#its not even the right font actually its just the closest i could find i was in the trenches

[fluxydrawings]

sure ill post this. i spent too much time on this

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 HORROPEDIA - "night terrors"

Horropedia x Reader. 2.3 words. fluff, comfort Everyone knows better than to intrude on Horropedia's all-nighters and horror film marathons - even so, he doesn't mind interruptions, not if it's you. Maybe these movies can wait.

writing for Horropedia is the real nightmare bc all I wanna do is expand on little headcanons I have about him, so I end up losing the entire plot and reason I started the oneshot in the first place

EITHER WAY its done <3 another one for the sleepytime saga

The clock reads 3:00 AM - the witching hour begins now.

The weather outside seems to agree with him. Darkness falls over the wilderness that surrounds the house, with thick, grey clouds above and just the right amount of rain and wind. Enough to set a proper atmosphere for a horror movie marathon, but not as to distract him with the constant banging of windows and doors being closed shut.

Horropedia feels around the table for his snacks, eyes glued to the screen in front of him, the only source of light in his room. He's chosen one of his favorite films to begin with and ease himself into a long list of terrible B-movie slashers.

It's hard to eat popcorn when all he can focus on is reciting the dialogue from memory, in perfect harmony with the characters. Some kernels fall to the ground, entirely forgotten. The title drops with a bright, bloody font and the music swells up. He feels right at home.

But then, he hears it.

Faint steps. A gentle knock on his door.

Is this it? Is this the moment he waited for all these years? To live through some unusual and inexplicable event? Oh, but it's not even his birthday!

Horropedia pauses the movie and clears his throat. "Yes? Who is it?"

The door slowly creaks open. He swears it was locked.

There's no one outside in the empty hallway.

Silence settles in and his mind begins to race. It's too late for any of his usual guests - neither Tooth Fairy nor Blonney would go out of their way to find him at this hour. By now, everyone should be asleep. Even the more rebellious and nocturnal guests preferred to mind their business as soon as the night came.

The smile on Horropedia's face widens at this. He doesn't know who could be out there at this ungodly hour, trying to lure him outside, but he wanted to find out badly.

All he needs to do is follow the script. Oh, but what sort of protagonist could he play? There was a big difference between an innocent question like "Who's out there?" and a demand like "Show yourself!"

Full of giddy energy, Horropedia opens his mouth, ready to deliver his best performance, when a small voice interrupts him.

"Oh, thank fuck, you're actually awake."

A familiar head peeks out from the door frame - it's you, his partner in crime! The disappointment on his face must be visible even in this light, because he hears you huff in immediate protest. Horropedia sighs, long and hard, feeling his soul leave his body.

"Hey, come on. Can I come in or not?"

"You already know the answer to that," Horropedia crawls back onto the sofa, dropping face down onto the pillows and blankets with loud thud. First you make his heart leap in vain, and now you want to ask unnecessary questions?

Perhaps he wasn't clear enough in previous interactions with you - but as his partner in crime and closest confidant, you should know better. This is an exclusive privilege he bestowed upon you and only you: to come and go as you please and treat his room like your own.

When he speaks again, it comes out muffled and defeated. "Mwake fure to cwose the dwoor..."

"...What?"

Horropedia raises his head from the pillow, glasses crooked and hairpins all over his head, doing a poor job at keeping the hair out of his eyes.

"Door!" And then he plops back down.

He knows its silly and irrational to get so worked up over something like this, a small interruption, just a little setback in his carefully scheduled night. All he needs to do is count and breathe.

One, two, three. It's not that bad, he can simply rewind the movie and start from the beginning. Besides, now he has you here! The perfect companion for a marathon. Four, five, six. It's hard to breathe properly when all he's getting is a lungful of couch, but soon, that frustration in his chest dissipates. Seven, eight, nine...Ten.

Horropedia turns his head to look at you, standing in front of him after locking the door.

"So, to what do I owe this visi- OW?!" He yelps in surprise once you pinch his leg, and he recoils and sits up on instinct, rubbing that sore spot. "Hey! That was uncalled for! What happened to our peace treaty?"

"Yeah, but now I get to sit down, so it's a win."

There's something off in the way you speak - it's your tone, lower and raspier than usual. Horropedia leans closer to you, squinting. Something else catches his eye, other than the way you avoid looking at him.

"Why are your eyes red and puffy?"

Even though all he has is the faint light of the TV screen, he sees it. The red marks in your eyes, the dried tears across your cheeks - you should've known by now, it's impossible to hide anything from his watchful and attentive eyes.

Horropedia's initial thoughts are allergies, but it seems unlikely in a closed space like this house. He remains still as a statue as your expression turns into one of shock, the question catching you entirely off-guard. When you fully turn away from him to rub your eyes, he knows something is wrong.

"On second thought, that was a very dumb question. Allow me to rectify - why were you crying?" He receives no response, and so he settles for finding an answer himself.

There's the uneven rise and fall of your chest, as if you were trying very hard to hold in a second wave of tears. Your hands have turned into trembling fists on your lap, and your shoulders are tense. Did you argue with someone? No, there's no one awake at this hour. In the stillness of the night, everyone would've heard it, anyway. For you to be in such a state, seeking him out this late at night...

"Ah," Horropedia's eyes soften as it all clicks into place. "Another dumb question. But third time's the charm, my friend! May I try again?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. His hand slides into your own, gently forcing you to stop clenching your fists and interlocking your fingers and his together with ease. Like this, he can hold you steady and ground you back to reality.

"Was it a very scary nightmare?"

The way Horropedia speaks is often louder than what is commonly expected, rarely changing from that perpetual matter-of-factly, cheeky tone he's known for. But now? He's gentle, endeared by the way you stubbornly continue to hide from him.

There's a nod, and you finally turn to face him. It's a heartbreaking sight, with your face tilted down, looking up at him like you've done something wrong. You allow your hair to fall over your eyes in one last effort to conceal this vulnerable moment, but Horropedia won't allow it.

Now that he's older, Horropedia finds it difficult and, at times, stupid to cry over things he knows aren't real - those nonsensical dreams caused by watching too many horror movies, reading scary stories before bedtime or any lingering events from his daily routine. But when he was just a child waking up in the middle of the night, tears streaming down his eyes, his first instinct was the same: to run as fast as he could into his grandfather's arms, the one person who could chase away all those night terrors.

Tonight is the night he steps up to reverse those roles. Horropedia wants nothing more than to offer you that same feeling of safety.

"There's three things we can do right now. One, we can pretend nothing happened and you can join me to watch movies until the sun rises or until we pass out from exhaustion, whichever comes first. Two, we can go raid the kitchen right now for some comfort food - lucky for you, I know where everyone hides their favorite snacks."

He pauses just enough to pique your interest, giving you one of his mysterious, cheeky smiles. "Three, you lay down with me and tell me all about this nightmare you had, so I can judge and nitpick all the scary elements in it."

That earns a little chuckle from you, a massive improvement from your pitiful expression back then - that's enough to seal your fate.

Horropedia slowly takes off his glasses and sets them on the table, before pulling you into a hug and falling onto the plush cushions. He makes sure to lay by the edge of the couch with you nestled safely inside, his body fully shielding you from the light of the TV screen. There's just enough space to lay down together like this, as long as you remain pressed up against his chest.

This is a first for him, for someone who struggles with this type of contact and rarely initiates it, and yet it feels as natural as breathing when it comes to you. It feels right, and he guesses he must be doing something right when you nuzzle and curl up into him, content and comfortable.

There's no trace of that fear from before. That tense atmosphere is fully gone, replaced with something that feels just like home - it's like he's 13 again, staying up late at night, having fun and doing things that the Foundation would never approve of, those illicit sleepovers under the safety of his blanket. But this time, he has you by his side.

Horropedia is painfully aware of his lack of skill when it comes to romance - he still pets your head the same way one would pet a dog rather than a person - but he can't bring himself to care in the slightest about all these rules and guidelines when he hears you laugh and complain about his cold hands on the small of your back. Then, he feels you poke at his monster slippers with your foot.

"You're still wearing these?" Before he can reply, you kick them off and they fall unceremoniously onto the floor. "They're so lame."

Horropedia deadpans. "You literally have a matching pair."

"Yeah, some nerdy nerd gave them to me."

He realizes you're joking when you avoid his eyes in an attempt to hide that smug grin, choosing to trace the colorful patterns and slasher killers depicted on his shirt instead. Somehow, he feels his heart skip a beat at this.

"Hey! I don't recall giving you the fourth option of making fun of me all night! Now, will you share that nightmare you had, or should we wait until I die from the suspense?"

This time, you're the one who catches him off-guard by cupping his face and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. Feeling the warmth rise from his neck to the tip of his ears, Horropedia is left momentarily speechless. Perhaps he still needs a little more time to ease into this whole physical touch thing. Nonetheless, he remains docile under your touch, especially when you begin to play with his hair.

"It's funny," you begin speaking, carefully untangling the hairclips out of that mess of brown hair, undoing his ponytail. "I can't even remember what it was about, at least not all of it. It just feels... Like it was something very dumb, even if it made me cry. I guess it's that whole thing you keep saying, about how psychological horror is scarier because there's no actual tangible monster or creature or whatever to blame for everything."

"Thank you! Finally, someone who thinks alike! The whole fear factor is greatly reduced when you can see the origin of all these supernatural or scary, inexplicable events. Humanity's biggest enemy is their own mind, and to us arcanists is our emotions. That's why, to some people, ghosts are scarier than robbers - which makes sense, despite being entirely illogical at the same time..."

It's hard to stop once he gets going, and so Horropedia continues talking, so immersed in his own thoughts and theories that he doesn't even register the way you've wrapped both arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest and breathing him in.

Every so often, you give him a weak, drowsy reply and he only realizes you've fallen asleep when all he hears is your gentle snoring. The movie continues to play in the background, but all of his senses are focused on you.

Had it been anyone else, Horropedia would've been offended. But it's you we're talking about. One of the very few people who pay attention to what he says, who cares enough to sit through hours of ramblings and to debate him on things he might've missed or overlooked. Who would never think of changing the way he is.

There's stars in his eyes when he looks down at your sleeping form, absolutely mesmerized. Usually, you're the one helping him through the tedious social interactions, to understand when he might be overstepping or acting rudely. In a sea of blank, emotionless and confusing faces, yours is the one he looks for guidance and solace. When nothing makes sense and he's lost in an abundance of unspoken rules of conduct, discipline and etiquette, your voice is the one that rises above all.

He may not know how to show it, he may not even realize it himself, but his appreciation for you runs deeper than his love for horror. Horropedia is honored to know that, just this once, he was able to help you. That he's the first one you sought out at your most vulnerable.

Horropedia presses his lips to the top of your head - a gentle, feathery kiss as to not disturb your sleep. And he remains there, your anchor to reality, as his eyelids feel heavier and heavier. The last thing he remembers before sleep takes over is your voice, not quite awake and not quite asleep, thanking him.

What are you even thanking him for, silly? Have you forgotten already? It's fine, because Horropedia will always be there to remind you: you can always count on him, no matter what.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #200

Wow, what a milestone, huh? It feels like only yesterday we were building Mash. Didn't even know you could grab multiple fighting styles back then. We were also one person back then. Things change. Things change even faster when you have magic eyes that let you bend anything you can see, so let's hurry up and build Asagami Fujino already. She is a Quandrix Sorcerer to tear apart anything she lays eyes on, as well as expand her field of vision beyond what her eyes can see. Dangerous combination, that.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: In the dark of the night, evil will find you! (If Rasputin ever become a playable character I am really going to regret using that one here.)

Wait, what's that...

Race and Background

No surprises here, Fujino is a Variant Human, because normal humans can't tear people apart with their mind. That means she gets +1 Dexterity and Charisma, as well as proficiency with Perception (kind of her deal) and the Tough feat. HP isn't just how much body you have to get hurt, it's also how badly getting hurt affects you. Fujino's deadened sense of pain means she can take hits and keep going, purely due to the fact that she doesn't realize she should stop. That means you're getting an extra 2 HP each level.

Fujino is a schoolgirl, so the closest thing we have is the Cloistered Scholar background. That gives you History and Nature proficiency.

Ability Scores

Your highest score should be Charisma. Your magic eyes are an innate part of you, and it's really easy to be frightening when you can tear a bridge down around you. Second highest should be Constitution, for the reasons we outlined in your background feat. Your Dexterity should probably be pretty high, you fight in clothing, and you fought against Shiki for more than five seconds without dying. That's impressive. Your Intelligence isn't that bad, though you're still going through school. We aren't dumping Strength, it's alright, but we are dumping Wisdom. You have a hard time feeling yourself and feeling connected to other people.

Class Levels

You're a Sorcerer, giving you proficiency with Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as proficiency with the Intimidation and Arcana skills. You've got magic implanted in your face, and again, bridge. As a Sorcerer, you can cast spells using your Charisma. Blade Ward deadens your senses further, giving you resistance to physical damage types for a round. Mending lets you twist a small item back together, instead of tearing it apart. Sword Burst is a short range bending... sorta. Force damage is hard to quantify. But it's free, so that's nice. You can also Shape Water to bend liquids to your will. For first level spells, Mage Armor helps you not die, and Magic Missile lets you shoot little bursts of twistiness that'll never miss. You also join the school of Quandrix, which gives you the starting gift of the spells Guidance and Guiding Bolt. They aren't super in character, but they're free, so suck it up. More Importantly, you learn Functions of Probability, helping you bend luck in your favor. When you cast a leveled spell targeting a creature, you can add an effect to a nearby creature (yourself included). A Diminishing Function forces a wisdom save (DC 8 + Chr mod + proficiency), and if it fails it subtracts 1d6 from the next attack roll it makes this round. Turns out swordfighting is hard when your sword is a corkscrew. Alternatively, a Supplemental Function lets a creature add a d6 to an attack or save made in the next round. This part is less believable, but if you're creative I'm sure it'll look good.

Second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, giving you sorcery points equal to your level per long rest. You can turn them into slots, or turn slots into points. Eventually you can do other things. Also, you can cast Thunderwave now. It destroys objects, you destroy objects, it's a match made in heaven.

Now that you're a third level sorcerer, you can make your spells truly your own thanks to Metamagic! If you cast a Heightened spell, one creature in its effect has disadvantage on their save against it. If you cast an Empowered spell, you can re-roll a couple damage dice. Tearing people in half is generally hard to avoid, and kind of damaging. You can also bend the air itself by casting Dust Devil, creating a Medium sized tornado, dealing damage to creatures nearby and pushing them around. It'll even pick up dust and make things hard to see, though that's kind of a drawback for you.

Use your very first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma. Kind of a spell-based build, to be honest. Speaking of, Mage Hand probably doesn't have much tearing force behind it, but it's free. You can also cast Shatter for more indiscriminate destruction.

Fifth level sorcerers gain third level spells like Clairvoyance! Now you can see a bird's eye view of the battlefield, tearing your way through it like, well, you.

At sixth level it's about time you started bending the earth to your will. You can Velocity Shift nearby creatures if they start their turn or move within 30' of you. If they fail a charisma save you can shove them to any other point within 30' of you. You can react this way 30' per long rest. Twist debris at people and watch them scatter, it's fun. To help with that, you can also cast Erupting Earth, bending the ground in a 20' cube. This forces dex saves on creatures in the cube, dealing damage and making the area difficult terrain until it's cleaned up.

Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells like Stoneskin for even more deadened senses. Now you resist physical damage without having to waste your action every turn. It does use your concentration, but it lasts an hour.

Another ASI! Max out your Charisma for super special eyes. You can also Control Water to create truly damaging whirlpools. There's other options, but whirlpools! Who'd want anything else?

Oh hey, I found something you might want else. It's fifth level spell Bigby's Hand! You can grab people and play with them like a stress ball. Technically there isn't a twisting option, but a Grasping Hand is probably the best you'll do. It'll grapple a huge or smaller creature, and if it successfully does so you can Crush it as a bonus action for damage.

Another Metamagic option! Technically these spells are all just you looking at things, so grab Subtle Spell so you don't have to yell out all your attack names. You can also Mold Earth. It's not that powerful, but it's free twisting. You also get Telekinesis! Again, no "twisting" in the rules, but it's strong enough to lift an object of 1000 pounds, and fine enough to open a door. Their heads should be popping off here.

Sixth level spells! Here are the big boys of the spell world. If you twist anything enough, eventually it'll Disintegrate, dealing plenty of force damage and leaving behind a mess you can't even revive. A little too clean for Fujino, but it's destructive enough.

ASI time. Bump up Constitution for a thicker skin and more HP. HP changes retroactively, so you get an extra 12 HP here.

Did you know turning into rotini is painful? Your enemies certainly know that, thanks to Power Word Pain. If a charmable creature has 100 HP or less, their speed drops to 10', and it gets disadvantage on all attacks, checks, and saves, aside from constitution saves. If it tries to cast a spell, it'll be wasted if it can't pass a constitution save. The target stays in pain forever until it can pass a constitution save.

Cool, so fun thing about these Multi Class Subclasses! As long as you're the correct level, you can take any one feature they have each time you hit the appropriate level in your main class. Since the highest requirement is 14, we're taking Quantum Tunneling now, and we'll pop back to the other one later. Your senses permanently deaden, giving you complete resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. You can also bend your way through any physical objects, as long as you're willing to deal with a halved movement speed and 1d10 damage each square you move. You also have to end your turn in an empty spot. Playing to character this should leave a huge hole behind you, but maybe you're conscientious? You weren't raised in a barn, after all.

Your eighth level spell is Earthquake. Now no structure in your view is safe from your destructive powers. Tear open the earth, shatter structures, and interrupt concentration, there's nothing you can't do!

Bump up your Dexterity this ASI. Not getting hit is still pretty useful, even if you can't feel it.

Remember when I said turning into rotini hurts? I was wrong. Actually, it kills you. Please grab Power Word Kill to reflect these changes. You have become death, destroyer of mages. You also learn how to cast Distant Spells, doubling your spell's range. Your range should be "anywhere in sight", so this is a step in the right direction.

Okay, I guess we'll grab Null Equation. Once per turn you can twist up a creature you damaged. If they fail a constitution save, they get disadvantage on strength and dexterity saves, and they only deal half damage with weapon attacks, all for a round. You can do this Proficiency times per long rest. Again, real hard to hit people when your femurs are spring shaped.

Use your last ASI for more Constitution for more HP and better concentration.

We've finally done it, we've made a pure sorcerer build! It's time to finally learn the dark secret of the Sorcerer capstone. What feature could be so powerful we've completely avoided it for 200 builds? It's Sorcerous Restoration. You get 4 sorcery points per short rest. It's not good. Sorry.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

You're good at dealing damage, and your most powerful spells deal Force damage, which almost nothing blocks against. That means you're consistent and deadly, a solid combination.

You're so good at damage that it isn't just limited to creatures. Use telekinesis, mold earth, and shatter to tear apart structures that are getting in your way. Walls? Torn down. Steel Beams? Melted. Bridges? Falling down.

Despite spending your entire time in a class with the worst hit dice imaginable, you're pretty tough to kill, with just over 200 HP, a decent AC for a spellcaster, and permanent resistance to physical damage types. To make things worse for fighters, it's also a pain to get near you, since you can tear up the area around you and shunt melee fighters away as a reaction.

Cons:

While you do have magic missile, a lot of your spells deal damage in wide areas, so your party might have words with you about using earthquake one too many times.

While you're good at tearing things up, that's just about all your magic can do. There's the occasional Clairvoyance and some defensive spells, but by and large you're either dealing damage or doing nothing.

Despite your great physical defense, you struggle a bit more against other damage types. If you end up fighting someone who can turn their knife into psychic damage, you might have a problem on your hands.

[self-loving-vampire]

Ultima VII: The Black Gate (1992)

Ultima 7 was pretty much my introduction to RPGs, and I could not have asked for a better pair of games to ignite a lifelong passion into that genre. There is a real reason why this is still considered one of the best RPGs ever made.

While Ultima 7 is often discussed as a singular entity, it is actually two separate full-length games with one expansion each. For this post I will focus on the first one, Ultima VII: The Black Gate, as well as its expansion: Forge of Virtue.

I recommend playing the game using Exult, which adds some quality of life features (such as a feeding hotkey and a “use all keys” hotkey) as well as the option to use higher quality audio packs, implement bug fixes, and change the font into something easier on the eyes.

Summary

The protagonist of the Ultima series is “the Avatar”, a blank slate isekai protagonist from our world who has previously travelled to the world of Britannia several times and saved it from many threats, also becoming the shining paragon of the virtues meant to guide its people.

In this game, you once again cross the portal to Britannia to save it from a new and mysterious extradimensional threat. As soon as you arrive, you immediately discover two things:

1- A violent ritualistic murder has just taken place.

2- There is suspicious new organization called “The Fellowship” gaining adherents throughout the land.

It is up to you to investigate these developments.

Freedom

In terms of freedom, the Black Gate has plenty overall but there are areas where it is not quite there.

Once you can manage to get the password to get out of the locked-down town of Trinsic you are free to go nearly anywhere in the game right away and have multiple means of transportation to accomplish this, such as moongates or ships.

And there are some very real rewards to exploring like this as well, such as various treasure caches and other interesting findings. 

The world is actually very small by modern standards, especially when settlements occupy so much of it, but both the towns and the wilderness areas are dense with content.

Notably, the game also allows you to perform various activities. From stealing to making a honest living by baking bread (which is something you can do thanks to how interactive the environment is) or gathering eggs at a farm.

Where it falls short is in terms of having multiple possible solutions for quests. Generally there is only one correct option for how to complete them.

That said, there is a bad ending you might be able to find in addition to the canonical good ending.

Character Creation/Customization

This is one of the big minuses of the game. While you can select your name and gender (and with Exult also have a wider selection of portraits) that is about it for character creation.

All characters will start with the same stats and there are no character classes. You can develop your stats through training and specialize through your choice of equipment, but by the end of the Forge of Virtue expansion you will have maxed stats and the best weapon in the game (a sword) regardless, and you will definitely need to cast a few spells to progress the main quest as well.

This can make every playthrough feel much like the last, as there isn’t that much of a way to vary how your character develops or what abilities they’ll end up having. You will always be a master of absolutely everything in the end unless you go out of your way to avoid doing the Forge of Virtue expansion.

Story/Setting

While the game is a bit too obvious and heavy-handed about its villains, there are still many interesting storylines in the game that deal with mature subjects that remain relevant today, such as cults, drug abuse, workplace exploitation, and xenophobia.

However, the setting as a whole is greater than any individual storyline taking place within. With the exception of most guards and bandits, every single NPC in the game is an individual with a name, schedule, living space, and defined personality. This was not the norm in 1992 and even today there’s not many games that really implement this well. The world is also very detailed in terms of things like the services available to you, the general interactivity of the game world, and the sheer amount of things that populate every corner of it.

The initial murder is not only a strong hook for investigation but also a shocking scene in its own right. The Guardian also proves to have a significant presence as a villain, using a mental link to remotely taunt you based on the context of what is happening. For example, if your companions die he may offer you some exaggerated, mocking pity.

Immersion

There is something very interesting and comfortable about just watching the various inhabitants of a town just go about their daily lives. They work during the day, eat at certain times (either at home or at one of the many taverns in the land), and sleep at night. They don’t just strangely repeat one single action during the day either, they may do things like open windows when the weather is nice or turn candles and streetlamps on at night.

In terms of immersion, Ultima 7 is my primary example of a game that does an excellent job of it even if there’s some weirdness going on with the setting. Even after having played so many more games throughout my life, only a few are on the same level as either part of Ultima 7 when it comes to immersion.

Gameplay

There are three broad aspects to the gameplay here that I want to discuss.

The first is combat. It is actually simple enough that you can call it almost entirely automatic. You simply enable combat mode by pressing C and your party will automatically go and fight nearby hostile enemies based on whatever combat orders you have selected for them (by default, attacking the closest enemy).

This is certainly better than having an outright bad or annoying combat system as the whole process is simple and painless, but I still wish there was more depth to it. Your stats, and especially your equipment, still play a role but other than things like pausing to use items or cast spells the whole process is very uninvolved.

I kind of wish there was more depth to it, but at least the other two areas of the gameplay are reasonably good.

The next aspect of gameplay is dialogue, which uses dialogue trees for the first time in the series. Previously, it required typing in keywords, which are retained but as dialogue options you can just click on rather than remember and type.

While the keywords are not really written as natural language most of the time (requiring some imagination to determine the specifics of your dialogue), the system is very easy to use regardless. It definitely lacks depth compared to something like Fallout: New Vegas, but so do most games.

The third and most notable thing is the way you interact with the world in general. It is both extremely simple and very immersive at the same time.

Ultima 7 is a game that can be played entirely with the mouse (though keyboard hotkeys make everything much more comfortable). You can right click a space to walk there, you can left click something to identify what it is, and you can use double left click to interact.

For example, double left click over an NPC to talk to them (or attack them, if combat mode is enabled), double left click a door to open it, double left click a loaf of bread to feed it to someone, and so on.

But there is more. By holding your click over an item and dragging it, you can move it. This has various applications beyond just being how you pick things up and add them to your inventory. For example, sometimes objects may be hidden beneath other objects, or objects may need to be placed in a specific location.

There are some downsides to this system. Particularly, the issue that keeping your inventory organized can be time-consuming when it has to be done by manually dragging objects around, and this can also make looting relatively slow.

Despite this, I think this kind of interaction system has a lot of potential. It just has some clunky aspects to be ironed out.

Aesthetics

Ultima 7 was very good-looking for its time, and although modern players will not be very impressed by how it looks or sounds, it still remains easily legible in a way that some other old games are not. That, and the ability to identify anything with just a left click, makes this a very easy game to make out at the very least.

Some of the music of this game is very distinctive too, and will likely stay with you after a full playthrough.

In terms of style, the Black Gate does have a bit of an identity while still having a very familiar medieval fantasy setting with things like trolls, animated skeletons, dragons, and liches. While there are aspects that help the setting distinguish itself a bit, they are relatively subtle.

If I had to describe the feeling of playing this, I’d call it “open and laid back”. While the main quest deals with a looming threat to the entire world, the game does not follow this overly closely at first, letting you deal with it at your own pace and without having your exploration options limited by the story.

In fact, when I was young I often just ignored that and went to live in a creepy ruin in the swamp.

(Don’t expect many pictures in these reviews, but have one of my “childhood home.”)

I’d say that Ultima 7′s second part (Serpent Isle) has a much stronger and also darker and more isolating atmosphere overall and that has a lot of appeal to me in particular, but the Black Gate is definitely more open and less linear, and I also appreciate that.

Accessibility

It pleases me to say that Ultima 7 remains extremely easy to pick up and play. Even setting up Exult is not complicated in the least.

The gameplay is intuitive and simple, the UI is minimal, stats are basic (and not even that important), and the combat is automatic. I expect that this is not only the easiest point of entry into the Ultima series as a whole but also likely even easier to get into than many modern RPGs!

It does have some aspects that may be a bit clunky, like all the inventory-related dragging, but it’s definitely not obscure or complicated even to someone who has not read the manual (though I’d still recommend doing that). I literally played this game as a tiny child who could barely read or understand English and still got really into it.

The one thing I’d like to point out is that the game uses a type of copy protection where at a couple of story points (including an extremely early one to leave the first town) you will be asked some questions that require using the manual and external map to answer. You can just google the answers for these.

Conclusion

As I write more of these reviews there will be many games that are interesting, but deeply flawed. Games that are worth trying out but maybe not finishing, as well as games that had interesting ideas but that I can’t entirely recommend due to serious problems that will easily put people off.

But I do not think the Black Gate is such a game. I can easily recommend it with no qualifiers despite the fact that it is almost 30 years old. This is really a game that all RPG fans should at the very least try for a few hours, and not only for its historical significance. It is genuinely a good game worthy of its praise.

I will review its sequel, Ultima VII Part 2: Serpent Isle, next.

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty in the Blood - Part One

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined... 

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses! 

Warning: This chapter contains hints of smut and GRAPHIC descriptions of death and murder. Later on, this fic will also include rape/non con, dub con, kidnapping, yandere/obsessive elements, and even MORE graphic descriptions of death and murder. Please read at your own risk, and as usual, this is only for the eyes of those 18 and older. Thank you, and enjoy!

It was hard to find a decent guy these days. New York was the city of dreamers, artists, and absolute weirdos, and out of the three, you only seemed to attract the latter. You’d been to speed dating events and Singles Night at your local bar, but there was never a connection, never a spark, and every guy seemed to have something fundamentally wrong with him. It wasn’t that you were looking for the perfect guy, it was just that you’d met too many who were demanding, controlling, or misogynistic.  

You’d given up on finding your special someone a year after you’d moved to the city. After all, being single wasn’t too bad. You could do what you want whenever you wanted without having to think about someone else. So what if you didn’t have anyone to kiss on New Years? So what if you cried a little every now and then from feeling so alone? It was fine. It was absolutely fine, you told yourself. Fine, fine, fine…

“I’m absolutely fine, Wanda. I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy.”

You were sat across from your good friend, who was stirring her coffee with one hand while she tapped her fingers against the table with the other. She arched a skeptical eyebrow at you before taking a sip of her drink.

“You’re right; you don’t. But you’re lonely,” she pointed out. “A boyfriend would help with that.”

There was no denying that she was right. Wanda was perceptive, and she was also one of your closest friends. You’d met her during your first week of living in New York, and she’d helped you adjust to living in such a busy, fast-paced place. She probably knew you better than you knew yourself, and that was why you slumped in defeat and threw back the last gulp left of your mimosa.

“God, you’re right,” you bemoaned. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know,” she grinned. “But don’t worry; I can help.”

“Wanda, not that I don’t appreciate your effort, but the last guy you sent me out on a date with got mad that I didn’t put out after he paid for my dinner. I don’t want to go on any more blind dates.”

She winced, reaching over to pat the back of your hand.

“I had no idea Kyle was like that,” she promised you. “If I’d known he would be such an asshole you know I wouldn’t have set you up. But I wasn’t going to suggest another blind date.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“What did you have in mind, then?”

She grinned and reached into her purse, fishing around until she found her phone.

“I heard of a new dating app that made me immediately think of you,” she explained excitedly, pulling up the website and passing her device over to you. “It matches you with people in your area based on your Google searches!”

“Pfffft.” You scoffed, taking a quick glance at the screen before looking back to your friend. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard of.”

“I know, I know, it’s a strange concept. But it has one of the highest success ratings out of all the dating websites! It’s only been around for six months, but over half of its users say that they’ve found someone they can see themselves spending the rest of their lives with!”

“Statistics can be made up, you know,” you groused. “Besides, one look at my browser history would send anyone running in the opposite direction.”

“Maybe not someone who has one similar to yours,” she pointed out. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Wanda, you know what I do for a living, right? I could match with some kind of serial killer!”

Your friend just waved you off and ordered another coffee, picking up her phone again and stuffing it into her pocket.

“Just try it? Please?” she begged. “Just give it a shot, and if it doesn’t work out, then that’s that, right? No harm done.”

Several hours later, and you found yourself sitting on your couch, staring at the same website homepage that Wanda had shown you. You bit your lip, letting your fingers skim over your laptop’s keys, not typing anything just yet but feeling their ridges as you considered the “Join Now” button.

There wouldn’t be any harm in it, right? Just like Wanda said, if you hated the kind of people you matched with, then you could always delete your profile. And you didn’t only search things for your research, after all; you also googled recipes and cute animal videos. What if you matched with a gorgeous guy who’d also googled “Try Not To Laugh – Kitten Edition”? Hell yeah.

After taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you clicked on the button, making quick work of filling out the ‘About You’ information. Five minutes later, you’d chosen a profile picture and linked your Google account to the website, and you were ready to sift through your matches. The wheel on the screen turned slowly as your computer processed the information, and you actually jolted when it dinged with the results.

Well. Result. There was only one person who’d shown up with a similar search history as you. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, and you almost closed your laptop and went to retreat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s from your fridge, calling it a day and forgetting the whole debacle. But then you saw his profile picture and… Holy shit.

He was lean and pale, and your eyes were immediately drawn to his long, black hair. He had it slicked back in the photo with just one strand hanging down over his left eye. In the photo, he was wearing an exquisitely tailored black suit with a black shirt and tie underneath it, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail along the lithe contours of his body. He looked as if he were carved from marble; you almost started drooling just from the sight of him.

You jumped again when your computer dinged for a second time, and your eyes widened when you saw that you had a new message in your inbox. With fingers that were just barely trembling, you opened it, skimming over the message from the man you’d paired with.

Good evening. I must admit, I was quite surprised when I got the notification that we’d matched with one another. I’ve had this profile for about four months, and I’d had yet to be paired with anyone.

So he was handsome and eloquent. You clicked on his profile and blinked when you saw his name. Loki Odinson. Wow. Even his name was refined, if not a little strange; it sounded like a name you’d give to one of the characters in your books.

Hello, Loki, you typed out. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was pretty surprised to find someone else who has such a twisted search history. I don’t know if I should be happy or concerned.

It only took him a few moments to reply.

The feeling is mutual; I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for the morbidity, though. Mine is that I happen to be a coroner for a living. And yours is…?

I’m a writer, you explained, your interest piqued by his profession. I write murder mysteries. So, yeah… Morbidity seems like a fitting way to describe it.

A writer, you say. I happen to be quite an avid reader; would I know any of your work?

I’m not sure; have you ever heard of The Bell Ringer? That’s probably my most well-known book.

You’re kidding.

He sent you a picture, and it was of a pale hand holding a copy of The Bell Ringer, your name glistening in bold font beneath the title.

I’m a great fan of your work, as you can see. I own several of your novels.

Another photo loaded beneath the newest text, and it was of a shelf full of your books. The Shrew Woman, A Night in New Hampshire, The Hanging Woman – nine books in total. The only one that you’d written that wasn’t there was the one you’d just sent out to your publisher, and you suspected that once it was out in stores, it would be joining the ranks of Loki’s shelf.

Wow! It’s always so nice to meet a reader. I’m so glad you like my stuff!

Oh, love, you’re a huge talent. I must say, I’ve found your work rather inspiring.

That’s so kind of you to say!

I know that this is rather forward, but are you doing anything tonight?

You glanced up at the clock you had hanging on the wall – 8:13 pm. It was already pretty late; typically you’d be putting on your pajamas and curling up in bed to do some late night reading here soon. But something inside of you whispered that you should do it; you weren’t spontaneous enough. What if this was an opportunity to meet the One? At the very least, it would be cool to meet such a loyal reader.

It depends on if this guy I’m talking to online asks me out. Do you think he will?

He would have to be a fool not to. I suspect he’ll ask you if you’d like to meet at a café.

Well, then, I suspect I’ll have to say yes.

An excited grin was plastered over your lips as you bantered back and forth, and when Loki sent you an address and a message saying ‘I’ll see you there in twenty minutes’, you jumped off of your sofa and rushed to put on your shoes. You were still dressed in the leggings and oversized sweater you’d worn to brunch with Wanda, and all you had to do was straighten your hair and pull on your boots before you were out the door. The address he’d sent you was within walking distance of your apartment; in fact, you’d been there before, but never on a date.

Your heart was pounding the entire way over, and you couldn’t get over how unlike you this was. You didn’t just get up and meet guys you’d met on the internet on such short notice, much less so late at night. And yet here you were, stepping into the café fifteen minutes after receiving Loki’s message. Your eyes scanned the room, but it appeared that he wasn’t there yet. As you got in line to order, you tried to calm yourself, not wanting to look too frazzled when your date finally showed up. You tried to even your breathing, twisting the fabric of your sleeves between your nervous fingers.

He’s just a person, you told yourself. You’ve been on dates before; everything was going to be fine. Nothing bad was going to-

“Hello, there.”

You gasped and turned around, eliciting a chuckle from the man now towering over you. He was dressed in a set of black trousers with a simple white button-down tucked into them, and his hair was loose and falling around his shoulders. His grin was wide and full of teeth, with just the slightest sinister edge to it. But his eyes were warm and twinkling with excitement and just a hint of mischief. Those clear blue irises brought a smile to your own lips, and you chuckled along with him at your initial fright.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you walk in,” you explained.

“It’s quite alright,” he assured you, offering his hand. “I know you already are aware, but I’m Loki.”

You grinned and introduced yourself, going to shake his hand, but he smoothly cradled your fingers and drew them up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person,” he cooed, seemingly all too aware of how flustered you now were.

You opened your mouth to say something in return, but you couldn’t think of anything to say as silence lay heavily between the two of you. You were saved, though, when the barista called out to you, asking if she could take your order. You spun around on your heel and shot her a grateful glance before ordering your favorite menu item and reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“…And I’ll have a cup of Earl Grey,” Loki stepped in, handing her a card from his open wallet.

“Oh, I could have paid for mine,” you protested, but he waved you off.

“No, no, love. It’s my treat.”

He gave you a tight, close-lipped smile, and you didn’t protest further as he paid for your orders. He led you to a booth in the corner, sliding into the side opposite to yours gracefully. The leather squeaked against your thighs as you shuffled in, and when you were finally settled across from him you caught a flicker in his eye that sent chills up your spine.

It was gone in an instant, though, replaced by the same suave look he’d had while ordering his tea.

“So,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “As I said before, I’m a fan of your work. Truly, I have been since your very first novel.”

“’Beauty in the Blood’?” you asked incredulously. “I’m surprised; no one seems to like that one. After reading it, my mom suggested that I start going to therapy.”

Loki chuckled, licking his lips, and your eyes followed his tongue of their own accord.

“Ah, well, whether or not that’s true, it’s still my favorite of your works by far,” he continued. “The parts told by the killer’s perspective were…beautiful. You captured his mind so artfully, it was as if…”

He paused, searching your face for a moment.

“It was as if…you understood him,” he finished.

You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking over his words. He’d skipped right over the small talk you’d come to suspect on first dates, but despite how strange of a direction the conversation was taking, you were…intrigued by it.

“Well,” you started, “I feel like I did understand him.  I mean, sure, he took delight in the killing of others; he saw it as an art form. But as twisted and evil as he was, he was still a person – a person that had come from my mind. Cuz the thing is…”

You paused, gathering your thoughts and trying to find the right words to convey them.

“The thing is,” you spoke carefully, “that every storyteller uses bits and pieces of themselves to tell a story. A story is like a stained glass window – it’s made up of different pieces of an author’s mind and soul, and it comes together to create something greater than the sum of those pieces. So, yes, I think I can understand him; his darkness might be a reflection of my own – deep, deep down.”

You glanced up at him, blinking when you saw the transfixed look upon his face. His eyes were wider than they had been before, and his lips were parted as he listened.

“Sorry,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I, uh… I got a little carried away. You probably think I’m some kind of freak-“

“I think you’re beautiful.”

His words took your breath away, and when the barista set down your cups on the table, you jumped in surprise.

“Is there anything else I can get you guys?” she asked cheerfully, and a flash of annoyance crossed over Loki’s face at the interruption.

“We’re fine,” you assured her quickly, giving her a polite smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome!”

You gripped your mug tightly as she walked away, savoring its heat as it warmed up your cold hands.

“So,” you said, desperate to break the sudden silence that had fallen over the table, “you mentioned that you’re a coroner. What drew you to your profession?”

Loki sipped his tea, humming as he thought over the question.

“Well… The conversation has already veered towards the darker side of things,” he mused. “I might as well tell you the story.

“When I was twelve years old, my sister killed herself,” he began.

“Oh, Loki, I’m so sorry-“

“Oh, no, don’t be,” he interrupted. “We weren’t close at all. I was adopted at a young age, you see, and Hella never accepted me. She was cruel, and she took every opportunity she could to remind me of my inadequacies.

“But, as I said, one day she died. At first, we didn’t know how it happened; there were no marks on her body whatsoever. She just looked like she was sleeping as she lay there in bed. We called the hospital, and the police, and eventually the coroners discovered that she’d injected bleach into her arm. Later on, my mother found the syringe under her bed, and all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. We finally knew the how and the when, and I never really cared much about the why.

“…That probably makes me sound like a monster, doesn’t it?”

You sat back, swallowing a scalding-hot sip of your drink before answering.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “I don’t think that makes you a monster. She abused you; it’s only natural that you found some relief in her death. I would’ve probably felt the same way.”

He studied you for a moment, tracing the lip of his cup with his index finger.

“I wonder if you would have…” he murmured to himself, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it.

“Well,” he sighed, plastering a smile on once more and straightening up, “you probably aren’t going to be very keen on a second date if I keep dragging our conversation into subjects like this. Tell me, where are you from? What made you move to the city?”

“How do you know I’m not from here?”

“Love, neither of us have the New York accent, now do we?”

You laughed, and after that the two of you fell into an easy flow; it seemed that the heavy beginning of the date made it all the easier to talk to him. You discussed what you liked about the city and what you didn’t like; you learned that Loki was originally from a small town right outside of London, and that he has an adopted brother named Thor that he was close to.

“He’s an oaf,” he’d said when you’d asked what his brother was like. “Everything about him is literally the opposite of its coinciding part of me. But…he loves me; he never thought of me as the adopted child. I was always just his brother; despite his shortcomings, I think he does mean well. Besides, his IQ level is in the single digits, so I’m afraid I must look out for him for fear of what would happen if he were left to his own devices.”

From there, you shared stories about growing up, about life and ex partners and mistakes and successes. Before you knew it, the happy barista from before was approaching your table again, this time with a nervous smile.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted. “I’m so so sorry to bother you, but we’re closing up…”

Loki glanced down at his watch as you glanced at your phone – 10:30.

“Shit,” you laughed. “I had no idea. Time flies…”

Your date shot a glare at the barista before his eyes flickered to you. He gave you a wide, close-lipped smile and straightened his collar, raising his eyebrows.

“Then I suppose it’s time for us to head out,” he murmured. “May I escort you home?”

“Oh! Of course. If it’s not too far out of your way…”

“Even if it is,” he smiled, “I still want to walk you home.”

Your heart fluttered, and you set a five dollar bill on the table as a tip before standing up. The barista scurried away, and you almost turned to apologize to her for Loki’s cold shoulder. But you didn’t know him well yet; maybe that’s just how he was. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it.

“You guys have a good night!” she called out after you, and you smiled over your shoulder at her before reaching for the door. Loki’s hand darted out and grabbed the handle before you could, opening it for you with a slight bow.

“After you, my lady.”

“How chivalrous.”

The two of you walked side by side down the street, hands brushing as you strolled down the sidewalk. You glanced upwards, smiling at the scattering of stars overhead as your breath fogged in the chilly air. You shivered, rubbing your arms a little bit to ward off the chill. Loki evidently caught the movement, and you felt his arm drape around your shoulders. You leaned into the warmth of his body, tilting your head up to share a grin with him.

“Again – chivalrous.”

He chuckled, squeezing you for a beat.

“I try my best… It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as you, but…very pretty.”

You laughed and hid your face in his neck.

“Stop… You’re too charming.”

“Oh, really? I was under the impression there was no such thing.”

The two of you fell back into a companionable silence as you guided him towards your brownstone, until he spoke up once again.

“I must say… There’s a question that I’ve been meaning to ask you that I’m just…dying to know the answer to.”

“Go ahead, Loki. I’m an open book.”

He laughed softly again, hesitating before voicing his question.

“If you were to kill someone, how would you do it?”

You paused, thinking over your response.

“Well… Why am I killing them? Is it a crime of passion or a crime of necessity? Am I killing them just for the enjoyment of it, or out of revenge, or because the person needs to die for a bigger cause?”

“That… That is actually an excellent follow-up question,” Loki mused. “Let’s say… A crime of necessity. The person needs to die for a personal reason with no anger or revenge in mind. How do you do it?”

You bit your lip, calling to mind all of your morbid Google searches that might apply.

“Um… Air shot between the toes,” you finally said. “Fill a syringe with air and inject it between their toes while they sleep. It’ll look like a heart attack that way.”

Unbeknownst to you, warmth suddenly bloomed in Loki’s chest, and you glanced up just in time to catch the fond, almost…loving gleam in his eye. He quickly looked away, tilting his head up to look at the stars, but you’d caught it. And it wasn’t that it unsettled you; you weren’t uncomfortable because of the look. You were uncomfortable because you hadn’t been upset by it. You’d felt that same flutter once again as butterflies batted around your rib cage.

Nothing more was said as you turned the corner that led to your street, and you silently ascended your home’s steps with Loki’s arm still around your shoulders. You reluctantly slid your key into the lock, only turning to him once your door was opened a crack.

“I had… A really good time with you, Loki,” you told him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. “I know that this isn’t what you’re supposed to say to a guy after a first date; I know that it might scare you away. But I want you to know that I haven’t felt this way in a long… Actually, I’ve never felt this way. And it’s really scary, but I hope… I hope we can do this again sometime soon.”

Loki’s eyes softened, and he moved his arm from around your shoulders to your cheek.

“I haven’t felt his way, either,” he murmured. “But I know that I don’t want the feeling to go away.”

He was leaning forward, his eyes closing, and your heart leapt into your throat as you met him halfway. His lips were cold, and smooth, and soft as they pressed against yours, and you leaned into his touch when he pulled you closer by your hips. A sound escaped your throat as his tongue darted out, licking past the barrier of your mouth to glide itself against yours. His hands came up to cradle your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing against your cheekbones as your lips moved against one another, and you hummed once again as your chests pressed together.

You don’t know who pulled away first, but you spent a moment just taking in one another’s essence, your foreheads pressed together as the fog of your breaths mingled. You heard Loki let out a chuckle, and you looked up curiously.

“What is it?”

“I’ve just…” He licked his lips and let out another soft laugh before pulling away.

“I’ve just never felt like this before,” he repeated.

You smiled and pressed a peck to his lips before walking towards your door again.

“Have a good night, love,” he called after you, and you paused in the doorway to blow him a kiss.

“You too, Loki.”

You shut your door, missing the way his gaze darkened as he stared at the façade of your building.

“Oh, I will, darling. I will.”

__________

Loki hummed to himself, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he clenched and unclenched his fists. The silver of the table gleamed under the fluorescent lights of his basement, and the air was musty, thick with the smell of iron…and decay. Instruments and tools were lined along the wall in front of him - knives, machetes, a hatchet… It was cliché; he knew that. But he just hadn’t been able to resist the temptation while designing this special room.

A muffled scream sounded from behind him, and he rolled his eyes before turning back to the perky little barista who was currently strapped down to another metal table he’d “borrowed” from the hospital morgue.

“Are you honestly still trying to scream for help?” he snarked, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’ve told you; you’re currently under about five feet of solid concrete. Who will hear you? Who will help you?”

The girl let out a sob, and he watched her big blue eyes flicker to the wall just over his shoulder before coming to rest on him again. They were red and swollen, and he let out a coo of false sympathy.

“Oh, don’t worry, little girl. None of these are for you.” He grinned, turning back to the table behind him. “You can thank my new lover for that. No, she inspired me to take a different direction this evening.”

A small, genuine smile came over his face as he picked up the large syringe, turning it over in his hands.

“She’s been inspiring me for a while, actually,” he mused, ignoring the screams as he sauntered over to his victim, syringe in hand. “She’s such a brilliant writer, my darling is. It truly was fate that brought us together; if I’d had known that my favorite author was a beautiful young woman who also lived in Manhattan, well… I’m sure I would have found her sooner. But I won’t dwell on lost time; I’ll just have to make up for it.”

He ran a hand over the girl’s knee, trailing it down her shin even as she struggled against the strong ropes twined around her wrists and ankles. As his hand gripped the arch of her foot in an iron-like hold, he let his eyes close. This was always his favorite part – the moments right before death. The anticipation was like foreplay; it got him just as hot and eager, and the payoff was very nearly comparable. If he were ever asked to describe the feeling of ending another person’s life, of ripping out the remaining chapters from their story before it could be written, the only thing he’d be able to compare it to was an orgasm. That white-hot pleasure that flooded his veins was addictive, as was the lead up he was experiencing right now.

“You know,” he mused, slowly drawing back the plunger of the syringe, “my girl is so smart… Not a lot of people would think to off someone like this. But it’s not as easy as you would think; you can’t just use any old syringe. It has to be big, has to be a lot of air. And you have to be careful; if you hit muscle, it won’t be fatal, and the whole endeavor would be for naught. But if you hit a vein, and if you get a big enough pocket of air…”

The duct tape on her mouth did little to quell her scream as he inserted the needle into her flesh. A novice might not be able to find a vein, especially not in a foot, but the years of medical school paid off, just as they did every day at his job. He injected the empty cartridge into her vein, groaning and letting his eyes drift shut. He was slow about removing the needle; the separation of steel from skin was slow, intimate… Gentle.

“Hush…” he whispered, drawing out the word with a hiss. “It’s done now, love. It’s done.”

He let his arm fall to the side, and he took a step back, watching the girl start to settle down as he put some distance between them. He gently set the syringe down onto the table before crossing the room to the armchair in the corner. Letting out a soft grunt, he lowered himself into the seat, crossing his legs and letting his head fall back.

“Fuck, what a day,” he sighed. “This isn’t what I was expecting when I woke up this morning.”

Loki lifted his head and gave the young girl a wry smile.

“As you may have guessed, this isn’t my first time doing something like this,” he began. “But I do try to limit myself. I may take…five victims a year. Maybe six or seven if I’m particularly stressed. My last one was on New Year’s, though. I’m not due for a killing for another few months, but… That girl really had me going.

“I was hoping that she’d invite me in tonight,” he confessed. “Though I wasn’t expecting it. It was our first date, after all. But a man can hope, can’t he? If she had invited me to stay the night, you wouldn’t be here right now. Alas, though… I had all of these pent up feelings that I had to do something with. And you were so…obnoxious back at the café. I couldn’t tell if you were being genuine with your disgusting, overbearing cheerfulness or if it was as fake as your blonde hair. But, god, did it get under my skin…”

The girl let out a sob, and he noticed that she was beginning to shake. He chuckled, feeling himself grow hard in his trousers as he thought of you. You’d come up with this idea, this beautiful, drawn-out murder. Such a sweet, innocent looking girl on the outside. But such delicious, pure wickedness within.

“Fuck,” he huffed, palming himself through his pants. “Despite the nuisance you made of yourself, today was so perfect… She’s the One, you know. The one and only girl who can ever complete me. I didn’t even believe in this sort of thing this morning, but for the first time in my life, I’m glad I was wrong.”

He forced himself to still his hand, moving it to his knee as his jaw clenched. In the past, he’d done this in front of a few of his victims; male or female, if they were pretty, young things, the act of killing them made him so hard that he had to touch himself as he watched them squirm on his table. But not tonight, not after you. That part of himself was only for you, now, and he was strong enough to resist the urge until his was the only heart beating under his roof.

And so he sat back and watched. At first, the girl only shivered, and after thirty minutes he was afraid that he hadn’t injected enough air into her. But then he noticed the way she was breathing; it was like she was a fish out of water, and the slope of her furrowed eyebrows betrayed the pain she was in.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, voice thick. At first she didn’t answer, but then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. He hummed in understanding, hiding his grin behind his hand as he scratched his chin.

“How marvelous.”

He knew she wouldn’t last long when her skin started to turn blue. After an hour, the seizures began, jolting and shaking her body as if she were a ragdoll. He watched in fascination, his cold, blue eyes never leaving her tied-up form. Soft, strained whimpers were leaving her throat, and he let out a purr as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

His joints popped as he stood up, and the heels of his shoes clicked against the concrete floor as he rounded the table, making his way to her pretty blonde head. He slowly, deliberately pulled the duct tape away from her mouth, and he chuckled at how blue her lips had become.

“This is a much better look on you,” he observed. “This is so much more real than those saccharine smiles.”  

She finally went still 84 minutes after the injection. Even after her heart stopped beating, he stood over her, watching the unnatural stillness of her chest. Despite all of the corpses he’d created over the years, and despite the years he’d spent in his profession, it was still something that he’d never gotten used to. People weren’t supposed to be that still; people were supposed to blink, and smile, and talk, and breathe, but the things they became after death did none of those things. They didn’t move, and they didn’t feel, and there was always a moment of disgust when he first laid eyes on a fresh corpse.

But it passed quickly, even quicker than normal tonight. The disgust faded away and left behind pure, unadulterated lust as his thoughts strayed once more to you. Typically, he would stay behind, lingering in the basement to dispose of the body. Sometimes, if he wasn’t too tired, he would actually drive out and deposit them in whatever spot he’d predetermined to be the one the police were to find them in.

But tonight, he left the corpse there on the table. He flicked the lights off and climbed the first, then the second set of stairs, peeling off his gloves and petting his cat on the way to his bedroom. He showered, then combed his hair, then settled down between his silk sheets completely naked. Then, and only then, did his hand travel down to his cock, and his mind once again, indubitably, trekked back to you. Your face, your voice, your beautiful fucking mind…

The thought that finally made him cum was the picture of him fucking you in a pool of blood on his basement floor, of the bright crimson painting your skin as he let his hands worship your body. The thought followed him into his dreams, ruby red and throbbing to the beat of his heart as he slept deeply into the night.

_____________

Detective Romanoff stood side by side with her partner in front of the dead body, hands planted firmly on her hips as she chewed her lip.

“How old did you say she was?” she asked the coroner, her eyes flicking down to the rope burn on the woman’s – the girl’s – wrists and ankles.

“Twenty,” was Dr. Odinson’s accented reply. He turned around, glancing between the two detectives before taking a deep breath and turning his attention back to the body. “I’m afraid that there won’t be much investigating for the two of you to do here. The cause of death was a heart attack, pure and simple.”

“A twenty year old girl having a heart attack?” Detective Rogers scoffed. “I think you got your wires crossed, there, Loki.”

Natasha watched as a muscle in the coroner’s jaw twitched, and he let out a frustrated huff as he peeled off his medical gloves.

“Detective, this sort of thing happens all the time – freak accidents that can strike even the healthiest of people. They are…unfortunate, but they’re also a fact of life.” He tossed the balled up gloves into a trash can and whisked past them, bending over to type something into the laptop resting on his desk as he continued speaking to them.

“After reviewing her medical records, I found out that her father died two years ago from a heart attack; if I were a gambling man, I would say that a bad set of genes were the only culprit here.”

“What about the marks on her wrists?” Natasha asked. “They gotta mean something, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Loki smirked, cutting his eyes over at her before straightening up. “It probably means that little Miss…” He paused, glancing down at a paper resting beside his computer. “Miss Allison Berry was into bondage before her untimely demise.”

“A woman is lying dead, Odinson,” Rogers spat. “Show some respect.”

Loki raised his hands up in surrender as he sauntered towards them.

“I apologize if I offended you, Detective,” he replied coolly. “I meant no disrespect. But I’ve run all the tests in the book. There were no signs of sexual assault, no signs of foul play. I’ll type up a proper report for the two of you, but I’m telling you now – the girl died of a heart attack.”

Natasha and Steve shared a look before turning back to the doctor.

“Have the report ready for us before the end of the day,” she ordered, patting Steve on the shoulder and gesturing for him to follow her as she made her way out of the cold morgue.

“Whatever you say, Officer.”

Natasha froze mid-step, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck bristle as a thousand images flashed through her mind after hearing him say that word. She gulped, oblivious to the confused look Steve was giving her, and she kept walking without turning back around.

“It’s Detective, now, doctor.”

The door clicked shut behind them, cutting off Loki’s dark chuckle as he was once again was left alone with Allison Berry’s body. His smile didn’t fade as he pulled on another pair of gloves; if anything, it grew as he finished the young woman’s autopsy.

“I was being honest with them; you know that, don’t you?” He winked at the girl’s unseeing eyes, his hands moving of their own accord as he stitched up the clean line he’d cut through the skin, bone, and muscle of her chest.

“It was just a heart attack.”

[outropeace]

elotito tagged me on this so i’m gonna do it for her <33333

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted

i began to write in general since i was around 14 like any other emo kid kdjdjsks and o began to write fics when a friend asked me for one as a birthday present. it was written in a hurry and it’s not my favorite but i really enjoyed doing it. i posted that exact same fic on their birthday

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?

it depends the fic i guess. and not really, i think the closest i’ve been to do that is in the rockstar au (coming to the @bottomlouisficfest very soon), i put one or two of my old insecurities in h so he could connect better and wouldn’t be persieved as just an asshole-y dude cause i don’t like that and louis don’t deserve that uwu🌸

3. where do you often find inspiration?

music, movies, tiktoks (DONT JUDGE KDKDKS)

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?

before the quarantine i had around 3 wips, now i have 8

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence?

i listen lofi youtube playlists shjdkld

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?

me repeating “Oh...” over and over again through tall my fics, it shouldn’t be legal

7. describe your ideal writing setup

rainy day, good coffee, comfy sweater, my cat besides me, arely sending texts about teeth/imessage games, snacks

8. favorite time of day to write?

nights (it’s usually when i have time)

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?

i’d LOVE to write a thriller

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? how do you typically overcome it?

i just leave the fic for a bit, i don’t really like to push myself about this cause i’m just doing it for fun

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult?

the easiest is the dialogues, i could write pages and pages of just dialogues in hours and the hardest is the smut dhjdd

12. how do you come up with original characters? (if applicable)

it depends, is the antagonist? i ask myself how’d i feel if i were them, like a third party just trying (and usually failing) to get in between

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word?

i like “wet” i just... yeah.... and least favorite i don’t really know tbh

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?

i like that people conect with the characters because i always put a lot of effort in making them realistic (as much as i can), i make them flawled and sometimes even messy but with good hearts and intentions, all of them are (even the antagonists). and my grammar OH MY GOD MY GRAMMAR

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?

hands down the ice prince fic. and funny thing is, i already had my prompt for the fic fest but i just couldn’t stop thinking about one particular prompt about a bratty prince and an alpha who hated omegas and the amount of POSSIBILITIES that had. two days later or so, the mods of the fest gave us the opportunity to pick another prompt if we wanted and the rest is HISTORY

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?

11 and single

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?

baby do we have TIME FOR THIS ONE?

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?

yes, always 100000000%

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?

angst, sadness, anguish, sorrow, jealousy, i love to hurt hearts. and it’s not an emotion but after they get together it’s really difficult to me to actually keep going (oh god dkdkdkkdd)

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?

that that’s okay to fuck up, that no matter the circumstances you have to respect your partner and TALK WITH THEM and that a person can be successful, independent and a badass while being soft and a c*mslut

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?

i think “write whatever you like, you’re not being paid for it anyways” is the best and only advise i’ve actually listened to

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?

it’s complicated cause my two favorites are abos and idk how that would work dkskkss but the ice prince and the alpha/alpha fic

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?

chronologically but i have a document apart where i write everything that comes to my mind at the moment, that one is A MESS

24. how do you handle criticism?

i think good, if it’s respectful

25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?

trust yourself, have fun

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?

ANY type of positive feedback makes my day tbh

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend?

none tbh dkdkks and louis, obviously

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?

about my stories, i love when people just come to rant to me about certain things the characters did and ask me why they did it

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?

it relaxes me a lot. i just can write for hours and hours and it just feels nice and in some way exciting

30. why do you write?

refer to question 29 kdkdkxk

boost yourself + tags!

1a. share the last sentence you wrote

from the exes to lovers au:

The second hiccup of the night came in the form of his ex smiling to a boy sitting next to him on a couch. The boy had gorgeous, dark and wild hair, clear hazel eyes and a pretty pouty mouth. Their body language screamed attraction and that they both were ready to devour each other. Louis was familiar to the smile Harry was giving to him, bright and seductive, ready to give anything you asked for.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about

right now i’m very excited for the happiest season au, my “cliche story” au and for my exes to lovers au dksks i’m excited about a lot of my wips i’m so sorryjdjd

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of

from the alpha/alpha au:

“I’m not giving up on love,” He softly touched the hand that was still grabbing his thigh. “To me, love is like flowers. Each one needs a special treatment, if you give an orchid the same treatment you give to an iris, the orchid will die. Same thing with love. I’m not giving up on love, I’m just changing the treatment. We might not be an orchid, but we could make such a pretty iris.”

4a. share the best first and last lines from your work(s)

favorite first line from the sugar baby au:

Powerful people only end up with powerful people. The rest are just playthings in their lives. Louis Tomlinson was many things, but he wasn’t anybody’s plaything.

favorite last line from the ice prince fic:

“Who would have guessed…” Harry whispered after a while, smiling against Louis’ lips. “the dragon finally got to keep the princess.”

5a. link the last fic you read

HAYLEY’S MASTERPIECE

6a. link the last work you published

that’d be the ice prince fic

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable)

hereee

8a. someone that inspires you

louis teheeee

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year

god, again, there’s so so many of them, like the amount of authors i’m so grateful for, the list is infinite but these are a few that comes to my mind

all elote’s (@defencelesst) fics makes me really really happy and never fails to give me a cozy/wintery feeling, her louis IS THE MOST PRECIOUS THING ON EARTH AND HER HARRY IS JUST PERFECTION, i’m in love with her descriptions and how she just takes you THERE. hanis @loulicate-recs always makes me smile so fucking hard. ris @falsegoodnight fics NOW.... well.... ris fics they make me smile but also make me want to throw my phone to the other side of the room BEST OF BOTH WORLD IG. MAR’S FICS (loubellies on twitter, idk their @ here i’m sORRY) ARE LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE AUTHORS AT THE MOMENT, such a pretty louis IM SO IN LOVE WITH MAR’S LOUIS ITS UNFAIR

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag!

omg i’m probably so late to this and idk how many of you have actually done this so here goes nothing @allwaswell16, @runaway-train-works, @greenfeelings, @kingsofeverything, @thepolourryexpress, @larents

[celestial-archer]

A Lady’s Tail Chapter 1

First part of the adventures of my oc, Kelpie!

Zoba is from the wonderful @reallifeonthetheseventhfloor (a 10/10 person), check out her writing if you haven’t. Its really good!

AO3

           _________________________________________

The rustling glide of scales on smooth stone echoed through a long cavern. There were several small indents along the wall, leading to adjacent rooms. They were near impossible to find, unless someone knew what to look for. There were trap rooms randomly spread throughout the hall. The remaining rooms each had a different specific purpose, such as being a lab, bedroom, smithery, mine, etc. At the entrance of every room had a hidden alarm system made of a crystal that activated an alarm spell when an unknown entity walked through. 

The rustling stopped as a naga stopped moving and caressed a hand down the nearest wall. Her name was Kelpie. She had short pixie cut black hair, purple eyes with square glasses, and sharp venomous fangs. Her black tail was incredibly long with splatters of purple all over. She wore a  dark grey pinstripe corset. 

This was her base. It wasn’t as grandiose as some she had seen, such as The Great Tomb of Nazarick. Her friend Zoba was in the guild and had shown her around it one day. It was basically a masterpiece that anyone would be in awe of. Hers...was not. It wasn’t flashy nor extravagant, but it was useful. She was incredibly proud of it.

She had first discovered it when she was exploring a small mountainous area of the map. Not many people came there because it was rumored to be barren. Her objective was to see if the rumors had actually been true, afterall, Yggdrasil had so many niche secrets that something appearing to be empty could be a possible treasure trove. She roamed around for several hours that day, not finding anything until she stumbled onto the cave. It was a tiny, barely noticeable cave that couldn’t even fit her tail inside. The possibility of it being a secret entrance to a hidden dungeon was 90% in her head, but 0% in actuality. Her first thought was to just cut her loses and leave to find a real dungeon, but something made her stay. Even now she couldn’t say what it was that made her spend weeks carving out the beginning of the cave. It just felt right.

She never really stopped carving it out either. Every time she logged in and had available time, she would spend 30 minutes to an hour expanding it. As of now it spanned throughout the entire mountain area. She first began expanding it because she had wanted extra space, but continued it due to the mountain range being rich with precious stones and metals. Expanding it every day would give her a profit of over 100 metals or gems. 

She sighed deeply and turned to look at her NPC, Goren. He was near identical to an Archangel of Flame, except for some key differences. Being at level 80, he had way more power than them.  His halo was a swirling mass of molten gems. A good amount of her gems went into decorating him. His angelic metal body was almost completely covered with gems and stones of different composition and color. Technically he wasn’t supposed to exist since she was only a solo player, but through the use of a world item she had stumbled upon he was able to come into existence. While not necessarily a handsome NPC, he was very pretty to look at with the rainbow of colors on his body. 

Flicking her hand in the air, the screen of the menu popped up. The clock counting down the seconds mocked her. In less than 3 minutes Yggdrasil and everything from it would be gone forever. Her avatar, NPC, and base, gone like a piece of paper going up in flames. Pulling up her friends list, the green font of two players rested at the top, Momonga and Zoba. Seems they were online too. She quirked a smile, happy that she wasn’t the only one seeing Yggdrasil off.  She was, at most, a step above acquaintances with Momonga, but he was a fun guy that cared deeply about the game. She couldn’t imagine him not being here for the shutdown. 

Zoba was one of her one of her closest friends in the game. They had first met while they both were dungeon crawling and ended up partying together to beat the final boss. Even though she was not an official member of the Ainz Ooal Gown guild, Zoba would still go farming and dungeon crawling with her. 

Kelpie hovered her hand over the message option, but let it drop down. She wanted to talk one last time, but didn’t want to interrupt anything either of them were wrapping up. These last moments felt too sacred to do so. There was a tension in the air that said she needed to be alone in these final moments.

Less than two minutes remaining now. She felt the seconds ticking by like an execution and in a way, it was. She slid her hand into one of the indents in the wall and a section of the wall scraped silently across the floor. Slithering through, she glanced around the room. Shelves filled with items ranging from magic books to limited time drops lined three of the walls. The fourth had a drawered desk with a simple wooden chair in front against it and an anvil to the left. The center had a huge bundle of furs from several different high leveled beasts. This was her bedroom in all its glory. 

One minute remaining. There was nothing she could do to stop the horrible march of time, but wait for the inevitable. Wiggling her tail under the top layer of fur, she settled down on the top of her coiled tail. She imagined the softness of the fur and the warmth that radiated from it. Her eyes drifted shut and she counted down.

5

4

3

2

1

0....

The forced consciousness of her IRL body never came. She peeked an eye open, expecting to see the white ceiling of her dorm bedroom, but instead, her vision was filled with the dark grey of stone. 

What...was going on? She pushed her hand down to get up, but paused.

A plush warmth pushed against her hand. Almost the same feeling she had imagined a few seconds earlier. Her eyes drifted down and confirmed, yes that was indeed her fur bed. 

Huh, different possibilities popped inside her head. Am I hallucinating? Am I in a coma? Am I dead? Am I trapped in the game? She lazily flicked her hand up and-

Nothing appeared.

“The fuck?”

She flicked her hand again and again, but still nothing appeared.

“Ok, the menu doesn’t seem to work. Great.” 

Kelpie ran her hand through her hair and propped herself up. Immediately, she fell forward and slammed her face against the floor. Her tail stayed passively coiled on the bed. Shit, she had forgotten about that. Note to herself, trying to move her feet would not move her tail. 

Putting a hand on her chin, she stared at it. 

The color was even more vibrant now than it was before. The black was so sheek while the purple glowed brilliantly. With a light hand, she tentatively touched them and shivered. That was a new experience. Her hand felt the cool, smooth texture of the scales, while her tail felt a muted pressure against it. Almost like a cloth between her hand and tail. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar.  

She shifted her hand and lifted the middle section of her tail. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked. She didn’t think her tail should be this easy to lift. 

Was it possible that she became stronger? She gave it a second of thought, but she shook her head to dispel the thoughts, no time to think about that right now. 

She placed her other hand on the opposite side of her tail and shook it back and forth to imitate the side to side movement of snakes. The feeling certainly was different from legs. Her tail had a lot more flexibility and there wasn’t the feeling that it should be one certain way. With legs, it's not possible to bend it in any way other than forward, unless the bone was broken. She could move and twist her tail in almost any direction. It was kind of freeing to not have any movement restrictions.

Committing the sensation of her tail moving to memory, she took a deep breath and tried to stand up. Well stand up as much as one could with a tail. It was a different balance than she was used to, more unstable. She no longer had two rigid foundations, but one long fluid foundation. She wobbled unsteadily side to side and immediately face planted.

Again.

Ok.

One more time. She could do this! 

She pushed herself back up, rubbing her face lightly with one hand. She wobbled horribly, but, by extending her arms to the side, didn’t fall over right away.

Progress!

She inhaled and tried to stabilize her center of mass. She shook slightly, but had enough balance to try moving forward. She visualized the image of a snake moving. Its entire body would swerve left and right, so maybe she should try that. It didn’t seem right for her to move all of her upper body though. That would disrupt her delicate balance.

She lightly swung her hips back and forth. It felt absolutely ridiculous, but she couldn’t deny it gave her results. She successfully slithered out from the fur pile. 

With the basics down, she spent the next ten minutes practicing how to move. She fell a lot the first half but was able to gradually work up from a slow crawl to a fast slither. The longer she practiced, the more her tail felt right. Like this was the way she was supposed to exist.

Well, one thing done. Now to figure out what was going on here. First step, exit her bedroom. She slipped her hand back into the indent and the door slid open. A warm and pleasant breeze brushed against her, causing her arms to erupt in goosebumps. It felt like she was outside in the middle of winter and the breeze was the little bit of sun shining down. Why was it so cold? 

Pulling a small fur from her bed and wrapping it around her shoulders, she slithered out of the room.

The wind blew from the direction of the entrance, so she decided to head that way. The walls passing by her were enchanting. She had never paid much attention to them before, being just a simple background to her, but now she wondered if she just never looked hard enough. The walls shimmered with rainbow particles in a nice contrast with the dark grey of the stone. She lightly brushed her hand down it. The texture was very smooth like a polished stone and warm to the touch. 

Why was everything so much more vivid? What was the cause behind it? The scientific part of her was desperate for the answer. 

She absently ran her finger tips along the wall. The smooth surface paired with the warmth was a calming tactile stimulation. Texture was a coping technique that worked decently well for her. 

Breath in and out, in and out, in and out. 

So much happening in so little time was overwhelming. 

Deep breath in and out, in and out, in and out.

She dropped her shoulders, releasing the tension in them. 

Ok, she was ok. She could get through this.

She wrapped the fur tighter around herself and continued onward, still dragging her hand across the wall. The cave got brighter and brighter until the light shining from the outside was visible. She could see the… greenery… of the outside?

She rushed forward, the fur slipping off her shoulders and onto the floor, forgotten. The sun beat down on her still body. She glanced around, twisting around to take in all of her surroundings. 

A forest.

She was in a fucking forest! 

Trees so densely packed together that she couldn’t even see past them. Shrubbery with berries and thorns at the bases. She was supposed to be in the mountains!

What the fuck! Whatthefuck! Whatthefuck!

Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath quickened into hyperventilation. 

Fuck! Fuck!

She clutched her head tightly as her vision swirled. She tried to force air into her lungs, but it wasn’t working. Her body swayed haphazardly and she collapsed against the bark of one of the trees. 

Oh god, she couldn’t breathe!

Calm down, calm down, calm down. 

She put two fingers against the pulse point on her neck and took deep breaths. One, two, three, she counted up to ten and started over, letting her heart rate settle. 

She inhaled, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled, repeating it until her heartbeat and breathing returned to normal. 

Ok, good. She was calmer. 

She pushed her weak arms against the tree and righted herself. Hopefully her nausea would subside in a few minutes. 

Shutting her eyes and tilting her head back, she took in the sounds of the world around her. It was strangely quiet, not a single bird chirping or any rustling of small animals scavenging for food. It should have sent warning bells through her mind, but the silence was too nice for her high nerves. 

Seriously, what was going on? She knew her dreams weren’t this vivid, so she couldn’t be sleeping. The coma theory was still a possibility but very low. 

Maybe this actually was her new reality somehow, but it just didn’t make any sense! It had to be an error of some kind in the game. 

A breeze blew through her and she shivered again. Scouring the ground around her revealed that nothing was there. Shit, where was her fur? Did she drop it in her panic?

Her teeth clattered and she wrapped her arms around herself. She made a plan in her head to find a permanent solution for the cold to replace the fur. She turned around and glided towards the cave. 

Snap

A branch behind her broke in half. Shit, it really had been too quiet. Of course something had been wrong!

Instinct took a hold of her. She spun around and hissed, the sound echoing through the forest. Her fangs elongated and venom pooled at the tips. Distortion took over her voice, slurring the S as she shouted.

“Who are you?! Ssshow yourself now!”

The green brush parted and out stepped a shiny silver angel with multi-colored stones all over his body. His arms were raised as he spoke carefully, his voice a quiet baritone.

“My lady, it's just me. I apologize for leaving your side. I should have asked permission to do so.  I will take any punishment you wish to impose.”

He kneeled in front of her, waiting patiently and radiating shame. Her body slouched back, resting against her coiled tail. She relaxed her face, allowing her fangs to shrink back to their normal size, no longer producing venom.

Holy shit.

“Goren, is that you?”

“I assure you, my lady, I am no mimic. If needed, I can show proof of my identity”

He remained completely motionless, his head bowed in submission. It was so surreal that she doubted that he was actually there. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. The panic was bubbling back up into her chest, but she took deep breaths to stave it off.

“My lady, are you ok?! Give me the order and I'll do whatever it takes to aid you!” 

She opened her eyes and peered at him. Yep, he was still there, but now his head was raised, staring at her. There was no change in his facial expression, but from the heavy concern lacing his voice, she knew he was deeply worried about her.  

“Ah, yeah. I’m uh… I’m ok, just give me a second to contemplate.”

“Understood.”

He continued staring at her and it felt like he was staring into her soul. 

“Actually, would you go retrieve my fur? I dropped it somewhere inside.”

“Of course! It would be an honor!” He exclaimed, his voice full of happiness.

Swiftly standing up, he gave Kelpie a deep bow and rushed into the cave. 

With a heavy sigh, she rolled her shoulders and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. It was nice to not have the heavy weight of his stare on her, but she was a little sad at the absence of his company. His eagerness to help was really cute, like an excited puppy. It lifted her spirits and reminded her of how she interacted with her own friends, extremely loyal and excited just to be with them. Some of her IRL friends would even call her a golden retriever with how excitable she was. 

It was possible that it would come back to bite her, but she decided to trust him completely. He seemed too earnest to betray her. Plus trusting him would save her more hardship for the meantime.

His hurried footsteps clanked from behind her. She turned to him and gave a small smile. The fur was clutched in his arms as if it was a sacred object. It was impossible for his facial expressions to change, but he still managed to radiate happiness as he reverently held the fur out to her.

“Here is your fur, my lady! Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Thank you Goren. I’ll let you know in a moment.” 

She grabbed the fur and gently wrapped it around herself. That was so much nicer. The cocoon of warmth banished the cold. No longer feeling trapped in the middle of a blizzard, she could think more clearly. The cold and large amount of new information had given her sensory overload. 

She observed Goren. He was intensely watching her again, probably waiting for her response. He had been acting very interestingly. He was so subservient and worshipful, like she was some kind of goddess. Was this part of a scenario the developers had set up? If so, she wished she had been given some kind of warning. She clicked her tongue and addressed Goren.

“So I assume you went exploring. Did you discover anything?”

“Yes! It seems that we are between a mountain range and a forest. I found no signs of the mountain we were in previously. There appears to be a city and small village in the distance. The village is closer than the city. If you wish, I can lead you there.”

She tilted her head and hummed.

“Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

Visiting the village would be very advantageous. It was likely where she could get more information about this new scenario and how to complete it. She didn’t really need Goren to lead her to it. With her ranger skills, she could easily find it herself, but having Goren with her would be comforting.

“Understood, please follow me, My Lady.” 

Goren turned and led her through the forest. Trees passed by quickly and she easily maneuvered over the roots and uneven ground. It was a normal forest except for the missing ambience of life. She slithered her way up to Goren, matching his walking pace.

“Goren, do you know why there are no animals around?”

Goren tilted his head to look at her.

“Of course. While you were resting, I took the opportunity to establish our territory. There were many species that had territory near the cave, so I defeated all of them. The other animals are likely avoiding us out of fear. Any who dare to challenge you will be struck down.”

His voice dripped with malice as he spoke the last sentence. Anyone with a sane mind would be filled with unease from hearing the deadly tone, but it just filled her heart with happiness, causing her tail to slap the ground repeatedly. 

“Good job! That will save us so much trouble! If we don’t need to worry about animals tripping them, we could install several traps and extend the alarm system outside the cave. Possibly even making dummy caves.” 

She paced back and forth muttering to herself about what traps would be good to put down, but  was interrupted by Goren gurgling and dropping down to one knee.

“My Lady! I am undeserving of your praise! It is my duty to fulfill your wishes and protect you. Everything I am belongs to you and if you commanded it, I would happily die for you!”

Her mouth fell open and she stared at him. She was just giving him a compliment, how had the conversation turned so serious?? She rushed forward and pulled his arm up. He gave no resistance and rose to his feet.

“No, no, no, there is no need to die! I gave you a compliment because you deserved it! It would make me very happy if you were to accept.”

“I...Yes, of course. I humbly accept your words.”

He tried to kneel again, but Kelpie held his arm tighter and gave him a stern look.

“Enough kneeling. You were showing me to the village, right? Let’s continue with that.”

He gave a simple nod and turned to continue through the forest. Kelpie sighed in relief and followed after him. His personality was different from what she expected. She hadn’t given him the worshipping trait, so where had it come from? She would ask him why he was so reverent but she was worried that he’d do something extreme again. 

She shrugged her shoulders back and focused her attention to the forest. They were getting closer to the edge of the forest. The trees were thinning out and she could start to make out the image of a village. The first thing she should do upon arrival would be to gather information. Knowing where they were currently was priority number one, but it would also be good to discover the main quest. Finishing it was probably the key to getting her menu and ability to log out back. 

Now that she thought about it, the immersion was incredible. The devs must have worked really hard on this, especially the npcs. She always imagined the personal npcs having a monotone voice, but Goren’s was incredibly expressive. She was interested to see more of his personality as well. She had originally programmed him to be shy and blunt.The blunt trait was intact, but the shyness was nowhere to be seen. In the future, would she see it through his interactions with other people, maybe even other players? 

There had to be more players spawned into random locations like her. It couldn’t be just her, right? Yeah, it couldn’t be just her. Meeting another in the village would make her day. They could share information and figure everything out faster. 

“My Lady, we’ve arrived.”

Goren’s quiet voice cut through her thoughts.

The village was just beyond the edge of the forest where they stood. There were several stone houses surrounding a wooden watchtower. Several villagers were wandering around doing menial chores, such as wood chopping and tending the fields. Kelpie scanned the area, searching for anyone that looked important. They would be the one most likely to be the quest giver.

“I don’t see the chief, what about you?”

“I apologize, My Lady, but I am also unable to.”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. She would just have to go searching for them then. Hopefully they’d be outside, she didn’t really want to search through all of the houses for them.

“Goren, use your skill “Hide Shadow”. We don’t know if the village is safe or not. They look harmless, but you can never be too careful. Stay in my shadow until danger appears or I give the order, understood?”

“Of course!”

He crossed his arm over his chest with a bow and melted into darkness that tunneled down into her shadow. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ok, time for answers. She set her shoulders and crept towards the village.

The field workers in front of her were hard at work, weeding and harvesting the wheat. They remained oblivious to her existence until she started crossing across the field, trying to avoid crushing any crops. The first to see her was a young male villager around the age of 18. His scythe slashed through the wheat stalk and he pulled the bundle away cleanly. He was laying the bundle into his basket when his eyes met with Kelpie’s. For a moment, nothing happened. They stared at each other, neither making a single movement. She lifted her hand to wave and all hell broke out.

The villager opened his mouth and let out the loudest scream she had ever heard. He turned tail and sprinted towards the houses. The others lifted their own heads to investigate and gave their own screams of terror. They retreated the same way as the young man, shoving and trampling the ones in their way. One was unfortunate enough to trip. He fell pathetically to the ground and whimpered in pain as he was slowly trampled to death. His lifeless body laid there, blood pouring out from under it.

The screams flowed through the air like an orchestra symphony and euphoria welled up in her chest. 

This was exciting! 

A breeze blew across the field and carried the metallic scent to her. She slowly inhaled then exhaled, enjoying the scent. It was enticing, like the smell of thanksgiving dinner on an empty stomach. 

Her pupils dilated into slits as saliva pooled in her mouth. Her fangs elongated, venom dripping down them. The sounds and smell were amazing and she wanted, no, needed more! A long hiss reverberated from deep in her chest. The sound traveled through the village and wails erupted from just beyond the houses.

Yessss, she liked that! More, more!

She flew across the field and entered the village. A mob of villagers were waiting for her with torches and pitchforks in hand. They shook where they stood and she could hear the loud pounding of their hearts. The fear was thick enough that she could smell it and it was as delicious as the bloody scent. 

Good, they should fear her! A forked tongue flicked out as she licked her lips. She could practically taste their flesh already. A hunting horn boomed out and like a flash, the mob charged her. 

Foolish~

The world slowed down to a crawl as adrenaline shot through her body. She could clearly see the terror on the front line’s faces. They knew their chances of survival was low, but they still had the smallest amount of hope inside of themselves. She would enjoy crushing that~

She crouched her body down and shot forward with explosive force. Slashing her hand in an arc, the heads of all the frontliners flew from their shoulders. Blood erupted out like a volcano and the bodies collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. It happened in an instant, leaving no time to react before they were dead. The mob collectively shuddered in fear. Many of the back liners dropped their weapons and ran for their lives, crying pitifully and letting prayers fall from their lips. She gave them a glance but didn’t chase after them. She had enough of a feast before her to ignore the stragglers. Kelpie brought the back of her blood covered hand to her mouth and dragged her tongue across it. The blood was sweet like a piece of candy. 

Tasty! Tasty! Tasty!

A feral grin overtook her face and drool dripped out the corner of her mouth. How nice would it taste right from the source? 

A muscular elder stepped forward with an axe, staring defiantly. Yes, he would do nicely as an example. Let them see what happens to those who defy her! He rushed forward and swung the axe at her head. 

Slow! Slow! Slow!

She thrust her arm at his neck, her fingers wrapped tightly around his neck and she lifted him off the ground. The axe clattered to the ground.

“Let thisss be a warning to you all. Those who defy me, die painfully.”

She unhinged her jaw and bit down on his shoulder. His agonized scream intensified as she pumped venom into his bloodstream. Releasing her hand, he slammed into the ground and convulsed wildly. He would die slowly and painfully. She brushed her thumb across the corner of her mouth. 

Laughing maniacally, she asked,

“Who'sss next?”

_________

She woke up from her trance several hours later, the taste of blood thick on her tongue and piles of bodies surrounding her. Her fur was drenched enough that there was no sign of its original color. In just one day, she had completely obliterated a village. 

The slickness of the blood covering her cooled her body uncomfortably. Yet, it still wasn’t a horrible feeling. 

Oh god, what had happened? Memories overwhelmed her mind with perfect clarity. The revulsion she should have felt was completely missing. In fact, just thinking about it was enough to make her happy. She touched her hands to her face and felt the smile she had.

She dry heaved. Why wasn’t she horrified by her actions?? What had happened to her?? 

Oh god, this couldn’t be the game! It couldn’t be! The game couldn’t affect her thinking and feelings!

Hyperventilation took her over and she clawed at the invisible pressure squeezing her neck. 

This was real! She had just murdered whole families and enjoyed it! Worse was that she wanted to do it again!

Her vision became hazy and black spots appeared all over. She fell forward, the sensation muted to the point of nonexistence. She dug her fingers into the ground and tried to drag her body away from the glassy eyed bodies. She raspily called out in desperation.

“G...Goren...Help…”

The sight of Goren rematerializing and reaching for her was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

[klywrites]

hello! this is probably a weirdly specific ask but I've been following u for a while and u seem nice. I was wondering if u have suggestions of authors who write short and seemingly randomly? I have adhd and even when I write I jump one thing to the next often with little warning. I know I can edit it later but.. I don't want to. I want to keep it that way but I don't now if that's too weird or confusing or messy? I'm worried people will find it boring and not deep enough but its the only way I can write and I don't mind reading stuff like that myself. thanks!

Hello! I am so glad you sent this message. first of all, I'm sorry I took so long to answer. Second, I support you 1000%, and third,, I can relate!

Note: This is going to be a long response. I’ll include any links in comments or reblogs.

Some people find it helps to write short stories. You could try writing a collection of them! But this post is going to be about a particular structure that I’ve been finding helpful.

Lately, I’ve actually been writing in fragments because it’s all I can do right now. I’m making it very easy for myself. I write down an idea or scene, which might be one or two sentences. Then it’s done. Then, I move on to the next section. I don’t worry about it “making sense” or being linear. I don’t have time or energy to worry about that now. I just want to write. So, I’ve found that fragments work.

the fragmented novel

We’re all busy, we’re all tired, we’re all out of creative energy. Sometimes we just need a small dose of fluff or serotonin or inspiration. Despite being bare, you can still find those in fragmented novels.

You might want to try reading some! These types of stories are definitely not for everyone and tend to be more on the niche side, but yes, they exist. They are a thing! They often require the reader to fill in the blanks themselves and make their own sense of what little is given. Personally, I think that’s fun!

Okay, so I admit I'm not sure about the "randomly" part but I know that although fragmented novels are often "seemingly" random, they often have a theme tying everything together. The closest thing to random I can think of is a person's diary, but even that will have some recurring ideas. But! I believe there’s no One Right Way to write a novel. Try it and see what happens!

a few examples

Last month I made a mini post featuring Dorthe Nors's Minna Needs Rehearsal Space and Days, both of which can be found in So Much For That Winter.

But recently I've been skimming through Mary Robison's novels, admittedly as a way to possibly boost my own confidence and gain a sense of reassurance. I don't know if how she writes is what you're looking for, but those who are familiar with her writing know her for her wit and minimalism. Her works have been described in reviews as having "minimalist yet mind-expanding prose", as being "jumpy" and "sharply delineated", as well as "witty and cutting, albeit undeniably weird."

Here's a review that I really like, of her novel Why Did I Ever? (which might be my favourite of hers):

(bolded font by me)

"Among so much modern writing these days trying to find a way to explain our situation as plush but dire, free but under surveillance, exhausted but ADD, Robison's fiercely offhand banter cuts through any possible cavity of bullshit, kills its own bloat before it even has time to turn into a scene... . Each passage assumes the feel of veracity of idea over unnecessary execution, as if we are being shown the tools that build a universe rather than the universe itself. There are people, places, time periods; these things each have their personalities, moods; each of the resonances stick out like the sharp part of a long passage that you waited to be paid off by for your effort. Everything is treasure. And by the sheer mass of its weight in such small space, the reader is forced to slow down, to hear the lines again inside her head instead of only on the page, and to parse what those lines might be trying to communicate, if anything."

- Blake Butler, Vice

Mary Robison has other novels, some of them being short story collections, but the ones that I think are most fragment-y (at least in structure) are:

One D.O.A., One on the Way

Why Did I Ever?

Oh! *

I don’t know if the genre or plots are your thing, but you might just wanna check out the structure — the way the text is presented.

* not quite fragments like the first two but has short chapters

Below are some screenshots I took of Why Did I Ever? (top) and One DOA, One OTW (bottom)

Notice how one section in One DOA is even written in bullet points. Isn't that fun?

[peach4cherryplease]

Free Like Rain

Authors note: unedited because I don’t want to.

A fic of what Peach is feeling told by the feeling of Roman sanders for his friend Remus

Wattpad here

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Roman sat in the vehicle at a red light. It was raining cats and dogs outside, practically flooding the streets making every pothole a huge puddle.

He was going over to Remus’s house. They are to hang out and watch netflix and just chill. No not the sexual stuff, even though Roman truly wishes it was. But it’s not. 

The music played loudly in his vehicle. So loud that a normal person would complain about possibly loosing their hearing. But not roman. No he was listing to what remus likes to listen to. Remus’s music style. It was so different from his own yet some how the same. 

He watched as the rain splattered against his roof. And all he could think about was remus.

He wanted remus.

Sexually? Yes.

As a friend? Yes

He wanted to touch remus. He wanted to hold his hand.

He wanted to kiss his lips.

He wanted to hold remus. He wanted- no! Needed to keep remus safe.

And there was nothing in his life that could ever make him feel this way.

Was he crazy? Maybe. He's only met remus 6 months ago, but it felt like they have always been together. As if they have grown up together. As if they were the same person.

The light turned green and roman pressed on the gas. 

He shouldn't be speeding. But there was nearly no one on the road. The music mixed with the rain. 

Roman closed his eyes for a second. Not too long because remember he is driving. 

He wanted to get high. No he doesn't. He wouldn't do a single drug in his life if its not prescribed. But remus has gotten high. Remus gets high all the time. He sometimes smells like straight weed. Thats the closest to getting high roman will ever get. 

But what was he feeling right now? Right now he felt high. High off of emotion? Maybe. 

Remus felt like a drug to roman. 

Roman was most definitely crazy. 

He pulled up in front of remus’s house. He grabbed his phone and ran to the door. 

His legs felt weak. He was so close. So close to seeing remus again. He needed this. 

He rang the door bell. 

Remus was amazing. He was cool. He was what people called edgy. And most people back in highschool thought that remus was a weirdo. That kid with problems. Someone who wasnt completely there. But remus was a lot more than what people where giving him. Roman knew this.

Roman knew remus was amazing. 

The door opened and there standing in front of him was a half naked remus. 

“Yo” he was greeted. Roman walked in, kicking off his wet shoes and followed remus down to the basement. 

“We should watch this netflix series called bonding. It seems interesting” remus says. Roman nods his head in agreement, not trusting his own mouth to work correctly. 

Remus popped a fry into his mouth. “Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, im good” roman replied. He was not ‘good’. His heart was betraying him, going 1000 miles an hour. He just wanted to touch remus, but he had no reason to at the moment. He wanted to be one with remus. He just …. He needed help.

The show started and roman wasnt really watching. Instead he was gaing secret glances at the other 19 year old. 

Remus paused the show.

“Ok, whats up. Talk now” remus demanded. This caused romans breath to hitch. 

God he loved remus so much. He was so…. Roman couldnt find the words to describe what he wanted. Remus was just so… yes.

He was everything and anything roman ever needed or wanted.

“Theres nothing up” roman lied. Remus didnt buy a single part of it. He looked roman right in the eye, or at least tried to. Roman looked away quickly. 

Meeting remus’s eyes? Fuck no. he couldnt do it. 

“Roman?” remus asks. His name falling from the others lips, thats all roman wanted. 

“Y-yeah?”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” 

There was silence. It felt so deafening to his ears. He couldnt do this. Nope. roman jumped up. “Sorry. Ive gotta-” roman started as he fumbled his way up the steps. Trying to find his way to the exist of the house. To get out of there. He couldnt breathe. It wasnt a bad couldnt breathe like he was trapped in a airplane that was crashing, but instead a couldnt breathe that hurt but also he wanted and enjoyed. Point is though, he couldnt breathe and he needed out now. 

“Roman” remus called after him but roman was already up the steps and sticking his feet back into his shoes and out the door. 

“Roman” remus called again. He stopped roman outside. It was still raining and he was still half naked. He didnt even bother to put on his shoes. He was bare footed in the rain as he reached for romans arm pulling him around aggressively. “Please dont leave, i like you. Youre the only one who understands me” 

Roman stared at remus. He was surprised. Remus. His green and white hair lights mixed in the strains of dark brown. Soaking wet from the rain. The rain running down his fair face. His pink.. Puckered lips. Remus was just so hot. 

But his words. His words are what surprised roman the most. “I-” roman starts unsure of what to say. He couldnt breathe. 

Remus was touching him. He was asking him to stay. He liked him. He liked him! “I like you too” roman says. 

“Then why are you leaving? I dont want you to leave. Please dont leave me like everyone else”

And the realizing thought came crashing back in on romans heart. This is why. He cant be in love with remus. Remus saw him as a friend. Remus was attached to him, his best friend, because everyone else has left. They all left violently, making remus wake up in a sweaty mess and endless tears. Roman couldnt do this to remus. He had to be his friend. He couldnt be more than his friend. He couldnt protect remus in the lovers romantic way but instead as a friend. And it hurt. It really did. He wanted MORE than just as friends. But he couldnt do anything about it now. 

“Please dont” roman says. And remus’s face drops. 

“Youre leaving?” remus asks. 

“No i mean… “ roman takes a deep breathe. His lungs getting the oxygen needed. “Im not going to leave you remus. Not now not ever” roman says. 

“Then whats wrong?”

Roman didnt know how to answer. 

Everything is what is wrong!’ he wanted to scream.  But he couldnt.

He wanted to lean down and kiss remus. He wanted to be one with him. So fucking bad. 

He shook his head. “Nothing is wrong” he says. Tears swelling in his eyes. “Go back inside before you get sick” he was pulling his arm from remus’s hand. 

“Roman! Please!”

“What? What do you want remus? I just want to go home” he says. 

“Please i cant- i font want to be alone tonight. My thoughts.” remus says a bit softer. And if roman wasnt use to how remus speaks then he probably wouldnt have heard him but he did. "please just stay the night. roman?"

roman stud in the rain. he looked at everything but remus. he wanted to sink into the ground, going to hell would be more pleasurable than aching for something he couldnt have. but he couldnt leave remus. not after he practically begged him to stay. he couldnt do it to him. so instead he nodded his head.

"ill stay the night" roman says. his words numb to his own ears. remus eyes grew wide. 

"really? you're actually staying?"

"yes"

remus grabbed romans hand and pulled him inside. 

they were touching again. something that roman wanted. remember? he wanted this. but why does he hate it? why does he hate being around remus? he loved remus's smell of weed and musk but he also hated it. he hated how sexy remus looked as he ran his fingers through his hair because they both got drenched. he hated how remus was so comfortable around him that he stripped while in the kitchen. roman needed out. he couldnt....

he just wanted remus. 

"here" remus handed roman a towel and fresh clothes. "roman. I don't know what wrong, but i hope youre ok. and i want you to know that I'm here for you" remus says pulling roman into a hug. his body dry and warm, holding on to a wet clothed roman. 

"I'm fine" roman said out loud. he looked straight ahead of him. Out the window of the kitchen to the rain that poured from the sky.  rain that was free to do as it pleased. something, roman couldnt do. at least not with remus. 

1490 WORDS

Im going to honest with you, idk what i wrote. This is based off of true feelings. If you're confused, dont worry im confused too.

[elizabethan-memes]

Can you elaborate on Erusamus and the reformation please, or at least point me toward sources? Politics make more sense than philosophy to me, so I see the reformation through the lense of Henry VIII, or the Duke of Prussia who dissolved the teutonic order, or France siding with the protestants during the 30 Years War because Protestants > Hapsburgs

So sorry to take so long!

If you needed this answer for academic reasons, given that summer term is pretty much done I’m probably too late to help, but I hate to leave an ask unanswered.

HELLA LONG ESSAY BENEATH THE CUT SORRY I WROTE SELF-INDULGENTLY WITHOUT EDITING SO THERE IS WAY MORE EXPLANATION THAN YOU PROBABLY NEED

Certainly religion has been politicised, you need look no further than all the medieval kings having squabbles with the pope. Medieval kings were not as devastated by the prospect of excommunication as you’d expect they’d be in a super-devout world, it was kinda more of a nuisance (like, idk, the pope blocking you on tumblr)  than the “I’m damned forever! NOOOOOOO!” thing you’d expect. I’m not saying excommunication wasn’t a big deal, but certainly for Elizabeth I she was less bothered than the pope excommunicating her than the fact that he absolved her Catholic subjects of allegiance to her and promised paradise to her assassin (essentially declaring open season on her).

I think, however, in our secular world we forget that religion was important for its own sake. Historians since Gibbon have kind of looked down on religion as its own force, seeing it as more a catalyst for economic change (Weber) or a tool of the powerful. If all history is the history of class struggle, then religion becomes a weapon in class warfare rather than its own force with its own momentum. For example, historians have puzzled over conversion narratives, and why Protestantism became popular among artisans in particular. Protestantism can’t compete with Catholicism in terms of aesthetics or community rituals, it’s a much more interior kind of spirituality, and it involves complex theological ideas like predestination that can sound rather drastic, so why did certain people find it appealing?

(although OTOH transubstantiation is a more complex theological concept than the Protestant idea of “the bread and wine is just bread and wine, it’s a commemoration of the Last Supper not a re-enactment, it aint that deep fam”).

I’ve just finished an old but interesting article by Terrence M. Reynolds in Concordia Theological Quarterly vol. 41 no. 4 pp.18-35 “Was Erasmus responsible for Luther?” Erasmus in his lifetime was accused of being a closet Protestant, or “laying the egg that Luther hatched”. Erasmus replied to this by saying he might have laid the egg, but Luther hatched a different bird entirely. Erasmus did look rather proto Protestant because he was very interested in reforming the Church. He wanted more people to read the Bible, he had a rather idyllic dream of “ploughmen singing psalms as they ploughed their fields”. He criticised indulgences, the commercialisation of relics and pilgrimages and the fact that the Papacy was a political faction getting involved in wars. He was worried that the rituals of Catholicism meant that people were more mechanical in their religion than spiritual: they were memorising the words, doing the actions, paying the Church, blindly believing anything a poorly educated priest regurgitated to them. They were confessing their sins, doing their penances like chores and then going right back to their sins. They were connecting with the visuals, but not understanding and spiritually connecting with the spirit of Jesus’ message and his ideals of peace and love and charity and connecting with God. Erasmus translated the NT but being a Renaissance humanist, he went ad fontes (‘to the source’) and used Greek manuscripts, printing the Greek side by side with the Latin so that readers could compare and see the translation choices he made. His NT had a lot of self-admitted errors in it, but it was very popular with Prots as well as Caths. Caths like Thomas More were cool with him doing it, but it was also admired by Prots like Thomases and Cromwell and Cranmer and Tyndale himself. When coming across Greek words like presbyteros, Erasmus actually chose to leave it as a Greek word with its own meaning than use a Latin word that didn’t *quite* fit the meaning of the original.

However, he did disagree with Protestants on fundamental issues, especially the question of free will. For Luther, the essence was sole fide: salvation through faith alone. He took this from Paul’s letter to the Romans, where it says that through faith alone are we justified. Ie, humans are so fallen (because of the whole Eve, apple, original sin debacle) and so flawed and tainted by sin, and God is so perfect, that we ourselves will never be good enough. All the good works in the world will never reach God’s level of perfection and therefore we all deserve Hell, but we won’t go to hell because God and Jesus will save us from the Hell we so rightly deserve, by grace and by having faith in Jesus’ sacrifice, who will alone redeem us.  The opposite end of the free will/sola fide spectrum is something called Pelagianism, named after the guy who believed it, Pelagius, who lived centuries and centuries before the Ref, it’s the belief that humans can earn their salvation by themselves, by good works. Both Caths and Prots considered Pelagius a heretic. Caths like Erasmus believed in a half-way house: God reaches out his hand to save you through Jesus’ example and sacrifice, giving you grace, and you receive his grace, which makes you want to be a good person and do good works (good works being things like confession of sins, penances, the eucharist, charity, fasting, pilgrimages) and then doing the good works means you get more grace and you are finally saved, or at least you will go to purgatory after death AND THEN be saved and go to heaven, rather than going straight to Hell, which is what happens if you reject Jesus and do no good works and never repent your sins. If you don’t receive his grace and do good works, you won’t make the grade for ultimate salvation.

(This is why it’s important to look at the Ref as a theological as well as a political movement because if you only look at the political debates, Erasmus looks more Protestant than he actually was.)

There are several debates happening in the Reformation: the role of the priest (which is easily politicised) free will vs predestination, transubstantiation or no transubstantiation (is or isn’t the bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Jesus by God acting through the priest serving communion) and the role of scripture. A key doctrine of Protestantism is sola scriptura. Basically: if it’s in the Bible, it’s the rules. If it’s not in the Bible, it’s not in the rules. No pope in the bible? No pope! No rosaries in the bible? No using rosaries! (prayer beads)

However, both Caths and Prots considered scripture v.v. important. Still, given that the Bible contains internal contradictions (being a collection of different books written in different languages at different times by different people) there was a hierarchy of authority when it came to scripture. As a general rule of thumb, both put the New T above the Old T in terms of authority. (This is partly why Jews and Muslims have customs like circumcision and no-eating-pig-derived-meats that Christians don’t have, even though the order of ‘birth’ as it were goes Judaism-Christianity-Islam. All 3 Abrahammic faiths use the OT, but only Christians use the NT.)

1.       The words of Jesus. Jesus said you gotta do it, you gotta do it. Jesus said monogamy, you gotta do monogamy. Jesus said no divorce, you gotta do no divorcing (annulment =/= divorce). Jesus said no moneylending with interest (usury), you gotta do no moneylending with interest (which is partly why European Jews did a lot of the banking. Unfortunately, disputes over money+religious hatred is a volatile combination, resulting in accusations of conspiracy and sedition, leading to hate-fuelled violence and oppression.) The trouble with the words of Jesus is that you can debate or retranslate what Jesus meant, especially  easily as Jesus often spoke in parables and with metaphors. When Jesus said “this is my body…this is my blood” at the Last Supper, is that or is that not support for transubstantiation? When Jesus called Peter the rock on which he would build the church, was that or was that not support for the apostolic succession that means Popes are the successor to St Peter, with Peter being first Pope? When the gospel writers said Jesus ‘did more things and said more things than are contained in this book’, does that or does that not invalidate the idea of sola scriptura?

2.       The other New Testament writers, especially St. Paul and the Relevation of St John the Divine. (Divine meaning like seer, divination, not a god or divinity). These are particularly relevant when it comes to discussing the role of priests and priesthood, only-male ordination, and whether women can preach and teach religion.

3.       The Old Testament, especially Genesis.

4.       The apocryphal or deuterocanonical works. These books are considered holy, but there’s question marks about their validity, so they’re not as authoritative as the testaments. I include this because the deuterocanonical book 2 Maccabees was used as scriptural justification for the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, but 2 Maccabees is the closest scipture really gets to mentioning any kind of purgatory. Protestants did not consider 2 Maccabees to be strong enough evidence to validate purgatory.

5.       The Church Fathers, eg. Origen, Augustine of Hippo. Arguably their authority often comes above apocryphal scripture. It’s from the Church Fathers that the concept of the Trinity (one god in 3 equal persons, God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit) is developed because it’s not actually spelled out explicitly in the NT. Early modern Catholics and Protestants both adhered to the Trinity and considered Arianism’s interpretation of the NT (no trinity, God the Father is superior to Jesus as God the Son) to be heresy. Church Fathers were important to both Catholics and Protestants: Catholics because Catholics did not see scripture as the sole source of religious truth, so additions made by holy people are okay so long as they don’t *contradict* scripture, and so long as they are stamped with the church council seal of approval, Protestants because they believed that the recent medieval theologians and the papacy had corrupted and altered the original purity of Christianity. If they could show that Church Fathers from late antiquity like Augustine agreed with them, that therefore proved their point about Christianity being corrupted from its holy early days.

Eamon Duffy’s book Stripping of the Altars is useful because it questions the assumptions that the Reformation and Break with Rome was inevitable, or that the Roman Catholic Church was a corrupt relic of the past that had to be swept aside for Progress, or that most people even wanted the Ref in England to happen. Good history essays need to discuss different historians’ opinions and Duffy can be relied upon to have a different opinion than Protestant historians. Diarmaid MacCulloch’s works are good at explaining theological concepts, he is a big authority on church history and he’s won a whole bunch of prizes. He was actually ordained a deacon in the Church of England in the 1980s but stopped being a minister because he was angry with the institution for not tolerating the fact he had a boyfriend. The ODNB is a good source to access through your university if you want to read a quick biography on a particular theologian or philosopher, but it only covers British individuals. Except Erasmus, who has a page on ODNB despite being not British because he’s just that awesome and because his influence on English scholarship and culture was colossal. Peter Marshall also v good, esp on conversion. Euan Cameron wrote a mahoosive book called the European Reformation.“More versus Tyndale: a study of controversial technique” by Rainer Pineas is good for the key differences in translation of essential concepts between catholic and protestant thinkers. The Sixteenth Century Journal is a good source of essays as well.

[singingisfun]

Changing Tides - Chapter 22

link to cover art by @otpapprovedbythegods

And here’s a link to an adorable pic of Dopey as a pirate by @clockadile

ff.net: From the beginning - Current Chapter

AO3:  From the beginning - Current Chapter

Tumblr: Prologue - Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9-Ch 10 - Ch 11- Ch 12 - Ch 13 - Ch 14 - Ch 15 - Ch 16 - Ch 17 - Ch18 - Ch19 - Ch 20 - Ch 21

Chapter 21: The Confession & The Declaration

Hello everyone! No, you're not seeing things. I've finally finished the next chapter! Thanks for all of the encouraging messages. Sorry it took so long. Hopefully, the last few chapters will go faster. Lots of love for sticking with me! Hope you enjoy!

Rachel

And, as always, thank you @optomisticgirl for your beta services!  

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Dopey has always prided himself on his ability to see the best in every situation.  And he’s always endeavored to encourage others to see it as well.  Life can be stressful.  It can be fraught with danger.  And in the case of those closest to him, stress and danger are a regular occurrence which, at times, has made his goal nearly impossible to accomplish.

And it certainly has been impossible for the past week.  The blanket of anxiety that has settled over the Jolly Roger since the night they escaped Regina’s warship has been nearly suffocating.  Everyone is tense.  Everyone on edge.  And no amount of distraction is helping.  

The Spark of Prometheus is still unlit.  Regardless of how many times Emma and Killian try to light it, it continues to lay stubbornly in its case, dull and black.  And with each failed attempt, the peace the two of them had forged since finding each other again has deteriorated.  In fact, it’s gotten so bad, they are barely speaking.

For instance, right now. There they are at the helm with Merlin while he holds the case and murmurs encouragement.  Killian’s hand is resting on Emma’s waist, but that’s the only point of contact between the two of them.  Emma’s hands are balled into fists at her sides, her brow glistening with perspiration and her eyes clamped shut in concentration.  

No one else is on deck and Dopey can’t blame them.  During the first few attempts, everyone had been gathered around, watching expectantly, but now they intentionally make themselves scarce.  Even Merlin looks like he wishes he could be anywhere else.

Long minutes pass, and Emma’s breathing becomes harsh.  Her eyes squeeze tighter and her head bows.  Then, with a sound of frustration, she stomps her foot and opens her eyes.  

Killian’s hand drops from her waist and Emma mumbles something Dopey can’t hear.  Then she turns and walks to the hatch, disappearing from view. Killian shakes his head and walks to the opposite hatch.

Dopey sighs and goes back to polishing the Jolly’s bell.

The way Dopey sees it, there are two obstacles standing in their way.  

First, David.  As much as he loves his king, the man is hell bent on keeping Killian and the princess from having more than a few minutes alone.  His protective nature was a bit comical at first, but as time has passed, it’s become clear the king is hindering more than the couple’s… um…  romantic tendencies.  

The second reason is less obvious. At least to most.  But Dopey can see it plain as day.  Killian is keeping something from Emma.  A secret that weighs heavily on him.  And he’s been keeping it from her since the first day she awoke on the Jolly Roger.  

“Do you know what it is?”

The sound of Merlin’s voice startles Dopey so thoroughly that he drops the scrub brush to the deck with a clatter.  

Turning, he faces the wizard with wide eyes.

“Do you know what he’s keeping from her?” the wizard asks again.

Confused, Dopey turns to scan the deck behind him to see who on earth Merlin is addressing.  Finding no one in the vicinity, he looks to the other man and points to his chest.  Me? he thinks.  

“Yes, you, Dopey,” the man confirms.

I… I don’t…  You can hear me?

“Yes, I can.”

That takes a minute to process. Dopey has never had a full conversation with anyone.  He’s always been limited to hand gestures and the occasional nod, so the thought that Merlin can understand him is a bit awe-inspiring.

A grin breaks across Dopey’s face. This is amazing!

Merlin mirrors his smile. “No more amazing than your innate skill of observation.  I’d be willing to bet you know more about the goings on in this kingdom than anyone, even the king himself.”

Dopey didn’t think his eyes could get any wider, but now they feel like they’re ready to burst from their sockets.

The wizard is right, though. He does know more than anyone. People tend to disregard his presence most of the time.  It’s almost like his inability to speak renders him invisible, which has made it very simple for him to learn a great many things.  Of course, his knowledge is all for naught since he can’t communicate it, but…

“You can now,” the wizard says.

Right.  Wow.  

Dopey bows his head, his brow wrinkling.  Now, what’s the one thing I’ve always wanted to - Oh! He looks up to Merlin as the thought gushes out.  Doc and Granny have been having an affair for almost five years now but they’ve kept it secret because, when we were young, the seven of us swore we would always put our brotherhood first which included never getting involved with a woman.  Whew! It feels good to get that off my chest. But – you can’t tell anyone.  Doc will have my head if you do.

Merlin laughs outright. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

A long time.

“Well, their secret is safe with me.”

Thanks.

“What about Killian?  Do you know what he’s keeping from Emma?”

Sorry, no.  I just know he’s keeping it from her.  Something catches his eye and he points over the water. Oh, look!  A baby dolphin!  Isn’t she sweet!  I wonder where her mother is…

“Dopey, focus,” Merlin says, bringing Dopey’s attention back to him. “Are you sure he hasn’t mentioned anything?”

Nope. But can’t you see it?  I mean, you can see things, right?  Things you weren’t actually there to witness?

“Yes, but not everything.  I can’t pick and choose what to look at.”

Dopey eyes scan the water as he replies, Well, I’m not sure it makes a differ – Oh there she is! Look!  He points over the rail to the mama dolphin who has just emerged next to her calf.

This time, Merlin spares a glance over the rail and a grin flitters across his face.  “Yes, the mama won’t let her get too far.  But back to Killian and Emma?”

Oh, right, well, I’m not sure it matters what the secret is.  Only that he won’t tell her.

“Fair enough.  But why wouldn’t he?”

Dopey thinks back to the first day Emma awoke and tells Merlin about the whole ‘pirate’ issue.

“Ah, I see,” Merlin replies.

And… Well…

“Well, what?”

Well, I’m not sure having the king here is helping matters.  

“You’re right about that,” Merlin says.  “We need to figure out a way to get him to go back to Camelot.”

Any ideas?

“Usually the simplest way is the best one.”

And that is?

“Tell him the truth,” Merlin replies.

Predictably, the king is none too happy about the suggestion.

“You can’t be serious!” David bursts.

“Unfortunately, I am, Your Majesty,” Merlin replies.

The king’s arms are crossed over his chest but he drops them to his sides.  “I’m not leaving my daughter!”

“David – ” the wizard tries again.

“No.  I’m not going back to Camelot without her!”

“But they need time alone.”

“They can have time alone.”

Dopey can’t stop the pfft that comes out of his mouth but when David turns his fury on him, he sidesteps to stand behind Merlin.

“Your Majesty, please,” Merlin says in a calm voice, “I know you can see Emma’s frustration growing.  She and Killian need to talk.  And it’s not the type of discussion either of them can have if they’re worried about you hovering around.”

"I don't 'hover'!"

Merlin lets his silence answer.  

"Okay, fine.  Maybe I hover a little.  But if I didn't..."

"If you didn't, what?"

"Don't treat me like a fool, wizard.  I know damn well they were sharing a cabin before I showed up."

"And I feel certain they'll share one after you leave."

David’s voice takes on a dangerous edge.  “If that’s your way of trying to talk me into going, I can assure you it’s not helping.”

This from the man who snuck into Snow White’s room every night for a solid week before their wedding, Dopey thinks.

“Did he?” Merlin asks, turning to Dopey with interest, “Did he really?”

“’Did he really,’ what?” David asks.

Merlin smiles at Dopey.  “You really are a font of information, aren’t you?”

Dopey shrugs and Merlin shakes his head in wonder.

“You and I are going to have to have a little sit down later to see what else you know.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” David growls.

Merlin turns back to David but amusement still lights his face.  “We were just discussing a castle wall you figured out how to scale in your youth.”

David’s eyes widen then land on Dopey.

“You knew about that?”

Dopey tilts his head and gives David a sardonic look.

“It doesn’t matter,” David declares, “This is a completely different situation.  Snow and I were – ”

“True Loves?”  Merlin interrupts.

David grits his teeth.

“Look, there’s more to this than just giving them time.  Think of all the things you could do in Camelot.  You could prepare for our arrival, find out if Arthur has found the other half of the dagger, coordinate with the other kingdoms.  There’s not much time left and a great deal that still needs to be done.”

David remains steadfast, shaking his head.  “Then, you go,” he says to Merlin, “Check in with Lance and come back and give us a full report.”

Merlin rolls his eyes.  “You think if I return to Camelot without you, Lancelot will answer a single one of my questions?  If you’ll recall, he wasn’t too keen on you joining me in the first place.”

“I can write him a letter.  Explain everything.”

“And he’ll think I forged it or forced you to write it.”  

“Then we’ll wait,” David asserts, “We’ll be there in two days, anyway.”

Merlin lets out a long-suffering sigh.  “Okay,” he says, “You don’t want to leave your daughter. I understand that and I sympathize. But they’re further from lighting it today than they were the day after we escaped the Regina’s warship.”

“That can’t be…”

“It is,” Merlin insists.  “If you don’t believe me, watch our next attempt.  We’ll be trying again after dinner.”

“Fine.”

K&EK&EK&E

Three hours later, David has to admit Merlin might be right.  He’s standing on deck, subtly observing the lesson.  

Tension radiates from the couple standing at the bow.  Killian stands behind Emma, his hand on her hip but keeping an obvious and awkward distance between their bodies.

As David watches, Emma releases a frustrated growl and opens her eyes.

Killian drops his hand from her waist.  “Emma…” he says gently.

“If you tell me I need rest again… “

Killian’s mouth snaps shut.

Looking back to Merlin, Emma adds, “I think we’re done for the day.” Then stalks away and disappears into the ship.

Killian stands immobile as he watches her go, an indecipherable emotion crossing his face that causes David’s brow to wrinkle.  It’s not anger.  It’s not frustration.  It’s something else…  Defeat, maybe?  No. Not with the way his eyes cloud and his jaw tightens.

Killian mumbles something to Merlin and goes off in the opposite direction Emma had taken, stopping at the rail to look out over the water. David stays where he is, apprehensive curiosity holding him frozen.  

What the hell is going on?

He watches the pirate run his hand through his hair and lean over, bracing his elbows on the rail.  His shoulders are slumped, his head bowed and realization slams into David’s chest.  

Guilt.  

David’s not sure how he knows, but that’s what the indecipherable emotion had been.  Guilt.

Guilt and fear.  

Over what? David wonders.  

“He’s keeping something from her,” Merlin says in a low voice, having crossed the deck to stand beside him.

“Do you know what it is?” David asks.

“I have my suspicions.”  

David continues to study the pirate’s defeated posture and things start falling into place.  This is the reason for that look they shared when they read the prophecy, when they found out they were True Loves.  Apparently, it was an issue before he even showed up on this ship, he’s just been too distracted by other things to see it until now.

“Something that happened while they were separated?”

“Yes.”

While they were separated… which the prophecy said they should never be.  

“Now do you understand why you need to give them space?”

Resigned, David bows his head.  “Yes,” he replies, “I guess I do.”

“Good,” Merlin says.  “So, you’ll go back to Camelot?”

It’s a struggle to be sure.  He doesn’t want to leave Emma.  He’s just gotten her back and the thought of willing saying goodbye to her makes his stomach churn.  It’s not just about the thought of her and Killian sharing a bed.  She’s his little girl.  His family.  

He’s waited years…  Years of solitude in Camelot.  Years of being cooped up while others were out doing.  And the past week, while he’s been on this ship, he finally feels like he’s contributing.  

The end of this is near and his patience is thin.  He’s always been a man of action.  And the thought of going back to the virtual prison of Camelot, grates under his skin.  

“Couldn’t I just stay out of their way?”

Merlin’s voice is sympathetic. “I don’t think that will work. They need privacy.  The kind of privacy that excludes parental supervision.”

David’s thoughts take a dark turn at Merlin’s phrasing.

“Not like that,” Merlin adds quickly.  

David huffs out a breath.  “Fine.  But I’m going to have a talk with a certain pirate before I go.”

  K&EK&EK&E

 After staring at the ocean for what feels like an eternity, Killian turns and heads below.  Hesitating on the bottom step, his eyes dart toward his cabin where he knows Emma is but he goes in the opposite direction toward the galley.  

Despite his somber mood, amusement tickles at his lips when he enters the room. He’s never seen the galley look so warm and inviting.  Ruby has put her unique staple on it.  The spices are lined up on the counter in pristine order, a plate of cookies made to look like different animals sits on the table, and where on earth she managed to find a cloth to cover the scarred wood, he’ll never know, but the room looks more suited to royalty than a rowdy pirate crew.  Smiling, he chooses a cookie that was obviously made by Grace, a line of sugar used to draw what would usually be a menacing tiger’s snarl now a happy grin.  

Rolling his shoulders, he pops the cookie into his mouth and sits down to reach for the scroll still sitting in the middle of the table.  He’s read it enough times over the past few days that he could recite it by memory, but he opens it anyway.

He’d been right.  It will be Emma against Regina – every one of his greatest fears confirmed – the now certain fate that the woman he loves is the only hope for the realm.  

His True Love.  

She’s his True Love.

It’s the most powerful magic of all.  Or at least it’s supposed to be.  And yet, when they faced Regina it wasn’t enough.  And that’s his fault…

Stuffing another cookie in his mouth, he leans back and stares at the ceiling.

“Do you have a minute?”

Killian’s eyes swing to the door to find King David on the threshold.  

Standing, he nods and David enters the room.  

“Please sit.”  David says, crossing to take the empty chair on the opposite side of the table.  

David leans forward to study the plate of cookies, taking his time making his choice.

He holds one up.  “What is this one supposed to be, do you think?”

It’s an odd opening for the king.  David is usually the type to get right to the point but for whatever reason, he’s taking his time today.  

Killian examines the cookie.  “My guess would be a dragon.”

David nods, still considering the cookie.  “You may be right.”  

At long last, he breaks a piece off and pops it into his mouth, then he sits back in his chair, eyeing Killian while he chews.  

“I’m going back to Camelot tonight.”

It’s the last thing Killian expected to hear and his mouth drops open.

“I don’t really want to leave Emma, but it would be better for me to return ahead of the rest of you so that we can prepare for your arrival.”

He pushes a map across the table and Killian sees an ‘X’ that has been added since the last time they spoke.

“This is where I want you to dock.  It’s remote but the cliffs are easily defended and the cove will provide privacy for us.”  

Killian looks more closely at the map, examining the area to see if he can identify any potential danger.  

The king drums his fingers on the table while he waits, and after a few minutes of study, Killian drops the map.  

“It’s an excellent choice, Your Majesty.”

David doesn’t respond, he just keeps drumming his fingers, his eyes narrowed and on Killian’s face.  

After a few tense moments, during which Killian has to resist the urge to squirm, David finally speaks.  “Are you still planning to marry my daughter, Captain?”

Killian can feel his eyes widen, but before he can reply, the king continues.

“Because your engagement is still official to my mind.”

“I… well… I hadn’t really…”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” David says with a touch of derision.

“I – I mean, we – we haven’t really discussed…”

“You love her,” David says, reaching for the prophecy.  “You can’t say you don’t.  The proof is right here.”

“It’s not a question of love.  It’s…”

“It’s what, exactly?”

It’s a question of whether she’ll still want me when this is over, Killian thinks.  But he can’t say that, so instead he bites at his lip and lowers his gaze to his lap, idly twirling the ring on his thumb.  

Several heartbeats pass in silence before the king speaks again.

“You want to marry her, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” he replies instantly, “But…”

“But, what?”

Sucking in a harsh breath, he regards his king.  David isn’t going to let this go.  And Killian can’t blame him.  The king isn’t a fool and he’s surely aware that Emma and he have already… consummated their relationship.  But the thought of voicing the doubts plaguing him makes his stomach churn.  

His silence prompts David to sit back in his chair and let out a small sigh.  

“I’ve heard a lot of stories about you, you know.  Stories of the ruthless pirate, Captain Hook.  Some were brutal, some were impressive, and some were simply outlandish.  I imagine the truth lies somewhere in the middle.”

It’s doesn’t surprise Killian that David has honed in on the real issue. He’s intuitive and smart and misses very little.

“I’m not asking what you did,” the king continues, “but you need to talk to Emma about it.  If you’re afraid she won’t understand – ”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” Killian interrupts, but then sucks in a deep breath.  “No, that’s a lie.  I am afraid she won’t understand.  But that’s not…  all.  It’s…” He picks the scroll up and holds it out.   “I love her. She loves me.  Like you said, the proof is right here but…”

“But what?” David prompts.

“What if that’s not enough?”

“How do you mean?”

“Merlin told us that our magic is light magic.  Its power is fueled by good.  So what if I tell her and our magic still isn’t powerful enough?  What if that power has been diminished because I’m… dark?”

“But you’re not.  Not anymore.”

“Maybe.  But I lived in darkness for a long time.  I’ve done some terrible things.  And I do regret some of them.  But others I don’t.”

David regards him in silence for a long moment before speaking.  “Everything you did – every choice you made – brought you here.  It brought you back to my daughter.”  

“Yes. It did.  But you don’t understand.  That darkness, it’s…  it’s still there.  I can feel it inside me.  So if I tell her.  And if she forgives me… What if that’s not enough?”

“You’ll never know until you try.”  The soft feminine voice has both of their heads swinging toward the threshold where Emma is standing, silently watching them.  

Both he and David freeze, but the king recovers quickly.  

“I’d say that’s my cue,” he says, standing and crossing to his daughter. “I’ll see you in a few days, pumpkin.”

“A few days?” she asks.

“Yes, I’m going back to Camelot tonight.  Merlin is taking me.  I’ll ensure everything is ready for your arrival.”

“But I don’t want you to – ”

“Merlin – and Dopey – think it’s better this way, and as much as I don’t want to agree with them, I do.”

Emma’s smile is a bit sheepish but she nods her head.

The two embrace before David crosses back to Killian and extends his hand. Killian takes it and nearly winces at the strength of the king’s grip.  

“You will marry her,” he says in a voice low enough that Emma won’t hear.  “Do you understand me, pirate?”

When Killian nods his agreement, David releases his hand and Killian immediately shakes it out to allow the blood to flow again.  

“Good,” David says, then raises his voice back to a normal level.  “I’ll see you both in Camelot.”

K&EK&EK&E

 Regina is sitting in her storeroom, pouring over her books when the door swings open.  She snaps her head up in annoyance at the interruption but before she can react, Claude steps in, his pace urgent.

“Sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who?”

“I think it’s better if you see for yourself, my queen.”

Regina’s brow wrinkles. It’s not like Claude to speak in riddles so whoever it is must have substantially flustered him.  With a long-suffering sigh, she lays the book down and stands.  

Claude follows her out and half-way down the corridor motions to four other knights to flank her. His concern piques her curiosity. It’s not usual for her to have bodyguards.  She doesn’t really need them and Claude knows that and yet, for some reason, today he feels she does.  

Who on earth would warrant such a display?

The doors in front of her swing open and she stutters to a halt, her eyes widening.  

Well, that answers that question.  

Of all the people in the world, this would have been one of the last people she would have expected to show up on her doorstep.  

Her guest turns, eyes meeting hers.  They size each other up for a heartbeat then her guest inclines their head with a quirk of a smile, “Your Majesty.”

Regina raises a brow. “What do you want?” she asks, refusing to deal with pleasantries.

Their smile spreads into a full-fledged grin.  “A great many things.  But let’s start with what I can offer.”

 K&EK&EK&E

 Emma follows behind Killian as he leads her to his quarters.  He hasn’t said a word since her father left them in the galley and his shoulders are stiff and set.  

He holds the door open and lets her proceed him into the room.  Once she reaches the center she turns to see him leaning against the now closed door, watching her.  

A distant ‘whooshing’ sound has her glancing to the deck above them, and she tries to smile.  

“Alone at last,” she comments in an attempt to lighten the mood.

But Killian doesn’t smile, his expression doesn’t change at all.

“I think, perhaps, you should sit down, love.”  

His voice is flat but not harsh and she complies, taking a seat at the table and folding her hands.

Crossing to his desk, he pulls out a bottle of rum and two glasses.  He pours both, then drinks one and refills it before crossing back to the table to hand one to her.   She stays silent, worried that any word from her would only make his anxiety worse, so she simply throws her head back and downs the contents of her glass, laying it gently on the table when she’s done.  He’s already turned away again, studying the amber liquid in his own glass as he swirls it around, then with a long exhale, he lifts the glass to his lips and swallows.

Keeping his eyes on the empty glass, he begins, his words slow and controlled, “The news came of your death while we were still in the Evil Queen’s dungeon.  The guards celebrated it, cheering in the corridors and rattling their swords along the bars – taking immense pleasure in taunting all of us.  Our kingdom was lost.  Our beloved queen was cursed, our brave king on the run and our beautiful princess dead and…”

He trails off, dropping his chin to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut as though trying to fend off the pain rising in him.  After taking a moment to gather himself, he lifts his head, his gaze unfocused somewhere on the wall in front of him.  

“I nearly died in that cell. My wrist was infected and I was burning with fever, and losing you took away all the will I had left to live. But I hallucinated, you see…. vivid hallucinations of you galloping across an open field of flowers, of walking through the woods, and I…  I just…” his voice starts to rise, “I thought I’d know it if you were gone.  I thought I’d feel it and I… I didn’t.”

He enunciates the ‘t’ on the last word, practically spitting it out, then takes a deep breath.

“After we escaped, I convinced Jeff to help me search for you.  Liam had told both he and Graham about an inn where we were supposed to meet you and he made them swear that if anything happened to him, they’d try to get me there.  So that’s where we went.  The innkeeper denied having ever seen you but I didn’t believe him.  He’d obviously been paid off to keep your whereabouts a secret, so we searched the area, looking for any clue and… and that’s where we found August.”

His voice breaks and he stops again to take several deep breaths.  

“I knew August would protect you with his life and it seemed that, if he were dead, there was no hope… But even after that, I kept hoping. I didn’t tell Jeff.  He always thought it was a slim chance and finding August was enough to convince him.  And since there was no trail to follow, we couldn’t continue the search anyway but… But I held onto that hope.  I lived off that hope until…  Until I found something that, in my mind at least, proved you were gone.”

His eyes flick to the chest and Emma has to fight the urge to stand and go to him.

He angles his body away from her, his voice rough and dripping with self-loathing when he tells her what he did.  He tells her about the ship they came across.  He tells her how he’d felt when he found the proof of her death.  He tells her how he’d wanted to die himself. He tells her about the venom that had run through his veins when he’d stood at the bow and given the order to sink the ship, the need to make someone pay for stealing his life.  He even tells her about the satisfaction he’d felt when the ship disappeared beneath the waves…  

Then he tells her about the fall out.  He tells her about the instant he’d realized what he’d done and the grief that rained down on him.  

Emma almost wishes he’d stop speaking, not because she doesn’t want to hear anymore, but because she can see how much it hurts him, how badly he’s tortured himself over this. He made a terrible mistake, a mistake that, yes, was horrendous, but it was a mistake.  

Tears stream down his cheeks, and hers, too, the image of him blurring as the words drip like acid from his tongue. “They didn’t deserve to die,” he says fervently, finally swinging his eyes to hers, “They were simple tradesmen who happened upon something of value.  They had no idea what they had.  They had no idea it was ever yours.  They were innocent men trying to provide for their families and I murdered them.  And for what?  Vengeance?  They hadn’t done anything wrong!”

The blue of his eyes bore into hers like he’s trying to convince her to hate him as much as he hates himself and her stomach drops to the floor.  She starts to rise but the step back he takes stops her.

“But it didn’t matter to me who they were,” he goes on with venom in his voice, “They did business with Regina and that was enough to justify it in my mind.  I made widows and orphans out of their wives and children – wives and children who, to this day, don’t know what happened to them because I couldn’t see past the hatred in my heart!”

He stops there, his confession complete, viciously swiping at the tears on his cheeks, like he realizes he doesn’t even deserve to mourn those men.   Shaking his head, he sniffles and crosses the room to stand in front of the chest.  

When he speaks again, his voice is clogged but his tone is calm and detached.  “Every time I’d find something of yours or your family’s, I’d put it in here.  Other than a few things of Liam’s, everything in here belongs to you.”

Slowly, he lifts the chest and carries it to the table, setting it gently down right in front of her without meeting her eyes.  The click his hook makes when he removes it echoes through the quiet room before he lays it on top of the chest.  Instinctively, she covers his hand with hers before he can draw it back and he sucks in a breath, his fingers contracting around hers.  They stay like that for several seconds while he watches his thumb traces circles on the back of her hand but then he shakes his head and steps away, pulling his hand from hers.  

The message is clear: This isn’t over yet.  It’s not over until she sees what’s in the chest.  But more than that, he’s not ready to accept her forgiveness no matter how badly she wants to give it.  He doesn’t trust yet that this isn’t a snap judgment.  He wants her to take some time alone to process everything he’s said.  

He looks raw and broken when he meets her eyes one last time.  Then, without another word, he turns and walks out of the room.  

She keeps her eyes on the closed door, almost tempted to chase after him without even looking in the box.  She even takes a step in that direction but stops herself.  Because he’s right.  She needs to see what’s in there.  She needs some time to gather herself – not because there’s a chance she’ll change her mind but because she needs to take a minute to let everything sink in.

With shaky hands, she reaches for the key, twisting it in the lock until it clicks.  Slowly, she lifts the lid and her eyes widen, amazed at the number of treasures he’s found.  Her father’s crown is on top, her mother’s rubies, her pearl necklace, her mother’s ring…  She looks through every piece, memory after memory blooming with each new item but then… Then she sees what he found and her eyes gloss over, her heart contracting.

Her jade necklace. The necklace she was wearing the night they were separated.  

With slow movements, she reaches in and curls her fingers around the jewels.  Tears stream down her cheeks and she cradles them to her chest, misery crawling up her throat until she sinks into the chair and sobs.

K&EK&EK&E

The night is starless and still as he stands at the helm and surveys the ocean.  There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, to see but pitch black in every direction; there aren’t even any waves being illuminated by the Jolly’s lanterns, the calm eerie and desolate.  

He doesn’t hear her approach, which is surprising given the utter silence of the night, and he startles when a plank only a few feet behind him creaks.  

Turning to face her, he finds her cheeks dry, but her red-rimmed eyes tell him they haven’t been dry long.  His own eyes are gritty and burning and it takes a great deal of concentration to keep them from filling.  She stands speechless for a moment, the diamonds and jades on the necklace in her hand glittering even in the near black night.

At long last, she looks down to the necklace, fingering at the jewels.  “I had to sell them to pay for a new roof for The Gold Mine,” she starts, “Leroy wanted to sell it because we couldn’t afford the wood, so I offered to sell these to make up the difference.  I didn’t want to move again.  I’d finally found a place where I could have a little peace and the thought of giving that up was agonizing to me.”

She sniffles lightly, finally looking up to him and he’s surprised to see how tortured her expression is.

“Do you know what brought me that peace?” she asks quietly and he shakes his head, his lungs burning from his attempt to hold the tears at bay.  “Naval ships used to dock there and, occasionally, the officers would come in and it…” she pauses to swallow and swipe at a tear that escapes, “It was the only thing I had left of you.  The only connection I could find and… And I would have done anything to keep it. This necklace… It meant nothing to me but… Being near the sea…  Being near anything that kept you close to me… I – ”

She cuts off and turns away, struggling to find words once again.  He aches to hold her, so much so that his arm twitches at his side, but he stays where he is, knowing there’s more she wants to say.  

“It never occurred to me that you might still be alive.  Graham told me he saw you die and I had no reason not to believe him.  I never had any hope, so I don’t know what it must have been like to have it crushed.  But I do remember what it felt like when Graham told me you were dead… the way every muscle in my body turned to stone, the way my lungs squeezed into an icy cold weight that pressed on my heart…”

She pauses for several more deep breaths and then her demeanor changes, her shoulders straightening and her head lifting as she looks out at the blackness of the night.  When she speaks again, he’s surprised by the malice in her words. “The next night, black knights caught up with us on the road and I was…  I was glad to see them.  I wanted them to catch us.  I wanted an excuse to draw my sword.  And I wanted them dead.  I charged into them before August could stop me and...  and…”

She shakes her head to cover the crack in her voice, “He chased after me.  He was standing right next to me when he died.  And I can’t help but wonder…  If I’d been more retrained…  If I’d waited like I should have but…” She clears her throat and tightens her hands into fists.  “But I was so angry that I… I couldn’t stop.  I wouldn’t stop until either they were all dead or I was.  I can still remember that rage racing through my bloodstream.  I was consumed by it.  I enjoyed killing them.  Every single one that fell made satisfaction rise up in my chest, every drop of blood was gratifying to watch as it spilled to the earth.”

Killian’s feet feel rooted to the ground, his heart hammering to the point of pain as her confession settles cold and hard in his stomach.

Turning only far enough to see him out of the corner of her eye, she takes a deep breath. “I know it’s not the same as what happened to you.  But my point is, I know how what it feels like when fury blocks out everything else and twists you into another person for a time.  I remember it with perfect clarity.”

The last words come out as nearly a whisper and he forces his feet to work, crossing to her and spinning her into his arms.  Cupping her chin, he lifts her eyes to his, smoothing his thumb over her temple as he takes in the dark emerald.  

She does understand. She does remember.  And she’s just as tortured and repentant for her mistake as he is.  

His heart aches for both of them, but there’s a cleansing quality underneath it that surprises him, realizing this is something they’d both been in need of.  They’d both needed to make these confessions.  And now that they have, they can bear the burden of them together.  It’s an astoundingly profound feeling, this feeling of being completely exposed, of breaking down the remainder of the walls that had been between them.  

They stand silently for some time, slowly allowing the guilt and sadness to release itself, both seemingly content to simply hold the other.  A breeze begins to blow, soft and warm, and Killian feels a sudden peace settle into his heart.  He hears Emma release a long sigh and snuggles further into his chest.

He lifts her chin to find her eyes soft and smoky and he smiles.

“I love you, Emma,” he whispers.  

Her chest expands against his on a sharp breath.  

“I love you, too.”

The moment she says it, he feels an overpowering crackle of magic rush through him but he ignores it in favor of lowering his lips to hers.  They meet softly, light grazes filled with reverence and love while the world around them brightens.  He doesn’t notice at first and she doesn’t either, too distracted by the shimmering peace that settles more firmly with each brush of lips, too caught up in the relief and joy of finally having no barriers left between them. Eventually, though, the light amplifies so much that it can’t be ignored and they turn in unison to see the Spark of Prometheus burning brightly in its case.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #142: Ishtar

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making Best Goddess and, according to @hasishtardoneanythingwrong, a servant who has done absolutely nothing very little wrong, Ishtar! 

In this build, Ishtar is a Divine Soul Sorcerer to balance her blasting abilities with her divine nature and a Zeal Cleric to push her explosive capabilities and godhood to the max.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: The second part of the oldest bromance in human history.

Race and Background

Unfortunately WotC hasn’t figured out how to balance literal god PCs yet, but since Ishtar is a demiservant we can still technically call her a Protector Aasimar, giving her +1 Wisdom, +2 Charisma, Darkvision, Celestial Resistance to radiant and necrotic damage, Healing Hands to heal some hands, and the Light cantrip.

Since she protects Uruk in her own special way, we’ll call her a Goddess Alliance Anarch. This gives you Animal Handling and Religion proficiencies, as well as some bonus spells as you level up!

Ability Scores

As the goddess of love and also blowing up mountains, your Charisma needs to be as high as possible. Follow that up with Dexterity, you can literally fly, that’s pretty fast. After that will be Constitution, you can take a lot of abuse, especially if it’s coming from the writers. Your Wisdom has to be next so we can multiclass, keep that in mind if you’re rolling. Your Strength isn’t amazing, but it’s not like you’re using it anyway. Finally, dump Intelligence. Not gonna dwell on that one, let’s just move on.

Class Levels

1. Sorcerer 1: Honestly I think “Divine Soul” is kinda selling yourself short, but we’ll work in the framework we’re given. You can cast Spells now, including your Divine Magic from the cleric spell list, using your Charisma. You’re also Favored by the Gods, giving you the option of adding 2d4 to a failed save or attack roll once per short rest.

For cantrips you get Thunderclap and True Strike for offensive options (I mean you do aim. Even if your target’s a mountain, aiming is important.) You also get Minor Illusion and Friends to manipulate people into doing what you want.  Finally, your stand against the Three Goddess Alliance grants you the cantrips Fire Bolt and Produce Flame to make the battlefield a little bit spicier.

For first level spells, you get Bless from being a divine soul, as well as Compelled Duel, Speak with Animals, and Thunderwave from being an Anarch. For your actually chosen spells, Mage Armor makes your outfit feasible, and Feather Fall will be very helpful once you start flying.

2. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers become a Font of Magic, giving you sorcerer points equal to your sorcerer level. Right now you can turn points into spell slots or vice versa, but it’ll get more interesting later. 

You can also cast Disguise Self, in case you have to, I don’t know, organize a servant-based wacky races kind of event? Idk, whatever.

3. Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers get Metamagic, letting you alter your spells to suit your mood by using sorcery points. A Transmuted spell lets you swap out its acid, cold, fire, lightning, poison, or thunder damage for another option on that list. Meanwhile, you can use a Distant spell to double a spell’s range, making your archery much more effective.

You also become a Radiant Soul, spending an action to transform yourself and gaining a flying speed for up to a minute. You can also deal extra radiant damage to a creature you hit with an attack or spell once per turn. You can do this once per long rest. It’s not a long trip, but it’s free.

On top of that, you get second level spells this turn. Distort Value lets you halve or double an object’s apparent value for the duration, perfect for haggling with a certain someone. You also get Beast Sense and Shatter from your Anarch spell list. The former isn’t that in-character, but the latter is a good start to taking down that mountain.

4. Sorcerer 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to round up your Constitution and Charisma, giving you more health, better concentration, and stronger spells. What a glow up!

You can also cast the cantrip Resistance to add 1d4 to a creature’s next save, or use Find Traps to make sneaking into Gilgamesh’s many treasure vaults slightly easier. If it works.

5. Sorcerer 5: You’re a god, so you probably shouldn’t be messing up that often. To help with that, Magical Guidance lets you spend a sorcery point to re-roll a failed skill check. Maybe it’ll help.

You can also cast Fly this level, giving you more frequent flying miles at the cost of your concentration. You can also Conjure Animals if you want to show up that gazelle-loving sister of yours. More on-target, however, is your other Anarch spell, Conjure Barrage. Gosh, it’s almost like you’re an archer or something.

6. Cleric 1: This whole flying around exploding things is great, but I think we can put more pizazz on it. Or, as they say down in Amonkhet, let’s add some Zeal. That’s right, we’re stealing from two MTG planes this build! As a Priest of Zeal, you can attack as a bonus action if you attack as an action a number of times per long rest equal to your wisdom modifier. That sounds kind of useless, but as a Zeal Cleric you also get proficiency with martial weapons, meaning that yes, you can use a bow and arrow. The archer class really is made up of archers!

You can also cast and prepare Spells using your Wisdom, but we got the really good ones in your sorcerer list, so don’t worry too much here. You do get some more cantrips, though! Thaumaturgy lets you throw your godly weight around, Light lets you cast light again using a worse casting modifier, and Guidance gives a creature some helpful advice from their favorite goddess, adding 1d4 to their next check.

You also get some domain spells, but they’re both smites and you’re an archer, so...

7. Cleric 2: The real reason we’re dipping is for your Channel Divinity option, which you can use once per short rest. You could  use it for Turn Undead, forcing a wisdom save against all undead near you (with a dc of 8 + proficiency + wisdom modifier), but the much more fun option is Consuming Fervor. This turns one fire or thunder damage roll into its maximum instead of rolling. That will be very scary later.

8. Sorcerer 6: Sixth level divine souls get Empowered Healing. You might not have any healing spells, but just being around people makes them feel a bit better. This lets you spend a sorcery point to re-roll any dice being used in a healing roll near you once per turn.

Speaking of healing, we’re still not doing that! You can now Bestow Curses onto people. Serves them right, calling you a “useless goddess”. This is one of those creative spells, so have fun with it!

9. Sorcerer 7: Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells! Anarchs get Dominate Beast and Stoneskin, and while neither are technically in character the latter could be very useful given your less than stellar AC. Also, literally turning yourself into gemstones is a real power move.

Your spell of choice this level is Ice Storm, letting you pummel a 20′ radius area with plenty of hail (or fiery debris, or just pure force), enough to turn the area into difficult terrain for a round.

10. Sorcerer 8: Use this ASI to grab the Spell Sniper feat, letting your spells ignore most cover, and spells you cast that require an attack roll have two times their normal range. You also learn Eldritch Blast to further flex on those dumb warlocks. They have to sell their soul and waste an invocation to get 300′ range blasts, and here you are with 480′ range and your soul’s intact! Hah!

You can also exude an Aura of Purity now, preventing disease, weakening poison damage, and granting advantage on a ton of status effect saves. 

11. Sorcerer 9: Ninth level sorcerers get fifth level spells, including your final Anarch spell, Destructive Wave. It’s only got a range of thirty feet, but it never hurts to prepare for an ambush. For longer range attacks, Flame Strike will do nicely. We’re still not quite at “blasting a mountain to smithereens” level power, but we’re getting there.

12. Sorcerer 10: Tenth level sorcerers can get the most out of their spells by making them Empowered, letting them re-roll a number of dice on their damage roll, up to their charisma modifier.

You can also cast Dancing Lights for a bit of a dramatic flair, or Creation to make gemstones out of thin air. Heck, you could even make a proper Boat of Heaven with this!

13. Sorcerer 11: Another two levels have passed, that means you get another spell level. Sunbeam gives you a reusable sunlight blast, dealing radiant damage and blinding creatures that fail their constitution save. You can use this attack again as your action each turn for up to a minute. Sadly this isn’t affected by either of your range enhancements, but you’ve still got plenty of airspace to work with.

14. Sorcerer 12: If we’re going to blast a mountain apart we’ve got to get serious. Use this ASI to get the Elemental Adept feat, focusing on Thunder damage. Once you take this feat, all dice on thunder damage rolls coming from spells always count as at least a 2, and they ignore thunder resistances.

15. Sorcerer 13: The first step to launching the literal planet Venus at somebody is actually getting the damn thing, and that means we need to leave the atmosphere at a moment’s notice. The closest we can come to that here is Plane Shift. You can also use this on enemy creatures as a melee attack

16. Sorcerer 14: Fourteenth level Divine Souls get an Angelic Form you can transform into as a bonus action. This gives you a flying speed of 30′ that is basically permanent until you’re incapacitated or you just get rid of them on your own. Have fun with those orbital bombardments!

17. Sorcerer 15: Sunburst sounds like a good pick for your eighth level spell. This one actually does get a range boost, which is good because it deals damage in a 60′ radius. Creatures within that radius get a constitution save, and failing that means a lot of radiant damage and being blind until it makes the save on the end of its turn. Sadly, it’s stuck on radiant damage, but it’s still an effective blasting spell.

18. Sorcerer 16: Use your last ASI to max out your Charisma so that whole “making the save” thing from last level never happens.

19. Sorcerer 17: To make those saves even less likely, our final metamagic option is Heightened Spell, causing one creature’s first save of the spell in question to be made at disadvantage. Basically you’re saying “like you had a choice in the matter”.

Speaking of spells though, we can finally pull Venus through for a charged shot, thanks to the ninth level spell Meteor Swarm. With a max range of 1-2 miles this truly is nuking the planet from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.

Here’s a step by step guide for removing a mountain. 1. Hang out in the Troposphere. 2. Cast Meteor Swarm, swapping out Fire for Thunder damage. 3. Channel Divinity, maxing out the thunder damage for extra fun. 4. Deal 120 Thunder damage that ignores resistances, on top of 20d6 bludgeoning damage. 5. Enjoy your new crater.

20. Sorcerer 18: Your capstone level of sorcerer gives you an Unearthly Recovery. When you’re bloodied, you can spend a bonus action to heal yourself for half your HP, once per long rest. You had enough trouble in the underworld as it is, no point in going back again.

Pros:

As I just mentioned in level 19, you can deal a lot of damage. Like, Sanson level damage, without all the nonsense attached to it. You’ve got big booms, and multiple ways to make those booms hurt even more than they should.

Flying on a spellcaster is just. Really, really good. Especially on one built for range. There’s almost literally nothing they can do to you up here. Like, arrows, maybe, but you can just retaliate with the literal wrath of god. Plus, you’re probably out of counterspell range, so there’s nothing the DM can do to you!

A lot of your spells are focused on damage, but you do still have plenty of variety in your spell list, just in case. And on the off chance you’re fighting someone in a silence bubble, you can just change your thunder spells to acid or something.

Cons:

For most of this build we’re relying on the Flight spell to get off the ground, which eats up your Concentration and has a chance of failure when you take damage. It’s not ideal.

Those Cleric Levels are very useful, but they still push back your spell progression by 2 levels, which means you’ll have even less time with your An Gal Ta Ki Gal Se than you would normally.

You can’t fly everywhere. Caves exist. Buildings exist. I mean you totally can blast holes to get where you need to, just don’t expect to be that popular with whoever owns the building. Also, fighting in cramped areas plays to your biggest weakness: squishiness. Your AC is only 15, and you’ve got barely over 120 HP, which as we just discussed, someone built like you can take out very easily.

[insomniac-arrest]

Edges of Ink

pairing: Diana/Akko lwa

words: 6k

summary: Akko is a popular tattoo artist who specializes in Chariot card tattoos, Diana is a college girl who keeps walking in (and then out again)

Diakko Tattoo artist AU

Ao3

It was March fourth. Diana’s hands were practically numb from the slight chill and her face felt like it had been cursed by a witch to be stuck in a scowl.

This wasn’t working out for her so far, she had run all the way here and she glared at the passing crowds of tourists and businesspeople. She ran across town, that was the first sprint, then she arranged her hair back into place and made her way calmly across the street.

The first parlour was run by a man over six feet tall that smelled like onions and whiskey, it had a line of five people and made her skin feel like an oil slick. She accidentally kicked an umbrella stand on her way out as she left.

The second establishment was a runny little building at the west end, its gutters were overflowing and it reminded Diana of a living health code violation. She watched a 40-year-old woman wipe the needle on her pants and Diana departs immediately.

It was March fourth.

The third location was a hole in the wall, stuffed between a specialized grocery store and two pubs in a row. It was twice as long as it was wide, had a large glass door on the front and a deep blue exterior, it was the blue that caught her eye.

A deep royal blue that reminded her of valleys or oceans or not some smokey London street that sold cigarettes outside the looF. It reminded her terribly of something else and she managed to stop just down the street to stare at it.

She flipped her collar up against the misty chill of the evening and walks toward it mechanically, her phone had already told her this was the other closest tattoo parlour she could visit that weekend. Diana tries not to dwell on what she’s doing at that moment.

She was a Cavendish, she inspected something thoroughly before she didn’t do it.

The hazy night sky was barely visible against wispy grey clouds and Diana was standing outside a tiny blue tattoo parlor with a sign in the window: Come in! :) . It looked handmade. She leans forward and makes out lights and wall paper with big yellow flowers on the inside.

“Well fine,” she goes in.

She may have been expecting a lot of things, more cigarette smoke and bad 80s rock, another man asking if Diana came to ‘let loose a little.’

She didn’t expect a cluttered warm-smelling room, covered with different haphazard wallpaper on each wall, a glass case, and then a tiny brunette in a plain t-shirt and jean jacket stood in the corner. Bubblegum pop music plays softly in the background and the Japanese girl with a huge smile on her face turns toward the front door.

Diana’s mouth makes a little ‘o.’ This wasn’t a 40 year old women accusing her of being drunk or a six feet three sailor.

“Hello!” She waves, Diana hardens her eyes.

She felt a little dumb standing in the doorway, she nods stiffly back. The girl blinks a couple times and then wipes her hands down.

“What can I do for you today?” She was still smiling, Diana looks creakily to the left and then to the right.

“What can you do.” She didn’t state it like a question, she just felt her thoughts ramming into each other as she took in the pictures pictures of trading cards in the case. Chariot trading cards.

The girl bounces to her feet and then seems to bounce right over to her, “I’m Akko! Akko Kagari, I can do anything you have your heart set on,” The girl clapped her hands together and Diana stepped backward at her sun glare.

“Oh,” She sort of wished somehow she’d been turned away. It was March the fourth.

“Hmm.” Akko looked her up and down, “a heart? A star? I can do some killer roses! Or,” she winks, “a lovers name maybe?”

Diana narrows her eyes, she wasn’t sure what her angle was for this sales pitch. Diana straightens her suit jacket, “a caduceus.”

“A what?” Akko tilted her head, blinking serenely now. Diana could just make out the edges of an almost golden ink along her collarbone, a shimmering tattoo. Diana’s face heats up.

“The winged staff and two snakes, or,” she frowns, “a unicorn. Yes, no,” she twitches, “a unicorn with...with a woman.” “Uh, I can do unicorns.” Akko was giving her a funny look, Diana was feeling a little funny.

“I have to go,” she turns around, this had been a bad idea to begin with.

-----------

The temptation to get a tattoo was not a regular one, especially for Diana. It had begun late in the evening and dragged her across the city streets of London.

She wasn’t a particular fan of London, it was lovely and sometimes it reminded her of a milk white hand holding hers, of going downtown and eating smoked nuts. Of something else.

But London meant business, it meant visiting boardrooms and interrupting her school life to hold together her family legacy.

It would be nice if her aunt was trying to sell their assets off to the highest bidder as quickly as possibly, that would be nice. If this was still an era for duels Diana might have thought of alternative solutions to Daryll.

It was however, the twenty-first century and Diana was a twenty-first century girl who didn’t have any tattoos, she didn’t regularly want any tattoos. Until she did.

“It’s just another peak,” she assures herself the next day.

She only had two days of business in London but it was usually enough to fill her time and give her a headache in between meetings, she found time to get to Wittenberg Street anyway.

It was a smokey downtown street where they sold cigarettes outside the loo and some of the sidewalk turned to cobblestone if you kept walking long enough. Diana was on the phone when she got off the underground.

She was supposed to get back to Oxford that night, she was walking toward the tattoo parlour.

She was sure there were other tattoo parlours in the world, some even in Oxford, but this one was blue with a glass door and a handmade sign. This one had three walls with floral blue wallpaper on one, nautical anchors and mermaids on the other, and finally one large mural of Chariot, Chariot DuNord.

Diana finds herself walking back.

“It’s a quick trip,” she was saying to herself, “it won’t even hurt.” She walks like there was fire on her heels, past the specialized grocery store and the smells of something musky cooking from inside.

She stops at the door and takes a couple steadying breaths before she changes her mind.

The bell on the door jingles sharply this time as she goes in the door, the dim lights and whirr of some machine in the corner fills the space. Her eyebrows raise, she wasn’t alone this time.

She saw the back of a brunette head with her hair tied back in a tight ponytail and the face of a very tense looking boy with his forearm out. He looked like he was trying to gnaw through his own bottom lip.

It smelled like heather and perhaps rainwater, something damp almost- that was for sure.

“You’re doing great,” Akko was talking to her customer as she seemed to be working on a circular design, “we’re almost there.” The boy’s features were pinched at every angle, but nods.

Diana blinks a couple times and thinks about leaving, she knew she didn’t need this, her aunt Daryll would shame her for months for getting it. Her board members would have something to say.

Diana stands dumbly in the entranceway and grips her right wrist with her left hand.

“I’ll be with you in a minute!” Akko calls over her shoulder and Diana jerks her head to the right. She waits.

“Is it almost done?” The boy's voice squeaks and Diana wonders how actually painful tattoos were, it couldn’t be worse than having your ears pierced.

“It’s gonna look awesome!” Akko cheers and Diana tilted her head at the sound of her voice. It was warm.

Diana might have just told the boy to stop sniveling, but maybe that was just another memory.

“Annnnn,” Akko was so loud, Diana wrinkles her nose as she drags out the word, “nnnnnnd, ta-dah!” Akko jumped backward with her whirring needle, “Look at it for a sec and then I’ll wrap it up for ya. Pretty cool!” The boy blinked his charcoal brown eyes and then down at a rectangle tattoo, he beams. “Oh damn! It really came out.” “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Akko nods and turns her machine off as she reaches down.

Diana peers over and recognizes the ‘Pappiliodya Chariot Trading Card’ almost glowing on the boy's arm, she wrinkles her nose again. Wasn’t everyone in this room above twenty?

The trading card presents an intricate flowing yellow butterfly design.

“Dude, this is sick,” he bounces in his chair, “they weren’t kidding when you said you could make it look like the real thing.” “Of course!” Akko flexes her right arm and kisses her muscle, the boy laughs and Diana has to cover her face after a brief smile. “Now, be sure to keep this on for four hours and not pick at it. Put moisturizer on it when it starts to peel! It’ll bleed a tiny bit, but that’s normal.” He wasn’t looking at her as he looked down at the square card with a deep reverence, Diana was looking at it too. The boy looked like he might hug Akko.

“She’s gonna love this,” he says with a grin and Diana watches as Akko wraps the boy’s arm up in some plastic material.

She was still just standing on the door.

“I’ll take you to the front now,” Diana shuffles to the side, Akko’s eyes glide over her but she seems to finish the transaction first. Chariot Cards were extra it seems, but Diana tell see why.

The ink was detailed and swirling, moving almost, just like the card, and laced with some gold shimmer ink. The boy was pretty excited.

“Todd is going to be so fucking jealous too,” he puts his fist up and presents it, “so glad we got to you in London.” They fist bump and Diana restrains from rolling her eyes, the boy seems to tip Akko and then turns around. “Night Akko!”

Akko waves and she straightens some papers and a stack of business cards with an over-enthusiastic font. She turns to Diana slowly.

“It’s you!” She crows, putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward, “I knew it.”

Diana furrows her brow, “excuse me?”

Akko rested her hand on the glass case, “oh, you just looked like you’d be back!”

Diana shook her head, “it’s not what you think.” Akko shifted from side to side, “I think a lot of things, I wouldn’t be so sure.” She never really stopped smiling, did she?

Diana’s skin prickles, she frowns, “the butterfly…” “Yeah, we could do one of those. Or a bird, or a heart! You look like you might like a heart, with a moon in it maybe? Or,” Akko’s face goes slack. “Of course.” Diana hunches over, “of course?” “You want my specialty,” she whips one of the cards from the case, “you want a Chariot Card!” Akko seemed like she might rival the Tuscan sun at that moment, she shines. “The Alcor card, no! You’re a ‘A Believing Heart’ card girl, I know it, I know it- I can see it in you.”

Diana clenched her jaw, “you don’t even know my name.” “Oh,” Akko pauses and puts down ‘A Believing Heart’ card before walking over. “I guess in-out girl isn’t a good name either.” Diana’s mouth fell open. “It’s Diana.” She says roughly, not giving her last. She didn’t need ‘Cavendish was in my downtown shop’ gossip running around.

Akko’s face split, “That’s a very nice name.” She pushes a stray hair back, “Yes, it suits you!” “Thanks,” Diana says sharply, her eyes dart back toward the chair and the needle, “I’m interested...in the work.” “There’s a unicorn Chariot Card too,” Akko was going through her stack.

“No,” Diana’s thoughts raced, “I mean, I mean I want to learn to tattoo.” Diana isn’t sure where that came from, but it was one way to stop this parade of excitement from the artist. It felt like the thing to say at the time.

Akko paused, her hands slowing, “you what?” Diana stood all the way up, “I said, I just want to learn some of the art. To do one myself.” She wouldn’t have to say any embarrassing requests out loud then, she could just ink herself.

Akko’s mouth was open, Diana lifted her chin. “I can pay you.”

Akko tilted her head to the side, she hummed, “That isn’t what I expected.” She looked her up and down, “aren’t you a university girl?”

Diana raised both eyebrows, maybe she was observant. “That doesn’t mean I can’t learn something like this.” The words feel a little foolish in her mouth. Akko was looking at her searchingly, “And if you can’t do it…” She starts to turn around.

“Why?” She feels a hand tug on her sleeve, Akko had reached across the counter and latched onto her. “You really…?” Diana sniffs, “it’s just something I want.”

Akko seemed to study her, “I really can do most things. It won’t be an embarrassing request if you’d like a bunny or lyrics or something!” “I know.” She says softly.

“Or even Japanese characters if that’s what you’re here for.” “I’m not,” Diana pushed her own hair back, “I’m sure you’re very talented.” Diana sniffs, “And I’m sure you’re busy.” She reaches for the door.

“Wait,” Akko was still holding onto her arm. Diana pauses, Akko takes a deep breath, “you are pretty fancy.” Diana raises an eyebrow and then clears her throat, “alright then.” “You wouldn’t want this if you weren’t serious,” she says simply, “and you’d like to pay me, yeah?”

Diana squared her shoulders, she had Akko’s attention. “I would.”

Her thoughts bite at each other’s heels as Diana stares back at her, this isn’t what she intended when she walked in the door.

But Cavendish's follow through.

“Can you get to Oxford on some weekends?” Diana suddenly had a tattoo mentor, she told herself that would be the fastest way to solve this dilemma.

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

Diana was not sure she liked the things she got up to after long days in London staring at the back of aunt Daryll’s head. Apparently, she went off and enlisted tattoo artists to teach her random skills.

She was about to get an MBA in Business Management and was somehow arranging a train ticket for an overly-friendly stranger around her age.

Atsuko Kagari. She started to google her.

Akko Kagari was 21 years old, Akko Kagari learned to tattoo in Okinawa and then did specialty practice in Seattle. Akko Kagari had an Instagram and people that favorited almost all of her inking posts.

Akko Kagari had another string of people making jokes about her early designs, which were, admittedly, terrifyingly bad- squiggly rabbits and poor elephants and uneven ears. But she had mastered gold ink, she had traveled to different mentors.

Picture after picture of Akko in Mexico City, in Rome, in Buenos Aires, in Moscow and Beijing and then London. Then a little shop in Wittenberg street.

Where was she going? Diana didn’t know.

It was a Saturday, it was a Saturday at the tail end of a very damp March and right before more midterms. Diana felt the strong impulse to study, to lock herself back up in the library and bury herself three stacks deep in books- that would be preferable.

Instead, she was waiting at the train station to greet one stranger who was going to teach her a trade skill she didn’t need. But Diana never backed out.

She saw Akko’s ponytail first, barely visible above the crowd as she tore her way through the people and bounded forward. Despite the weather she had on a pair of shorts, brown boots and a heavy red jacket.

Diana waved a hand loosely over to her, “over here.”

Akko looked back and forth and then trotted over in Diana’s direction, “hello majesty.” Diana blinked a couple times, Akko pointed at her hand, “you’re waving like the queen.”

Diana sighs to herself, “this way.” She hunched her shoulders slightly, “I brought a notebook to write down the basics.” “Uh,” Akko followed her through the busy station and Diana tries to navigate to the secluded hill by the rivers. “It’s really more of a feeling,” Akko was chattering, “you gotta feel it. Like a smell! You feel the thing, and poof, it’s all around you- pouring out.” “That doesn’t sound safe,” she says flatly, “it’s a sharp needle.” Akko snorts, “I’ve only ever stabbed myself.” She chirps and Diana cringes, “if you feel right, the picture comes out right!”

Diana shakes her head and starts climbing, “up this way.” Luckily, the weather wasn’t so terrible to stop them from sitting outside, the grass was almost dry even.

Akko bobbed onto the spring grass first and Diana eased herself into the place next to her, flattening her skirt down as she kneeled. She clears her throat and they spend a moment looking at each other, brown large eyes with a red sheen. Like a door, a Mahogany door.

Diana realizes she’s holding her breath and then kicks her legs out.

“I was just interested in the basics.” She says sternly, like she was chiding herself, and then looks away.

“Sure,” Akko was nodding, “we can do pressure application and how to work with different parts of the body.” Akko stuck her tongue out slightly, “I have the book here.” Akko took out ‘Tattooing for Dummies’ and Diana has to cover laughter, there were colored tabs throughout the pages. Diana swallows down another laugh.

“Oh gosh,” she snorts and Akko glances at her.

“Diana,” she says slowly and Diana almost chokes on her tongue this time. “Is there a type of inking you’d like to focus on?” Diana pushed her hair back and looked away, “not really.” She sniffs, “I just want one. One to do myself.” Akko wags a finger at her, “you really shouldn’t tattoo yourself if you’re not an expert.” Diana puts her hands out and nudges her, “Make me an expert then.” She sets her jaw, “I’ve seen your work.” She watches Akko’s cheeks pink slightly, “alright...I can try,” she gives a cheeky grin, “for your majesty…”

She cracks open her book, littered with notes on the margins and papers stuffed into the front cover, “let’s start with applying pressure…” Diana has to sit still and listen as Akko’s voice falls into something serious, Diana has to stop and pay attention. Akko’s brown hair floats in the breeze and her lips move to some unseen rhythm.

Diana has to turn off her group text with Barbara and Hannah and listen. Akko was business at first, like the words had been drilled into her with a persistent hammer, but she was easily lost.

“... and then I had Sucy, she works in the place next to me, she’s getting this list on her thigh. She gets one thing of the list every few months and she likes it when I press down harder. But she’s a weirdo! She finally told me the list is instructions on how to avenge her death. Weird! And then there was this other guy who wouldn’t let me so much as touch him.” Diana tried to nod and then watches Akko’s hands dance around her as she talked, it was animated like an energy drink hit by lightning. Diana clears her throat.

“Can we go over line work? I’d like to make steady lines.” Akko raises an eyebrow, she puts her finger in the air, “that’s one of the hardest parts.” Diana gives a small smile, “I see.”

Akko shakes her head, “you’re pretty persistent.” She hugs her legs to her, “you’d make a great tattoo-ist.”

Diana sticks her lip out, “who says I won’t be?” Akko snickers, “you’re only doing one for yourself. I meant in a parlour.” Diana gives a cheeky look, “who says I won’t?” “Haha, I’ll be the first to hire you!” Akko laughs, “you can do all the tiny heart designs that I don’t want to.”

Diana leans back on her arm, “weren’t you going to give me a heart design?” “Yeah, but that’s before,” Akko looked both ways, “before.” Diana raises an eyebrow, “before?” “You know,” Akko’s hands were waving around again, “before I knew you weren’t just another university girl ‘experimenting.’ Not that that’s bad! But they uh, usually get those.” Diana shakes her head and looks up to the shady pale skies, “Perhaps I am just another university girl. Perhaps I’ll get a heart.” There is a long pause, a little lull of silence that made her hiccup on her own breath.

She hears Akko laugh, “A heart with a little dagger in it's hand.” “Dagger?” Akko had Diana’s attention.

“For when you rip people’s hearts out and tell them this happened because they were idiots or something.” Diana sniffs angrily, “Don’t forget the grave I shove them in.” She says flatly and Akko laughs again, it was a good sound. Diana joins her briefly.

“See? Not flower-moon material.”

Diana let’s out a long breath, she opens her mouth, I don’t know which one I want. She closes it again.

A long pregnant moment stretches between them again before an earth-shaking rumbling noise vibrates the air, Diana turns to Akko languidly, “Hungry?” Akko holds her stomach, “maybe… a lot. Very much.” Diana chuckles.

She looked like a little kid in that moment, a little kid with a tattoo of a woman on her leg and almost a full-arm sleeve. Sitting on the grass and asking her where the closest Nandos was.

Diana looks the over direction, “my treat.” She sees stiffly.

“What’s that?” “I’ll take you to this Ethiopian place around the corner. My treat.” She tenses, “for the lessons.” “Really?” Akko clapped her hands together, “A prince among men!” She whoops and Diana dusts herself off as she gets up.

“I thought I was your majesty?” She fixes Akko’s askew collar instinctively, Akko squirms.

“You’re a lot of things.” Diana smiles a little and walks her down the hill and toward the sleepy university town, “now, tell me about hand-steadying techniques.” Akko sighs and puts her hands up, “I suppose I can’t just say ‘you have to feel it,’ can I?” “No.” Akko tries again and they discuss tattoos and the world and whatever the hell Akko meant by ‘listening closely to your heart before working.’

She buys her a Doro Wot and is amazed as Akko somehow adds hot sauce to it and keeps eating, slurping down the spicy chicken.

She keeps talking while she eats and Diana wants to wipe her chin or smack her, Akko was describing different cities.

Rome, Riga, Chicago, Jamaica briefly (apparently she passed out and ended up there with some very nice people after being kicked off a cruise). Diana finds herself laughing a little too much.

She watches her move like a live-action claymation video set on fast-forward. Diana only puts her hand out once, curiously, strangely.

“Why are you moving through all these places?” As far as Diana understood Akko saved up her tattoo money off of tiny shops she established and then used that to push off again.

Akko chews on her chicken again, “lookring.” “What?” Diana pauses eating her Gomen.

Akko seems to swallow the entire bite whole, her face goes still, like a butterfly suddenly being trapped under glass. “You know,” she says tentatively, “I’m just looking for someone.”

Diana looks her up and down, biting her cheek, “will you be off again soon?” Akko frowns for once, “Not yet.” She says halting, “I think I’m close. Maybe just one more plane ride. Or tip off.” She takes a deep breath, “I think I’m getting close to Chariot!”

“Oh,” Diana didn’t know what to make of that. Chariot DuNord was entertainment star most people just assumed faded like a dying red planet and dropped off the map.

Maybe someone was still looking.

Diana studies her face, “good luck to you.” Akko was making a strange expression, “if anyone could do it…” Diana didn’t know what she was saying, “you seem like the right fit.” “Really?” Akko had sauce on her nose, Diana looks away.

“You seem...persistent.” Diana fluffs her own hair and says, “Stubborn.” “We have something in common then!” Diana rolls her eyes and Akko tells her more about lattice techniques with ink.

Diana couldn’t remember when she had an evening like this before, maybe she never did.

----------

Diana doesn’t know why she plays the fool to herself. March fourth had already passed, she already jumped through the hoops, she had already played the game.

She arranges to see Akko again anyway.

And then again.

She finds herself texting her in the middle of class, mostly to tell her to stop texting her in the middle of class. She finds herself seeing her on weekends, waiting at the train station earlier and earlier each time.

She finds herself spotting Akko in the crowd, and realizing it’s not her.

To her own surprise, Diana was making a friend. She wasn’t used to that, mostly friends were just brought to her and had their own trust funds and small business empires she needed to cozy up to.

Diana was starting to feel twists form in her stomach.

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

It happened on one April morning, almost at 4am, a slight drizzle was gracing the sky and the whole room swam with dark colors. Diana was looking into a pool, a deep pool where a figure sat underneath the waters and perched on a dead tree stump, Diana began to cry.

“No,” her head swam, “no…” Her voice was hoarse from calling out, her fingernails tearing at her nightdress as she violently flailed in bed, March fourth had already passed.

“No!” She dug her nails into her leg and starts awake, she fumbles for the phone with the dream fresh in her scrambled thoughts. Her hands tremble and her vision is completely blurred. A soft drizzle coats her window and she peers out as she dials a number.

Why was she dialing a number.

“Diana,” it was a sleepy voice, thick with a tangible grogginess, “is that you?” Diana’s eyes go wide, that isn’t who she meant to call. She gives a deep shuddering breath and wipes the wetness from her cheeks, “G-go to sleep Akko.”

“You’re the one that called me,” Akko sounds awake now. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” Diana hangs up the phone and hugs her legs to herself, she was sorry, so sorry.

Diana stayed awake after that. She had managed to snag her own lone flat next to the school and she felt the echoing of the empty halls in her bones. She hugs her legs to her chest and let the deep shuddering breaths rack her body.

She wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t going to cry again.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, it all swam before her like a wave taunting the shoreline and swooping back and forth, merciless. It must have been a lot of time.

“Diana!” She hears a turbulent knock on her front door, “Diana, I’m here, come out!”

She stiffens and wonders why someone was pounding on her front door and why Mr. Stevens wasn’t getting it for her. She wipes her face and realizes he had quit two years ago.

Diana sways to her feet and fumbles to the door, “I’m fine!” Her voice was raw and naked in her throat.

“What was that phone call?” “It’s nothing,” Diana pushes everything down, “wrong number.” “Let me in then,” Akko says thickly, “It’s Saturday, we could go see the movies. I’ll teach you a new technique.” “I’m sorry you came all this,” she keeps her tone even, “but I have school work.” Akko was knocking at the door, “You sound funny.” She knocks again, “come on! Even queens need companions. Tell me why you called.” “Go home Akko.” She hears a thump sound, someone was leaning on the front door, “I’m not going anywhere.” Diana heaves a long sigh and reaches out, her fingers shaking as she grasps the nod, “I’m not, I’m not-” She swallows painfully.

She opens the door ever so slightly, just a crack, “I need you to go.” Akko’s large brown eyes are looking her up and down, she was leaning on the door and crawling toward the opening.

“You’ve been crying…” Diana doesn’t respond, Akko grabs at the crack in the door and pries it a little wider open, “Tell me Diana.” Diana rubs at her ruddy face furiously, her thoughts racing. “I need it.” She says roughly, “I need the tattoo today. I can’t wait any longer.”

Diana’s body gives out, dropping to the ground slowly- like a chair leg that finally gives out under a heavy weight. Akko barely catches her as she curls into herself, Akko holds her for a very long moment.

“Okay,” she says in a small voice, “whatever you need Diana.”

-

Diana bundles herself up in her long coat and slips on her summer sandals before numbly walking out the door, the sky is over so slowly clearing and peaking through a moderate day. She isn’t sure how she made it to London but she did remember Akko taking her hand on the tram.

It was warm.

Diana’s eyes glazed over and when she blinked she was somewhere new. Wittenberg Street again, the smokey narrow pass where they sold cigarettes outside the loo and the pavement turned to cobblestone if you followed it long enough.

Diana closed her eyes and realized Akko still had her hand, Diana’s senses come back to her one by one. Akko leads her to the tucked away tattoo shop that was twice as long as it was wide. Diana touches the blue paint on the outside.

She sniffs, “I always liked this.”

Akko’s eyes were unusually soft, “me too.” She follows her in, Diana’s gaze is unfocused and loose, she tries to put her hand on the glass case with Chariot Cards inside.

“A Unicorn,” she murmurs, “or maybe that doctor symbol. The staff with the snakes.” She buries her face in her hands, “a nightingale. Anything.” Akko leads her to the chair, “you can get whatever you like. More than one even!”

Diana shakes her head numbly, “just one. Where I can see it.” “Anything you want,” she kept saying that, Akko threaded her fingers through Diana’s hair- it had become knotted during the night, Akko untangles it. “But you have to tell me what this is about.” Diana blinked unseeingly ahead, “nothing.” Akko shook her head, “I can’t give tattoos to people who are not in the right state of mind. Not drunk or drugged or…” She peters off and her eyes flash up hesitantly.

Diana bit her bottom lip, and then she kept biting it, “I,” she took in a wheezing shattering breath of air, “you won’t understand.” She hated how small she sounded, how frail, Akko was squeezing her hand.

“Are you looking for someone too?” Akko was staring ahead at the Chariot mural behind them.

Diana shook her head, “No…” She trails off and the words bubble up from deep within, “I don’t remember her face.” It tumbles out of her like a confetti canon, the tears well up again, “I realized,” she heaves a breath, “I don’t remember her face.” Akko leans forward until their eyes are inches apart, she speaks gently, “who’s?”

“Mom’s,” she whispers, “it was our anniversary and I tried,” she swallows a wet sound, “I tried to remember it.” She covers her face with her free hand, her shoulders shaking, “It’s gone, it’s all gone!”

I’m a disgrace, Diana wanted to stop crying, she wanted to be someone else- the person she created. Not this.

“Sshhh,” Akko pet her head, “it’s okay.” Diana shook her head, “I don’t remember it.” She starts to hyperventilate, “I need to remember her. Everything, her.” “Ssshhh,” Akko presses down on Diana’s skin, “you’re safe here. You’re doing great.” She said the words like she talked to the boy the second time Diana visited. She didn’t know what she meant.

Akko crawled into her lap and pet her hair while Diana worked through a very bad dream. It wasn’t March 4th anymore.

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

Diana didn’t end up getting a tattoo that day, nor the next. She took Akko to ice cream shop and told her not to tell anyone about that. Akko rolled her eyes and told her Diana had to have more faith in her friends.

Friends. It suddenly felt like a bad word, but she doesn’t say that.

And the next day Diana takes Akko to the movie she wanted to see and maybe she talks about her mom for a couple hours on the walk home, the long way home.

Akko says she’s getting closer, closer to all the paper trails Chariot left, Diana’s heart thumped.

-----------

Diana got her first tattoo of a caduceus. It was gold and winged and reminded her of her mom’s saying: help who you can Diana, whenever you can.

She told Akko about her mom’s doctorate and all the nurses at the Royal London Hospital.

It was on her forearm.

----------

She got her second tattoo of a unicorn, a young woman standing by a unicorn’s mane, petting it. Akko leaned over her as she made it and Diana counted her eyelashes, they were large and framed her brown irises. Her eyes were different in light of her concentration, clear, taut.

She dotted Diana’s skin carefully, moving closely and precisely. Diana had found that she had begun to enjoy the sting of the needle as she watched her work.

“Do you want me to detail the face?” Akko asks breathlessly, softly.

Diana shakes her head, “not yet.” She holds her hand on the way home and they drive miles and miles out of London and into the countryside, it’s a four day weekend and she shows Akko her favorite farmhouses and sheep.

-----------

She gets her third tattoo on a dare.

A bad dare, a poor dare, a dare nonetheless.

They were in Oxford, walking next to a footpath by the Thames and listening to a bicyclists yell at a motorist for swerving into his path. It was a fair day, the clouds were puffy white cotton balls instead of flattened grey pancakes and the sun gently kissed Akko’s cheeks as she turned toward her.

Diana smiles to herself.

“I hear you’re selling to some heiress next week,” she says with a little grin.

Akko shrugs, “business is good.” She leans on Diana’s arm, “too good. They want me to do water color work.” “Can you do water color work?” Akko puffs her chest out, “of course.” She set her chin, “with a little practice.” Diana laughs, “well, I’m sure someone in London could give you a lesson if you look.” Akko shakes her head and tugs on Diana’s sleeve again, “When are you going to get your next one? I’ll learn watercolor tattoos if you’re the one that wants one.”

Diana felt her face heat up slightly, she looks away. “I can’t just get these things on a whim.” “Of course you can!” She cheered, “that’s what makes them fun.” Diana slows down their slow and pauses to glance at her, “you’re a menace to public decision making you know.” Akko snorts, “I love being a menace.” Diana laughs and pats Akko’s arm, “I can tell.” They laugh again and Akko is still looking at her.

It happened on that clear spring day, with clouds like cotton balls and sky like lovely blue syrup.

“What should I get then?” Diana asks teasingly, “You seem to have lots of answers.”

Akko tapped her chin, “something just for you!” Diana feels her expression pinch.

“Oh?” “Or a lover!”

If Diana was drinking something she would have spit it out, “What have I done to ever suggest I have a lover?” Akko put her hands together, “duh, you’re like the prettiest most intelligent girl I know. Don’t hide it from me! No one could resist your fluffy princess hair.” Akko primps Diana’s long blonde hair and Diana swats her hand away.

“It takes more than that to get dates you know.” She says in a monotone. “ Plus, tattoos are permanent and love isn’t exactly like that.”

Akko’s mouth falls open, “they’re the same thing!”

“I don’t want some random person’s name on me forever.” Diana defends.

Akko crosses her arms across her chest forcefully, “Love tattoos are the best ones. They’re the same things.” Diana raised her eyebrows, “how would you know?” “I have eyes,” Akko stuck out her tongue at her, their eyes meet. “And they’re both, you know, both can be permanent.”

She frowns deeply, “you can be a little silly sometimes I’m sure you know.”

“You’re the silly one,” Akko’s face was burning an angry red as she balled up her hands, “you don’t even…” Diana took in a deep breath and looked Akko up and down, “do you have a love tattoo?” She asks curiously, Akko just shook her head.

“But if I did…” She looks up, the heat dying in her eyes, “I know what I’d want.” Her eyes were on her, Diana slowly counts her eyelashes. She holds her breath. “Not that you understand.” Akko said the last sentence like heartbreak. Diana steps forward, her color rising unexpectedly.

“Where would get it?” Her heart thumps in her chest.

Akko looks at the ground, like a puppy locked outside. “I don’t know.” She reaches up to touch her face.

Diana takes another tentative step forward, “I’m not an expert.” She says shortly and Akko glances up. “In fact, I think I’m terribly suited for it.” “Huh?” “But I could show you where I’d put it.” Akko’s eyes go wide, she nods ever so slightly and Diana was already in motion before the answer hung in the air. She kisses her shoulder.

“Diana…” Akko fades out, Diana reaches up and kisses her cheek. “Diana!”

Diana leans forward and captures her bright lips for a moment, and maybe if that could be permanent, for just a second. She kisses her and the cotton ball clouds seem to pause and the syrup of the fine blue skies drips down on her like a warm bath in her chest.

It was quick and forever all at once, the speed of her heart beat mixing with the slow press of her lips, gradual and soft at first and building into something solid. Burning.

Akko wraps her arms around her neck and Diana stands up straight, dragging her feet off the ground into a kiss with a slight twirl. She laughs and Diana holds her. “There. Right there.”

Akko boops her nose, “You can’t tattoo your mouth.” Diana shakes her head, “I can try.” She kisses her again.

Diana gets one last tattoo, Akko dares her to get one over her heart and she accepts.

[snazzy-suit]

In Which I Am Reunited With Some Pokemon Cards (and not the ones you think)

Gather ‘round boys and girls ‘cause I got a hell of a treat for you today courtesy of a mysterious purchase made back in 1998 (or whenever the hell my parents got it). 

So my folks have been downsizing on all the shit they have as they prepare to move from my childhood home and it’s no surprise that they’ve been digging up a bunch of toys and other possessions from my youth. Some get donated, some get thrown out, some get sent to me. The latter is where the fun begins.

My most recent box of nostalgia held a deck of Pokemon cards. No no, not the trading cards--as you would expect--but a 52 card deck with a Pokemon theme. Cool right? They’re in hella good condition too--like they’ve never been used, which isn’t all that surprising considering I was seven at the time--so I’m thinking, “Hey, these could be great for game night! My fellow dorks would appreciate a nice throw back.”

I open the case and shuffle through them.

My god. I...I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what I beheld in that moment. It was beautiful. It was a travesty. It was like Christmas came early! (You know, if I was actually a fan of the holiday.)

But enough of the tell, it’s time to show.

Okay. We’re off to a great start. 

So clearly the image on the left is the back of the card. Nothing wrong with the picture, per say, but the font...hoo-boy. Simple red text with a drop shadow was certainly an odd choice. I’ve seen worse, don’t get me wrong, but...doesn’t this franchise have a pleasing, eye-catching font that is highly recognizable? 

Also, why “Pocket Monsters”? Yes, I’m aware that’s what Pokemon stands for, but considering that the vast majority of the brand isn’t labeled as the former (in the west, anyway, where this was purchased) it’s an unusual decision on the manufacturer’s part. 

I tried to find this deck online--to learn of its true origin--but the closest thing to it was this listing on ebay. They’re very similar, but have clear differences. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t find the answers I was looking for.

Oh and the picture on the right is just the back design 10/10

This is true art, my friends. Where do we even begin? 

Charmander is centered nicely, but Eevee is oddly scaled up so that it’s awkwardly cropped. 

Then there’s my favorite part--the text. First of all, it’s not even in English. This product was purchased in the US at a retail chain, not some kiosk peddling knock off/imported merchandise. Why it wasn’t translated is beyond me. 

And the font. The font. It’s fucking...default Microsoft Word Jokerman font. 

I did a little digging, and it appears that these images were taken and slightly altered from this poster (This was the best quality picture I could find). From what I gathered, this is an official (japanese? thai?) poster, and I just...damn, I forgot how much you could get away with back in the day. 

Alright then. 

The backgrounds are...well, one is just a solid green, the other two are gradients (not that gradients are necessarily a bad thing, but still), and the fourth (my fave) is two separate images stacked on top of each other: a sold blue base beneath a...starry night sky in the snowy mountains? Hard to say.

Back to the first card. Just so you know, weird cropping appears to be a theme with this deck, so get used to it. Charmander’s tail appears to be missing, though it’s possible that little smidge between the ‘mon and the image border is the elusive appendage, but even if it is, the arrangement is still awkward as hell. 

The Christmas themed king of clubs is the only holiday card in the entire deck. Background aside, the picture itself isn’t all that bad, but because it’s the only one of its kind, it really stands out. 

There’s a lot to unpack here.

The first two cards are just screen grabs from the show. And of all the possible scenes to choose from...they pick?? Those?? It’s like they randomly paused during an episode and went “Fuck it, these will do”. 

Same thing with the next two, except we are gifted with 3 screen grabs per card (ah yes, Venasaur ass and headless Blastoise, my favorite!) and a single image of each Pokemon lazily tossed in. 

DID I MENTION THEY’RE ALL HORRIBLY, AWKWARDLY CROPPED?

Because they’re horribly, awkwardly cropped.

But Snazzy Suit!--the three of you reading this cry--surely not all of these cards are of questionable quality? And you would be right! Some are actually quite delightful:

Wow! That’s more like it! 

Did they actually make new art for these cards? It’s possible this is just taken from a magazine, or some other source, but it’s definitely an improvement over what we’ve seen so far. It would have been nice if they had made one of these for every Pokemon type, or at least something similar. 

Hey! Here’s some cute art! Again, why not more of this? 

That iS nOt WHaT i MeAnT

JFC I think we found the inspiration behind The Human Centipede 

I could go on, but this post is long enough as it is. My nitpicky ass is just happy this product made its way back into my possession. 

Bonus:

[madebycinexo]

Exo’s performances at MAMA

I’ve always found that Exo’s performances at the Mnet Asian Music Awards were really iconic, and it’s been something I’ve looked forward to every year. I made a list of all their performances with the year, title and components of each performance, because I knew I wanted to make an edit (or, well, several edits) of them. One vague idea I had was to make it like a sketch in a notebook with all the details, so it would look like it was a plan/concept for the performance, kind of like a storyboard. I would have probably really overcomplicated that, so I went with something else. 

2012: Time Loop 2012

Resources:

Font: Hacked

VCR Overlay / Noise

At first I wanted to do the same template for every performance. I wanted to highlight memorable moments from each performance, so this is what I came up with originally:

Now I look at it and I’m just not feeling it, but when I first made it I really thought it was awful. I thought a bit more about the performance, and the theme of it. Since it’s called Time Loop 2012, and they’re performing older song and “reversing time” so to speak, I decided to go with a VCR/glitch effect. I had actually done a test of this kind of effect a few weeks prior and I really liked it:

I think the test gif looks a lot better than the final edit (why does this always happen oTL) 

The RGB split is done by using differently scaled copies of the image/gif and using the blending options. The glitch effect is done by using the wave filter on a few frames. The lines are added with a halftone pattern, and then I added some grain/noise as well. I think I followed one of the methods shown in this tutorial.

2013: Ein süßer Traum

Resources:

Font: John Hancock CP

Title Card

Old Film Countdown

Film Scratches Overlay

This one is based on the VCR shown at the beginning of the performance. It was kind of like a silent film with its captions (except it wasn’t silent.) So I wanted to go with that concept and make it look like an old film. This one was quite fun to do, adding little tweaks and stuff. I really wanted to use the same font as the one in the VCR. I tried several of those font identifier sites, googled silent movie fonts, and went through font categories that it could fit in, but I could not for the life of me find it. I got so frustrated and almost used a different font, but then somehow I found it (I literally don’t even remember how, but I was so glad I did.)

2014: The New Age of Exo

Resources:

Font: Lombok

Paper Texture

Watercolor Brushes

Something I really remember and love about this performance is how different the stage for every segment was. With every song, the staging and the lighting transports you somewhere else, and I wanted that to come through in the edit. I chose the font because it reminded me of the outlines of the boxes at the beginning of the performance. I really liked the paper and watercolor effect I did for the January 2017 edit, so I had been wanting to use the effect for a different edit as well, and I thought it worked well for this. Instead of using white paper as a background I drew from the dominant color of each stage. I did try it with white paper, but I didn’t find it as immersive:

And here’s another draft:

This is my favorite out of the edits, because it’s closer to what I had envisioned these edits to be in my head. I especially like how the Deep Breath one turned out. 

2015: Light of Planet

Resources:

Font: The Kabel Font

I went with a neon theme, inspired by the title of the performance, the pink neon lighting in the Call Me Baby VCR, the lightsabers and the LCD panels or whatever it is on the stage right before the performance started and everything was dark. I made the font bigger this time, because it didn’t have the same effect when I just put it at the top left corner. With neon it’s kind of like go big or go home. For Call Me Baby and Lightsaber I blended different parts of the performances together. They turned out good. The Drop That and Love Me Right gifs aren’t that great. Lightsaber turned out the best, I felt really satisfied with it.

2016: The Sacrifice

Resources:

Font: Exodus (Striped)

This gave off a futuristic dystopian vibe. I had been font hunting prior to making these edits, so I found ones that fit quite easily. (This one gets bonus point for being called Exodus). At first I thought of making a gif of each member for the VCR and then putting it into one gif, but since there isn’t much movement and I wanted to include something other than their faces as well, I just took a few frames for each member. Kyungsoo and Lay weren’t in the VCR, sadly. The Kai & Sehun gif is actually just one long sequence, but of course it had way too many frames, so I divided it into three separate ones and just put them next to each other. Baekhyun’s solo was difficult to do. When you watch the performance... it’s not super enjoyable to watch, because the lighting and the angles are so bad you can’t really see anything. I think Baekhyun mentioned being upset about it too on his instagram. He had this whole mechanical heart going that really gave much more purpose to the performance, but you couldn’t see it at all. They really did him dirty.

2017: The Force Of The Planet

Resources:

Font: Metrica

With the theme and the “Kinetic Performance” as Mnet likes to call it, I wanted to use a font that was inspired by constellations. I almost used a different one, but the other one felt almost too whimsical and was more difficult to read. Maybe I can use it in a different edit some time. The font looked better when it was bigger, but I didn’t want it to distract from the performance too much, so I set it on overlay or soft light, whichever worked better for each gif and then duplicated it as needed, so it would be more prominent. I added a shadow to it to make it stand out from the background a bit more. For the title gif I colored the font using the colors of the planets (?) above them. It looks a little bit... cheesy. For Power I wanted to use two different parts. Since the light goes down and you just see their silhouettes at the ending, I tried blending the other part I wanted to use into that, which kiiiind of worked.

Overall these edits weren’t exactly what I imagined. It became more of an experimentation of different fonts and effects. The 2014 one was the closest to what I wanted to do.

[ernmark]

Because I’ve been posting a whole lot of really sad stuff lately, here’s something a little bit more fun.

The prompt comes courtesy of Kya, who requested Juno undertake a very particular kind of case, with some details based on a conversation with @crownsnbirds​. 

Rita’s laid down the law: there will be no more dry spells in the Juno Steel Detective Agency. Juno has two weeks to recover, just long enough for the sunburn to finish peeling and the vertigo to fade into mild dizzy spells when he stands up too fast, and then he’s back on the job. 

He should probably thank her for that, at least when he’s done being annoyed at her about it. 

After everything that’s happened, the current case is a relief. There’s no conspiracy, no murder, no hostage situations, no rigged elections. Just a run-of-the-mill Uptown blue blood whining because their favorite tiara went missing.

“No, not a tiara,” insists Theophania Frost. “It’s a diadem. An antique from my dearest grandmama.” 

“Your... diadem.” Goddamn rich people. “Right. Now are you sure it’s actually stolen? Have you checked with your staff? Made sure it’s not out for cleaning or repairs or whatever?” Hell, maybe somebody left it in the refrigerator by mistake. God knows he’s done that with his eye patch once or twice after a long night.

“Detective Steel, I wouldn’t have called you here if I wasn’t absolutely certain it’s been stolen-- and I know who did it, too!”

Juno sighs. The tone of their voice tells him he’s going to be in for a long day. “Do you?”

Frost leans in conspiratorially and drops their voice to a whisper, as if they might be overheard. “Have you ever heard of the Bouquet Bandit?”

Oh god, not this again.

“Is this one of those crooks with a theme song trying to get into the Fortezza? Because this is a hell of a bad time to cash in on that deal.” 

“I don’t know, Detective, but I’m not the only one who’s been stolen from. Sam Spare, you know, the botanist? Xir diamond shears went missing a month ago. And Telemnachus Wake’s collection of antique horsehair necklaces was taken two months ago, and on the same day, they were sent flowers.”

“Flowers.” 

Frost takes Juno’s exasperation for enthusiasm. “That’s right! Every time he takes something, he always leaves behind a dozen roses.”

“Thus the name, I got it.” 

Why did Rita have to pick now to start doing her job?

Whoever this Bouquet Bandit is, he’s good. The crime scene is spotless, and there’s no signs of forced entry whatsoever. While Rita goes over Frost’s security system for footage and signs of tampering, Juno looks into the other alleged crimes of the serial burglar, looking for something they had in common. 

The best bet is in the delivery personnel-- people this rich get a lot of deliveries, and nobody thinks twice about a person in uniform with a box in hand walking right up to the front door. There are a few people on the security feeds that Juno pegs as suspicious, and not just because of the one thing they all seem to have in common: no matter where they are or what they’re doing, Juno can never get a good look at their faces. 

He scours the timestamps on the videos, looking for others that might give a better angle or reveal some kind of other identifying mark, but there’s no luck so far.

And honestly? He’s kind of loving it. After all the shit that went down, he’s been in need of a good, clean, straightforward case. It’s been too long since he’s done legitimate investigating that he could feel good about.

The thought barely has the chance to cross his mind before he hears Rita start talking to someone at her desk. A moment later, she’s poking her head inside his office.

“Hey, Boss? You got a delivery.” 

She looks about as concerned as he feels. Because in her hand is a bouquet of twelve red roses.

“What the hell?” He starts to his feet. “Rita, did you see who delivered these?” 

“Don’t worry, boss, I already asked. It was just a kid. She said some man stopped her on the sidewalk and gave her a whole bunch of money to deliver these to you.” 

“Did she see his face?” 

“I asked, but she wouldn’t say nothin’. She just gave me the flowers and ran.”

Juno grabs the card from among the roses and turns it over. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Juno’s still got the card in his pocket when he arrives at the meeting point. Rita insisted she come with him when she saw, but this time he was the one who put his foot down-- the last time she joined him on a job, she fell in love with a murderer, and this time he’s going to cut off the inevitable tragedy before he has to buy two pints of ice cream and sit through her forty favorite sad movies.

The card itself is infuriatingly unhelpful. The paper is high-class cardstock, but nothing so fancy that you couldn’t get it at any stationary store in town. The text is digitally printed in a fancy but publicly available font. The message is short:

Detective Juno Steel

Meet me at the Jacobi Convention Center at 3 PM on July 5.

Don’t be late.

It screams ambush-- which is another reason why Rita isn’t coming.

Even if the ambush is apparently going to happen at the local Y2K Faire.

It makes sense in its own ridiculous way: there are hundreds of people coming and going, half of them in costume, and everyone’s going to be carrying a shopping bag or a replica glock or sword or whatever, and there’ll be enough reenactors demonstrating fake duels that nobody’s going to notice if things get heated until it’s too late.

Old Americana-style signposts mark the different sections of the faire, their directions spelled out in big white letters against reflective green rectangles. One catches Juno’s eye: its metal pole is decorated with a dozen roses. It looks like a regular decoration, but he takes it as a sign and follows its lead. It’s not hard to find a second sign post covered in roses a little further, and another, until he’s on the far end of the convention center. By now the trail is easy to follow, laid out in a path of rose petals on the floor. They’re fresh, not quite dried out yet, not nearly as trampled as they should be, given how many people are here. The bandit can’t have been here more than half an hour ago, tops.

The trail leads to an exotic animal exhibit based on old-fashioned Earth petting zoos. Which... can’t be right. Juno checks all the way around the enclosure, just to make sure he got it right, but no. That’s where it ends. 

What the hell is he supposed to do with this?

He stares, perplexed, at children reaching through the bars to offer handfuls of pellets and sliced vegetables to cows and ponies and old Earth species of rabbits-- the kind that are fluffy and bright-eyed and small enough to hold in your arms.

The kind I’m used to eat carrots and wrinkle their little nosies.

The thought makes Juno’s heart ache a little bit. Reminders of Nureyev always do. 

He’s staring into the enclosure when he notices something that doesn’t belong: a bit of paper, fancy card stock the same stiffness and shade as the card in his hand, carefully pinned to the wool of a star-horned goat on the other end of the enclosure. He hurries over to the spot of fence closest to it, but as soon as he gets there, it’s on the move, meandering around to the other side.

“Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath, and sets his foot on the metal gate. He wasn’t planning to get cow dung on his shoes today, but whatever.

“Hey!” barks a man who smells like he’s been working with these things for a long, long time. “You can’t go in there.”

Juno would ignore him and make the leap anyway, but the guy grabs him, and hot damn does he have a strong grip. Apparently wrangling a bunch of four-legged antiques for a living builds muscles or something. 

“I said you can’t go in there,” the caretaker repeats slowly. It’s a warning. It won’t be repeated again.

There’s even odds that Juno would win any fight between them, but no matter how it goes, he’ll end the fight by being dragged out by security, which means he’ll lose his only lead on this case. The Bandit’s got a game to play, and Juno intends to win it.

And that means playing by the rules.

“Sorry about that,” he says as sweetly as he can get away with. “I’m just so excited. I’ve never seen a goat up close before.”

The caretaker gives him a weird look, but backs off. “Yeah, well, you’re going to have to do your watching from out here. It stresses the animals out too much to let people into the pen.”

“Do you think you could bring one over for me to get a closer look?” He points at the star-horned goat with the note on its wool. “How about that one over there?”

“Listen, buddy,” the caretaker says. “We can’t do that. If you want them to come closer, we sell food pellets for a cred a bag.”

Sometimes, being a Private Eye means asking the hard questions-- like whether he’s going to include “petting zoo food pellets” in his expense report at the end of a case.

He decides to swallow the cost along with his pride and he buys a bag.

And then he buys two more; the one goat he’s after looks hungry, but apparently not as much as the rest of the animals in the enclosure. In seconds he’s swarmed by livestock, and Juno runs his hands over all of them, just in case the goat wasn’t the only one with a note in its fur.

And... okay, so they are really soft. It’s not like this is his first time at a Y2K Faire, but he’s never bothered to pay money for a chance to pet the animals. It’s actually kind of nice. Especially the cow-- she keeps bumping his hand with her soft, velvety nose, and scrubs her long tongue over the palm of his hand in a way that should be a lot more gross than it is. It’s a shame there aren’t more of these on Mars.

Sure, a few people are complaining about the smell, but Juno spent half his childhood wading through the sewers with giant rabbits. If anything, the smell of hay and manure and animal fur feels a little bit nostalgic. 

It’s not until he trades a handful of pellets to a six-year-old in exchange for a bunch of carrot slices that the goat finally starts heading his way, nosing at one hand while he fumbles to unpin the note from its wool. 

Just like he guessed, it’s the a perfect match for the card that came with the flowers, with the same paper, the same font, and the same obnoxious lack of helpful information.

Hungry, Detective?

Meet me in the Foode Courte.

Even without the little heart at the bottom of the card, there’s something ridiculously flirtatious about the whole thing. But that’s this thief’s schtick, isn’t it? Some kind of hopeless romantic who goes around tossing roses all over the place. Just watch, when Juno finds him he’ll be wearing a top hat and cape. Maybe that’s why he picked this place to sneak around in, so his getup won’t cause any suspicion.

After he washes himself off, Juno follows the signs to the circle of kiosks selling “authentic” twentieth-century cuisine-- things with bizarre names like “deep fried twinkies” and “mashed potatoes” and “blooming onions”. Thankfully, the trail of rose petals on the floor leads him past the more exotic options to a plain-old popcorn stand that’s offering nothing more historic than cheddar-and-caramel among its flavors. The smell of the popcorn is subtle compared to the other foods lingering in the air, but when he’s this close, it’s enough to make his stomach grumble.

Just like before, there’s another note, tucked into one of the pre-portioned bags of popcorn, and he swipes the beg the second the cashier’s back is turned. All expenses paid or not, there’s something criminal about charging seven creds for a quarter’s worth of popcorn. 

Okay, so the popcorn isn’t half bad. Not good enough to justify that price tag, but still, not bad. And he was just thinking he could use a snack.

The note is spotted and translucent with cooking oil, but it’s still readable enough. 

Join me for a game.

“That’s funny, I thought we were already playing one,” Juno says aloud, just in case the Bandit is watching him... which he probably is, dammit.

There’s a section of kiosks dedicated to old Earth carnival games, and sure enough, there’s another trail of rose petals leading him to the right booth: a target shooting game backed up against a funnel cake stand.

He’s not even surprised when he finds the corner of another note sticking out of a cut in an oversized teddy bear.

“Joke’s on you,” he mutters. “I’m great at these things.” 

He used to do these all the time when he was in high school, winning the biggest prize he could carry just to show off for his dates. 

He pays a couple creds to the lady behind the counter and takes aim. All three shots go wide, barely hitting the target.

Anywhere else, that might disappoint him, but not here. Sure, his aim isn’t ever going to be as great as it was when he had the THEIA on and active, but these games are always rigged. The trick is that now he knows which way the laser is skewed, and he corrects his aim accordingly. 

Seven bulls-eyes later, and he’s walking away from the stand with a stuffed bear almost as big as he is. Rita’s going to love this thing-- maybe it’ll make up for not letting her come.

He slips the last note out of the little hole in the bear and unfolds it.

If you want to look into my face, you’ll have to look into your own.

I’ll be waiting in the hall of mirrors.

Finally something direct.

There’s no trail of rose petals this time-- just an “out for lunch” sign and an unlocked door on the old twentieth-century attraction. He never got the appeal of places like this, where everything is dim and warped and confusing. But then, he never really got the appeal of mirrors, either. 

He leaves the bag of popcorn and stuffed bear just inside the door, and he sets out. 

“Alright, I’m here,” he calls into the twisting halls. “Enough of this scavenger hunt. Come out and we’ll settle this.”

His only answer is in footsteps. He whirls to follow the source of the sound, but he only manages to catch reflections of a retreating figure. In the warped glass, he can’t make out a face or a body type, but there’s something about the pattern of the footsteps that feels familiar. 

The Bandit is running, so he gives chase. He keeps seeing flashes of the man, bits and pieces that should all fit together but don’t. All of it feels too familiar. 

And then he’s out of the hall of mirrors and into another corner of the funhouse, this one full of holograms and wax figurines, all of them of celebrities and historical figures and beautiful people through the ages. Some of them are moving, repeating cliched one-liners and overused quotations, and it’s all coming from everywhere, sending false signals from every corner. His senses are so confused that he’s even smelling things he shouldn’t, animals and food and cologne.

Cologne.

“No,” he whispers. “No, it can’t be.” But the more he looks at it, the more obvious it is.

Pet the fuzzy animals. Have a snack. Play a game. Hell, even the flowers--

It’s so obvious. It’s terrible. 

Jesus, why do people keep doing this to him? Sending him on cases that aren’t cases-- it wasn’t even a year ago that he got dragged all over Oldtown for Sasha’s performance review, and then Ramses staged a goddamn assassination for a job interview, and then apparently the stakeout that was a bad excuse to get him to rest up from a stab wound, and now this? 

“Goddammit, Nureyev,” he snaps. “Is this supposed to be a date?”

Nureyev is still out of sight, lost in the dim lights and mannequins, but his voice wafts over Juno. “Are you having fun? I certainly am.”

“You couldn’t just ask--” No, he couldn’t. Because that isn’t Nureyev’s style, and Juno’s never exactly been the type to openly accept that kind of invitation. So he changes tracks. “I gotta say, the location threw me. A Y2K Faire seems kind of low-brow for you.”

“That’s hardly my fault. It did take you some time to respond to my calling card, after all.”

His... oh, goddammit, the serial robberies. “You’ve been trying to get my attention.”

“For months now, thank you for noticing. And you’ve been playing hard to get.” 

Juno sighs. “I wasn’t playing. I was just...” How is he supposed to even put it into words? “My head’s been a real mess.” 

“I can imagine,” Nureyev hums, and his voice is soft and so close that Juno can feel his breath in his ear. “Would you like to talk about it over dinner?”