “That’s how you got across,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “you climbed across the tree. And now it’s gone and you’re stuck.”

 The jaculi blinks remorsefully at him.

 “Okay,” Virgil mutters, “okay, we can…we can figure this out.”

 They’ll have to do it at night. There’s no way the jaculi will feel safe enough to move while it’s still light out. There’s an old barn that never finished construction just over the ridge. One of those timber pieces is probably long enough to get over the river. And he can make a bridge wide enough to support the jaculi’s weight.

 He explains his plan to the jaculi, feeling a little ridiculous, but he’s allowed to explain what he’s doing to help someone, it’s fine, and says that he’ll be back. Promise.

 The landowner gives him a weird look when he asks to borrow the timber.

 “It’s too long for you to do anything with it,” he says, still helping Virgil load it onto a sled, “and much too tough for you to cut by yourself.”

 “It’s fine just the way it is,” Virgil says, “and thank you.”

 He waves Virgil off. “Keep it. You’re doing better than I am with it.”

 Virgil’s back at the river bend by sundown. He can’t see the jaculi anymore—it’s probably hidden itself for safety—but he calls out when he arrives.

 “I’m going to use these to make a bridge for you. It shouldn’t take me too long.”

 The pieces of timber are ungainly, to make a colossal understatement, but Virgil grits his teeth and slides them out of the sled. He wades a little into the river and—

  The water is so cold it burns. He has to keep going. It’s gaining on him. He’ll be safe in the water.

  The growls get closer and his foot slips—

 “No,” he mutters, “no, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’m standing, I’m not hurt, I’m not drowning.”

 He blinks down at his boots, the water swirling around his ankles. The timber in his hands shifts as he breathes. He’s fine. He’s fine.

 “Okay…okay.”

 He grits his teeth again and heaves, bringing the piece of timber with him. He wades further until it’s swirling around his waist. The piece of timber is just long enough to reach the other side. Onto the next one.

 He gets the five of them stretched across the river just as the last of the light vanishes. Panting, he struggles back up onto the side of the river bank and splays out onto his back, eyes closed.

 A low hiss sounds in his ear.

 He just manages to avoid a scream.

 “Hey,” he gasps instead, eyes flickering open to see the jaculi coiled up a few feet away, “uh…please don’t do that.”

 The jaculi just blinks at him.

“Uh…why don’t you, uh…” Virgil holds a hand to his chest, trying to get his breathing back under control. “…try out the bridge?”

 The jaculi slithers closer, flicking its tongue out against the timber. It looks back at Virgil.

 “Go on,” he encourages, “you can do it.”

 It slithers on, testing the boards against its weight.

 Virgil holds his breath until the jaculi vanishes into the trees across the river banks, slipping further and further into the darkness.

 Anbel leaves on his trip the next moon.

 ————————————

Honestly, when the kraken explodes out of Virgil’s well, he just sighs and fetches his bath so he can get the poor thing out.

 “Easy,” he grumbles when the kraken squirms so much he almost drops it, “you may be a young one but you’re still heavy.”

 Panting, he drops the tentacled beast into the full tub, his arms flying up to shield his face from the shower of sparkling drops. Judging by the happy trills and clicks, the kraken likes it in there. He shakes his head.

 “So that’s why I’ve been asked to fight a monster in the sewers,” he muses, watching the kraken’s tentacles writhe giddily in the metal tub, “just how did you end up so far inland?”

 The kraken, of course, does not deign to answer. Instead, the tentacles latch onto the side of the bath and threaten to tip the whole thing over.

 “No, you idiot,” Virgil shouts, grabbing onto the other side and weighing it down. He winces when more water spills onto him, drenching him head to toe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

 What the kraken has done, apparently, is get Virgil close enough so that its tentacles can haul Virgil into the tub.

 “Hey!”

 Virgil spits water out of his mouth, much to the kraken’s delight.

 “That was rude.”

 The kraken just chirps happily and wriggles around. Its tentacles stick to Virgil’s clothes and pull him through the water.

 Virgil’s chest tightens.

 One of the first things they teach you about krakens is never get in the water with them. The second thing they teach you about krakens is do not get in the water with them. The third thing they teach you about krakens is not to get too close to their tentacles so they don’t pull you into the water with them.

 And yeah, this is Virgil’s bathtub, not a river, a tide pool, or the open sea, but you can drown in an inch of water.

 Virgil presses his back up against the rim of the tub. The kraken seems to realize something’s wrong and settles, burbling softly.

 “Hey, bud,” Virgil says shakily, “I, uh, what’re you doing here?”

 The kraken twitches a few tentacles and more water slops over the edge.

 “Right…” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay, well, uh, I would rather not sit here and soak through all of my clothes, so I’m just going to—“

 As soon as he tries to move, the kraken wraps a tentacle around his leg and tugs.

 “Okay, okay, not leaving, not leaving, um—“ Virgil reaches down and takes a handful of the grass. Worst comes to worst, he can tip the tub and get the kraken back in the well.

 The kraken lets go as soon as he settles back in the water. Virgil looks at the creature carefully.

 There’s a mark on its head. Discoloration, probably, but still obvious. As he watches, the kraken burbles to itself and starts making little ripples in the surface of the water with its tentacles. After a moment, it starts gently pushing the water towards Virgil.

 The water laps at Virgil’s knees in little waves, not enough to wet him anymore—not that it would matter at this point—but enough to bounce back and make more patterns. The kraken trills softly and keeps doing it.

 Does it…want to play?

 Slowly, Virgil lifts his hands up and starts to push the water back. The kraken, realizing that Virgil is indeed committing to the idea that he is going to play with this kraken, trills louder and uses more of its tentacles to move the waves bigger.

 “Yeah? Is that how it works?” Virgil moves his hands. “Like that?”

 The kraken chirps.

 He’s not really sure how long they stay there, playing with the water, but it’s long enough for the sun to go down in the sky and Virgil to get more than a little chilly in the water.

 When the kraken notices that the water is rippling more around Virgil and he’s not moving his hands any faster, it wraps a tentacle around his ankle and tugs.

 “What? You tired?” The kraken leans its head against the side of the tub. “Okay. Well, I don’t know how long you can stay in here—“

 He cuts himself off when the kraken jabs a tentacle toward the well.

 “You wanna go back in there? It’s so small and cramped, and the sewers in town aren’t much better.”

 The kraken insists.

 Sure. Why not.

 Virgil grunts as he lifts the kraken back into the bucket, carefully lowering the creature down into the well. He hears one more trill before splashing sounds indicate that the creature is gone.

 Funnily enough, reports of the sewer beast vanish overnight.

 When Virgil wakes up panting from a nightmare of ropes around his neck, the glass of water on his bedside table is perfectly cold.

 ————————————

Virgil curses as the sole of his boot slips. He just manages to catch himself against the cliffside before splitting his knee on a harsh spire of rock. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself onward.

 The cliffs frown over him as he makes his way up the pass. The rocks crumble threateningly as his boots crunch, crunch, crunch. The sword on his hip feels too heavy. He curses, tugging his glove the rest of the way onto his hand.

 He never was one for dragon hunts.

 The message came in a week ago. Some poor terrified soul had come screaming into the town, ranting about dragons, missing people, curses, the whole lot. Virgil had taken up the call and set off, promising to get to the bottom of it.

 He never promised to hurt anything.

 Thunder rolls ominously in the distance and he bites back another curse. There’s a cave up ahead, he can see it just over the next ridge, he’ll rest there.

 In all honesty—and he can be honest, now there’s no one else around—he hates these kinds of missions. Finding something is one thing. Going to get something is one thing. Rescuing someone is one thing.

 This feels like something else.

 There’s something in his boot. There’s a wrinkle in the thinnest shirt he’s wearing. The sword belt is digging into his hip. The voices in his head won’t shut the fuck up.

 The cave is right there.

 He all but collapses to his knees as soon as he makes it inside, just as the first drops of rain land on the back of his armor. He breathes a sigh of relief, heading further into the cave, into the safety, out of the storm.

 It’s quiet here.

 He takes the knife out of its loop on his belt and sets about setting up a fire. There’s a reasonable stash of dry wood here, probably enough to keep him going throughout the night. He makes a small bundle and lights it, blowing on it until it catches and burns merrily.

 Shrugging off his pack, he leans it up against the wall and starts to dig out the dried meat. He tears off a long strip with his teeth and chews slowly, staring into the flames.

 There’s something nice about fire. Not all fire—he’s got the burns to prove that—but this fire. Controlled fire. He sits back on his hands, brushing aside the eggshells to lean against the cave wall.

 Controlled fire is…justified chaos. It’s strange, to think of chaos as being justified. But that’s what it is. A controlled burn. Snapping and sparking amidst a small mound of wood, warm. Safe. It’s strange to think of fire as safe, too.

 Virgil sits back, finishing off his meal and closing his eyes. The fire is very, very warm. Much warmer than he would expect for just a small campfire. And a little irregular, too. It comes in waves, pants, almost.

 …wood, eggshells…

 Okay, look.

 Look.

 Virgil’s tired, okay?

 It’s not like this is what normally happens to him on hunts.

 He knows what he’s doing.

 He does!

 It’s fine.

 This is fine.

 This is so utterly fine right now.

 But…okay, yeah, maybe Virgil’s not been paying as much attention as he should be. And maybe he’s fighting down a panic attack right now. And maybe he’s frozen in fear to the floor of this cave and not sure how he’s survived this long.

 Whatever.

 Virgil cracks an eye open.

 “…hey, there, dragon.”

 Surprisingly enough, his head does not get immediately bitten off. Instead, the dragon looks at him, nostrils puffing hot air into his face. The smell of dank cavern air mixes with what Virgil really hopes isn’t decomposing human.

 “Um…fancy seeing you here?”

 The dragon huffs louder, still staring into Virgil’s soul. He risks a glance over its shoulder to make sure that yes, this is the only dragon in this cave, there aren’t suddenly going to be five of them. He spies the scales trailing further into the darkness, muscular legs, long, powerful tail. The dragon growls, snapping his eyes back.

 “Hey, uh—didn’t mean to invade your cave.” Virgil scoots backward. “That was absolutely my fault. I can, uh—well, I can’t really promise to leave you alone, but I, uh…rain check?”

 As if on cue, thunder booms from outside.

  Shit.

 A lower growl sounds from the dragon as its mouth curls up. Wow, those teeth are long…

 “Can you, uh—so I know that this is a pretty big request, considering I just, you know, invaded your cave, but uh—maybe don’t eat me?”

 Judging by the growl, that’s a no.

 “Okay, I, uh—“ Virgil risks a glance around. His fire is still burning. Maybe he can at least get the dragon to back up before he—

 He pauses.

 Near the fire, the dragon’s leg looks…wet. Its scales are stained with a dark splotch coming from somewhere higher up. As he watches, the dragon shifts its weight and it gets wetter.

 “You’re hurt,” he says softly, “you’re—oh, god, you’re hurt.”

 He looks back up. The dragon’s snarl doesn’t quite soften, but its mouth relaxes a little.

 “I’ve got salve and bandages in my pack,” he says cautiously, “if you let me get them, I can—I can help?”

 Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves his hand to his pack, keeping the other one raised as he opens the flap and takes out the bottle and the bandages.

 “Can I have a look, please? I’m just gonna…”

 The dragon huffs cautiously as Virgil turns, moving around its body to crouch next to its injured leg. Now that he’s closer, he can see what’s happened.

 A shard of metal is lodged in the soft space between two of the scales. Every time the dragon moves, it shifts, spilling more and more blood. Judging by how loud the dragon is breathing, it must really hurt.

 “You poor thing,” he mutters, “how long has this been here?”

 No response.

 “We gotta get it out,” he says instead, looking for something he can use, “if we leave it in you might get infected, or…something else bad will happen.”

 He pulls a pair of pliers from his pack and the dragon snorts.

 “Easy, easy—“ the dragon’s eyes go wide at the glint of the flame off the metal— “hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna use these to get that metal outta you, yeah?”

 It seems an hour before the dragon calms, gingerly stretching out its leg so Virgil can see the shard. Taking a deep breath, he hooks the pliers around the edge of the metal.

 “Ready on three, okay?” He grits his teeth. “One…two…three!”

 He yanks.

 The dragon roars as the metal shard comes out in his hands, the side release almost sending him toppling back into the fire. Quickly, he discards the tools and reaches out to soothe the dragon, petting its scales and hushing it gently.

 “Shh, shh, it’s out now, it’s okay, it can’t hurt you anymore.” He runs a hand over the dragon’s heaving back. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m here to help.”

 It seems to calm the dragon, its breathing slowly but surely calming down as Virgil continues to speak softly to it. Honestly, if it were this easy to calm himself down, he would have a lot fewer problems.

 “I’ve got to clean it,” he says after a minute, “just to make sure you don’t get infected. Then I’ll be done, okay?”

 The dragon swivels its massive head around, looking at the wound, then back at Virgil. It heaves a great sigh and its chin comes to rest on the floor, staring at him. Guess that’s as close to permission as he’s gonna get.

 “Thank you. This, uh, this may sting a bit.”

 He barely gets a flinch as he starts cleaning the cut. Dragons. Once he’s wrapped the dragon’s leg as best he can, he turns to peer at the shard of metal he pulled out of the wound. He holds it up, examining it in the firelight.

 It looks…wrong.

 It’s too thick to be just something that happened to get in there, but too jagged to be something natural. It looks like it snapped off of something, but it’s not the right shape to be an arrowhead or a piece of a building. So what…?

 He turns when the dragon starts to move.

 It heaves itself to its feet, testing out its weight on all four legs. When the pain doesn’t shoot through, it lumbers off, further into the cave. Its head dips down, out of sight for a moment, before it turns and starts back toward the fire, dragging something in its mouth.

 Virgil’s eyes widen when another bag is dropped in front of him.

 “Is this…is this someone else’s?” He lays his fingers carefully on its surface. “Did…did you…did someone else come here before me?”

 The dragon huffs.

 With trembling fingers, he flips open the bag. There’s a good store of meat in here, a change of clothes, something for armor, it’s a provisions bag. One side has a little loop attached with nothing inside.

 “…someone tried to stab you,” he realizes in horror, looking back up at the dragon. “Someone tried to fight you but couldn’t. So they stabbed you in the leg.”

 His fists clench.

 “They hurt you.”

 Another huff. Then the dragon nudges the bag toward him again.

 “Is there something else in here?” Virgil starts sorting through the possessions. He lays the clothes to one side, the bottles to another. When he gets to the food, the dragon leans forward and snorts, blowing hot air into his face.

 “This? This is what you want me to get?” He looks at it. It’s just more dried meat. It, uh, it actually looks a little better than his. “Are you hungry?”

 The dragon snorts at Virgil’s pack, then at the food in his hands.

 “…are you…giving this to me because I’m still hungry?”

 Another huff, longer this time, and the dragon’s head comes to rest on the floor, eyes staring up at him.

 Virgil swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Well, that’s—thank you.”

 The dragon rumbles as he starts to eat, eyes blinking lazily. Virgil tries not to mind too much.

 And…honestly? It’s not that bad. He’s had worse audiences when he’s just trying to eat. The dragon switches its tail every now and then, huffing gently to keep the fire going. It’s…nice.

 Virgil finishes eating as much of the food as he wants and tucks the rest away. He takes a moment to just…look.

 “The other person,” he says eventually, “the one that hurt you…they—I think they wanted to kill you.”

 The dragon stares at him like he just said the sky is blue.

 “No, really, I—I don’t think they wanted anything else.” He shakes his head. “We’re not near enough to any villages for that to be the reason, there aren’t any traveling paths through here, there’s…there’s no other reason. I think they just wanted to kill you.”

 The cave falls quiet as the rain pours outside.

 “…I think they wanted me to kill you too.”

 Virgil’s chest aches. Something in his right hand tingles.

“Why do they always want me to kill you?”

 And he’s not just talking about the dragon now.

 It’s always the same.

 Fight this. Kill that. Rescue us from this. Save us from that.

 What if you’re not the ones that need to be saved?

 Virgil lets his chin drop to his chest and sighs. His sword hangs heavy at his hip. His hands tremble in the burning light of the fire.

 “I hate to impose,” he manages through a sluggish tongue, “but…may I stay? Just until the storm passes?”

 A low thud makes him look up. The dragon shifts, its tail curled in a half-circle around Virgil and the fire. It huffs softly.

 “Thank you.”

 ————————————

Sometimes he has sleepless nights. Drifts in blackness and emptiness until it’s time to get up. Or he’ll close his eyes for what feels like an instant before he wakes up the next day.

 Sometimes he has restless nights. Can’t sleep, can’t manage to get more than a few minutes of tense darkness before his eyes shoot open and he has to reassure himself that’s he can sleep.

 Sometimes he has good nights. Dreams of sunshine and warmth and the safety of a hot drink between his palms. Closing his eyes and just hearing the peaceful hum of his cabin.

 Most of the time he has nightmares. The good ones are just mixes of monsters he can’t see coming, kills he wishes he didn’t have to make. Losing someone he should’ve been able to save.

 This one’s a bad one.

  Jaws close down on his arm. The creature whips its head back and forth, shaking him like a rag doll. He grits his teeth and tries to—

  His eyes widen as the burning roof collapses on top of him. A heavy beam falls onto his chest and he can’t move, he’s going to—

  The cliff face collapses under him and he plummets, fingers scrabbling for a hold against the crumbling face. He can’t reach, he can’t reach—

 “….shut up, you’re gonna wake him up!”

 “If you stop shouting, then he won’t.”

 “Shh, the both of you.”

 “This is certainly working, I think we should all keep talking like this.”

 “Oh, don’t you start!”

 “Hey, hey, shh! He’s waking up!”

 Virgil is waking up, as a matter of fact, and he also has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He does know there are at least five people in this room with him though. That’s either a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

 He can feel rocks under his head. Is he still in the cave, then? How other people…here? Where’s the dragon?

 “Hey,” one of the voices says, “are you okay? You kinda, uh, well, you weren’t looking very good for a little bit there.”

 “Back up, you morons, you’re gonna scare him!”

 “We’re not scary, shut up.”

 “You’re scary.”

 “All of you be quiet,” the first voice says, before it softens again. “Hey, can you open your eyes?”

  Well, I’ve definitely made worse decisions.

 He wholeheartedly concurs with that thought when the first thing he sees is genuinely one of the most attractive people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting face to face.

 “There you are,” the beautiful person says, “good morning. Is your head alright?”

 “Uh—“ not now gay panic— “uh?”

 “Back up, Logan,” another person says, “let me see.”

 Logan—great name, sure, why not—moves out of the way, and oh god there’s two of them.

 “Hi!” The other attractive person leans over Virgil and gods— “are you hurt? You looked a little upset while you were sleeping.”

 “You—“ Virgil does not squeak— “you watched me while I was sleeping?”

 “Well, you fell asleep and Roman got worried, so—“

 “I’m sorry,” Virgil interrupts, “who—who are you?”

 The person in front of him tilts his head. “Don’t you recognize us?”

  I would absolutely fucking remember meeting you, and I do not.

 “Patton,” Logan says, “he’s a mortal. He won’t—we are not as we were when he met us.”

 The butterflies in Virgil’s stomach ice.

 These…these are creatures. Is he—what supernatural force did he piss off?

 Logan smiles at him and winks. First off, rude, but—

 Virgil squints. One of the man’s eyes is a deep bluish-grey. The other one—the one he just winked with—is a dappled brown.

 Oh.

 “…you’re the sprite.”

 “I am,” he says, “my name is Logan.”

 Something nudges his shoulder. Virgil looks over to see Patton offering him a round stone.

 “…the mastiff elemental?”

 “Patton, actually.” Patton smiles and gestures over Virgil’s other shoulder.

  Why are there five of them and why are they all so pretty?

 “Can you guess who they are?”

 One of them rolls his eyes. “Yes, that sounds like a perfect use of time that isn’t at all a waste.”

 “Okay, so you’re the jaculi.”

 He smirks. “Janus.”

 The one near the entrance to the cave just cackles and bounces on the balls of his feet. Almost like…

 “You made me spill the bathtub over my whole yard!”

 He cackles louder. “Yes, I did!”

 Virgil rolls his eyes. He’s not fond. He’s not.

 “Remus,” Logan scolds, “you said you were just going into the well.”

 “He took me out!”

 “Yeah, because that thing is cramped as hell.”

 “Aww,” Patton coos, “how sweet.”

 “Well,” the last one says, smiling softly from one of the darker corners of the cave, “we knew that, didn’t we?”

 Virgil turns, looking hard into the darkness. The last person stands, walking over slowly, leaning most of his weight on one leg. As he moves into the light, he sits down on the log and reaches down. Virgil’s eyes widen as he gets handed the last of the dried meat.

 “You’re still hungry,” the person says softly, “I can tell.”

 Virgil cannot eat right now, thank you very much. Instead, his eyes are fixed on his bandage, still tied sloppily around the person’s leg.

 “You’re the dragon.”

 “I am. But you can call me Roman.”

 “…does it still hurt?”

 “Oh, this?” He smiles and moves his leg. “A little. But it’s almost better,” he finishes, reaching over to gently bump Virgil’s shoulder, “thanks to you.”

 Yes, hello? Virgil would like for someone to explain what’s going on, please.

 “I’m sure you’ve got questions,” Logan says, also sitting down, “and we can do our best to answer them. But first…are you alright?”

 Uh, no. “Why do you think I’m not?”

 “You’re breathing faster than most mortals do at rest, your face is more flushed than it was, and you were troubled while you slept.”

 …shhh…

 “I, um…I was having a nightmare.”

 “Ooh,” Remus says, plopping down on the floor with his chin propped up on his hands, “was it a bad one?”

 “…you could say that.”

 “Remus,” Patton chides, “don’t.”

 Remus pouts but hushes, reaching out to toy with a stick. Patton rolls the stone between his hands.

 “You did seem upset,” Janus says, “can we help?”

 “H-help?”

 Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, help. Or is that not a thing most mortals do?”

 Um. Well. Uh, hang on.

 “Are you just going to be mean to him,” Logan sighs, “or are we actually going to make an effort to be friendly with the person we have decided to befriend?”

 “Can one of you explain what’s going on?” Patton nods to Virgil. “Before he decides we’re all mad?”

 Roman sighs. “Virgil? Are you still hungry?”

 “Huh? No, no, I’m…I’m okay.”

 He smiles. “Good. This…this might sound a bit strange, but…try and keep up?”

 “As weird as it might sound, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

 Roman blinks in surprise, a small smile coming over his face. “Isn’t it?”

 “Well, you must have some idea of what I do for a living.”

 Roman’s smile only grows. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

 Logan clears his throat. Virgil turns, seeing the book from his cabin appear in Logan’s hands.

 “Did you—is that my—“

 “I can assure you,” Logan says softly, “that I did not steal your book from you. Rather, this is a copy, generated from the information I was able to learn.”

 “What did you want?”

 “We were cursed.” Logan closes the book with a snap. “Cursed to take on forms that were hated or feared or simply a nuisance.”

 Virgil’s stomach drops. Cursed?

 “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “that sounds…awful.”

 “It was,” Janus mutters, “completely inconvenient and an utter waste of time.”

 “You say like it wasn’t your fault.”

 “Oh, right, it was absolutely only my fault.”

 “You two,” Patton huffs, “enough.”

 Virgil’s still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Wait, hang on, so—you were cursed? Were? Past tense?”

 “Well,” Janus gestures to himself, “I don’t exactly look like a snake anymore, do I?”

 He raises a finger when Virgil opens his mouth.

 “Careful, dear.”

 Virgil snaps his mouth shut.

 Roman rolls his eyes and places a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You broke the curse, my friend. Or at least…you helped us break it.”

 “But how? I didn’t—I didn’t do anything.”

 He raises an eyebrow and gestures to the bandage. “You don’t consider this doing anything?”

 “Or this?” Patton holds up the stone.

 Logan taps the cover of the book. “You helped us. When you had no reason to, past the goodness of your heart.”

 “We would’ve been hurt,” Janus says quietly, “or hunted without you. They certainly would’ve killed me.”

 “And me,” Remus says.

 Patton nods. “And me.”

 Roman simply taps his leg. Right. They already tried to kill him.

 Virgil blinks. “So…me helping broke the curse?”

 “You caring broke the curse,” Logan corrects gently, “and, well, when you...when you seemed to be in need, we wanted to care for you too.”

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, fuck.

 “So,” Roman says, smiling up at Virgil, “how can we help?”

 “Help? With—with what?”

 “The nightmares.”

 “Oh,” Virgil mumbles, averting his eyes, “you, uh, can’t. Not really. They’re not a curse or magical or anything. They’re just nightmares.”

 “But there must be something we can do.”

 He shakes his head sadly. Believe him, if there were anything five unfairly attractive people could do, he’d tell them. But there isn’t. “They come with the job. There’s not—no one can do anything.”

 He can practically hear Patton frowning. “That’s not very fair. You do so much for others, don’t they—don’t they care?”

 Virgil shrugs. “Life isn’t fair.”

 “So take what it won’t give you.” Janus folds his arms. “They don’t care for you. Even though you care for them.”

 “They do care for me,” Virgil argues, “they’re kind. They help me.”

 “Not with this,” he shoots back, “not with what you really need.”

 “You protect everyone,” Roman says softly when Virgil opens his mouth to argue again, “who protects you?”

 Who protects the protector?

 “…no one.” Virgil shakes his head. “No one but me.”

 “Well, you’re right. That doesn’t seem fair at all.” Logan sets the book aside and it vanishes into the darkness of the cave. “Perhaps we should endeavor to fix that.”

 “F-fix it?” Virgil’s head jerks up. “How?”

 “Let us protect you.”

 “Protect me?”

 “Do keep up,” Janus sighs, but he’s pretty sure he can see him smiling over there, “at the very least, we have magic. That should offer you something.”

 “You don’t have to decide right now,” Roman says quickly, “but…thought we’d offer. Think it over.”

 …well, if ‘protection’ involves seeing them more often, Virgil can definitely work with that.

 “While I think it over, will you tell me how you got cursed?”

 “So it was entirely Janus’s fault—“

 “It was not!”

 “Yes, it was!”

 As Remus and Janus start arguing, Virgil smiles and leans back against the wall of the cave. Roman waves his hand and the cave wall warms, almost cradling Virgil. Logan settles on his other side, weight solid against his arm.

 Yeah, he could get used to this.

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[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 8

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1720

Summary: You and a couple of the guys have a heart-to-heart

You were home, or rather, you were in the physical place where you lived. It was difficult to call Velaris ‘home’ when your home was really a person, your mate. It was even harder to call this place home since Azriel started looking at you like he wanted to spit on you at any given moment. You’d expected to be treated that way once everything came to light, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t loathe it with every fiber of your being.

It was in a fit of this general discontent that you found yourself sitting on the ground of the balcony outside the House of Wind’s library. A bottle of wine, half empty already based on the weight of it, dangled from your fingertips as you stared blankly into the fire and longed for the male that could make such flames dance like sprites. Eris’s notes from your time apart rested on the ground before you, some resting against or on your leg because you’d simply dropped them after reading.

“Cass told me I’d find you here,” Rhys said as his feet entered your field of view. “Though I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating how much you’d been drinking.”

Your eyes darted over to the other two, empty bottles you’d abandoned back when you’d been sitting in a chair. “Yes, well, you know how my tolerance is.”

“Considering how many men you’ve drunk under the table? Yes, I’m fully aware.” Now, he brought himself low enough that he could meet your eye on your own level. The most powerful High Lord, kneeling beside his low fae cousin on the ground.

You snorted at the sheer ridiculousness. “Whatcha doing here, Rhys? I figured you’d be off with Feyre.”

“She had things to discuss with Amren or else she’d be here talking to you with me.”

You took another drink. “Well in that case, lay it on me.” Your arms spread wide dramatically, one hand holding the bottle, the other a letter; your wings flared slightly behind you in an effort to keep you balanced. “Ask me anything you want! I assume it’s about that gorgeous mate of mine.”

He rolled his eyes and took the bottle from you. “I won’t insult you bya skiing what Azriel wants me to.” Rhysand took a long drink.

“Oooooh, let me guess!” You did your best to make your face as stoic as the shadowsinger’s. “Have I been selling secrets to the Autumn Court?”

“Close,” he snickered. “Has she been giving away secrets to the Autumn Court?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d give them away for free!” 

“Sweetheart, you’d never spill them either way.” His eyes were somber, caring. “You would never betray us like that, so I have no need to ask.”

“Then what do you need to ask?”

“First, I want to ask about your bargain.”

“You makin’ sure I didn’t give away anything important?”

“I want to know that it was your choice to make whatever deal it was.”

Your brain stalled out in light of his genuine concern after so many days of people being wary of you, and your buzz fizzled a little because of it. “It was a deal of protection,” you explained seriously. “He’ll watch my back as long as I watch his sort of thing.” You stole back the bottle to take another drink. “And what a fucking job I did.”

“You couldn’t have done anything against her,” he assured you, “and if you had tried, more likely than not, you’d both be dead right now.”

“Whatever, Rhys,” you scoffed. “What else?”

“You are not less than him because you’re Illyrian.” You’d known the topic was coming, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so blunt. “And if he treats you like you are, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Then you can stop worrying, because he doesn’t. Hasn’t even said anything to imply it--get that look off your face right now. Anything he said to you was an act because we were backed into a nightmare of a corner, and you know it. Anyway, he hasn't made any jabs implying it--accidentally or otherwise--since we first got together.”

“Put a stop to that, did you?” He was smirking as he swiped the bottle back to drink once again. 

“Of course.” You hesitated. “But he and I are both aware of what others will think; just look at your parents. That’s why, or at least part of why, we kept quiet about the whole thing.”

Rhysand was nodding as if pleased.

“That all you’ve got, cousin?”

A little snort escaped his nose. “As far as being concerned goes, we’ll say yes for now.”

“And as far as everything else?”

“Since you’ve so cruelly left your poor cousin in the dark about your relationship for--how long was it again?”

“‘Bout five hundred years--”

“Five hundred years! Because you've left me in the dark for so long, I want to know everything about the two of you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He waved a hand a little. “That you’re willing to share, of course.”

“Rhys . . . I don’t  . . .” You weren’t used to this. You’d never had to share anything about your relationship before. You weren’t good at talking about yourself. “I don’t know where to start.”

A low hum rumbled through the air along with the telling thuds of someone else’s boots.

“Why don’t you start with that letter you’re holding?” Cassian abruptly dropped down next to you, so close he was lightly pressed against your side. It was such a casual closeness that the pair of you had had for centuries, and you didn't realize how much you loved it until it was missing. Its presence now brought tears to your eyes, but none fell.

Blinking them back, you stammered, “Um. It’s how we talked . . . when we couldn’t see each other.” A self-deprecating chuckle ripped its way up from your throat. “Apparently he’d been sending them since just after Amarantha, and I never knew since I don’t live down there anymore. I’m only just now getting around to reading them.” Carelessly, you handed it over to Cassian. “You can read it if you want; I was going through them all, but I can’t exactly see straight enough to read anymore.”

He eyed you warily before opening it gently. Clearing his throat before he read,

“I hope you are doing well, and I hope moreso that you have not finally come to your senses and decided to leave me. I’ve been trying to keep my emotions from bothering you in case you have, but Father has proven to be harsher than ever before in light of everything that has happened over the last half-century. It’s all I can do to keep him from deciding to hunt down Lucien.

Cauldron, I don’t even know if you’re receiving these messages or if you even care and yet here I am droning on about my own problems. I’ll leave this here, then.

I miss you, and I love you always,

Eris”

Both men were silent for a breath.

“Who would have thought that Eris Vanserra of all people would be so rambling in a letter?” Cassian eventually teased--only slightly awkwardly--to break the quiet.

“He stopped trying to be eloquent in our notes about five years in.” Your buzz was definitely on the way out now, and you found yourself listlessly leaning against Cassian. Neither male commented about the more romantic sentiments in the letter. You wondered why that was. For your privacy or their own comfort so they didn’t have to think about the fact that Eris did in fact have feelings.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you think about him?” Rhysand prompted quietly, obviously wanting to know more about the relationship despite the awkward aura that’d descended upon the little group.

It may have been because you were actively looking at a fire, but you didn’t really have to think about the words that came tumbling out of your mouth. “Did you know that he can make shapes out of flames? He used to make little dogs and foxes to play with Lucien when Beron would upset him.”

“I thought he hated that kid,” Cassian mused.

“He had to keep his distance to keep Beron’s attention away from him; he swore to his mother that he’d protect him.”

“What else comes to mind?”

You swallowed thickly. “He interrogated me about how to care for my wings when I showed up injured once.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flashed. “Injured?”

“Took a bad crash through some trees on the way to see him; I think I was dodging some scouts. Either way, he hounded me about it until I taught him all I could.”

“Seriously?” Cassian again.

“Yeah.” You could feel the dopey smile spread across your face, but you didn’t want to stop it. “Cleaning, first-aid, the whole deal. And the best part? He never has cold hands.”

“Unlike you, huh?” Rhys teased. “Nothing but cold hands.”

“Truer words never spoken,” and unexpected but familiar voice said from behind you.

As soon as you laid eyes on him, you were stumbling to your feet.

There was a warmth in his eyes that had nothing to do with flames when he caught you and pulled you close.

Immediately, you buried your face in his neck. “How?” you whispered into the pale skin there.

Eris’s hand moved to rest atop your wing where it was tucked against your back, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “That would be a question for your High Lady.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw that, sure enough, Feyre was now holding hands with the now-standing Rhys. “I thought you were with Amren?”

“I lied,” Rhys shrugged. “Eris was down there plotting with Keir, so I asked her to go grab him for you since you’ve been feeling down.”

When tears started welling up in your eyes, you blamed the alcohol. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, little cousin. Now, I think it’s time for us to turn in.” His eyes shifted to look at your mate; surprisingly his gaze wasn’t near as icy as you would have expected. “Take care of her.”

“Until my dying breath.”

“Never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with you people,” Cassian scoffed, “is there?”

You smirked on behalf of your husband. “Never.”

[perriewinklenerdie]

Uncharacteristically happy (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N:  Hello, hello, hello! How we holding up, fam? I really hope you are all okay and taking care of yourselves <3 The idea for this fic came up after the last fic I posted, so I started playing with it and this is what came out of it :D

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808175

Tag list:   @paleweasels, @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h 

  Enjoy! <3

----------

It’s three in the morning when the darkness is annihilated by his bedside lamp. He should still be sleeping, but the turmoil in his mind kept him awake for the better half of the past hours. With a heavy sigh, he sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

After his father went to his room, Ethan practically threw himself towards his phone. He was greeted with her voice, making his pulse jump. She would tease him if she knew just how strong her hold on him was, so he was glad that she couldn’t see him in that moment.

“How was the chicken?” Claire asked, letting out a sigh he heard multiple of times when she finally relaxed after a long day.

“You’ll see for yourself tomorrow. I managed to save you a serving, Dad ate most of it.” he laughed, thinking about how much crap he would get from Alan if he heard him admitting that to her.

“Stop talking about food, it’s too late for me to sneak into the kitchen and grab a snack. Change the subject.” She laughed, scolding him the same amount as she was scolding herself for even bringing it up in the first place.

“What were you up to this evening?”

“Sienna baked cookies- dammit! We’re walking in circles.” Her laugh put a smile on his face, her words ringing in his mind, as they were about more than their conversation topics and they both knew it. “I will steal a couple and bring them to you tomorrow.”

“Those cookies of hers must be stellar if there are legends about them, circling around the hospital… and I know that from Naveen.” He rushed to explain, unsure how he felt about her being aware he knew a rumor or two.

Claire giggled shortly. “I’m sure you do. Anyway, it’s getting late and we both have an early shift in the morning. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan.” Her voice wrapped around his name, a tender caress that made his heart skip a beat, as cliché as that sounded.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Sleep well, Claire.”

He tried to occupy himself with something, anything to not think about her. The way her eyes sparkled when they moved around his kitchen with an ease of two people who were familiar with each other. The way she fit into his arms like she was made for him to hold her. How her lips moved against his, wiping his mind blank and leaving only the feeling of her. How she pulled him back inside and they made out against the wall like a pair of teenagers.

Yeah, she was definitely a good influence on him.

So that’s how he got to where he was now. Dead of the night, wide awake and getting out of bed. Sure, we went to work around 4.30 in the morning quite often, but it didn’t require him to wake up that early.

However, preparing a lunchbox for Claire, purely because he was an overachiever and he made his point to see a smile on her face, apparently required him to wake up at the break of dawn and move around his apartment as quietly as he could, because if his dad woke up and saw him putting so much effort into preparing food for her, he would not hear the end of it.

He rummaged through his cabinet, taking out a container for food, then took out the leftover chicken and placed it on the counter. Taking the knife into his hand, he proceeded to chop and transfer neatly cut pieces into the box, trying to make as little noise as he could. But even that turned out to be impossible.

“Ethan, is everything okay? It’s so early, you don’t have to leave for work for another hour, so why are you- oh.” Alan’s tired voice shattered the tranquility of the early morning, then the sleepy figure of an older man appeared in the doorway. He was about to ask further questions but was stopped when he saw what exactly it was that got his son out of the bed so early. “Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me. I’m just-“

“You’re just preparing food for her, because she is important to you. Because you care about her. We’ve been over this, Ethan.” The doctor sighed deeply, shaking his head at the easy smile that pulled on his lips.

“Okay, yes. I woke up an hour early to prepare food for her. Because I want to see her smile. There, happy?”

“Immensely.”

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

Ethan used to be one of a few doctors that started his work this early. It was not the case, at least not anymore. He parked his car by the employee’s entrance and turned the engine off, taking a deep breath. He then reached for his bag, lunch box inside, and grabbed the door handle when he heard soft knocking on the window.

At first, all he heard was incoherent mumble; once he got out of the car, he could hear her clearly. “Good morning, Dr. Ramsey.” Claire greeted him lightly, leaning against the hood of his car with a cheeky grin.

“You are uncharacteristically happy this morning, Dr. Herondale. Did something happen?” he kept up their teasing banter, allowing himself to let his guard down just a little. She nodded her head from side to side, scrunching her nose as she pretended to think. Then her face lit up like she just remembered what happened between them the previous evening, and her cheeks flushed.

“I seem to remember a man walking me out of his apartment and some… activities that took place afterwards. He did also promise me we would talk about it… just didn’t say when.” She tapped her finger on her chin, then took a step towards him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “So… got any suggestions?”

His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before he composed himself, clearing his throat. “Maybe… after work… it’s a rather long and personal conversation that he wants to have with you.”

Claire nudged his arm with her hand, smiling at him brightly. “Sounds like a plan.” Her eyes ran to the bag in his hand. “What do you have in there?”

“Your lunch.” He reached for the lunch box and handed it to her, smiling shyly. That prompted her to dig through her own bad, taking out a neatly folded pouch and placing it in his hand.

“And here are your cookies. Sienna will be amused to say the least when she wakes up and finds a few missing, but I’m willing to shoulder that burden.” She winked at him, then began walking backwards. “Come on, we have a new patient coming in today, Baz got their file yesterday.”

---------

Throughout the day, he would see her in the corridors or walking out of the patient’s rooms. Each time, an effortless smile made its way onto his lips, despite his best efforts to disguise it. It made him think about the reasons that made him decide to push her away in the first place. He remembered, very vividly, the moment he said to himself that they would be a distraction to each other, that any relationship between them other than that of being coworkers would put their jobs, their patients in jeopardy. As it turned out, it wasn’t necessarily a case, and he was being proven wrong every single day since he put distance between them.

Trying to stay away only made him notice her more. It’s a classic case of ‘the more you say you can’t do something, the more you want to do it anyway’. His eyes followed her around the room, his mind stopped for a moment every time she was near him, his focus was on every word she said. His whole being was tuned to her and her only, and while the quality of his work didn’t suffer, most of his energy was spent on him focusing on her, then him realizing that he was doing it and trying his best to stop himself from doing it. Needless to say, it became clear pretty much immediately that it was a futile effort, but Ethan Ramsey was a stubborn man who was convinced that with enough time and practice, he could learn to ignore her.

He couldn’t. And he didn’t.

Now, he had another point of view to consider. His meticulously crafted self-control broke like a fragile twig in one moment, and in the next, he had her in his arms, and he was kissing her, exactly like he wanted to do so many times. She didn’t push him away, he didn’t go back on his decision, and the air was lighter once more.

There was the creeping feeling of dread that followed him for the first few hours of his shift; the feeling of unease as to what their work together would look like, now that they stepped on the line he drew for them, and were one move away from leaving it behind them. All the insecurities he had, had vanished in the instant when they were diagnosing a patient and he realized that it has never been easier to do his job before. He knew that if they chose to start a relationship, they would have difficult moment, disagreements and full-blown arguments, so not that different than what they were doing now. The most important difference was that there would be much more at stakes, and that is what terrified him.

Claire’s steps seemed lighter, her demeanor brighter and her smile wider. She was working more efficiently, putting all of her focus on the patient when it was required of her, and crossed the boundaries with teasing him only slightly.

Before he knew it, lunch time rolled around, and he was alone in his office. His contemplation on what to eat was interrupted by an incoming message. Claire’s name flashed on the screen and there was a photo of her lunch attached to the message.

“Want some? I’ll trade you for one of the cookies.”

He looked at the pack of treats, sitting on his table, and replied, smirking.

“I’ll get the coffee started.”

Not even five minutes later, Claire walked into the room, closing the door behind her. She had already reheated the chicken and was now holding the box with one hand, two forks with the other. Sitting down on the couch, she waited for him to join her with two cups of coffee.

“I admire your willpower to not eat the cookies right away.” She said, handing him the fork. Ethan scoffed, shaking his head.

“Some of us can control themselves, Claire. It’s called willpower.”

“Sure they do.” Claire mused, taking her first bite. Her eyes grew wide, looking over to him quickly. “This is ridiculously good.” A wide grin grew on her face and he smiled triumphally, having achieved his goal.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not sure if you understand, Ethan. Now that I know you can cook, I’m not sure if I can survive without it.” She leaned towards him, nudging his arm with hers.

“Oh really.”

“I would have to be stupid to not use the knowledge of you being a genius in the kitchen somehow.” Shrugging her shoulders, she ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her coffee cup.

They ate in silence for a bit, enjoying the comfort of each other’s company. She stole one last piece of chicken, right from underneath his fork, and ate it while looking straight at him with a satisfied grin.

“How did the talk with your dad go?”

“You were right, I really needed to talk to him. Avoiding him was the worst decision.” Ethan wrapped his hands around the cup, the glass almost burning his skin. Claire took a bite out of her cookie, deep in her thoughts. “We’re not out of the woods yet, but we’re getting there.”

“You have no idea how happy for you I am.”

She finished her cookie and subconsciously started eyeing the one he was eating. He noticed her staring, cocking his eyebrow in a silent question.

“Wouldn’t you like to have another one, huh?” he teased her, trying to resist the playfully pleading look in her eyes. When she batted her eyelashes, he sighed, extending his hand towards her, offering her his cookie. She took a bite, their gazes firmly on one another. Nodding her head in a silent ‘thank you’, she finished eating. Ethan’s eyes dropped to her lips, like he was hypnotized. “You’ve got, uh… here…”

His thumb brushed the crumbs away from her skin, his touch lingering on her chin; he was now staring blatantly at her. The intensity of his gaze caused a shiver to run through her. She didn’t have time to ask him what he was thinking, though.

Ethan dove forward, grabbing her face with his both hands and pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her with wild abandonment, forgetting where they were, who they were and what they were supposed to be doing. She responded after a moment, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other one on his side, keeping her touch light.

He leaned away suddenly, realizing what was happening. His eyes were wide, a sliver of panic crossing his features. Claire moved away from him, then looked towards the door, checking to see if anyone was watching them, but the corridor was empty.

“Claire?” his voice was deep and hoarse. When she looked back at him, she noticed how dark his irises had gotten.

“Yes?”

“Come back here.” He pleaded, wrapping his arms around her and hauling her onto him, tilting her back against the couch slightly. This time round, she was kissing him back with just as much passion as he had for her, her fingers tangling into his hair and pulling with gentle force, drawing out a long moan from him.

He moved one hand beneath her coat, smoothing the material of her shirt with his hand. Claire lowered herself entirely onto the couch, pulling him on top of her. A giggle slipped past her lips when her fingers glided down the column of his neck and he broke the kiss, fidgeting away from her tickling. His laughter mixed with hers, ringing around them.

He was breathing heavily, allowing himself a moment to just stop everything and look at her. Her pupils were wide, cheeks flushed. Lips bruised from assaulting his repeatedly. He held himself up with one arm, tracing the lines of her face with his fingers. Memorizing her, imprinting the in his mind. He outlined her lips, his breath catching in his throat when she bit his fingertip playfully.

“My god, you’re addictive.” Ethan growled lowly, pulling her back to him. Her hold on him tightened, their kisses turning from slow and unhurried to rushed and hard, every touch fleeting, sending a hot flame through their bodies.

Claire moved her lips along the line of his jaw, traveling to his pulse point and staying there for a long while, slowly driving him crazy. Ethan’s hand, that up until this point was running up and down her side delicately, has now stopped at her thigh, gripping it tightly, a last-ditch effort to hold in a desperate sound that threatened to escape him. To contain the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume him whole, right there and then, on the couch in his office, where they were in a very public eye.

She brought her lips to his ear, breathing hotly against it as she whispered. “Maybe it’s not the best time and place for that kind of a conversation.” His kiss on the skin of her collarbone interrupted her trail of thought, a small moan slipping past her open lips. “Don’t you think?”

Ethan sighed heavily, sitting upright, pulling her up along with him. He brushed her hair behind her shoulders, caressing the skin on her cheek tenderly. Smiling seemed easier to him, now that he wasn’t carrying the heavy burden of his choice with him everywhere.

“You’re right. How about we try the dinner again?” he murmured, twisting a lock of her blonde hair between his fingers. Claire scrunched her nose, pretending to think about his offer.

“Are we going to get interrupted again?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No surprise visits this time, I promise.”

She nodded slowly, looking at him for a long moment. Her hand rested on his thigh and her lips touched his in a soft kiss. Leaning away for just an inch, she whispered. “Okay.”

[midas-or-khaos]

Wrong place, Wrong time. Part 1

God of war x borrower oc story

“-And remember, DON’T touch anything! Reavers aren’t exactly a clean bunch,” a gurgling followed. “Ugh, really bad at keeping anything clean in fact.” The poor man really could be a worry wart at times (and a clean freak as always).

“Sindri, I’ll be fine. I promise! Cross my heart and everything. The whetstone will probably be kept somewhere safe if it’s precious enough to be stolen, so it’ll hopefully be clean when I find it.”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Just...stay safe ok? And don’t get caught!”

“I won’t, I never do. See you soon!”

Reluctantly the dwarf answered,“See you soon jojo.” But the poor dwarf’s knee couldn’t stop shaking, thinking about worst case scenarios. Jojo knew he’d just have to prove poor Sindri wrong once again. Maybe one of these days he’d actually learn there was no use worrying himself into a frenzy. Taking off, the 5 inch figure wasn’t stopped as he scurried along natural ledges in walls, and began his descent into the heart of the earth.

Jojo didn’t see what all the worry was for. One of the few perks of being a borrower was often big folk like Reavers or monsters were always too busy looking ahead for bean sized people, that they never looked far enough down to see him. He knew the dwarf didn’t like asking him for help, even though the boy often came to Sindri’s shop outside ‘Fafnir’s storeroom’ (or whatever he called it) asking for challenges and new borrowing spots.

Most borrowers would call it suicide to be talking to beans and other big folk, ESPECIALLY with all the new monsters that have started popping up recently. Hel walkers they’re called apparently. But Jojo wasn’t most. He’d sought out his favourite Dwarf and brother when his parents died drowning in the lake of nine when the waters suddenly flooded, leaving their 8 year old son to fend for himself. Not immediately, obviously. No, at that point he was still a weedy little scaredy cat himself, not able to be even in the same area when footstep started to shake the earth. It could only last so long though. He hadn’t been old enough to be taken out borrowing before being left alone, and supplies ran low quickly. So, spurt of the desperate, when he saw the two set up shop outside his home in the foothills, the child decided to stride right out into the open and ask for food.

4 years later and he still never regretted that decision. Still scrawny, “the side effect of being young” said Brok, but definitely more confident. Brok taught him a lot of that confidence (and a whole lot of swear words too, despite Sindri’s attempts to undo his brother’s work) and Sindri taught him kindness and generosity. The generosity was only spent on the brothers, because who else was he going to see? No borrower would trust another that hung around beans, and Sindri wouldn’t let him be found by anyone if he had anything to say about it, but kindness he tried to show all IF he could without getting sliced in half.

Gathering focus for the change in environment, the world became darker. White, natural light was flittering out, slowly being replaced by the ethereal glow of blue crystals bouncing off liquid smooth stone corridors leading into a fatal drop. An underground ravine. Nothing had shown its face yet, though the odd grunt of some undead beastie would make itself known now and then. Being so small meant there was no need to cross the water below, or find ways to get the chain ropes down so as to climb across. All he had to do was stick close to the roof where stalactites could be leapt between till he reached some valley in the wall to rest. Nothing too hard. Looking for the fist place to jump, a low hanging spine was just a couple of feet away (to Jojo); taking a leap of faith, the boy managed to snag the tail end. Right, next one. Leaping like a lemur the drop was easily avoided, and soon something came into view. Sunlight yellow was beginning to mix with the unnatural blue, and Jojo knew there was an opening into the outside world around the corner. Good, finally he would be able to see, though he would be easier to spot in the illumination of day.

Sindri

How had Brok convinced him to let Jojo go treasure hunting alone? So many traps, monsters, ancients even! “He’ll be fine” said Brok when the two had discussed it together during one of their rare ‘chats for important matters’. So nonchalantly Brok threw out, “Kid’s never been seen before, he ain’t gonna be now!” We’ll that was just testing fate wasn’t it! The rhythmic thumping of hammer to metal was doing nothing to take his mind off the matter, and a few too many near misses to his thumb told Sindri he wasn’t going to get any real work done at this rate. Perhaps he should have a break and go visit Ivaldi’s workshop?

“Hey Sindri!”

“Agh!!!!” Both hammer and work went flying overhead, just missing the flat of his skull. The lithe boy in question at least had the gall to go red, abashed as he walked over to the Dwarf’s workbench, scratching at the buzzed fuzz across the side his head.

“Sorry.”

“Well you should be! That could’ve hurt you OR me, and all the infections that could get in-”

“Boy, be careful.”

The source of the voice sat further back up the slate corridor, hidden in shadow, hawkish gold glowed beneath a heavy brow.

“Sorry father.” Atreus called back to the hidden figure.

With meaningful strides, the figure came into the light of day, bleach white skin, jet black beard and a crimson tattoo striped across an eye setting the figure apart as none other than his worst fear. Kratos. Why? Why were these two here?

“What brings you two to my place of work to scare me?”

Leaning on the edge of his (freshly cleaned) work bench, the spritely youth explained with excitement, “We’re gonna get that whetstone you wanted!”

Shit! He’d mentioned that to them, hadn’t he? Why had they come to fulfill that promise now, when they seemed so disinterest in before?

“O-o-ooooohhhhh yeahhhhhhh, THAT whetstone. Well...”

Atreus leaned in with a head tilt and a brow lifted, “...well? What’s wrong, did you find it already?”

“No-“

“-No? Then what’s the problem?”

“Speak clearly, we have come for the promise of improvements.” Straight to the point, both father and son were on edge now.

Damn it, he was digging a hole for himself again. Stupid mouth. Obviously, if the two of them went in those mines, there was a chance his kid would get spotted and wearing that rat skin outfit, either of the pair could mistake Jojo for an actual rat and hit him with something. Oooooo, that’s horrifying, don’t think about that! Ughhhh don’t vomit! Don’t-...But On the other hand, there was a chance that the father/son duo could clear the way and make it safer for his boy to get back. And more searching eyes makes for less work. Sindri would just have to encourage them not to be too... liberal with their killing.

“Yes the offer is still there, but you must heed this warning.”

“You mentioned no warning before, why?” The irritation lacing the bestial man’s tone didn’t keep itself hidden, growls billowing out that barrel chest. The dwarf didn’t shirk away like a turtle. Not at all.

“O-oh-well-I didn’t know before. Bbbbut I got new information...from Brok. He said not tooooooo... kill the ratssssss?”

The growls took a higher pitch.

“Errrrr, ok? Are the rats protected are something?” Quizzed Atreus, bringing the blacksmith off the subject of the terrifying god before him. A perfect excuse.

“YES! Yes, sorry, the rats are the protected subjects of Freya. Wouldn’t want to upset her right?!”

“Oh! Well, she never mentioned that when we met her.” These two met FREYA! Of course they had, who was he kidding, they’d met everyone and probably started a fight with them too.

“Must’ve slipped her mind, now hurry up! Don’t want any drauger or wolves to get their disgusting hands all over it! Otherwise it’ll be so dirty even I won’t be able to clean it!”

The excuse was enough. The two turned (but not before the kid’s enthusiastic good bye) and disappeared below the cramped passage into the inky black mines, their footsteps echoing out.

“Please let this be the right idea.” Huffed out Sindri with stale, held breath, shaking his head at his own recklessness.

Jojo

Making the last of his descent down the sheer cliff walls, vibrant green broke the dead stone and made life at the edge of the darkness. The sweet ache from overworked tendons and muscles began the slow process of slipping away, fresh air and bird song rejuvenating the boy’s ambition to find his prize, a grin pulling at bubbly cheeks. He was halfway now! Strolling through the ivy, form barely making a rustle, sunlight illuminated the boy’s way through the thickets. Brok mentioned that before he reached the main chamber where the actual traps and treasure was kept, there was a ‘small’ field for him to cross with bits of precious metals along the way. Jojo knew he’d need to make height soon in order to know where he was going, but this time it’d have to be calculated; all black stood out in all this greenery. Now where to go? Rocks. He could use the rocks as an outpost to look out: dark coloured, easy to climb and easy to blend into. Just a matter of reaching it. Strolling through the ivy, the speckled light beaming on the crumbled earth was just enough to guide the way forward, boots barely making a sound.

Squawk

Stopping dead, a cold trail prickled along his back. The boy made the slowest tilt back possible to peak throught the canopy, trying to avoid detection. Too late, looking with a ghostly green eye, a monsterous raven was stalking with keen interest, perched almost serenely upon it’s watch point. Ravens weren’t notorious borrower hunters, seeing people like him often as a chore to catch and consume. But rats...rats were their favourite.

And he was dressed as one.

Atreus

“Father, what do you think had Sindri so shook?”

“Anything, boy. The dwarf has a talent for fear.” No denying that, agreed the doe eyed boy. Sindri did fear just about everything.

Crouching did nothing for the chalk giant, disgruntled grunts sounding out amongst the overhead drips of droplets every time his bald head scraped the sandpaper rough ceiling. It’s one of the few examples in life that made Atreus happy to be short. Yowls were coming from further into the mineshaft, but drauger were a minor setback, easily dispatched.

“Be on your guard boy, we are nearing danger.”

Jojo

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-“ How could one bird be more persistent then all the drauger in the world?

SSSSSQQQQUUUUUAAAAAARRRRRRRKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!

Too close! Every attack was only wearing the borrower down more; the saving grace from this endless stream of dive bombs was that in the bird’s haste, it made enough flapping to give its location away at all times, making it easier to dodge. But now Jojo was lost, lost and close to just falling down if his quaking limbs were anything to go by.

Atreus

“Well that was easy.”

A sagely look was drawn toward Atreus, not angry, but not impressed, “Easy because there are two of us, boy, but don’t let your guard down because you perceive an enemy as ‘easy’.”

Always one to lecture. “Yes sir.”

The cave entrance as coming into sight, stoic father and brash son walking side by side. With electrical arrows at the ready and frosty axe drawn the odd pair walked into daylight, sun illuminating the thick blood staining their skin and wares. Both were ready for any kind of battle ahead, be it fierce or simple.

Well, except for the kind of battle that they stumbled onto.

“Father? What’s wrong with that bird?” Quizzed Atreus, looking up, but Kratos was busy scanning the wooded field

“It hunts for prey boy, pay it no mind.” No beating around the bush.

“But it looks like one of Odin’s crows.”

The barely there expression of strained, chalk temples and widening, heavy set eyes might as well have been a scream.“Shoot it down.”

This rarity was not lost on the boy, heart pounding in response. If his ever-stoic dad was frightened, this was more of a danger than he had anticipated. Wasting no time, Atreus locked on as the bird went for another dive, and let loose a wizzing arrow. It fired true puncturing the breast and punching through to the other side with a resounding crack of the rib cage. The creature never hit its mark, breaking apart in a surprising burst of green flame, but never actually setting anything on fire. The witchcraft of Odin was strange indeed.

The boy couldn’t feel pleasure out of his elegant kill, still too shaken by what he’d seen. Atreus knew better than to ask his father what was wrong, the man would switch on him like a rabid dog driven mad by rabies if any fear was ever acknowledged.

“We go on, boy.”

Kratos took the lead, heading further uphill into the tree trunk horizon, sun spilling over the crest and illuminating some of the lower valley where the boy stood. Atreus made no move to follow. If he was to get answers, it would have to be now whilst his father charged on unaware. Tip toeing over to where the bird would have fallen, eyes trained on his father, the archer found his arrow wedged fast into the soft earth with wandering hands. Turning his gaze for just a moment to inspect his find, there were signs of burns, suggesting that the animal must’ve been made of pure magic; probably a spy of some kind if Odin had anything to do with it, the man was notoriously suspicious and crafty (even all seeing as his mother had mentioned) so would want to know at all times what was going on in midguard. Hold on... pulling the tip of the spear out, a rat skin sat pierced at the end. Weird thing was though, it was clean, even looking tanned on the inside like some kind of weird miniature hooded tunic! This wasn’t an animal the crow had caught and killed, but clearly was worn by the thing that the bird was after on the ground. Wait... Sindri mentioned not killing any rats, but this one was allowed to die and be made into clothes, meaning Freya wasn’t protecting the rats at all. Sindri was lying, he was protecting whoever wore this tunic-

“BOY! COME!”

Oops. He’d zoned out too long.

“Father, I think Sindri was lying!”

Footstep were coming down behind him in a charge. Curiosity wouldn’t let him leave, but flight was making his feet flitter and shake, ready to take off from the raging bull behind him.

“Did I just not tell you to follow?! The dwarf is of no concern-“ Fighting curiosity won over.

“DAD! Just. Look.”

Turning back and presenting the tunic to the man who’d finally reached him, the golden hue burned brightly with hatful embers down at the find. Just as quickly the gaze focused back on the child. He neither cared nor understood.

“It’s a tunic, made from the skin of a rat. Sindri said the rats here were under the protection of Freya, but if that were true, this one wouldn’t be dead and Odin’s ravens wouldn’t dare go after it. Sindri’s hiding something.”

[pastthevaulteddoors]

MDZS/The Untamed AU thoughts!

Awhile ago, I headcannoned an AU but I can’t find the post. I wanted to babble on it while I’m waking up.

A/B/O AU where if you decide to cultivate a golden core, you’ll present as one of A/B/O, therefore when you present it’s biological, but magic based so you can choose to present, but you can’t choose what it is.

Long post. Mentions of the R word.

Normal people don’t present and are just normal.

WWX was an alpha. As was Lan Wangji so while they might angry-flirt, they’re never going to be mates. But then the Wens win at Nightless City during the Sunshot Campaign and Wei Wuxian is publicly executed.

13 years later, WWX is reincarnated into the omega body of Mo Xuanyu.

The world is quite different from when he died.

The Wens have the run of the place. Wen Ruohan has been crowned King while all other cultivation sects are now considered supervisory offices. More or less labor camps that are tightly overseen by Wens.

Before WWX can come to grips with this new world and what he’s supposed to do, he’s swept out of Mo Manor by yet-presented and beta cultivators lead by a young man named Wen Sizhui. His troupe are all Lans with threadbare grey-not-white robes and forehead ribbons that look like they were ripped off of white clothing, or the ribbons are so frayed they look tattered and second hand.

While Wen Sizhui appears kind, with a sweet face and gentle tones, he’s ruthless. They take out the Mo family curse that’s closer to a death sentence than a saving, then they drag all omegas out of the manor for The Games.

They were there to pick up the omegas originally, and just happened to save/kill the Mo family while they’re there. Confused, WWX goes along with it, barely registering that he is in fact an omega now.

WWX is taken on a carriage that looks like it could be closed up like a jail cell. He’s squished in with a handful of others that look crossed between terrified and depressed, resigned to a horrible fate.

Along the way they are met with another group. These are Jins with another handful of villagers. This one is headed by a Jin Ling. There’s an offhanded conversation, where it seems that Wen Sizhui and Jin Ling know each other, maybe even friends.

Turns out, the Jins sided with the Wens and are thriving under the heavy hand of Wen, while the other sects are dwindling in homes that closely resemble labor camps.

The Lans had rebelled again, so The Games are going to be held on the mountains of Gusu. They head up to Cloud Recesses which was never properly rebuilt. There’s huts, not homes. Attempts were made to make this suppressed sect back into its tranquil past, but it’s clearly lacking.

Throughout a semi-imprisonment while people are gathered to Gusu, WWX learns that the Lans have been the biggest rebellion to subjugation even over a decade after losing. He sees LXC a few times. He looks as beautiful and regal as ever, but his clothing is old, his ribbon is cut short, and the once brightness in his eyes for hope has darkened to a façade. He has yet to see LWJ.

Lotus Pier is gone. Wen Xu was killed by LWJ, and Wen Ruohan has adopted Wen Sizhui as his heir when Wen Chao had proven unable to perform after he ‘lost his mind’ during the Sunshot campaign.

When Wen Ruohan arrives WWX is shocked to see that he’s flanked by Meng Yao (top advisor) and Jiang Cheng (his body guard). Turns out, Meng Yao was a pivotal point in getting the Jins to turn on the other sects that won the Wens the war. Jiang Cheng was said to be a loyal dog to the Wens when he had no where else to go. Others say that JC was blackmailed into the position when his sister was threatened.

Jin Guangshan cowers before Wen Ruohan, but he smiles and has his head held high. He knows he’s in a position of power but only at the behest of the Wens. Then a crowd gathers and a ceremony is being presented for The Games.

WWX and other omegas are ushered to a side stage like cattle. Across from a crowd he sees alphas on a similar platform. On the main stage Wen Ruohan has a handful of minor and major sect leaders.

WWX is THRILLED that his sister is in the omegas with him so he tries to communicate with her who he is. Like everyone in the group, she looks frightened but resigned to what is going to happen. She doesn’t give WWX much room to talk, as they must be quiet while a presentation happens. Jiang Yanli does hold WWX close, as if comforting the other omega. He notices that there are others clinging together, and this is not uncommon.

WWX also sees LWJ across to the other stage at where the alphas are lined up. This group is different. The alphas are stoic in general, but there is a good number of Wen alphas in front of them, clearly rowdy and excited.

WWX notices that Nie Mingjue is not there, and Nie Huaisang is a cowering beta on stage. Sadly, NMJ was killed a few years ago protecting LXC in The Games. It’s rumored that it was closer to a murder than self defense, an orchestrated attack. Jin Zixuan looks disappointed and is instructed by his father to stand with the Wen alphas.

A gruesome display happens. A Lan omega has been induced into a heat and is on display as they writhe, out of control, on stage. LXC finally breaks ranks and covers the omega before a rowdy Wen can get too close. He covers them with his coat and they’re both beaten.

“At least he’s not raped this year,” someone says in the omega’s stage, a whispered, scared thing. WWX is surprised but as it turns out, LXC is an omega. He always said he was beta, but being an omega as a sect leader is near impossible when it comes to respect among peers.

The Games, as it turns out, is like Hunger Games. Higher ranking omegas and alphas are forced into heats and ruts then let loose in a designated area for sport. Wens hunt the omegas. The alphas that are not Wens are let loose for the sake of humiliation.

The forced heats will usually last three days, in which there is no shelter on the mountainside, but magical barriers to keep them in one area. Birds with eye-talisman fly overhead so that those not in the arena can watch the chaos from a screen-like object.

After the ‘ceremony,’ the alphas and omegas are ushered into a tight space and a magic hormone scent is pumped into the area. They are being forced into head/ruts.

First into the arena, the omegas are released. They’re separated so they cannot hide together. The first alphas WWX encounters is JC and Jin Zixuan. He’s afraid of JC immediately when he’s rushed upon, thinking that he’s about to be raped by his former brother-turned Wen, when JC rushes past him to knock out a Wen that was coming up behind him.

Jin Zixuan looks on at WWX in disgust. Apparently, Mo Xuanyu had no shame and would try to mate with his blood relatives. But WWX’s fears of JC being let loose on him begins to fade when JC notes that he doesn’t like WWX’s scent and they surround him as they walk to find other non-Wens. They’re playing guard.

WWX is confused. Aren’t they Wen allies now? But as it turns out, in The Games, people form pacts. JZX obviously would only want to mate with his wife, and JC says he has a pact with another omega so he can’t spend his energy on WWX’s nasty smell.

The scents they give off is magic based with their golden core. Despite giving up his core, then dying, the scents of MXY is mixed with that of his own brand of magic. JC notices something is.. off on the scent. Familiar. Like the past and like his own but different. He can’t put his finger on it so he puts Mo Xuangyu into a familiar category in his brain/hormones which is a no-mate zone.

They find Jiang Yanli. She’s apparently the alpha of omegas and is known for taking omegas under his wing. She has a trail of them behind her and they all look relieved when JC and JZX come into view. They know they’re here to protect them... until their own hormones overwhelm them and they have to mate.

The next day they run across a group of roaming Wens that induced themselves to give them vigor and a stronger sex drive. JC and JZX have to play a careful political game to outwit and beat off the Wens without compromising their positions in the Wen hierarchy.

So JC isn’t a Wen loyalist after all. He was, indeed, blackmailed, and it appears that JZX had spoken out against the Wens and that is why he’s forced into The Games along with his wife. Despite protecting each other, it isn’t unheard of omegas getting raped despite being mated in these games. They are built to humiliate and tear down heroic sprites, but if one becomes pregnant with a Wen, then they are forced into a sort of Wen concubine’s life, forced to live under the Wen that is the parent of the child.

They eventually come by a small pact of Lans. WWX learns that the Lans have long since kept to themselves after they were overthrown and have little trust with other clans. However, WWX does note that LWJ and JC have a sort of alliance, possibly even friendship going for them. Or as friendly as the two of them can get. JC is low key always helping where he can, and WWX suspects that JC led Wen Xu into LWJ’s sword.

Among the Lans are a few others with masks on. WWX quickly recognizes the scent of Wen Sizhui. He holds respect for Lan Wangji because he saved his small village of Wens, including Wen Ning and Wen Qing.

Seems LWJ is all over the place making allies!

The few pacts run together for a bit until a few get too rowdy to help out. A few mated couples have to part way, unable to keep hormones in check.

During The Games, there is little shame among them. They cannot control themselves, so announcing to the group that one has to part because they’re going to lose control, and need to have a good dicking with their mate, is not frowned on. If one has to turn away in the corner of a cave to take care of things, it’s respectfully ignored and understood.

WWX has struggled quite a bit. This body is in his prime and he is not used to the responses of an omega.

When the pacts begin to shrink due to the need to part ways to mate, they start to converge. Eventually, the Lans run with JC’s group when JZX and Jiang Yanli had to leave.

Finally, JC admits that he cannot stay in control, and Lan Xichan leaves with him... that is when JC’s familiar scent leaves and WWX is overcome with LWJ’s dominate hormones.

That’s also when LWJ is not simmered from his brother’s scent and is overwhelmed with WWX. Not MXY, but he knows, he cannot mistake the scent of the former alpha he used to love.

It has been rumored that LWJ hasn’t touched anyone when forced into these games. He’s one of the few that still have fire in their eyes, a desire to fight back. In WWX’s opinion of seeing him again, he’s still just as beautiful as ever, even with his ripped robes and messy hair, he stole WWX’s attention even from far away.

Now, closer, stuck in this pact with LWJ the sole alpha among a handful of omegas and undercover Wen helpers... WWX lets out a whine and LWJ responds!! It takes everyone by surprise when LWJ doesn’t even try to move them away from the group as the others did when he grabs WWX and start rutting up against his thigh.

They’re used to this in The Games, honestly. It’s the sorry and sad nature of the event, but to see someone like LWJ break shakes them.

Wen Sizhui can’t get LWJ’s attention enough to even ask him to leave, that they’ll take care of the omegas when LWJ pushes WWX down on the ground and starts rucking up his robes. So the omegas and undercover Wens run before LWJ penetrates WWX. And as for WWX, the dam broke the moment LWJ touched him. He was gone, all wet and wants nothing more than to get LWJ inside of him and mate him until he can’t see straight.

Which he does. Brilliantly.

Having held back for so long, and never taken anyone, even in a forced rut, LWJ has very little control or downtime. He mumbles, between sessions, how he is sorry that he “cannot care of Wen Ying as he should” and WWX understands. And gets that, well, LWJ knows who he is.

After The Games end WWX begins to incite rebellion among the people. Mo Xuanyu was never respected for his obvious incestuous desires for his kin and his general lack of sanity (or so they say). But he suddenly gains new respect among the repressed with the rebellion leader LWJ by his side.

However, Meng Yao (sorry, he is the evil bad guy in this one) is smart, and uses his skills of persuasion and sweet face to always be at the right place at the right time when the rebellion tries to rise up. However, soon, the entirety of Gusu Lan is overturned and the Wen office is burned.

NHS gets on board and make a personal vendetta against Meng Yao for the plotted death of his brother. Soon, smaller sects join in once they see the tides turning.

Then on a surprise move, Jin Guangshan is poisoned. No one is 100% sure who did it, but some suspect his son. Jiang Yanli will never tell the public how her father-in-law tried yet again to get her into bed, and how her fingers slipped over his drink with something hidden in a ring.

This incites inner fighting, then a pushback on the Wens.

A few months of fighting passes by and changes happen as tensions rise and people are pushed together as they fight. Mainly, having to maintain heats around alphas.

WWX didn’t realize the amount of work that omegas went into to keep their scents at bay, so he didn’t realize at first just why LWJ would not let him have a night to himself. Or why LWJ would be possessive around other alphas. Then he goes into heat again, naturally, and LWJ steals him away for an amazing few days of doting and mating and come back to a lost battle for the rebels.

Lan Xichen has to teach WWX these things. Here, WWX learns about JC being a secret romantic to LXC and they have mated no just out of necessity. LXC blushes and says that JC marked him years ago and they had to find a spell in the black market to cover it up. Apparently, Wen Sizhui discovered this and handed the spell to JC and since has shown himself as an allie as well.

WWX slowly falls in love with LWJ, who turns out to be an incredibly doting mate and even asks to be marked before the final battle. LWJ never stopped loving him, even in death.

The final battle, NHS calls a secret truce talk with Meng Yao where NHS says he’ll betray the rebels as long as he’s left alone and safe with his art and fans. Then he stabs Meng Yao in the back. Literally, NHS asks for another bowl of wine, and when Meng Yao turns to get it he stabs the little f’er in the back.

The Wens are falling apart when JC pulls his loyalists/secret rebels/Jiang clan survivors to turn the tide. It’s Wen Suzhui that kills Wen Ruohan with a bloody show of power; even holds up his head as proof before everyone that he’s dead, then orders Wen Chao dragged out and beheaded as well.

Wen Suzhui is viciously cold when he has to be. Therefore, the young man becomes sect leader and surrenders the Wens to the rebels. Unlike before, when the Wens are all rounded up in the end they have a leader that doesn’t resist but demands boundaries to be set, all the while with the sweetest of faces and the deception of youth.

Wen Ruohan loyalists are cut down, and what little remains of the Wens are banished to a village where Wen Ning and Wen Qing are. So, not many Wens left. (Doesn’t stop Wen Suzhui from courting the Jin heir from afar with sweet letters, gently returned with flowers with Jin Ling’s scent)

At the celebratory banquet for their win, WWX announces his pregnancy and LWJ publicly cries happy tears. And then...?

Happily ever after? Probably.

[gusu-emilu]

Cantatio: Chapter Fourteen

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: Lan Zhan and Wei Ying get some bonding (?) time with Song Lan.

Cloud Recesses AU, Canon Divergence, Rated T, No Warnings Apply - read on AO3

< Ch. 13 | chapter list

* * *

The guardian lion statue was animated by Baoshan Sanren?

“Impossible!” Lan Qiren shouted. “Are you sure you understood correctly?”

Song Lan clenched his fists. “I would not mistake that name.”

“The ancient recluse?” Wen Qing said. “How could she be here?”

“She can’t. She’s dead,” Song Lan snapped.

“Daozhang! “ Lan Qiren shouted. “You—you—how dare you reveal this? No one is meant to know!”

“What does it matter?” Song Lan’s cry echoed across the lake. The clear water shimmered with ripples that carried his voice to the end of the cave.

It faded to silence.

Baoshan Sanren…dead?

“I thought Baoshan Sanren raised disciples in a hidden mountain,” Jin Zixuan said. “And protected the world from the Yin Iron Amulet. Who’s been shielding us from the amulet’s power if she’s dead?”

Lan Qiren’s voice shook with fury as he pointed at the group. “This is not a matter to be discussed with junior disciples! You will tell no one of what you have just learned!” A cloudy glaze spread across his eyes. “How could this be, daozhang…could one of her disciples still be alive?”

Song Lan slowly rose to his feet. His voice was raspy and laced with choked-back tears. “Is it not a tenet of the Lan Clan to avoid speaking careless words? You know as well as I do that Baoshan Sanren’s disciples are gone. You witnessed one of those deaths yourself. I—I witnessed the rest.”

“Daozhang! Enough! You are the one speaking carelessly!”

Song Lan inhaled deeply and regained some of his composure. “I suppose so. Let us return to the Cloud Recesses. We will not reach any conclusions here.” His eyes strayed to the muddy robes of the young cultivators. “I suppose we must also impose some discipline on these adventurous disciples. I found another entrance to the cave and watched for long enough to observe the situation. Young Master Jin, Lady Wen, Young Master Jiang have—for the most part—committed lesser infractions. I will let Shifu handle them how he pleases. For Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, however,” his voice grew quiet, “I have special consequences I would like to administer personally.”

Lan Wangji’s heart sank. He tried to swallow, but the saliva clung in his mouth and clogged his throat. He had never been addressed this way by an elder outside his family.

He had never been in real trouble before.

And why was he being singled out like this?

Lan Qiren fiddled with his hands in disapproval, as if hearing his nephew’s name in that same sentence as Wei Wuxian was wholly preposterous, despite the fact that he had just been scolding Lan Wangji himself. “And may I ask what daozhang has in mind?” he said sharply.

“They will do something useful for the Cloud Recesses. I will explain once we return.” He looked over at Wen Ning. “And please, reward young Wen Qionglin. It took great courage for him to go against his friends’ wishes. He even urged me to step in while I observed the disciples fighting the guardian statue. He is a bold young man.”

Wen Ning’s face turned white. He seemed like he didn’t know whether to feel praised or frightened.

How long had Wen Ning and Song Lan been watching them? Why had Song Lan not come forward to protect them when they were in danger?

And Baoshan Sanren was dead?

Wei Wuxian seemed to have had similar thoughts. “Daozhang, why did you wait and observe us?”

Something inscrutable flashed across Song Lan’s face. If his expression hadn’t been strained with hidden anguish, it might have been something close to amusement.

“So I would know whose punishment to claim.”

* * *

They traveled through the forest back to the academy on foot because Lan Qiren did not trust Wei Wuxian to ride his sword—and he certainly would not let him tag along on someone else’s. They formed a small, haggard parade: the dignified swishing of Lan Qiren’s blue robes in front, the shadowy steps of Song Lan in back, and the muddy disciples paired off in the middle. After some sarcastic (but warm) remarks from Wen Qing, Lan Wangji found himself next to Jin Zixuan, who at least was silent company, unlike the spritely Wei Wuxian chattering to an apathetic Jiang Cheng behind him.

Lan Wangji’s thoughts darted around incessantly. At the back of his mind like a constant buzz was the feeling of Wei Wuxian in his embrace. It lingered on the skin of his palms like a phantom touch, gentle and prickly. And very unwelcome. It had flipped a switch in him, awakened some slumbering villain that wanted to respond to the innocent warmth he had experienced with…with…Lan Wangji did not dwell on it enough to know what, but it was not good.

But something else tormented his mind with greater intensity.

What kind of punishment did Song Lan have in store for him? Lan Wangji’s throat tightened at the realization that his rule-breaking had finally caught up to him. He had been shirking the Gusu Lan Clan code since his first accidental infraction the night he fought the monster beetle. How comfortable he had become with violating the tenets that structured his life since childhood. No, not comfortable. He was still haunted by guilt, frozen by hesitancy. But he had grown too familiar with standing at the border.

Then again…would he really have done anything different? He didn’t want to admit the answer.

A gnawing in his chest told him that his rule-breaking days were not quite over. Especially knowing what lay in the top room in the mingshi.

However, the loudest thought of all was—

Baoshan Sanren is dead.

No one knew how to find her secret mountain lair. No one even knew how to communicate with her. But for centuries, she had been a constant reassuring presence in the cultivation world, the melodies of her flute echoing across remote valleys from her hideaway where she trained disciples according to a strict ascetic code. She was the protector of half of the Yin Iron Amulet. She was the only force preventing the power-hungry Wen Clan from joining their half of the amulet to its counterpart and recreating an ancient, evil weapon.

When had she died? What had happened to her disciples? Where was the half of the Yin Iron Amulet she protected? This news almost made Lan Wangji afraid, as if a candle had gone out in his childhood bedroom. He understood why the revelation was kept secret from the world.

A sinking feeling in his gut told him that somehow, in a way he couldn’t explain, this was related to the corpse and the guqin that rested in the mingshi.

He and Wen Qing had another mystery to discuss.

A slick voice beside him. “Is what Wei Wuxian said true? About Lady Jiang?”

Lan Wangji turned toward the voice. Apparently Jin Zixuan was plagued by worries of his own.

Lan Wangji replied with a nod. Jin Zixuan looked away, his brow furrowed, contemplative.

Neither spoke again until they arrived back at the Cloud Recesses. Jin Zixuan was welcomed with praise and relieved embraces, and he actually talked to Jiang Yanli. She seemed guarded, but happier than she had been earlier in the day. Perhaps there was hope for the arranged couple, although Jin Zixuan still did not seem like a worthy match.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji, caked in mud and shame, was not greeted with praise. He was greeted by a gruesome punishment he’d be forced to share with Wei Ying.

* * *

“Young M-Master—”

“Wen Ning, stop with the formalities! Call me Wei Ying!”

“Oh. Sorry. Um. Young Master Wei, Second Young Master Lan, I’m s-s-sorry for getting you in trouble.”

It was evening. The screeching of cicadas had been replaced by the chirping of crickets as slender clouds in the sky were painted scarlet. Lan Wangji had bathed and changed, and was now standing next to Wei Wuxian under a tree in the center of the courtyard that held the mingshi. Lan Qiren had already delivered a long-winded, red-faced scolding and ordered beatings for the two rulebreakers—then two extra rounds once Lan Wangji confessed to being out after curfew and swordfighting over wine with Wei Wuxian the night before.

Lan Wangji did not mention entering the mingshi.

After their backs were battered and aching, Lan Qiren reluctantly left them in the hands of Song Lan, who now stood with the animated guardian lion at the foot of the watchtower. Wen Ning, who had been quietly following Song Lan around since the professor had praised him, was slumped before Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian with his hands wrung.

“Don’t worry about it!” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s not a problem at all! You’re just as daring as we are to disobey your sister and get help for us. That’s what I like to see.” Wei Wuxian winked and elbowed Wen Ning on the arm. “We would’ve gotten in trouble anyway, trudging back to the Cloud Recesses with half of us covered in dirt and blood and a lion at our tails. I’m used to getting punished by now.” He smirked. “Not Lan Zhan, though. Maybe Mr. Goody-Goody does want your apology?”

Lan Wangji did his best to tune out Wei Wuxian’s childish giggle. He politely shook his head at Wen Ning.

Wen Ning departed, and Song Lan walked over to the two disciples.

Wei Wuxian bowed. “Daozhang! What will our punishment be? I’m actually kind of excited for it from all the suspense you’ve kept us in.”

Shameless, Lan Wangji thought.

Song Lan scanned them with that cold expression like icicles, although it seemed softer than usual. “How long have you two been acquainted?”

Lan Wangji raised his eyebrows. Why would he ask such a question now?

“Oh, only a few days!” Wei Wuxian said with a grin. “We didn’t meet until we were here in the Cloud Recesses. But now we’re roommates, and best friends. Isn’t that right, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian slung his arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders and tugged him closer.

Lan Wangji’s entire body tensed. He stared at the ground as warmth surged through him.

“Only a few days?” Song Lan asked.

"Yep!”

Song Lan’s eyes brightened. There was almost fondness in his expression, as if he were looking at a trusted belonging he had carried for many years. “Rather remarkable, to be acquainted for such a short time and already make quite the team.”

Wei Wuxian beamed. “Wow, you hear that, Lan Zhan? We’re such great partners that even the daozhang notices! How lucky are we?”

Song Lan paused. That hint of hazy sorrow crept around him again. “Lucky indeed.”

Lan Wangji studied the pebbles at his feet. This was the courtyard were Wei Wuxian had spilled Emperor’s Smile last night. He remembered how exhilarating their swordfight had been, how sweat had beaded at their temples from the challenging parry, how the sweet fragrance of wine followed them as they leapt across the rooftops. The red stain had long since been cleaned from the white gravel of the courtyard, but in Lan Wangji’s mind it was still there. It might be there for a very long time.

Lucky?

Not lucky. Unfortunate, to have met his match in both wit and skill!

“Daozhang,” said Wei Wuxian, “I thought you were going to punish us? Are we off the hook?”

“I have not forgotten.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian said, eyes downcast.

“Come with me,” Song Lan said.

With sore backs from their beatings, they limped after him to the bottom steps of the mingshi, where the guardian lion waited beside its stone podium.

“I am going to teach you how to de-animate a guardian statue.”

“De-animate? As in put it back to sleep?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“Correct. The process does not require anything near the spiritual energy needed for animation, but it is much lengthier, and much more emotionally taxing.” He narrowed his eyes. “Although, perhaps nothing will exceed the struggle Young Master Wei faced in the pixiu.”

Wei Wuxian gaped at him. “You—you know what I did?”

Song Lan gave a small smile. “I suspected. I only needed to recover the pixiu from the forest to confirm.”

“Is that why I’m being punished?” Wei Wuxian crossed his arms. “What about Lan Zhan? I don’t really see why we’re being treated differently from the others.”

“Yes, that is part of the reason. As for Lan Wangji, he is head disciple. Is that not explanation enough?”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian exchanged glances. Something about this did not sit right. Song Lan had ulterior motives for isolating them—whether helpful or harmful, it could not be determined.

“Daozhang…what happened to Baoshan Sanren and her disciples?”

Darkness entered Song Lan’s expression and soon spilled over the two disciples. “I should never have let that information slip from between my teeth. We shall not discuss it again.”

“Okay…” Wei Wuxian rubbed his chin. “Then if she’s dead, how did she animate the lion?”

“I do not know. We shall not discuss her death.”

“…Who else knows she’s dead?”

“No one,” Song Lan said tersely, “and I will not hesitate to silence those who do.”

Wei Wuxian flinched. He looked down and dug the tip of his shoe into the pebbles. “My mother was taught by her.”

This surprised Lan Wangji. Wasn’t Wei Ying the son of a Jiang Clan servant?

Then he realized—Wei Changze—Clan Leader Jiang’s head servant had eloped with Cangse Sanren, a rogue cultivator who was one of only two disciples to ever leave Baoshan Sanren’s hidden mountain. Cangse Sanren and her husband had been dead for over fifteen years, and Baoshan Sanren’s other disciple Xiao Xingchen had disappeared. If what Song Lan said in the cave was true…then Xiao Xingchen must be dead as well.

The corners of Song Lan’s mouth tightened, etching lines into his skin. “I’m sorry.”

Wei Wuxian gave an empty smile. “The Jiangs raised me well, though.”

There was hesitance in his voice. Thinking back on Alchemy & Medicine class with Yu Ziyuan, Lan Wangji wondered how much Wei Wuxian meant those words. It was no secret that Yu Ziyuan had a fraught relationship with her adopted son. The blows she gave him in a classroom surrounded by other disciples was already enough to scar, never mind the effects of enduring a lifetime of what worse things she may do in private.

“I once knew someone who was acquainted with your mother,” Song Lan said.

Wei Wuxian perked up. “Really?”

“Yes. He said that she was…” He seemed to search for the answer in the clouds. “Headstrong, might be the word.”

“Haha! I’ve heard!”

Song Lan’s eyes twinkled. “She is likely the reason Lan Qiren harbors such a strong distaste for you.”

“Wait, really?”

Uncle has many other reasons to dislike Wei Ying, Lan Wangji thought.

Song Lan tilted his head, appearing amused. “I’m surprised you do not know why.”

“Well…the Jiangs never told me many stories about her.”

That made sense. Jiang Fengmian was rumored to have been in love with Cangse Sanren before his arranged marriage to Yu Ziyuan. It was likely that Madam Yu forbade mention of the woman in her house, unless it was by her own vitriol.

“I have spent most of my life outside of these lands,” Song Lan said, “but even I have heard the stories of the pranks that Cangse Sanren played on Lan Qiren. Notably, that she once cut off his beard.”

Wei Wuxian burst into laughter. Lan Wangji twinged his lips and straightened his posture, thinking back to the Trans-Himalayan nonsense about Lan Qiren in class.

That’s the part where Tran and Sim each grab one side of Lan Qiren’s moustache, Wei Wuxian had said before the classroom erupted into giggles.

Yes, Cangse Sanren sounded just as intolerable as her son, and just as disrespectful of Uncle’s facial hair.

Wei Wuxian rubbed his eyes, teary with laughter. “That’s amazing! What a bold move! I would’ve had the best mom!” His laughter cut off abruptly. His smile remained, but it was hollow again. He looked down.

A lump formed in Lan Wangji’s throat. Despite Wei Wuxian’s shamelessness, with every layer of this soul that peeled back for Lan Wangji to observe, he felt more and more drawn to him. They both knew what it was like to lose their mother at a young age. What other sorrows did they share?

“Daozhang, who was your friend that knew my mother?” Wei Wuxian asked.

Song Lan frowned, then turned away to stare at the horizon, where the sun was lowering in the sky.

A long silence passed. Finally, they assumed that he would not answer. They headed toward the statue podium, upon which the lion was now waiting.

“A good friend.”

They faced Song Lan again. For once, Wei Wuxian did not seem to know how to respond. The three cultivators stood motionless as the crimson sunset caressed their cheeks, a bit of Song Lan’s frosty demeanor seeming to melt beneath it.

“This is the best kind of friend,” said Lan Wangji.

Song Lan nodded. “Indeed. Shall we begin de-animating the guardian statue?”

“Do we have to? I kind of like him.” Wei Wuxian approached the lion and patted its head. His face lit up. “Wow, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, come here! Come pet him! He’s purring!”

Lan Wangji stepped forward and placed a hand next to Wei Wuxian’s. It was true. The stone beneath his palm was vibrating with a gentle hum.

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian snickered. “You know, Lan Zhan, you purr too when you’re happy. Like a big burly stone-faced kitten. You two could be siblings.”

“Ridiculous.” Lan Wangji removed his hand and strode away to stand next to Song Lan.

“Haha! But really, Daozhang, do we have to put him to sleep?” Wei Wuxian said. “Why not keep him alive? Why not animate the spirits in all of the statues?” He ran his fingers over the lion’s carved mane. “They’re intelligent, kind, powerful. They could live with us in the Cloud Recesses. They could protect us and be our friends.”

Song Lan seemed to truly ponder this suggestion. Then he sighed. “Some spirits are meant to leave us. They walk alongside us, yes, but not in this world.”

“…Oh.”

The two disciples stepped into formation around the guardian lion, kneeling at its feet, with Song Lan at its side.

“So, how do we do it?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“The spirit will perform most of the work,” Song Lan said. “But it will need your assistance. Guardian spirits are formed from protective intentions gathered over many years. These prayers are still present, but they need to be remolded with the help of new ones. If many cultivators laid hands upon the statue at the same time, a simple focus from each person would be sufficient. However, there are only two of you. To obtain strong enough protective intentions, the spirit will put you through a trial.”

Lan Wangji glanced up. “Of what?”

Song Lan frowned. “Explaining it to you will not make you any more prepared. Just…just remember that none of what you will experience is real.”

That did not sound promising.

“Place your hands upon the statue and reach out to its spirit. It knows what must be done. There will be no need to communicate.”

They nodded, then laid their hands on the cold, rugged stone and waited for whatever fate the spirit had in store for them.

* * *

Thanks for reading! These chapters (and more to come) can also be found on AO3!

Tumblr chapter list

[freshlybakedspiderbread]

I brought up hanyang type 88 here and i said i’d explain, so here I am!!

okay so first off here’s a bunch of likely useful context about girls frontline. There is this feature in the game called digimind upgrade, or mod 3, where certain t-dolls can be upgraded past the normal maximum levels and stats, and at the same time gaining whole new abilities and also a new design. Basically a reinvention. There are like hundreds of playable characters in the game, and only a fraction will get mod 3s, typically the ‘main characters’ who are relevant to the major ongoing plot.

two things about getting a doll who has the ability to do digimind upgrade, to actually do that. One, is that it can be very costly in terms of in-game materials. like, maybe i just played the game wrong but I would have to grind for weeks in order to amass the materials to upgrade just one doll to mod 3. So even though by now there are dozens upon dozens of dolls who are capable of this feature, i’ve only actually done so with like, less than one dozen. A normal player probably has to be picky.

secondly, and this is the big one, every t-doll’s mod 3 comes with story cutscenes that become available for you to view upon upgrading them. Personally, i think most of the only worthwhile mod 3 stories are the ones that are associated with the actual major characters of the main story, especially since their upgrades actually happen in-canon and their mod 3 stories fill in blanks or otherwise expand upon the regular story chapters.

for the t-dolls who aren’t major characters that get digimind upgrades, their associated stories tend to follow a very basic pattern. They’re feeling like they are falling behind other T-Dolls in abilities or are otherwise experiencing a drop in confidence in their abilities, but then find the resolve in them to either change themselves or stand by an aspect of themselves, and this leads them to heading to the lab to get upgraded. obviously theres some nuances here and there depending on the character, but a lot of them, from what i saw, follow this basic pattern.

hanyang type 88 has a mod 3 but i certainly never wanted to see it. Firstly, using the feature at all takes up resources are kinda precious so i wasn’t just gonna use it on anyone. Secondly, she is just one of many one-off t-dolls that basically dont ever show up in any actual main story cutscenes or even funny events. Thirdly... you saw what she looked like in the linked post, i was in no rush to make use of her.

That being said, even if you don’t ever upgrade a t-doll, simply having them in your possession allows you to at least view the first of four parts of their mod 3 story, which nets you a small amount of those materials needed to see the rest (its a pretty fiendish system, huh o_O). I was lacking in some materials to upgrade a doll i cared about, so i just mucked around, eventually happened upon type88 again and decided that instead of just immediately feeding her to the furnace, I’d watch the first chapter of her mod 3 story. I watched it, it made me just curious enough to look further, and well. ...I got into it. Exactly what I got into, i shall now just elaborate and summarise the whole thing in my own way! Warning, it’s long!

(disclosure: my summary will bias towards my own preferred interpretation whenever any aspect is somewhat vague.)

The story starts with type 88, or as she is called by others in griffin base, Ai, working her shift in the base’s cafe, because what else would she be doing.

i hate looking at her! Anyway, its just a pleasant peaceful day and Ai is taking the logistic person, kalina’s order when suddenly in the middle of a conversation, Ai freezes in place and starts making worrying sounds.

kalina here and the t-dolls present in the cafe are concerned, and talk about how Type88 has actually been crashing like this more and more frequently lately, yet has not reported any of this to the maintenance crew despite the advice of her friends. They try rebooting her on the spot, but it has an even more concerning effect, because she starts erratically acting like she doesn’t recognise the others, and talks about how she is a maid in “Jiangcheng Cafe”. Afraid that her neural cloud (her mind) has been scrambled, they put her to sleep and bring her to the repair bay.

Its in the repair bay where they explain exactly what is wrong with type88. She is a fairly old doll, and her processing capacity has been severally clogged up for a long time. Her internal memory is overflowing because many large sections of her mind is filled with very large encrypted files (memories that she stored away). she is likely to keep crashing and possibly even cease functioning entirely one day if those encrypted files are not deleted, but nobody is really keen on just deleting parts of her mind without her consent. For now, kalina just opts to try and decrypt the files and see what they are.

And from here, we watch type88 memories from her perspective. Sort of. Kind of. It gets complicated later but for now, we view the first memory of her life, not as a combat t-doll type88, but...

...as 59898, a doll designed to be what is basically a ‘crash test dummy’ for testing artillery technology in a research station. With a purpose like this, 59898 has an (ostensibly) rudimentary AI. Her learning ability is intended to be used to better aid the results of their testing, but she also knows how to understand and even imitate specific human gestures in order to better respond to instructions or conversation, even though she herself has no voice module to speak with. She is assigned to assist one specific person.

first off, i was pretty shocked right off the bat that this story above so many others actually has unique assets to it. The above two sprites don’t show up anywhere else in the game, i don’t think. Secondly, this woman’s name is only ever spelled with those white squares, so I’m stuck with having to just calling her ‘the pilot’, as dry as that sounds... I just don’t want to type out weird characters every time, or call her ‘triple cube’...

Anyway, so 59898 is assigned to help this woman in testing artillery tech (stuff like mechs and tanks). I should mention really quick that in the game’s story, during this point of time is when world war iii is happening, but that’s just a backdrop for robots to eventually gain more prominence. Anyway, we move on to the second memory, where some time has already passed. At the beginning of this memory, the pilot is visibly depressed, which 59898 takes note of.

Her ‘comfort mode’ consists of patting the pilot on the head, who while surprised, actually is grateful. She feels comfortable enough to talk about her worries aloud to the doll, mentioning how she is a war refugee and has to make a living in the research base because she can’t go back to her home in china, at least not before making enough money for a very expensive and exclusive train ticket. She continues to talk at length to the doll...

...not that the test doll is capable of responding to anything she says. The pilot insists that she’s happy just to have someone listen to her though, since she feels like she can’t really express her feelings to any other person on the base. Despite that-

That aside, the pilot says that referring to 59898 by her serial number all the time feels a bit weird, so she decides to give the doll a name. (I sure wish the story would give this woman a name too, other than ‘three white squares’ but oh well...)

She talks more with Jiangcheng Ai, or just Ai, after that, asking her if she’d like a change of clothes sometime, like some casual clothes, or an old maid outfit from an old cafe job she used to have (I guess they had to throw in any explanation for that outfit somehow) Point is, more and more time passes.

As time passes though, and we go into the third memory, the pilot brings up complaints to her superiors about how the more recent testings, becoming more increasingly intense and frequent, are putting a great strain on Ai, and even repairs can only help maintain her chassis so much. She insists on wanting to take Ai’s place in the testing, but they refuse because, well, Ai’s entire purpose is to take the strain of these tests so that the human pilot doesn’t have to, and the doll is just a tool there to pave the way for the pilot to eventually take over the mech in action

The next time Ai wakes up from her most recent repairs, the pilot is there to greet her, and Ai can tell straight away that she’s unhappy and tries to comfort her again. The pilot is not surprised at this and talks about how this is how Ai has been since they first met. She goes on to say how all the other people on the base don’t know her half as well as Ai does. Ai tries to understand and determine what the pilot’s intentions with saying all this is, but she cannot do so and can only listen while offering ‘executing - affirmative nod’.

The pilot talks about how once the war is over, she’d like to take Ai back home with her, where they could go to all sorts of gatherings, and the pilot would introduce Ai to her friends.

Ai reviews her personal data, confirming that she has no owners or obligations other than the pilot, so she executes another affirmative nod, and the pilot says this:

As Ai tries and fails to further determine this, something bad happens! if you’ve read this far, i’m sure you’ve already guess what happens next...

At that exact moment, a warning goes out and the research base is being attacked by nebulous enemy forces. With no time to talk anymore, both the pilot and Ai head out into their first real fight.

They spend a good long while repelling enemy forces, working well together and apparently using all sorts of wacky anime weaponry like beam blades and whatever ‘retrograde evasion’ is!

obviously though, you already know this isn’t going to end well for them... When the pilot takes a breather, Ai moves to protect her, but at a critical moment, a sudden high-speed projectile comes her way. In the next instance there’s a crash, and we move onto another memory. Where its all fire and debris, and Ai can’t move.

^ this text box actually repeats several times, indicating that she is repeating her scan for life signs over and over. She gets an internal warning from her systems (differentiated with red text) that she has insufficient power and it warns her to immediately cease ineffective operations. [Unable to detect owner life signs] repeats again.

At this point, uuuuh, its a little stupid actually? because two humans show up, reusing generic ‘bad guy’ sprites from other events that don’t match the current environment and situation at all (one is in a suit and the other is in casual clothes). but the reason they’re here is to provide exposition out loud about what happened. It looked like the human’s mech took a hit for the doll and was blown to bits, though they talk about how that doesn’t make any sense.

Ai at this point tries to execute a bunch of different actions like hugging [target not found] and screaming [no relevant module] but they all fail, and her internal systems tell her that her power is running out and she will cease to function in 30 seconds.

So in those last 30 seconds, Ai decides to quickly review her internal files. the damage she took has corrupted her memories and she doesn’t have the time to properly go through them, so she executes a ‘simulated processed records’, which basically mean she’s just filling the blanks of those memories herself with simulations.

And I have to say. I was decently into and enjoying this little story so far, but its this part that’s the reason i became forced to make this stupid giant post. the first ‘memory’ loads up, and we see the pilot.

Different ‘memories’ of the days spent with the pilot are loaded back to back, each are very short and only last a few lines. Across these files, the two of them talk comfortably with each other, Ai is invited to go get coffee with her, the pilot talks about how going alone is boring and would rather spend time with Ai, Ai saying back with her own words that she always likes spending time with her, etc etc etc.

And then finally, she loads one last ‘memory’, from earlier that same day, before the explosion and the fighting.

and she shuts down.

i passed by this scene the first time all calm, but an hour or so later when I was in the bathroom replacing shampoo bottles, i started thinking about it and I literally started sobbing. And then again later that night when i was in bed. I hate this game!!

so that’s the ‘end’ of that, and the next scene opens, once again in griffin base’s cafe, except...

Ai is sporting a brand new (ugly) look. She says she’d like to take kalina’s order but she was just leaving on other business, as she likes keeping herself busy with all sorts of work around the base ever since she got upgraded into a gundam gajinka. and after she leaves, kalina talks with the other dolls about how Ai used to have some cache issues because her neutral cloud was too full, but upgrading into this new chassis easily fixed that and even allowed her to make use of her old locked away abilities.

Because of the way this scene in the cafe opens up exactly like the very first one at the beginning, it makes me believe that this final scene is also a simulated ‘memory’, that is, Ai filling in the blanks of her corrupted memories with what she wishes to be reality. And i feel confident in believing that because after the scene fades to black, we see more of her internal system monologue.

She (the system) says that the priority execution is to preserve those encrypted memory logs. She does so, and the neural cloud upgrade is complete with confirmation of no loss files. With no risk of deletion in this new form, she executes the command to unlock the encrypted memories. And finally...

[spiderbread dies]

i still wouldn’t use her in gameplay because i can’t stand looking at her design but  i told you all i eat up robot with feelings stuff and this is like prime example of exactly that... and if i didn’t make this post, i think my own neutral cloud’s cache would be at risk of overflowing x_X!

[flowerfan2]

Private Time - Ch. 4

Klaine, 9k, A03, M

Yup, here’s another chapter...

Chapter 4:  "... now you’re always taking up the washer with your nasty sheets, the hallway by Kurt’s room smells awful, and every single package from Amazon is just more lube!”

*****

It’s a Wednesday afternoon (or maybe Tuesday?  Blaine isn’t sure, the days are blending together so much he can hardly tell, they’re months into quarantine by now) and he is sitting around the coffee table with Sam and Kurt playing What Do You Meme.  It’s a dumb game even in the best of times, especially without the benefit of alcoholic beverages, but Sam just got the Game of Thrones expansion pack and he begged them to play.  It’s not like they have better things to do.

Just as Kurt is complaining again about what to play for a Tyrion card (“he only has one expression, there’s no opportunity for creativity here”) Rachel comes down the stairs and plants herself in front of them, hands on her hips.  

“I think we need to reconsider private time,” she announces, chin in the air.

Blaine’s brain (and a less rational part of his body) immediately sounds an alarm.  This is serious.  Since he and Kurt have gotten together, private time nights have been, without question, his favorite nights of the week, possibly of his life.  There’s no way he can let Rachel do away with private time.  He concentrates on keeping his face schooled to his most earnest choir boy expression. “Why, Rachel?  What’s wrong?”

Rachel harrumphs and glares at him.  Guess the innocent look didn’t work this time.  “You know what’s wrong.  All of you do.”

 Sam, bless his heart, really doesn’t.  “Do you need more time to practice?  We could add another night.  Friday, maybe?”

 Rachel turns her glare to Sam.  “No, we don’t need more  private time.” She drops down onto the less ratty of the two armchairs with a dramatic flounce.  “I didn’t think it would be so bad, living with three guys, since two of you are, you know, generally pretty well groomed and understand the critical importance of personal hygiene.  And until lately you all seemed fairly well behaved about... stuff.  But now you’re always taking up the washer with your nasty sheets, the hallway by Kurt’s room smells awful, and every single package from Amazon is just more lube!”  Rachel’s voice cracks at this last bit, and she buries her head in her hands.

 “That’s not true, Rachel, our last Amazon box had this new card game expansion pack-”

 Rachel whips her head up and Sam falls silent.  “Right, of course, how could I forget – and you were so excited you couldn’t even save it for game night.”

 Blaine frowns.  “We can save it for game night, Rach.  When’s the next one?”

 Rachel stands up and points her finger at Blaine, her freshly polished nails catching the light (the color is actually called “Teal the Cows Come Home,” although when Rachel did his toes with it earlier he pointed out that it’s a little too blue to properly be called teal).  “Exactly!”

 They all stay quiet as Rachel storms back up the stairs.  

 “I don’t even know when the next game night is,” Sam says, dragging his fingers through his blond hair. It’s gotten a bit long these past few months.  Maybe Blaine will offer to trim it for him.  

 “I think that was her point, Sam.”  Kurt rises from the lumpy couch and goes into the kitchen.  Blaine and Sam trail after him, and they crowd together to look at the big calendar taped to the refrigerator.  It is mostly filled with doodles and alcohol wish lists (“margaritas? Need limes/lemons/Sprite?”). Blaine has to look back two weeks to find a game night.

 “Rachel’s feeling left out.” Blaine shifts his gaze to the other two, who quickly slam “not it” fingers on  their noses.  Blaine sighs. “I’ll go talk to her.”

 *****

Blaine pauses outside Rachel’s door.  There’s a shiny gold star with “Diva Sleeping” hanging from the doorknob, and it swings back and forth when he knocks.  

 “Who is it?”

 Blaine stifles a laugh. There really aren’t that many possibilities.  

 “It’s Blaine.  Do you want to go for a walk?  It’s really nice outside.  Sunny and almost seventy.”

 “You always go running with Sam.”

 This is true, although Blaine still wishes he could just go by himself sometimes.  Alas, that is not to be, not if he wants to maintain roommate harmony in these crazy times.  “Yeah, I know, but we could just go for a walk.  Head over to campus, see what things look like these days.”

 There’s a pause, and then a quiet “okay.”

 Blaine turns to go back downstairs when Rachel sticks her head out of her door.  “Blaine - what should I wear?”

 “To go for a walk?”

 Rachel narrows her eyes at him.  “Yes, that’s what I said.  Is this an exercise walk, or a…”  she trails off, her eyebrows drawing together as she searches for the word.

 “A stroll?”  Blaine suggests.  It sounds suitably Rachel-appropriate that it might cheer her up.

 Rachel allows a little smile to tug at her mouth.  “Yes. A stroll.”

 “Which do you want it to be?”  

 Rachel looks back into her room, and Blaine knows she is considering her outfit choices.  It’s fine, he gets this from Kurt all the time.

 “I have a new dress I was going to wear for the music department’s spring awards ceremony…”  She looks up at Blaine.  “I hate that everything is cancelled.”  The ongoing disappointment at everything they look forward to disappearing is hard to escape.  Blaine knows how she feels.

 “Yeah.  Me too.”

 Rachel nods, and then straightens her shoulders.  “A stroll, then.”  She gives Blaine a look that clearly indicates what she thinks of his sweatpants and old Dalton shirt.  “You have to change too.”

 “Obviously,” Blaine replies, smiling.

 When they meet up downstairs a little while later, Blaine is quick to admire Rachel’s pretty pink dress and matching white tote bag adorned with pink and yellow daisies.  Rachel beams, and praises Blaine as well (he’s got on a blue shawl neck sweater that he knows Kurt will enjoy petting later, over a pink button up and slim dove gray pants).

 “Have a nice time,” Kurt says as they leave, giving Blaine an appreciate wink.

 As soon as they get outside, Rachel does a little twirl on the sidewalk.  She takes Blaine’s arm as they start off down the street.  Blaine takes in a big breath of fresh air, and they exchange a pleased look.  This was definitely a good idea.

 There are quite a few blocks of residential neighborhood before they get to campus.  As they get closer, the rickety multi-family buildings and student apartments give way to more respectable looking houses, interspersed with smaller university buildings.  The atmosphere seems strange, though, as it always does these days. It’s definitely not normal without the expected traffic from cars and bicycles – there’s far less of that since everyone is working from home.  Most classes are over by this point anyway, but it still seems odd without clusters of students hanging out and walking purposefully here and there.      

 At least the weather is starting to get better.  New England doesn’t so much have spring as an extended winter followed by surprising sunshine in June.

 They make their way through the law school campus, commenting on how the grass miraculously always looks green in the quad.  The university is apparently still spending plenty of money on grounds keeping.  At least it means some people still have jobs.  Rachel lets out a melancholy sigh as they go past the music buildings.  “It seems like forever since I practiced with a real piano.”

 “I know,” Blaine says, squeezing her arm in sympathy.  Then he gets an idea, and wonders why he hasn’t thought of it before.  “I can play the piano, you know.  I could accompany you on my keyboard, if you wanted.  It might be fun, even if we’re just messing around.”

 Rachel turns and gives him an appraising look.  “Are you any good?  Because I don’t want to waste my time if you’re not.”

 Blaine isn’t even offended, it’s such a Rachel thing to say.  “I am, I promise.  But we can try it out and you can judge for yourself.  No worries either way.”

 Rachel nods. “Okay.  Maybe when we get home.”

 They pass the big science center and walk through the plaza, stopping for a minute to watch the fountain which sprays water over a bunch of big rocks.  Usually this time of year there are tourists congregating here, but today it’s quiet, like everywhere else.  

 Blaine gets a whiff of what smells like curry, and he looks around to see that the tandoor food truck is pulled up in its usual space.  “Looks like they’re doing call-ahead orders,” Blaine says.

 “I would die for some biryani,” Rachel replies wistfully.  “And veggie korma.  They do such a good job with their vegetarian options.  Do you think we could get take-out on our way back?”

 “Sure.  But we have to let Kurt disinfect the containers before we open anything.”

 “Of course,” Rachel says, agreeing easily.  They had some heated debates about take-out in the early days of the pandemic, with Blaine arguing that unless they put the food directly into their eyes there was no way for the virus to be transmitted, and Rachel going through a period of intense anxiety about anything that couldn’t itself be quarantined for three days, but after a few weeks their desire for pizza and hot wings won out. Kurt insisted, however, that he be the one to make sure that everything that came into the house was carefully cleaned before they touched it, and that everyone washed their hands before any actual eating commenced.  No one objected.  It’s been hard to find a balance between feeling safe and living their lives, but they’re doing their best.

 Blaine and Rachel pass through a tall ornate metal gate and into the yard.  There are a fair number of people here, spread out on the grass enjoying the mild weather.  Blaine glances quickly at Rachel.  “Do you want to sit for a while?”

 She looks around. “It’s more crowded than I imagined it would be.”

 “Amazing how quickly we’ve adjusted to the idea that people are dangerous,” Blaine says.  He knows how she’s feeling.  Even with masks on, and at an appropriately socially distancing six feet away, it doesn’t feel right to be close to other people. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

 They weave between the stately brick buildings and find a smaller courtyard with a little less foot traffic.  “Perfect,” says Rachel, taking a rolled up sheet out of her bag and spreading it on the grass.  They sit down, and Rachel pulls out two bottles of flavored seltzer and a tupperware container with a bunch of grapes and some wheat thins.

 “It’s the not most elegant picnic, but I thought it was better than nothing.”

 “It’s lovely, Rachel, thank you.”

 “I’m sure Kurt would be appalled at the lack of cloth napkins.”

 Blaine chuckles.  “I wouldn’t know.  We haven’t been on a picnic.”

 Rachel’s eyes widen. “You haven’t?  That’s one of Kurt’s favorite date ideas.”

 Blaine frowns.  “We haven’t exactly gone on many dates.” <i>Any</i> dates, he thinks to himself.  He and Kurt got together in such a weird way, trapped in quarantine for weeks while they crushed on each other until they couldn’t resist any longer.  Their date opportunities are severely limited - they can’t go out to restaurants, or coffee shops, or see a movie or a show.  While they have the perfect excuse to spend time together, it might be nice to do something special for a change.  “I guess I really don’t know what kind of date he’d like.”

 “Oh.”  Rachel pulls out a grape and pops it into her mouth. “Well, then, you’ve got some thinking to do, haven’t you?”

 “What, you don’t think eating every meal in front of the television while Sam tells us how many crunches he did is sexy?”

 Rachel grins.  “It depends.  What is Sam wearing in this scenario?”

 “Ha ha, very funny.” Blaine pulls a grape off the stem and rolls it around in his fingers.  “Maybe you could give me some ideas of things you think Kurt would like? You know him a lot better than I do.”

 Rachel gives him a fond smile.  “I’d be happy to.”  She finishes chewing the cracker in her mouth and lies down on the blanket, closing her eyes. “I miss sex,” she says, and Blaine nearly chokes on his seltzer.

 “What?”

 “You heard me.  Not all of us were gifted with a quarantine-approved boyfriend.  I miss sex. The fun, the excitement.  The awkward noises.  The orgasms.”

 Blaine squirms a little but he knows it must have taken Rachel quite a lot to reveal this. Taking a breath, he lies down next to her.  She clearly needs to talk, and it might be easier for them both if they aren’t looking at each other.

 “Were you, um, dating anyone, before the shut-down?”

 Rachel sighs.  “Not for a while.  I haven’t had a long-term relationship in years, but there were a few promising possibilities.”

 “It’s kind of tough to date now,” Blaine says.

 “Right?”  Rachel sighs.  “Some of my friends are still hooking up, you know.”

 This strikes Blaine as insane.  You can’t hook up from six feet away.  “Really?”

 “Really.  I even thought about it… there’s an old flame I see every once in a while, Jesse. I think he’d be up for it-”  Rachel cuts herself off and giggles at her phrasing.

 “He’d be crazy not to want to be with you, Rachel, but I don’t think now is a good time.  Even if he says he’s healthy, he could be asymptomatic. And then you could get sick, and…” And all of us would catch it, too, Blaine thinks.

 “I know, I know.  I’m not going to do it.”  Rachel shifts and turns on her side, and Blaine turns to face her.  “Can I ask you something?”

 Suddenly they’re a little too close for comfort, and Blaine tenses.  Rachel isn’t going to ask to kiss him, is she?  It wouldn’t be the first time a girl thought he’d be open to it, even though Blaine has always been clear that he wasn’t interested in girls that way.  But Rachel knows he’s with Kurt, she’d never… well, only one way to find out.  At least she’s asking first and not just groping him while he’s drugged up on cold medicine.  “Sure, you can ask me anything.”

 Rachel bites her lip, then apparently decides to go for it.  “Do you think Sam would be interested in me?”

 Blaine almost laughs at his own obliviousness.  Of course Rachel’s not interested in him, she definitely seems more into the jock type anyway.  “Sam? I don’t know, maybe.”

 “Come on, you guys are close.  You must have some idea.  What does he think of me?”

 Blaine tries to think of the best way to answer this.  “I know he thinks you’re very attractive,” he begins.  None of them have missed how Sam practically drools over Rachel when she does yoga with Kurt.  Frankly they all leer at each other during yoga.  It’s a group leer-fest, everyone’s invited.

 “Well, of course,” Rachel says, smiling to show that she’s joking – partially joking, anyway.  “But do you think he’d be interested in, you know…?”

 Blaine is quite certain that Sam would jump at the chance to get hot and sweaty with Rachel, but he’s not sure what would happen after that.  It might make the rest of their quarantine very awkward if things didn’t go well.

 “Do you think I intimidate him?”  Rachel goes on, pressing the subject.  “I do that to people.  I know I’m bossy, it’s one of my best traits.  I like to tell people what to do.  A lot of guys like it.”

 Blaine absolutely does not blush, thinking about how he and Kurt have been engaging in some rather arousing professor-student role play.  Nope, not thinking about that at all.

 “And it doesn’t have to be a big thing-” Rachel snorts.  “Although, you know, if it was, that would be fine-” Another snort-giggle.  

 Blaine puts his hand over his face.  He can’t bring himself to respond.

 “I mean it doesn’t need to be too serious,” Rachel goes on.  “We can just have a wank together, help each other out.  Enjoy some <i>private time</i> but, you know, with mutual orgasms.  I know how much Sam enjoys his time alone… he’s very… vocal about it… I bet he wouldn’t mind some company…”  Rachel’s voice has acquired a sultry tone Blaine has never heard before.  “Blaine… am I making you uncomfortable?”  She’s clearly having way too much fun with this, and Blaine can’t decide if he is more amused or embarrassed.  In either case, it’s time to change the subject.

 “We should probably get back.”  Blaine sits up and puts the lid on the tupperware, pressing it down to seal the edges. Rachel leans up on an elbow and smirks at him.  “Too much information?”

 Blaine shakes his head despairingly.  “We’ve been in quarantine together for two months, and there’s no end in sight.  I think ‘private’ has kind of lost its meaning.”

 Rachel stands up and smooths her hands down her dress as Blaine rolls up the blanket.  “Well, it’s decided.  I’m going to take a long shower, slather myself in body lotion, put on my favorite lace underthings, and proposition Sam.  Tonight.”

 “But private time isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

 Rachel looks at Blaine as if he’s gone off his rocker.  “I’m not going to spend my private time hooking up with a boy, Blaine.  I need all the time I can get for vocal practice. I’m serious about my instrument, and I’m not going to allow this pandemic to get in the way of my future stardom.”  Rachel huffs and walks away.

 Stunned, Blaine quickly grabs their belongings and follows Rachel, chastising himself.  He’s become so used to having relations with Kurt during private time that he forgot private time wasn’t supposed to be for sex.  He’s just about to apologize to Rachel when she turns and grins at him, her eyes sparkling with laughter.  “Gotcha!”

[dailydianakko]

What If I Put My Minecraft Bed Next To Yours?

The final chapter, and a long one (by my writing standards)! A big thank you to @valkyrie-exe for the quick beta read and dealing with me wanting to share my writing in its early gross stages. Go follow her, because shes very gay and awesome!

Unless

Diana said yes

After the initial shock of finding out that Diana of all people had been Akko’s Minecraft Girlfriend of three months, Akko had swiftly dragged into the nearest classroom by Diana. Pinned with a fierce blue gaze, Akko began to tremble. What if Diana was even more mad finding out her online, somewhat fake girlfriend was her?

Diana grabbed Akko’s uniform and tugged her forwards. Akko let out a yelp as her uniform was roughly straightened out and tidied up. Diana brushed the dust and crumbs from Akko’s uniform.

“I expect you to be in the game room with the necessary equipment. Do try not to be late, Akko. I would hate it if my Minecraft girlfriend stood me up.” Diana said with a curt air. With one last brush of a hand through Akko’s hair that got rid of the worst of the frizz, Diana quickly strode away with a slight red hue to her cheeks and ears.

“Did that just actually happen?” Akko wondered aloud, a blush coating her cheeks. She gently touched the lock of hair Diana had straightened out. Giving herself a shake, Akko quickly walked to the doorway. She peeked out as she looked around for professors gathering up the last stragglers of the food fight. Akko had to be extra careful, After all, it wouldn’t do to keep her girlfriend waiting.

Hours later, Akko lay slouched in Diana’s lap clicking away at her controller. Diana’s wrists lay gently on top of Akko’s head as she tapped away as well. Akko glanced up to stare at Diana’s face and smiled at the expression that it held. It was a mix of concentration and frustration. Diana was totally absorbed in the game, and didn’t even notice the stare. She was totally absorbed in her mission. The two were on a quest to build a library for their shared home at Diana’s insistence.

“No home that houses a Cavendish is without at least two bookshelves.” Diana had argued. It was pretty fair considering Diana had allowed a special room for all of Akko’s pets that she continually brought home. Four wolves, a rabbit, two parrots, a chicken, a horse, and a llama had been brought in to the family. It had helped that Akko had brought home a pure white horse for Diana’s own use when the blonde had tried to protest.

When Diana let out a cry of “robbery,” Akko was jolted back to the present. She turned her attention back to the screen to see what had Diana so mad. Apparently the trades the villagers offered them weren’t really worth it.

“Diana?” Akko questioned as she watched the blonde’s sprite laid cobblestone in front of the door that the cheating villager had walked through. “What are you doing?”

“Justice, my dear Akko. We are doing justice.” Diana said resolutely as her back straightened up. Akko watched in shock as Diana flicked the flint and steel. The villager’s house went up slowly in flames. The cobblestone she had placed outside the door made an excellent blockade in preventing escape.

“Diana,” Akko interjected as Diana finished her act of arson “you just can’t do that. That’s murder.”

“He was charging us three emeralds for one piece of leather, Akko. I am justified in my actions. Highway robbery needs to be dealt with by Nobility swiftly. It is my duty.”

“You’re murdering him. Diana you set fire to a poor villager in his own house.”

“He should’ve thought of that before crossing a Cavendish.”

The two walked away from the now burning building and the quiet screams of the villager still burning. To add injury to insult, Diana turned around and placed a sign. After a few rapid clicks, the sign now read ‘A pyre to stupidity. May the next merchant trade fairly.’ Diana resumed her brisk hop away from the village and towards the horizon.

“Diana.” Akko looked flatly at Diana.

“Akko.”

“Why are you like this?”

Before Diana could respond, she let out a little startled shriek. Akko’s eyes flashed back to look at the screen. The chat log displayed her shame for all to see. 'Greembean fell from a high place'. Diana had fallen into a ravine hidden outside the village. “There’s no shift key!” Diana cried out. “How am I supposed to not fall without a shift key??” her tone went from anguished to demanding as she glared down at Akko writhing with laughter in her lap.

“Well normally I just do this,” Akko gasped out as she moved her character slowly to the edge. She promptly fell onto Diana’s still glitched body below. ‘Shiny@aiko has fallen from a high place’ the log decreed.

“Atsuko Kagari, are you telling me-“Diana was cut off as giggles began to escape her lips. Each attempt to complete her sentence fell short as both she and Akko were reduced to gasping giggles. Diana pitched forward as her body jolted with laughter, unable to keep her upright. Akko twisted and grabbed onto her waist as the two continued to laugh. The ‘YOU DIED’ message proudly projected across the split screen while they enjoyed the impromptu cuddle session. Akko propped herself up and looked Diana in the eyes, still breathless.

“Hey Diana? Wanna be my girlfriend for real this time?”

[crazed-rambling]

Dating for Hedge Witches

Blossom would like to make it very clear that she was a hedge witch. Despite what her family says; it is in fact a perfect respectable career. A career which she very much enjoys.

 Country life suited her, the peace of waking up to birdsong outside her window was a far more pleasant wake up call than she’d ever had before. Spending the days seeing to the villagers’ aches and ailments wasn’t easy nor glamorous work but it was kind and she could return to her cottage each day with the memory of the people she’d helped to lull her to sleep. During the winter nights she could burrow in quilted blankets with homemade teas which her family would never have deigned to touch. And on summer evenings she could laze by the riverside, bare feet dipping into the water as she watched the village children play, careful to keep a watch on any wandering spirits who thought her people were easy prey.

 There was something to be said for collecting ingredients as well, even if the forest sprites tended to rather picky on their timings. The first drop of dew of the vernal equinox required for any professional beauty potion was notoriously tricky to locate. But watching the sun rise through the trees and refract scattering rainbows in the crisp morning air was always a sight to behold. There was a feeling of calm that came in that moment. As though the world itself had paused in anticipation, waiting for winter to give way to spring. Of course you could attempt to make the potion without it but the effects were rather diluted, how could you expect a transformation to hold without a sign of change. Her brothers would say that a deal with any reasonably strong life spirit could make up for the deficit. It of course was possible provided you studied for long enough. Life spirits never deign to speak any mortal tongue and must be paid their fully calculated price with all due reverence, unless you want the payment taken out of your hide. Which would be all well and good, magic will inevitably have its risks, but Blossom’s few interactions with such spirits had taught her one thing. Life spirits are dicks.

Specifically dicks mind you because for formless unknowable beings they reminded her all too much of her early magic instructor. An ageing wizard who must have been some sort of big shot at some point, she had vague memories of her father exalting his strides in necromancy. To Blossom he had been and old man with too small eyes, strained and bloodshot as he looked down upon her latest efforts and advised her that women generally lack the forceful presence required to command the life spirits. Wizards are in general, also dicks.

Of course Blossom had attended enough births to know that a forceful presence is the last thing women lack. Just last week she’d watched as Mary Conner, the most lamb hearted woman she’d ever known, broke her husband’s hand; swearing up and down that she’d remove a favoured body part of his if he thought she’d be having another child. Blossom had honestly spent longer on the spell to fix poor the poor man’s hand than she did assisting Mary. Women, mothers especially, she’d come to learn are a force of nature. A fact that any numbers of wizard’s tomes had yet to teach her brothers.

So yes Blossom was quite happy with her cottage and her gardens and her villagers who would buy her potions for copper coins and chickens eggs.

Which is why she wasn’t pleased about a dark-haired woman barging in yelling a name she’d rather forget. Unexpected interruptions were to be expected in her line of work, injuries and illness did not wait for any schedule, even witches’. But this woman was far better dressed than any of her usual visitors. A fine cloak draped around her shoulders, enchanted by the looks of it, fire protection and possibly weapons protection although a closer look would be required to confirm. But still a finer cloak than any of her normal clients could afford. Matched only by what Blossom could only call an aristocratic look. There is little to distinguish an aristocratic face from any other person except a manner of pursing the lips, however involuntarily, in the presence of humble living. Blossom of course couldn’t judge; her face had once held that same look. Although she could judge the look of contempt that followed as she surveyed the cottage, because that was just rude.

It is at this point that Blossom must point out that this woman and many others from this point forward insist on referring to her by the wrong name. So she has decided to make minor edits to this account and switch any usages of this name to Blossom: her goddamn name.

“I am Lady Cottingford bearing a message for Mage Blossom from his royal highness Prince Richard.”

The woman left a clearly scripted pause, to allow for the expected exclamations of awe. But Blossom had met the prince many times throughout her aborted foray into wizardry, and on almost every occasion he had proved himself to be entirely deserving of the abbreviation of his name. So of course there was little awe to be found. Ever a professional the messenger soldiered on declaring,

“His royal highness has chosen you to assist him in a matter of great importance to our country, and as such has summoned you to the royal palace immediately.”

“He has the entire school of wizards at his disposal, what does he want with me?”

The woman purses her lips again, she really was quite good at that, disdaining the mere thought of answering a peasant. Blossom saved her the trouble,

“They couldn’t solve it.” Blossom had never claimed to be anything but blunt, and the look on the woman’s face made it clear she’d got to the heart of the matter.

Now Blossom could annoy the messenger all she liked but by law she was technically still the Queen’s subject so there was no way out of a direct royal command. With this in mind she collected her prestocked bag of supplies and gestured for her ever charming guide to lead the way.

The castle was as she remembered it. Pretentious. Although it was an interesting change of pace to be invited in through the servant’s entrance, off a secondary courtyard rich with the smells of laundry and cooking food. Whatever matter must be discussed was clearly meant to remain a secret, not that her presence would remain so for very long if the covert glances of the scullery maids was anything to go by. Being lead through the claustrophobic maze of servants passages only served to bring her back to days as an acolyte in the school of wizards, hours spent between rows upon rows of ancient tones alongside her brothers, and so she was grateful to be led into what must have been the most ostentatious room known to man, woman or beast.

Prince Dick sat in pride of place seemingly dwarfed by the throne he was one day expected to fill. It was a strange sight to behold as the prince could only claim superiority over his mother in one aspect: height. And yet he seemed incapable of filling any space she left. While this reunion would have been unpleasant enough it was made all the more so by the presence of Isaac taking the place of the prince’s right hand.

 Isaac was as much like she remembered him as he was not. He still looked far too like a cherub with his golden curls and heart shaped face, but he held himself with more pride than he’d ever managed as her brother and fellow acolyte. Of course she’d seen the look of disappointment before; as she’d left. But it remained jarring to see it on the face of what was once her closest friend.

 Eager to get the ordeal over with Blossom dipped into possibly the most lacklustre curtsy this hall had ever seen, her greeting of “Your highness, brother,” devoid of any real respect. Not that they seemed to notice, as far as they were concerned what she said didn’t really matter.

“Blossom,” Three years had clearly done little to change the prince, she wasn’t even that surprised. At least her brother had remained silent “I’m sure you’re wondering why I summoned you,” he had the same smile he’d had ever since he was a boy, the type of smile that left you feeling as though you were just a toy he’d soon grow bored of. The same flare for drama as well, if the clearly calculated pause was anything to go by. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I recently got married,” Blossom had actively not heard this and said a little prayer for whichever poor thing it was, “well since then we appear to have had a little bit of a problem. To be blunt, my wife has been cursed. On our wedding night she transformed and she hasn’t changed back since. See if you can fix her for me.” With this he listlessly waved his hand, gesturing for her to follow the guards stationed by the door.

Neither of the guards seemed inclined to acknowledge her which was fine with her. Walking the endless, lavish corridors which made up the royal castle gave Blossom time to think over the situation. If they were desperate enough to call her in, they must have exhausted every method known to the school of wizards, so Blossom was honestly shocked they hadn’t seen any improvements.

 The guards came to a stop in front as rather ordinary looking door, for royalty that is, it didn’t look like the place you’d find a royal princess. Although the reason for that became clear as she entered, her two guards filing in behind her. The room its self was better than most people would ever see in their lifetimes with crisp cotton sheets on a delicately carved bed frame, a soft floral pattern covering the walls, and a large glass window overlooking the place gardens. But there in the centre of the bed sat a very bored looking goat.

 The villagers owned enough goats for Blossom to be aware that this goat was unimpressed as it glanced at her, but this could also be because it was apparently a princess so most people must be rather unimpressive. Still Blossom found it was better to introduce herself before someone else does it for her and uses the wrong name, so here she was talking to a goat.

“Hello your highness, my name is Blossom and I am a hedge witch your husband has asked to break your curse.” The goat, seemingly satisfied with this greeting, left the bed and walked to stand a few feet in front of Blossom. The goat was of course still a princess, and princesses have manners.

 Even close up this looked just like any regular goat, of course Blossom could sense a trace of magic clinging to the edges, maintaining the transformation, but it seemed to have no malicious intent. Strange for a curse. Rummaging in her bag she drew out a glass bottle of clear liquid, pouring some on her fingertips she smeared it over her eyelids. Marigold water on the eyes for clear sight. Too basic for any wizard to use but useful all the same. A rough translation spell cast and she was ready.

 “This isn’t a curse is it?”

“My mother taught me that a Lady must marry for her family. She never mentioned anything about letting him touch me”

This exchange served as a great source of confusion for the guards who had watched a young woman enact a conversation with a goat, baas and all, then burst into laughter as though the animal had said something incredibly witty, rather than just being a goat.

“Why a goat?” Blossom was honestly curious about this; animal transformations were notoriously tricky and most witches didn’t attempt one without a specific animal in mind.

“It seemed rather unladylike, and a goat removes any possibility of him trying to ride me in a different sense to his original plans.” It was difficult to determine tone using a translation spell, and Blossom had certainly never studied the ins and outs of Goat before. But she was at least 90% sure that the future queen of the nation was telling sex jokes, as a goat. It was a lot to process. She also may be a little in love.

 “So I’m assuming you aren’t in need of any magical assistance as your….esteemed? husband claims.” Blossom had always assumed that goats lacked the correct facial muscles to properly express the emotion of sass, but here she was, sassed by a goat. Add that to the long list of reasons for her father to be disappointed.

“If I was in need of magical assistance I wouldn’t have headbutted the last three wizards they sent.”

“Well I’m grateful that you haven’t done that to me yet,”

“To be fair you’re a lot prettier than the last three,” While Blossom would claim that the heat from the fire had finally caught up with her, this excuse couldn’t quite explain the way her heart was trying its best to float its way out of her chest. “Smarter too. None of the others figured it out.”

“Wizards are dicks”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m placing my future in the hands of witch then, isn’t it Blossom?” Maybe it was hearing her name for the first time since she arrived at the palace, maybe it was the phrasing the princess had used, maybe it was the fact that Blossom’s sum total of dating experience was zero. But the idea of proposing marriage floated into her mind, then set down its anchors with no intention of leaving anytime soon. She was weak and it occurred to her that she’d do just about anything for her.

“Please help me escape.” That, that she could handle.

 Now if you were to ask the princess, which she’d discovered people rarely do in these stories. She would have told you that the smile that graced Blossom’s face as she agreed, must have been sculpted by the spirits themselves. Blossom would adamantly deny that there was anything special about that particular smile, but the beginnings of love have a way of tricking the minds of all parties.

 A quick discussion, of course all in Goat, and the plan was ready. The princess would have normally deemed the plan too simple to work. But alas, she had spoken to her husband, who was really rather simple too. With both women agreed there really only was one final problem to take care off. And Blossom’s childhood had taught her a few things, the most useful of which for this scenario being: how to get what you wanted from guards.

 She approached the guards slowly, careful to shrink into herself, wearing fear and reverence like a cape as she made her request. “Excuse me sirs, but would you mind stepping outside? You see, well, if I am to try and transform her highness back, she will. Well she won’t be -“ Blossom was careful to keep one eye on the guards throughout this little play, waiting for the moment before intrigue turned to irritation to reveal “She won’t be wearing any clothes. It’s just not proper.” Not that the guards seemed to care for proper, they were very happy to pretend as though she’d never even spoken. Plan B it was.

 Blossom drew herself up to her full height, shedding her act and allowing the aristocratic sneer of her father’s perfect son to grace her features. Most days she did not enjoy towering over most people she met, but she must admit that the intimidation factor really did come in useful. Since the guards seemed to decide that there really wasn’t that much difference between one side of the door and the other, in the grand scheme of things. With the decided click of the door, Blossom spun to face the princess, unable to keep the excited smile off her face. Rescuing a princess, disappointing her family, pissing off Prince Dick. This was going to be fun.

 The spells themselves weren’t all that complicated in the end, Blossom knew of a villager who happened to own a very similar looking goat so the summoning was a breeze. It would have been considerably harder if the forest sprites didn’t find the whole idea absolutely hilarious; but they still hold this as one of their best pranks to this day. And a temporary shrinking draft was easy to make from the ingredients she’d brought with her. So with a goat in the room and an even smaller goat smuggled in her bag, Blossom took a calming breath, schooled her expression into something resembling disappointment, opened the door and requested to see the prince.

 The prince did not appear to have moved since Blossom had last seen him, despite a considerable amount of time having passed. Although it occurred to her that it was entirely possible that this was a pose he pulled in an attempt to look regal and intimidating, that seemed like the sort of thing Dick would do. It would have been helpful if this thought had occurred to her at another time, when she didn’t need to pretend to be contrite. But thoughts, much like royal messengers it seemed, do not really care whether the timing is convenient. It was a good thing she could keep her head down in a show of respect and regret, as this served quite nicely to hide the upwards twist of her mouth from view. All attention on her, princess in her bag, sprites at her back, Blossom spoke.

“I’m sorry your highness but the spell on this princess was too strong for me. I tried my best but I was unable to break it.”

 Neither the prince nor Isaac looked in any way surprised, they’d called her here to watch her fail. To remind her of her ‘place’, to rub in her face everything she’d given up. And rage rushed through her veins for the first time in years, dampened only by the knowledge that she was lying to their faces and they didn’t have a clue. That they could look down on her all they liked; they still couldn’t see the truth. “I think that is a curse from the fae, probably laid on the royal family. But it is powerful. The royal wizards are the only ones who could attempt to break it.” And the royal wizards did attempt to break the curse for many more years, once Blossom had been dismissed from court in ‘disgrace’ again. But even the most experienced of scholars had little luck, for their ‘princess’ was in fact a goat.  

 At the sight of her little cottage, with its creeping vines and the worn paint on the door, Blossom couldn’t help but laugh, letting the tension bleed from her bones at the sight of home. Retrieving the princess from her bag, only to be informed that ‘it stank worse than the prince’s breath’ only sent her spiralling back into uncontrollable laughter. Now laughter in general is infectious, but a laugh like Blossom’s; loud, unrestrained and full of joy, to a girl already half way in love is even more so and the princess soon found herself laughing along. She didn’t require any help to transform back in the end, she’d chosen what she would become and who else could take that from her? Blossom had only just regained her breath as it was knocked out from her once more, her own heart pounding in her ears. The princess was shorter than she’d imagined princesses to be, all soft around the edges with a round face and eyes the colour of fertile ground just a little too small for the rest of her features. She was also more perfect than she ever could have dreamed.

 “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Blossom.”

“Claire,” a shy smile graced the princesses face and Blossom knew that now was her only chance to keep that smile in her life.

“I was wondering. If you don’t have any other plans, of course! But if if you need a place to stay, then you could stay with me. If you wanted.” Blossom’s face was red, but she’d said what she needed to and the smile she received in return was all the reward she’d ever need.

“I’d love to! Just until I get back onto my feet. I’ll get out of your hair soon, I promise.”  

 Despite the princess’s promises she quickly grew accustomed to cottage life; the smell of stew cooking, logs cracking on the fire, soft touches from shy hands and that smile day after day. Days turned to months and months to years. The villagers grew accustomed to the second witch as well, smiling as she delivered potions and shaking their heads slightly when she stopped by the pens to where she’d make bleating noises at the goats as though they could understand. And if the villagers spied the two witches kissing as they gathered ingredients, well that was really no one’s business but theirs.

[fmsdraws]

Metal in the Underground AU: General Info

... So, I’ve had this AU in my mind for about two years now, and I felt the urge to post about it now that I have made a new sprite for it’s Frisk. And since I don’t really plan to make a sprite comic about it, I figured I’d dump the ideas I had here. So you’ll find the information below the cut. 

What’s this AU about? Well, it revolves around a simple question....

What if Frisk was a robot?

That’s right, Metal in the Underground takes a different to most AUs by merely changing the protagonist, and letting the rest of the characters untouched. However, due to the now apparent artificial nature or Frisk, the characters have different reactions, and the way the story unfolds is somewhat different from Undertale’s.

The info you’ll find here is...

-General Backstory -Frisk bio -Changes in the story  -Changes in mechanics

But, I’m sure you’re wondering...

Why is Frisk a robot?

In the year 211X, technology has advanced in a considerable manner, so much so that household robots, and robots in general, are a commonality in this world. Frisk was one of these household units, who lived with a loving family, until their useful life eventually ran its course, and were shipped back to their manufacturer to be dismantled, and their parts reused for future models.

However, a group of scientists was looking for a robot to work with that they could modify for a project they were tasked to do. Since Frisk was the most recent one to arrive, and the one in the best state, they were picked.

What is this “project”?

Several humans had fallen into Mt. Ebott throughout the years, because of this, many protests had arisen from the town living nearby. The gobverment decided to dispatch a team of scientists to develop a robot that was capable enough to at least find whatever happened. Just enough so that the press would stop bothering, anyways. But they also put the team in a tight budget, hence the use of discarded robots.

What was done to Frisk?

When Frisk was brought to the lab, they managed to upgrade them rather well, they got rid of their memories but kept their experiences untouched due to an oversight (they’d know how to deal with something, they just don’t know why), they upgraded their battery life for obvious reasons. They also made their movements more fluid than the standard for their line, making them able to climb out if push came to shove. 

However, they made some rather... questionable choices. Namely, the removal of Frisk’s voice capabilities in favor of a system that would allow the scientists to speak through them should the robot find one of the humans. 

The robot didn’t have memories, anyway. It wouldn’t be able to deal with conflictive situations on their own, right?

How did they end up Underground?

Use your imagination. 

In reality, the robot was told to climb down the hole into the mountain instead of, I don’t know, making them go down safely via ropes or something. The robot lost communication with the scientists as soon as they entered due to the barrier, the wall they were hanging from collapsed, and they promptly fell into the underground.

Thankfully, they landed on a bed of flowers, somewhat cushioning the damage. But still leaving the poor robot stunned for a good while...

What is Frisk like?

(Note: the eyes do not represent a chara possesion, it is just the color that was set to by their previous owners, and the scientists liked it a lot.)

Name: Frisk (ooc nickname: Mitu) Height: 5′5

Having household been their job in their past “life”, and having retained those experiences, Frisk has a tendency to cling onto people they deem as friendly, and prefer to keep whatever indoors space they’re in tidy and clean. Their lineage of robots also has some special features that in Frisk have remained unchanged. Said features are...

-Alarm clock -Bluetooth sound stereo (hence their headphone-like ears) -Snapshot ability -They can also be patted on the head to get an instant smile from them, which also serves to turn off their alarm.

In general, their line searches affection from their owners. MitU however cannot really connect with monsters due to the fact that they’re, well, monsters. They have a hard time recognizing monsters as people, since they don’t match with their facial scan systems. They can recognize some similarities, such as toriel looking like a goat, but someone like sans they’re lost in even figuring out what he is. 

They’re also somewhat aquaphobic, since they aren’t waterproof. So areas like waterfall are horrendous to go through for them. They can also remain operative even after taking somewhat concerning damage, and even repair themselves provided they’re given the tools (they are not).

All in all, MitU is a kind robot when it comes to humans, they are loyal as a puppy and such. But when it comes to monsters, their morale can be ... bent, depending on their actions during either Genocide or Pacifist routes. (Note: while a genocide route is just about as likely as a pacifist route, a theoretical genocide route is not canon to the AU.)

What changes from the original Undertale story?

For starters, Chara is not present in the story. This is due to the lack of a SOUL on Frisk’s part, meaning they cannot understand certain monsters (Froggits, for example), and they have to guide themselves based on visual aid. They also provide some flavor text themselves. The lack of a SOUL also means that they cannot interact with SAVE files at all, but don’t worry, Flowey the Flower comes to the Rescue!

Mainly for personal amusement, Flowey wants to help Frisk get as far into the underground as possible, and see how they tackle the sheninegans that the underground is filled with. Often times, he’ll give them advice after reloading for anything up ahead. Frisk cannot remember reloads, anyway...

This doesn’t mean that flowey becomes an active partner, he only pops up from time to time to give Frisk advice.

Since Frisk is strictly mute, and has not been taught sign language, they can hardly communicate with Monsters. They try to get their ideas across as clear as possible via pointing and acting, but no one really knows what they’re trying to say. they’re trying their best pls don’t pick on them ;-; As a result, some monsters have different behaviours towards them. 

For instance, Toriel (who is well aware of Frisk being a robot) decides to take the robot with her while she buys her groceries in fear that the robot might not have the best reaction to an encounter. She cooks snail pie, since Frisk can’t have CB pie. They can still take a slice with them for later use, though. 

I envisioned that Toriel has no real reason to stop MitU from leaving, they don’t have a SOUL, anyways, so their death would not mean anything in the long run.

In Snowdin, Frisk tries to play along with Papyrus’ sheninegans to sans’ request. And they succeed for the most part. Sans has seen enough anime to be aware of the fact MitU is a robot, but Papyrus still 100% thinks they’re a human.... Up until he figures it out by himself.

Waterfall goes generally the same, save for the fact that after Frisk falls from the bridge, they’re yet again knocked out cold, and Undyne comes to the dump to... pick them up and bring them to Alphys lab to repair them.

You see, Alphys, like her Undertale counterpart, looks over MitU ever since they step in Snowdin Forest. And she could tell that after the fall they took, they wouldn’t be able to get up. So she called up Undyne to explain the situation, and thus, saved Frisk from eventually being dragged away by the water.

When Frisk is returned back to life, Alphys explains that she rescued them herself, and that there is little to no time to waste. She has to return them to the surface! She also mentions that she modified MitU a bit to suit Hotland’s very unforgiving conditions, plus added a jetpack that comes out of their back. 

MitU also gets to meet Mettaton himself, and they naively agree to do shows with him despite the risk that said shows entail.

And, honestly? Those were basically all the real changes that there are in the main run. Omega Flowey does flow differently due to Frisk lacking a SOUL, but the beats are the same. The Dates don’t vary that much, neither the amalgamates.

In the true pacifist Asriel fight, MitU is able to fully utilize their ACTing skills that they had gained all those years ago with their old family to calm Asriel down. However, in the end, they are destroyed by the final blast that Asriel shoots as his last attack. 

And it is their death that reminds Asriel of the pain he had gone through when Chara passed away while trying to make their plan go through. So he’s quick to undo his wrongs, bring Frisk back, break the barrier, return the souls, and leave to never be seen again. 

Frisk then gets to live with the monsters in the surface from then on. While their scientists do try to take the robot back, to check what they recorded Toriel’s deadly glare guarantees that Frisk shall clean their new home and have fun while doing so for a long while...

What changes in terms of mechanics? (no pun intended)

Frisk has a battery life, as explained earlier, so they need to recharge at several points in the story. It’s indicated via the heart in their chest, which may I add, is also their on/off switch. Their battery drains in turn of how much exploration you make. Note that MitU can and will run out of power in the overworld and in the midst of a fight if you’re not careful.

The UI is different as well, this was basically a mock up I made a year ago, but it gets the idea across. Their HP is replaced with a damage meter, which the more it grows, the more glitches appear on the UI and on the screen. The battery should be obvious enough.

And Frisk can also climb up some walls provided they’re colored properly, which can lead to some goodies, or allow them to solve puzzles.

And that would be all of the info I had made. What do you guys think? While I do love the concept of this AU, there was just no driving force to work on anything like a comic for me, plus, I currently work on my other AUs, so my time is already tight as is. 

If anyone has any more questions they’d like answered, I’ll be sure to answer them.

As an addendum: I must ask that people do not RP Mitu!Frisk, steal the few art pieces done for this post, or steal this AU in any shape or form without permission. 

If anyone desires to RP interactions with MitU, I RP them in the Omega Timeline server, along with other characters. It is a highly reccomendable server in my book for any UT fan that likes to RP.

I will also ask that people don’t make a AU wiki entry on this AU, as I may do that myself provided the time is right. 

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

[s] YOU THERE. BOY. (part 1)

Okay so we’re back to this!

Last time we left, John ate the apple and was transported to a weird nether-realm of black skies and apparent emptyness, and the kernelsprite prototyped with the weird doll thing divided into two halves, one went down through the cloud layer, and the other went up through some kind of blue runes towards the skies.

The part that remained transformed into a kind of ghost-clown-jester-thing... that seems to follow us around.

And it is apparently an interactive thing! Which means this is gonna take a while... but it’s awesome at the same time! How many genres is homestuck in, at the same time? Weird hybrid, it is.

Clicking on the control pad gives us this small text detailing the instructions on how to move around and interact with things. Also it seems Hussie had help creating this! Nice.

Yeah, and that is basically what I said happened. We still don’t know what any of this means, but at least the sprite thing doesn’t seem to be malevolent.

Hmm, the interaction command seems to have its own unique voice in all this. This could perfectly be meta or story-relevant. Or knowing this kind of stories, both.

The apple seemed to transport us to this realm so that we were spared from the apocalypse on earth. Wait, does that mean that the earth is fucked? Is that the reason for the post-apocalyptic wastelands in that short scene after act one? But then what the fuck is that bandaged thing? Are they what remains of those that didn’t escape?

Also where is Pie Man, this is concerning.

Does it even end? Or is it a bottomless abyss...

Going inside the house I see that the garish decor is still there, but no sign of anyone or anything...

Also creepy harlequin is our navi now. Great.

Does Hussie just have a talent for finding cursed pics? Also I always think of Cera as Scott Pilgrim after seeing that movie.

Prompt voice (maybe Hussie?) doesn’t seem to like the harlequin nightmares either.

Soo, how many voices are there? The narrator, the green explanation guy (who might or might not be the same), the orange/black prompt guy (who might be the other 2 OR the viewer) and us??

Dear god, I’m beginning to have Stanley Parable flashbacks.

Let’s go to our room! See if it’s normal.

Our room is full of black goo. Ink? Oil? Blood in 80′s edge comics?

Bless you John for your terrible taste in 90′s movies. I genuinely would do a marathon of truly awful John-approved films, sign me the fuck up.

Also yeah, forgot we can still fuse this thing with others. Probably. It will 100% get more nightmarish if we do.

Oh and yeah that can only be done by Rose. I wonder if she can contact us after we went into this weird place. Hope so.

Wasn’t it the bunny? The real-life-movie-prop thing? Where the fuck is the bunny, all this considered?

Nicholas Cage finally met his match. A wooden door. Unstopable force, meet unmovable object. Shyamalan would be proud.

John you were busy kissing posters while she......did a whole violin concert instead of helping...

Yeah you both are walking disasters.

I must confess to a grave sin. I have never seen ghostbusters, ANY ghostbusters.

I still know almost all that happens in all of them.

If ever there were films that could be viewed entirely through internet culture osmosis, this would be one of them. (back to the future trilogy would be another)

Oh...god, a movie even John can’t defend.

That is both terriying and impressive

Looking out the window we see this view, which I find to be almost hauntingly beautiful. Nothing like a swing next to the v o i d.

As I said, true oblivion is the absolute best place for a tire swing. 5/5 recommended.

Wasn’t this towel the one thar took part in that whole dumbass captchalog loop of fate? It probably has special powers by now after all that bullshit.

Yeah there were three machines right? This one converted the cards in shapes it carves into the token, the one at the rooftop does events with those totems, and the other one gave us the token and also started all this mess, with the countdown and the meteor attack.

I would like a copy of that ludicrous, ludicrous book please.

Sweet fuck, I had forgotten his desktop of wonders and terrors. These kinds of things are what make life worth living.

Also seems Rose has indeed been trying to contact us!

....?? : ?? time   The fuck? Are we beyond time??

The prompt voice really wants us to listen to it...

...Are the narrator and the commands arguing against each other? What?

That...seems to be the case. Huh.

I feel like John is being used in a contest between two very powerful entities right now. Two very meta entities at that.

!!! He IS using the “next page” commands! The orange voice is the one who has been submitting commands all this time! Wasn’t that us?

....is this us?

Because it is being used inside a flash, instead of below it?

Seems command voice is losing their cool after being denied.

This one is DEFINITELY the narrator.

Sooo we have the readers/commands vs the narrator with John as the experiment. Oh boy.

Well that’s all that I can do today without compromising tomorrow! See ya guys on Friday with the second part!

[magicshopgalaxy]

1. Your first BTS song

Dope.

It was way back in 2017 when I became a kpop fan for the first time. I was curious to see who BTS were so my sister showed me the music video of Dope in her phone and later did I realize that it was actually the first step of me becoming an ARMY for life.

2. Current favorite song

Euphoria by Jeon Jungkook.

I always love that song. Jungkook’s voice is the kind that makes you want to be dramatic over life, something that will make you remember some good important memories where you feel happy and at peace with yourself. It’s soft and melodic and I just love the first part of that song so much. I could even sing it perfectly. I also have different instrumental versions of that song because the beat is just so good. I have a guitar version and a piano version. I also have the version that Jungkook released this year’s FESTA, the piano version accompanied with his beautiful voice.

3. A song that everyone should listen to

Spring Day.

I just heard this song playing on the radio and after the song ends, the DJ made her comments about it telling everyone that while the song was playing she was also reading the English translations of the lyrics and how it almost made her cry. I was listening to her and got inspired at what she said. So I thought that if everyone would just listen to Spring Day, they would experience that feeling too. Even if they don’t understand the lyrics, the song itself is enough to touch hearts. Even more if they read the translations.

4. Favorite MV

Blood, Sweat, and Tears.

For me, it was the best comeback ever of BTS. They combined music with art, psychology, and symbolism and it turned out to be marvelously fantastic.

5. Favorite solo song

Euphoria by Jungkook.

I told you I love that song so much.

6. Favorite rap line song

Outro: Tear.

I swear, if you hear this song you will find yourself with mouth gaping wide in awe. Rap doesn’t always sound nice to someone who doesn’t fancy it too often but this one killed it. The best rap I ever heard and I ain’t even a fan of raps. I was really fascinated at how cool their voices are and how the whole song transformed into some kind of dark and wild and raging kind of genre. You can really feel the pain and all the torment of the person in that song. All the fears, the anger, miseries and breakdowns brought by a terrible heartbreak. The rap line raps it all well.

7. Favorite vocal line song

I’m not gonna say Euphoria again. So for this question, I’m going to pick Epiphany by Kim Seokjin. If you’ve been around enough or been an ARMY as long as the Love Yourself album series, you will get whole point of this song and understand that it’s the happy ending of the whole Love Yourself story. Apparently, the story speaks of someone in love but got broken and decided to finally love himself. The story was not that simple though. Along the way, it has become complicated and confusing as that someone questions himself, got mad, and do crazy stuffs (as told in the story of TEAR). Epiphany was the last intro song of the three albums and it’s apparently the answer to all that someone’s questions. It speaks of revival and opening the mind to fully understand the whole situation after the destructive storm that love has brought upon him. It’s a song of acceptance that everything has happened already and it’s now time to move on and love oneself even with all the flaws and broken pieces.  Why I love this song is because it speaks some things that I couldn’t speak myself. I’ve been around enough and the story of Love Yourself made such a great impact in my life. It has become my own story now. So the song Epiphany is also the answer I’ve been looking for and my own happy ending story.

8. Favorite collaboration

As a fan of both BTS and Ed Sheeran, there is nothing more exciting than a collab between the two. So I have Make It Right for this. Although Ed Sheeran didn’t sing a line of that song (though I would’ve love it even more if he does), the song itself shows a lot of his presence. The beat, the lyrics and the tone of the song are good combinations of BTS and Ed Sheeran. It’s like legends meet legends and together they combined superpowers and Make It Right is the end product.

9. Favorite live performance

I haven’t been a fan of live performances but there is actually one live performance of BTS that really captivates my eyes. Remember 2018’s Melon Music Awards? Yeah, that’s right. It was that time when BTS shone the most. The introduction of their performance was so lit I had no other words for that. They brought a lot of people on stage to perform Idol in a traditional way but what really had me amazed was when the dance line performed solo in the beginning. First, it was J-hope with the lady drummers. It was so colorful and aesthetic and Jhope's dance moves matched the beat of the drums very well. It was such a powerful performance. Then there was Jimin with the fan. He looked so sophisticated and classy in a traditional way. I love the way he danced while holding the fan in his hand. He even got a cultural award for that. Next, Jungkook with a handkerchief.  The way he looked at the camera while he did all those killing moves were marvellous. And then all the cultural dancers gathered together on stage and danced the instrumental version of Idol. I swear, that was the most beautiful live performance I ever saw.

10. A feminine empowering song

I have Epiphany for this again. I don’t know, I just kind of like the lyrics of that song so much. It kind of represents all the ladies out there who are miserable because of love. The song is so much powerful as long as you understand it. There’s even a line I love in it where I get inspiration from every time I feel insecure of myself. “ I may be a bit blunt, I may lack some things, I may not have that shy glow around me. But this is me. My arms, my legs, my heart, my soul. “

It’s girl power, you know.

11.A sad song

There’s no sadder song than The Truth Untold. I read the lyrics and it’s really sad. And the way the vocal lines sing it makes the song sad even more. The line, “But I still want you…” is the most heartbreaking thing ever. I don’t think there’s another that can compete with that. I don’t blame the song or the writer of that song. It’s just that it’s the song of the Tear album and the story of Tear is really heartbreaking since it’s where all the pain and misery happened. And where love failed and the person got crazy and wild. 

12. A song that makes you dance

So What. It’s the song that tells you to do things you like and not minding what anyone has to say. So everytime I listen to that song, I was like, “So What” and dance and dance until my back hurts from dancing.

13. Favorite dance practice

There’s a lot of dance practices that I fancy a lot. But I love the ones that were done out of silliness and crazy stuffs.  Remember Baepse? They danced like silly little dorks but they danced so well. I’m amazed at their duality and the fact that they could pull something crazy and still be good at it. Dance Kings, indeed.

14. Favorite interview

I love that interview somewhere in the US where Seokjin kept saying “Yeah, I’m worldwide handsome, you know?” and J-hope saying “I love hamburger and sprite”. That will always be the most iconic interview ever.

15. Most underrated song

Spine Breaker.

Not all ARMYs know that song since it’s an old one and BTS don’t perform it too often these days. But if you could just hear it and read its lyrics, it speaks a lot to you. It’s such a powerful song and I hope more people would listen to it. Especially the youth of this generation. BTS, as youth themselves, really wrote a song for them indicating how they all feel living in this generation and this song really speaks a lot.

16. A song that deserves an MV

Mikrokosmos.

The song is beautiful. The lyrics are beautiful. It should have an mv. And in the mv, there should be lots and lots of stars. And sometimes the stars should shine in purple color so when armys zoom into it, they will see army bombs instead. And while this happens, the chorus of the song plays until it gets to the part where BTS sing “Shine, Dream, Smile. Oh let us light up the night….” It would be a beautiful mv.

17. Favorite song from Dark & Wild album

The lit rap, Cypher pt. 3.

It’s a song to roast haters. Suits Yoongi’s attitude sometimes, and always remind me of him.

18. Favorite intro

Boy Meets Evil.

It’s the first intro I ever encountered when I became an ARMY back in 2017. And one of the songs that got me into BTS. I saw J-hope’s performance with this one on MAMA 2016. My sister showed me the video and I was amazed. Back then, I didn’t know much about J-hope or his cheerful attitude. I thought he was all that dark and cool guy with a bad guy look and it’s all because of  this song. The J-hope in the mv of this song was so not like the J-hope I know now but it was my first impression of him.  So I assume he was like that until I get to know him better. It still surprises me everytime I watch the video of the song. The duality of J-hope is mesmerizing, indeed. That's why this song is so special to me.

19. Favorite cover

There are at least three covers I like. But I have to choose one. So for this, I’m gonna go with Hug Me by J-hope and V. I love V’s voice in this song. It’s so deep and cold but relaxing at the same time. I love the tone of the chorus and the beat of J-hope’s rap. Combined together, it makes the whole song worth to listen to.

20. Favorite outro

Answer: Love Myself

(or is it Outro: Answer: Love Myself?) Regardless, I love that song. I love the lyrics, especially where the writer of that song (RM?) described our scars as our own galaxies. It’s one of the three star songs by the way (Magic Shop and Mikrokosmos being the other two, and just so you know, I coined this term by myself) and always remember that star songs are always the best ones. ARMYS are so lucky to be gifted with such songs that inspire us in times of our dark moments.

21. Favorite song from solo projects (outside the group)

Seoul by RM from his own solo album Mono.

I want you to know that every song that RM writes is my favorite. RM is my inspiration and he’s the second best composer I ever knew (next to Ed Sheeran). I love how open minded he is and how he sees the world and writes how he feels about it. In Seoul, he expressed his deep feelings  about his homeland, including all the ups and downs he had as he lives there and how he cherishes and loves it wholeheartedly even after seeing all its dark sides. It’s one of the best songs I ever knew.

22. Favorite cypher

Cypher pt. 4.

For me it’s the deepest among the 4 cyphers in terms of its meaning. It’s currently the last cypher for now (though I’m still hoping for another more) and Namjoon did put a good effort in writing his parts there. I love how he literally raps his mockery against the prejudice of Kpop idols in the Kpop industry. That line “Oh face, not an idol” is really a good hint in telling people out there how sick Kpop is as an industry who only invests in people with good appearances and not in talents. Namjoon wrote down this line “sorry bae” to roast down people who think of idols that way. “Sorry Bae” because I’m talented. “sorry bae” because I’m breathing. “sorry bae” because I’m healthy. “sorry bae” because I’m still shining despite your negative comments about how I don’t fit in your qualifications.

It’s not just the industry though. It’s people’s perception on Kpop and how they look kpop as one of those things that shine like stars and idols with faces as bright as diamonds and all that jolly dolly kind of music. They hate what they don’t like and it doesn’t end in just hating but all the way to giving their unpopular opinions to the public with lots of bashing and roasting and outrageous participations in fandom wars. Not to mention the antis and haters who have absolutely no knowledge about kpop and still getting busy out there trying to bring it down. 

“sorry bae” because you know my name even though I don’t know yours. Haters roast BTS through hate comments. BTS roast them back through their beautiful songs. And we, ARMYs, are loving this war.

23. A song with beautiful lyrics

My favorite star song, Magic Shop. The first song that I coined as a star song. Also the first song that I really admired in terms of its meaning ever since I became an ARMY. It’s ARMY’s song. Our Song. My Song. Namjoon wrote it for us, describing that there is a door in our subconscious mind that leads to a world (or more likely a shop) where everything is good and happy and that all you have to do is to open it and exchange all your fears, miseries, pain and negativities with happiness and all the good stuffs.

24. Favorite Japanese song

Crystal Snow.

I love that song because Seokjin hit 3 high notes in it. I love Seokjin’s vocals when he tries harder to make it better. The beat of the song and its rhythm are great as well. Plus the background music is something that you really want to listen to if you want to feel something.

25. A song that you haven’t heard for a long time

There were many but let’s choose Tomorrow for now. The feels that this song give is so cool and will make you want to say that this is really how raps should be. Lol I don’t really know anything about raps but this one just defines it for me. The lyrics were deep since its one of the songs when Hip Hop BTS are still promoting and during those times BTS like to appeal as tough and rebellious teenagers who are sick of the society they’re living in. So the lyrics of most of the songs they wrote during those times, including this one, are kind of reflecting the lives of teenagers and youth and how they overcome everyday’s struggles in order to accomplish their dreams and live a better tomorrow.

26. A song without choreography

Butterfly. It’s that song that I love. It doesn’t have to have a choreography . I love it anyway.

27. A song that feels different when you hear it live

House of cards.

It sounds raw and original when the vocal line sing it live. You can literally hear Jimin’s high notes transforming into a girly-kind-of scream, Jin’s vocals being forced out of his lungs, and V trying to raise his deep voice. All of this while Jungkook sings so well, not minding any mishaps that his friends are making. But then, I love it anyway. It’s the truest vocals that Bangtan ever has and it’s perfect no matter what.

28. A song that helped  you the most

Magic Shop.

I always come back over and over again to this song. It was that one song that stayed with me when I was struggling during my last year in college, the one that got me through all the breakdown moments and painful times. The one song that I called a friend when everyone in my circle became dramatic and overreacting jerks who just have so much to say and didn’t even listen to me. The song that symbolizes hope that made me believe that a better tomorrow will come. I owe everything to this song. It has always been there for me.

29. A song about politics and society

There were many of those songs but I choose No More Dream. Before BTS were famous with all their deep and meaningful songs about loving oneself, there was this song. The beginning of everything.  As Suga once said, “It isn’t a BTS album if there isn’t a track criticizing society.” It all started with No More Dream. All the dissing and roasting and revealing what society is like for young people like BTS started with the story of No More Dream where youth were deprived of their own dreams because “parents-know-best” kind of stuff exists.

Sorry I had to search it out. (You can check all the songs here under that category: https://www.billboard.com/articles/columns/k-town/7966116/bts-socially-conscious-woke-songs-go-go-list  it’s really cool to get to know those songs)

30. A new song

There’s this other version of Make It Right where Lauv sings the first part in English. I love it because it looks like the kind of songs a lot of people would want to listen to. Especially non-kpopper people. Or people who love Lauv but not BTS. To me, this song is like an instrument to change their minds about kpop. This will prove that, even though Kpop is not English, it’s music. And music creates good vibes and relaxing sensations no matter what country it belongs. And with Lauv singing in English and BTS singing in their own language, it breaks the standards that some western-stereotyped people put into music. Music should be boundless and BTS proved that right.

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