#natural field stone wall and floor

[environmentalpavilion]

New York Compact Wine Cellar Ideas for a small, rustic wine cellar renovation with racks for storage

[mythicamagic]

Two Black Sheep: Scar x Female Rover oneshot

Summary: Rover crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding his probing gaze. “We likely don’t have much time so I’ll get straight to the point: how are they treating you here?”

Scar’s mirth died down, smile turning patronizing. “Much like our little game in the village, I’ll let you work out the truth for yourself. Truth is always better as a wonderful discovery, rather than fodder fed to you by someone else.”

Female Rover x Scar.

-----

AN: This game isn’t even out yet what am I doing?

This takes place a little later on in the story, so mild spoilers (though I don’t know if they’ll still include this story beat into the released game after seeing it in the most recent Beta test). I fell in love with Scar as an antagonist while watching content creators stream this game so here we are. 

Rated T, 2500 words. You can find this on Ao3 too.

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

Jinzhou city lay quiet and peaceful at night, a shining, glittering jewel of captive lights in the dark. Despite traversing through much of Huanglong, the sight of the pale fortress remained a stunning one to Rover. It stood tall and protective of its people, but she’d always gotten the sense there was more to it. A strength built into the stone; or a set of metal teeth lying in wait beneath its demure exterior. 

This suspicion was confirmed upon stepping into Jinzhou’s underground prison. The first few floors were pleasant and bright, only a few guards posted at the doors. As Rover was led deeper however, taking a lift down, down, down into the dark depths of Jinzhou’s fortress, the atmosphere palpably changed.

It reminded her of entering a Tacet Field, feeling subtle vibrations hum in the air. Strong energies called out in the dark; prisoners waiting in their cells. Not all of them were Resonators, but she felt them nonetheless. They were agitated and restless, some pacing in front of the doors to their cells as she stepped off the elevator and passed by. A few were tied up even when secured behind metal bars, their arms strapped to their torsos.

It was a different side of Jinzhou that Rover had been unfamiliar with until now; a grimy and cruel underbelly. She faced forward when some prisoners began shouting, cat-calling her and rousing the attention of the hallway in a domino effect as she passed by. The guards eventually stopped at the very last door of the hall- this one without the luxury of a window to peer inside the cell. The great iron door hissed and groaned on its hinges as the locks slid open. 

Rover caught the moment the lights switched on before she was ushered in. 

He’s been in total darkness all this time?

She outwardly gave little reaction at the sight that greeted her. Naturally stone-faced, Rover relied on her blank mask like a crutch in that moment. A wide metal collar sat around the prisoner’s neck-  steel spikes lining the inside pointing inward toward his jugular like a circle of teeth. Poles connected the collar to the cell walls, forcing him to stay on his feet in the center of the room. She noted his arms were bound behind his back, no signs of wounds on his body.

Blearily eyes blinked at her, adjusting to the light. 

Scar lifted his head slowly. Interest livened his features the second it seemed to click who he was staring at. He jolted, rattling the poles and sucking in a sharp breath, as though imbued with life.

“Well, well...this is a pleasant surprise, dear Rover,” he rasped. Mismatched eyes smiled with laser focused intensity. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rover ignored him and forced a smile at the guards flanking her sides. “You can leave me alone with him. I’ll be alright.”

The men exchanged worried looks. “It is not that we do not trust you, illustrious guest. It is that the Magistrate gave clear orders that we protect you at all times during your visit. Leaving you alone seems unwise, given the level of notoriety this criminal has earned.”

Jinhsi. She was probably right to be concerned. Scar hadn’t been easy to capture and the level of security surrounding his cell was testament to his abilities. One slip up meant escape. On the other hand, Rover couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something uneasy in her gut.

“I’ll be vigilant. Your priority should be to keep him detained, not my safety,” she turned and laid a hand on the older guard’s arm, looking up at him through her lashes. “If anything happens I’ll call for you, I promise." She squeezed his bicep for good measure.

The guard shifted, clearing his throat. He gave a nod and gestured for his companion to leave, giving her a tight squeeze on the shoulder in parting, finally leaving the room. The metal door slid shut behind them with a hiss.

Left alone in the quiet room together, Scar was quick to quirk a brow. “I didn’t know you were capable of using your appeal like that. The poor man will be thinking about your pretty face for days. Be careful such tactics don’t land you in hot water.”

Rover crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding his probing gaze. “We likely don’t have much time so I’ll get straight to the point: how are they treating you in here?”

More open surprise flitted across his face. It was such a sharp contrast to his usually unflappable, grinning persona. Scar tilted his head and gave an impish grin. “How interesting! You surely didn’t come all the way here just to inquire after my wellbeing. Did Madame Magistrate put you up to this? A new tactic to get me to talk?” He chuckled, rattling the poles with the force of his stifled laughter. “It’s impressive, I’ll give her that.  Very compelling. I’d much rather talk to you than anyone else in this forsaken place, even if it becomes an interrogation.”

Solitary confinement certainly hasn’t impacted his ability to talk, Rover noted dryly. His voice sounded slightly hoarse to her ears though. “Just answer the question.”

Scar’s mirth died down, smile turning patronizing. “Much like our little game in the village, I’ll let you work out the truth for yourself. Truth is always better as a wonderful discovery, rather than fodder fed to you by someone else.”

Shifting her weight, Rover took one step closer, then another. His predatory smile widened at her proximity, flashing teeth at her steady approach.

Thinking things over, Rover glanced at his torso. His tight red and gray bodysuit revealed his proportions a bit too well at times, but it hid everything of his skin.  

Well if she wanted answers she could just ask his body directly. 

Rover reached out and poked beneath his ribs.

“Gn!” a harsh breath hissed out through clenched teeth, his whole frame shuddering. Scar grinned soon after, shooting her a wary look. 

“Wasn’t much of a wonderful discovery, was it?” Rover drawled, reaching behind her hip and taking out a container. She shook it, depositing food rations out onto her open palm. Maintaining eye-contact, she bit into the dried meat, chewing and watching how his attention dropped to her lips. His mouth thinned into a hard, grim line. 

The sound of a stomach rumbling filled the room. 

“We’re two for two,” she noted, securing the container again and taking out her water bottle. His gaze was immediately wide and imploring, gazing at it longingly. 

Rover sighed, offering the rim of the bottle out to him. “I don’t think I need any more evidence. Just drink already.” 

Scar lifted his head, that unusual pale white hair of his sliding into mismatched eyes. She’d been able to look into them once before, when he’d initially been apprehended. One flinty gray, the other a dull red. She’d been distracted back then, but without so much as a window inside the room to draw her attention away, Rover could admit there was something beckoning about his appearance. He wasn’t unattractive by any means- though she quickly shook that thought away.

At his uncharacteristic silence, Rover frowned. Putting the pieces together, she lowered the bottle. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what worries you.”

He laughed. “Oh dear sweet Rover. I don’t think you're capable of poisoning anyone. Far too earnest for such underhanded methods,” he shook his head. “No, no. It’s not you I doubt. Madame Magistrate though- and those guards? They’d jump at the chance to slip a member of the Fractsidus a little something. What’s more, they have the perfect little scapegoat right here.”

Inferring his meaning, Rover’s blood ran cold, becoming uncomfortably aware of her position. “...They wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t they?” he purred, leaning as close as he dared, heedless of the spikes threatening to puncture his skin. “I’ve told you so many times now not to misplace your trust. Especially not in those you barely know: and with amnesia making you so ripe for manipulation its a recipe for hurt,” he practically sighed the words. His tone was casual, but he was smiling, very, very widely. “If you really did come here of your own accord, they’ll mark this day on your record. A smear. They’ll have eyes on you, watching your every move- anticipating the day you turn traito-!”

Rover shoved the water bottle against his lips. She tilted it up, pushing her fingers into the gaps between the collar spikes to try to alleviate their pressure against his neck. “Just drink. You talk too much.”

Scar made a noise, spilling some liquid- water running down his chin, before he gave in and ultimately drank. He gasped as soon as it seemed to register how thirsty he really was, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed with heightening desperation. 

Once finished, Rover lifted the bottle away, noting the faint sneer of his mouth. 

Cutting her gaze to the ceiling, she lifted the bottle to her lips and titled it back, catching the rest of the remaining water on her tongue. “There. If they want to poison you, they’ll take me out too in the process.”

He blinked rapidly, the derision quickly falling from his expression. He glanced at her hand still woven between the spikes and collar, registering her touch for the first time. 

“You’re such a strange existence,” he murmured softly, turning the full force of his attention onto her. Rover felt her gut lurch the second heat touched his cheeks, reddening them. “If you’re not careful, you’ll win more than just my attention. I’m already serious about obtaining you for the group. If I started to want you for myself…hmn…” a rumbling noise of contentment escaped the depths of his chest. “Just picture it; two black sheep. Ostracized from their herds for different reasons, but finding solace in each other’s jaws. A beautiful picture.”

Rover took out her food ration, bumping it against his mouth to try to prompt him to eat again and hopefully stop talking. “I do one nice thing and you’re talking as though we’re meant for each other,” she sighed, glancing at the door. “I don’t know how long we have left. Eat.”

Opening his mouth, Scar accepted her offering, chewing while staring at her with that keen light in his eyes. 

Seeking to snuff it out, Rover straightened, bearing down upon him with what she hoped was an intimidating glare. “Let’s not get carried away here, Scar. You’ve murdered people in cold blood. You’re still planning on hurting my friends if you ever get out of here. Nothing’s changed between us, are we clear?” she said firmly.

“Crystal,” he swallowed, bypassing her glare to look up at the ceiling with a dreamy gaze he sometimes gained, voice becoming light hearted. “I’ve no plans to hurt your friends specifically though. All that matters is you and me in the grand scheme of things. I really couldn’t care less about those outside of our circle enough to actively target them. It all just sort of…happens in the moment when they come between our little talks.”

Releasing his steel collar now that he’d eaten, Rover made to back away- only for him to lunge- the poles shrieking, collar straining against his neck.

Their noses brushed, breath intermingling. Rover froze up, all her instincts she’d naturally fallen into when fighting Tacet Discords blurred away into nothingness. Her heartbeat slammed into her ribcage. She couldn’t move suddenly. 

The instability she’d glimpsed so many times in his gaze was back with full force. A kind of euphoric high brightened his irises. “You haven’t asked me anything about Fractsidus! I find that so strange and fun. If you were here on Madame Magistrates orders, you’d be going back empty handed. So…” Scar’s lips ghosted her cheek without pressing down, resting snugly against the shell of her ear. “Why did you really come here?”

Goosebumps raised on her skin. Rover yanked her head back, summoning her best poker face to look at him dispassionately. “I’ll let you work out the truth for yourself,” she said. “Truth is always better as a wonderful discovery, rather than fodder fed to you by someone else.”

She then grasped him under the ribs, threatening to squeeze whatever injuries lay hidden beneath his clothes. Scar inhaled sharply against her cheek- before falling into a sinfully low groan. 

His exhale was shaky, relishing the pain. “You truly are magnificent at whetting my appetite, Rover. A sublime prey.” 

When their pupils next met, Rover’s widened, finding those gray and red eyes equal parts deranged and manic.

Scar laughed when she broke away, his shoulders shaking with mirth. She stiffly moved back toward the safety of the door, banging on it twice with her fist.

His uproarious laughter followed her all the way out, ringing in her ears long after the steel door had shut behind her. She stood amongst the concerned guards, shying away from their casual touches. 

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Did the interrogation go well?”

Rover looked at the younger guard sharply. “I didn’t go in there to interrogate him,” she gritted out, curling her gloved hands into fists. She stepped closer. “There’s no light switched on in there when he's alone. He’s malnourished and dehydrated. What’s more, the guards are delivering corporal punishment behind closed doors. This was an informal inspection, sir. One which you failed.”

His face turned red comically fast. “M-my lady! What would you have us do?! He’s an S rank criminal! We’re too concerned he may escape if we ease up his living conditions.”

“Besides that, he’s a murderer-” the older guard cut in. His eyes narrowed, roving around her face critically. “If you have any sympathy for that man, save it for his innocent victims.”

She rounded on him with a hard sneer. “I don’t condone his actions. However, there’s too much we don’t know- and letting him die means allowing his knowledge and information to die with him. I won’t let that happen if I can help it,” she muttered, turning on her heel and storming down the hallway the way she’d come. Changes would be coming swiftly to Scar’s living situation if she had anything to say about it. Without her memories, information was more important to Rover than anything, and perhaps losing Scar didn't matter to the Jinzhou officials- but it mattered to her.

She could feel their judgemental gazes boring into her back. Maybe it had already started. No, it had started the second she’d requested a visitation without being ordered to see him. Rover half expected Scar’s warning to come true- for the various Jinzhou officials and citizens to start suspecting her of fraternizing with the Fractsidus.

That was fine with her. Though he unnerved her, something about Scar kept forcing Rover to pay attention to him. That no matter how strange and misleading his words were- there was a grain of truth to them somewhere. 

Or, perhaps, he’d been a complete and utter liar from the very start, designed to make her doubt herself and everyone around her.

Either way, Rover saw the value in finding out the truth for herself. 

[moontyun]

Pairing: prince!Jungwon x peasant!reader Genre: romance, lost friends, attempted humor, attempted angst?, childhood friends to lovers Synopsis: People out grow each other all of the time. That was the natural process of life, but not for him. Everywhere he turned you were there. You were always someone he could not leave behind again. He'd lost you once, he wasn't going to lose you again. Word count: 1.1k Warning(s): possibility of death mentioned

Royalty and their rules

Bright white beamed against the blue sky. The castle shimmered in the early morning light. The lush greenery stretched for miles. Red roses glittering with morning dew. Heeseung was leading you down the stone pathway that led into the looming castle doors. You were not planning on Heeseung taking you to the castle. This was not what you had expected when you had told him you wanted help looking for the duck boy. Not to mention you didn’t think getting to the castle would take about a day and a half to get to. 

It all started two days ago, after you had told him you wanted him to help you look for the duck boy. Somewhere along the way in the story, Heeseung seemed to have misunderstood where you had met the boy. Were you going to correct him? No, this was the perfect opportunity to see the place he was the majority of the time. 

The castle was just as beautiful inside as the outside. The walls were beautifully decorated with painting and tapestry. White columns lined the way leading up the throne. There the king sat with his jewel studded crown. The king rose from his seat, a smile on his face, arms wide open. “Welcome home, Heeseung.” He was decorated from head to toe in an orange robe, detailed with gold thread and beautiful beading. 

Heeseung smiled back to the king, “Thank you, your majesty. I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, (name).” 

The king was absolutely stunning, his gaze shifting to you as he stepped down to get a closer look at you. “Welcome, a pleasure to meet you. You will be joining us for dinner?” It wasn’t so much of an invitation as it was a demand. 

You looked down at what you were wearing. It wasn’t exactly appropriate attire to wear to a fine dinner like that. You chuckled shyly, not really knowing how to respond to him. You knew if you turned it down, it would look poorly on Heeseung. If you stayed, you’d be ashamed the whole time. “If that’s what you wish, your majesty.” You smiled weakly. That was the only response you could come up with. 

“Please drop the formalities, call me Sunghoon.” You batted your eyes in disbelief before quickly nodding, briefly looking to your friend who stood next to you. He looked just as lost as you were. Sunghoon smiled kindly at the both of you. 

“S-Sunghoon, there is a matter in which (name) needs to speak to you about. Hence the reason for their sudden arrival.” Clearly he was anxious calling him that. It was completely foreign to him, something that he had never done before. If he had, he hadn’t done it in a very long time. 

Sunghoon turned his whole attention to your friend, then back to you. “Oh what about?” He asked, before sitting down on the floor of the audience chamber. At this, you were the only one stunned by his actions. Heeseung quickly took a seat on the floor, also. Leaving you to slowly and awkwardly lower yourself to the ground as well. 

You smiled quickly, “Uh, well,” the nervousness was starting to set in. This was going to come out a complete mess. It was likely going to come out all wrong or completely rude. There was no in between. “There was this boy when I was younger. We used to play around in the field and the little pond that was there… um, he gave me this necklace years ago and I haven’t seen him since.” He nodded his head, honest concern gracing his face. It was making you more nervous. “I was wondering if, you know, you were him?” Sunghoon’s face sank. That gave you all the answers you needed. “Not him, got it. Thank you. I’ll be leaving now.” you attempted to stand up and dismiss yourself. 

Sunghoon quickly grabbed your wrist, sitting you back down, “No, I’m not him. But I know him. He used to talk about a kid about his age, who fed ducks with him all the time when we were kids.” To say you were shocked would be a drastic understatement. “But much like you, I have not heard from him in a very long time. I don’t know if he is even alive anymore” That was even more shocking. Disappointment was clearly written on your face, Heeseung ruffled your hair, trying to comfort you. “Don’t let that deter you from looking for him though. I admire you for trying.” 

Smiling weakly, you twiddled with your fingers anxiously. This was possibly worse than you imagined but you weren’t going to let this ruin your time here at a glorious castle. Eating nice food, enjoying the cushy life for a little. “I’ll keep looking then. Thank you for your help.” 

-

The sun had started to set. Oranges, yellows, and pinks started to form over the skyline. You were on the balcony, enjoying the view. He wasn’t dead. There was no way. He was strong and healthy. There wasn’t a doubt in your head he was still alive. You wanted to believe he was okay, you hoped he was okay. 

Sitting on the ground once more, you continued to enjoy the view. The door to the balcony creaked open behind you, you chose to ignore it. Sunghoon took a seat next to you. Silence enveloped the two of you for a little while. “You know, you can get a better view if you’re standing up and over the railing.” You giggled a little bit. “I’m sure he’s okay. He’s thriving and living a full life.” 

Nodding your head, you sighed. “I’m sure he is.” Your eyes started to water, quickly you blinked it away, “Anyway, enough about sad things. How’s Heeseung doing here? Does he like it here? Are you treating him well? Is he eating enough?” All of a sudden it was an interrogation on him. 

Laughing, Sunghoon answered you, “He’s doing well here. He’s eating and sleeping well. I’m lucky to have him as a friend and a knight.” 

“Why haven’t you let him have more time off?” 

“I’ve given him the time, he chooses not to take it.” 

That was Heeseung for you. Choosing to work rather than take a break and rest for a bit before turning back to the grind. It was a little pet peeve of yours he had but over the years, you had grown used to it. “And you? How are you liking being king?”

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[eluvisen]

The Bear and the Barbarian

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Characters: Karlach/f!Tav

Rating: M

After unleashing nature’s wrath on the goblin camp, Rhodeia struggles to return from the violence she inflicted. Karlach helps.

Notes: Written for Femslash February 2024. Prompt: chose violence.

—

Lost in her wildshape, the killing is easy. Easier than it’s ever been as Rhodeia rides the rush of battle-tides, losing herself in the current. Fire and blood spill across defiled stone until there’s no roar left but echoes off the crumbling walls and she doubles over, panting. A red string of saliva drips from her mouth to the floor.

With every breath, she becomes aware of the flagstones under her paws. The wet stickiness coating her claws. But the shape of them feels wrong, too short and too blunt, and it takes several tortured seconds to realise her paws are no longer paws at all.

“Soldier.”

A creak of leather, and a pair of knees sink into her field of vision, accompanied by a wave of heat. The infernal reek beats against her, crisping the air with an unnatural acrid tang. Some animal instinct as deep as the earth beneath the temple floor needs to attack, but her claws are bloodied nails once more, and she can only gasp as black spots roll across her eyes. 

“Come on. Focus on me. That’s it. Battle’s over, in case you couldn’t tell. But you probably can, since you changed back.”

Her vision is dim, greyed at the edges. Distant noises roll in like a tide, and she twitches at a nearby laugh. Voices. The crackle of flames, and a closer heat against her face. She heaves in breath after breath, the air clawing the back of her throat. The pain brings her back, just a little.

Rhodeia manages, “Karlach?”

“Ey! She speaks! Good news, soldier: we won, and now there are hot baths in our imminent futures. Or a dip in a cold stream, rather, which is almost as good.” Karlach’s voice lowers. “Come on, now. On your feet, soldier. No baths for you if you don’t.”

With one hand planted on her knee, Rhodeia pushes herself upright. The dimensions of her body feel wrong—too narrow, too contained. Cold air on furless skin.

“That’s it, soldier. You can do it.”

A final push, and Rhodeia makes it to her feet. Just. Beside her, Karlach rises to her full height with far less wobbling despite the bruises and streaks of blood marring her skin. Rhodeia scans the temple courtyard, but the bear hasn’t quite left her yet; her gaze snaps towards every nearby sound, searching for threats. Lae’zel brings her blade down on a not-quite-dead goblin while Shadowheart cleans her mace with a sneer at a defiled statue of Selûne. The others similarly move through the tides of the dead, pilfering trinkets and slitting throats. Halsin stands gore-streaked in the moonlight, his hands and chin gloved in red. Rhodeia supposes she looks much the same.

She blinks, and they’re a safe distance from the temple ruins. At some point they must have stopped to make camp, and she watches from somewhere beyond her body as they wash away the blood and seal their wounds. Something squeaks nearby, and she realises her eyes have focused on a bat hovering above Halsin’s hands. With a final murmur from him, the bat takes flight, speeding in the direction of the Emerald Grove. Firelight glimmers off its wings, and then it disappears into the gloom.

Rhodeia is vaguely aware of a chunk of flatbread being shoved into her hand. Maybe she eats it. Maybe she doesn’t. When she rises to her feet, the bread is gone and the warm crackle of the fire has faded behind her. Overhead, the forest canopy shivers and peels apart like unwinding fingers, offering precious silver glimpses of the distant sky where all of Selûne’s grace shines down from her pale, full cheek. Perhaps she’s pleased by the slaughter.

Rhodeia passes through the trees until the foliage drops away, revealing a small creek that winds through the night-silvered forest, gurgling in its gravel bed. The sound makes her teeth itch. 

She finds a place to sit. The trees aren’t particularly tall—certainly nothing like the old growth of the deep forest she calls home—but here they loom like living shadows. They stand over her in a silent guard, shivering above while she shivers below. The unfamiliar shape of them leaves her feeling small. Isolated.

Something moves in the underbrush, and she tenses until she sees dim orange light reflecting off leaves and tree trunks in a phantom blaze. A phantom blaze that’s at real risk of becoming a real blaze, but Karlach navigates towards the creekbed with all the care she can muster, and the forest remains blessedly unburnt. She halts a little ways away, and Rhodeia recognises Karlach’s wolf-wariness, head half-cocked and feet light. The yellow glow of her eyes fix on Rhodeia. 

“Hey, soldier.” She scuffs one boot in the gravel as the rocks heat and sizzle “Thought you might want some company.”

[Read on AO3]

[catsafari25]

A/N: Hello, hello, I am back! This time with an au inspired by @bionicle-ramblings post here, specifically about what might have happened had Matau not been able to talk Vakama down from his Hordika side. This turned into 3K words, so heads up for that. (Apologies in advance for the angst!)

x

Too far above the ground, Matau waits for the killing blow that never comes.

His claws are weak-numb, dug into the ledge of the coliseum balcony, and in the bowels of the area below the battle still rages. From all the way up here, it's almost muted, like the backfiring of a hundred small exhaust pipes.

If he falls, he won't have to worry about the battle. Or anything else. Not for long enough to matter, anyway.

And still, Vakama doesn't come to finish him off.

Matau's grip slips further towards the edge, the ground beckons him a little bolder, and he doesn't have time to play it safe. He swings his fang blade up, and his claws lose their hold but the blade hits true. It slices into the stone, snagging him in place. He slams into the coliseum wall – but it's better than the ground. Still, he mutters a few ungainly curses and doesn't move immediately. He tries not to think about the long fall below. Tries not to think about the crazed brother above. Fails on both counts.

Only one is going to definitely kill him though.

The other... well. He's still working on that.

He hauls himself up the rest of the way. It's an ungainly process, his fang blade is attached to the stone – and he's attached to his fang blade, so...

It's also a quiet affair. There comes no bloodthirsty snarl, no flare of blazer claws going for his face. Nothing – save for his near fall and the scorch marks in the floor – to indicate Matau had been fighting for his life only seconds before.

It's nice, not dying. Matau's not going to deny that.

Odd, though.

The Vakama he had known would never have walked away before he was sure the job (the job being murdering a brother, but Matau tries not to dwell on that) was done. It's something to do with the mask-maker's perfectionism. You can't make mistakes with a mask; even a single crack will render it unusable. (Not like test-driving. If a lone dent could put a vehicle out of commission, none of the drives Matau had taken would have passed.)

He had at least expected some gloat-threat. Some rubbing it in Matau's face that he had lost and Vakama had won. Is that in Vakama's nature? Gloating?

One thing is for sure: taking it as read that a job is done without checking? That certainly isn't in Vakama's nature.

Which leaves Matau wondering...

What has been left in its stead?

x

Missing maniacal brother or not, Matau has his other brothers and sister to also worry about. And they are not winning this battle.

As he descends – no sign of Vakama – he sees the remains of Keetongu. Alive, but in no state to fight. Beside it is the ittier-bittier remains of who Matau can only assume is (or was, he supposes) Sidorak. Fragments of cracked red armour are scattered across the battle field. An arm – still with the blade attached – lies clear of the damage, whole but unmoving.

Matau skirts round that particular scene. Even the Visorak give the shattered ground a wide berth, steering clear of the corpse of their king and his killer.

The cacophony of spinners and blasts settles. There comes a ringing in Matau's ears, like the auditory equivalent of looking from from a bright light and blinking away the negative image. There's still the gnash and skitter of the Visorak, but it is nothing compared to the chaos of before.

And then he sees the cause of the quietening.

In the centre of the arena, the other Toa and Rahaga are surrounded. Their weapons are lowered, their spinners still, and the battle is over. It had been a reckless last-charge anyway. Maybe if they had been Toa, not Hordika... Maybe if they had had more time to plan... Maybe if Vakama had been with them–

Something – no, someone slams into Matau. He hadn't even realise he'd frozen until suddenly he isn't anymore. He slams into the ground, mask-first. There are claws digging into his left shoulder. An unlit blazer claw into his right.

His rhotuka spinner flares into life instinctively. It rises to attack and smacks into his attacker's face. The claws – both kinds – loosen enough for Matau to shake free and spin to face the culprit.

Vakama snarls at him.

There's something different about the once-Toa – he's hunched further, weight distributed evenly between all four limbs, the eyes dulled – but then the blazer claw is coming for Matau again and he has other things to think about. Namely, not getting barbecued. Matau skips back. The attack was clumsy. Unplanned.

"Come on, firespitter, you can do better than that," Matau goads before common sense can intervene. "You really think a swipe like that's gonna get me?"

Vakama growls and leaps at Matau – further than Matau thinks possible, like a muaka – and Matau drops down, kicking with his feet to deflect the blazer claw. Heat skims the side of his mask.

Too close.

He catches sight of his friends, still surrounded, still surrendered, and now with a newcomer – a tall (ridiculously tall, really; who needed that much height?) grey figure parading before them. A leader? Important, surely.

Dangerous, certainly.

He sees Vakama's rhotuka spinner light up, and stumbles back before the blast can hit its mark.

"We don't have time for this, Vakama," Matau stresses, and desperation edges his voice with a growl. "If we don't do something soon – if you don't snap out of this – the other Toa are gonna be history!"

Another spinner flies past. This one close enough to sear the corner of his shoulder. And still that tall figure looms before his friends, paying little heed to the fight ongoing at the far side of the arena.

Vakama takes advantage of Matau's distraction and closes the gap between them. The blazer claw swipes down. Matau only just grabs Vakama's arm in time, and the fused weapon flares, the flames close enough for Matau to feel the heat.

"I'm sorry," he gasps, "for doubting you! We all make mistakes, Vakama; that's what happens when you're brave enough to make decisions! I understand that now."

The only reply Matau receives is the fire inching steadily closer and another wordless growl. His feet scuff in the dust, and he feels himself slide back.

"You're our leader, Vakama! You're my leader! The others are depending on you – dammit, Vakama, say something!"

Vakama roars, and Matau's grip finally gives. He tries to duck out of the way as the flame bears down on him – but is too slow. The blaze brushes past his cheek and red-hot pain blossoms in its wake.

Matau staggers back and presses his hand against the burn. It's not gone deep enough to crack the mask, but he can feel the protodermis is rough, a thin melted mark across his cheek. Nausea rises through him. He blinks, and looks back to Vakama – expecting, hoping to see his horror mirrored back at him – after all, he was a mask-maker, surely he realises, surely he knows what he could have done – and the blazer claw is coming for him again.

A small, pathetic sound struggles in the back of Matau's throat, but he reels back just in time. His hand is still against his mask, while his eyes...

His eyes are trained on Vakama's.

There is something wrong with Vakama's eyes. Something more than just the rage or the adrenaline. Something, even, more than the venom-green colour. The irises are too full, too wide; they eclipse the eye entirely.

Like an ash bear's.

He realises it's been an awfully long time since he heard his brother speak.

Another blow comes slamming towards him, and Matau responds on instinct, releasing an air spinner that strikes into Vakama. The Toa Hordika is torn off his feet and smacks into the wall of the arena. He collapses to the ground. Still conscious but slow to regain his footing.

"Say something, Vakama," Matau says, softer than before. Toa don't beg, but maybe... maybe Hordika do. "Please."

A venom-green eye glares at Matau. There is blind rage and wordless aggression in those depths. But no intelligence. Matau's seen those eyes before, on rahi, on monsters.

They don't belong on a Toa.

Vakama pushes himself back to his feet – all four of them – and Matau braces himself for the fresh slew of attacks. Is this their destiny? To war like this until one brother destroys the other? Can Matau even bring himself to fight – to not only defend, but fight with the aim to win?

He flinches at the sound of a spinner firing, but Vakama's rhotuka spinner is still idle. There comes another whirr, and Matau glances back to the source.

The other Toa have fired on the tall figure. A last-ditch attempt? He hears the stranger's cackle, their form crackling with energy. Four elemental attacks, and they shrug it off with a laugh? The Toa's combined powers had taken down the Makuta; was this being really as powerful as him?

A spinner fires up, closer to home, and he ducks as the blast goes wide over his head. A reckless, probably getting-self-killed plan fits into place – but it's not as if he's swimming in options.

He starts a sprint towards his friends. Vakama is hot on his tail – too hot – and Matau drops onto all four limbs in an attempt to keep ahead. He zig-zags, hoping that's enough to keep him from being fried-burnt.

Le-Matoran are quick thinkers. They aren't necessarily forward-thinkers, but in the spur of the moment they can react in a flash. That's fine. Matau doesn't need to think that far ahead; his lifespan is probably a matter of minutes anyway. He just needs to survive at least those few minutes.

A blast flies a hand's breadth from his head.

Okay, seconds. He just needs to survive the next few seconds. Realistic goals.

He's close enough to hear the stranger's gloating now – Roodaka, that's her name – her voice crackling in a manner that might be her natural voice or the elemental energy racing across her armour. He hears Vakama's spinner powering up again, and he straightens his course.

All the better to aim at.

Le-Matoran are quick-thinkers. That's why they so often take the role of test-drivers. And Matau was one of their best.

He hears the shift in the rhotuka as it releases the spinner – and swerves at the last second. The heat burnishes his arm, but the full force slams into Roodaka. She staggers back. The crackling energy takes on a frantic pace, flooding her eyes and her heartlight, and still she does not fall.

Well, Matau's going to see if he can change that.

Distantly, he hears a shout – one of the Rahaga? – but he's already releasing an air spinner that buckles Roodaka. The light fades from her, and when she hits the ground – already lifeless – that energy bursts free from her like an earthquake. It rises up and forms a hand Matau only remembers in brief flashes of horror, a hand of darkness and shadow that engulfs Roodaka's body and leaves only a hollow heartstone in its place.

Belatedly, Matau recalls his pursuer, but he needn't have worried. Vakama has frozen, his rhotuka spinner still whirring but not firing up. He stands apart from the other Toa, and at this proximity the changes are undeniable. His eyes are lost, confused; how much of what he's just seen even makes sense to him anymore?

Nokama is the first to step forward. Her hands are raised as if trying to calm a wild rahi. Does she even realise she's doing it, Matau wonders. "Vakama," she says, and there's a shake in her voice that betrays maybe she does know. "It's alright, it's over–"

Vakama's gaze snaps to Nokama and she freezes. She sees it now too: the lack of recognition. The senselessness. A sound catches at the back of her throat. It sounds like heartbreak. It's that heartbreak that leaves her too slow to register Vakama's spinner starting up, that leaves her not wanting to comprehend what her own brother means to do, until a black blast slams into Vakama. Its energy crackles over him, paralysing him and the light dulls from those altered, rahi eyes.

"It's only temporary," Bomonga says, when eyes turn to him and his powering-down rhotuka. "Not a long-term solution. But it'll keep him from hurting anyone. For now."

The Visorak around them rumble. And then, with both king and viceroy dead, and their commander nothing more than a beast, they abandon what is left of their crumbling hierarchy.

Norik's saying something, something about the Makuta and released and danger, but Matau can only stare at the paralysed, inanimate form of Vakama. "We defeated the hordes, right?" he says suddenly, cutting off Norik. "We did what Keetongu said we needed our Hordika sides to do, so now it's time to return us to our old selves, isn't it?"

Norik falters. He looks to where Keetongu lies. Onewa and Whenua are already helping the rahi to its feet, and it emits that strange, multi-toned speech in reply.

"Keetongu says that he can turn you back, if you so wish," Norik translates.

"And... Vakama?" Nokama asks.

Even to Matau, Keetongu's reply sounds... stinted.

"Keetongu says," and Norik hesitates. The Rahaga suddenly looks tired. Spent. "He says the Hordika venom runs too deep in Vakama. There is nothing Keetongu can do for him now."

"There must be something!" Matau demands. "He wouldn't give up on us – not if he was still himself – so we can't give up on him!" The other Toa are staring at him – no, not just at him, he realises, at his mask. He claps one hand defensively to the burn streak. "I'm okay!" he snaps. "It's Vakama we should be worried about!"

Nokama reaches out. Her fingers falter, as if afraid of what she might find. "Did... Did Vakama do that to you?" she asks.

Matau recoils back. "It's nothing. I told you, I'm okay. I'm fine. What are we going to do about Vakama?"

The other Toa exchange glances.

"Anyone?" Matau asks.

Onewa and Whenua look away.

"Nokama?" Matau appeals to the Toa who's always preached the virtue of unity, who had been the only one to refuse to believe Vakama could have kidnapped the other Rahaga, even when all the evidence said otherwise.

She doesn't meet his gaze.

If they had seen what Matau had seen, how the conflict had raged in Vakama... but maybe that's the problem. Nokama had seen the shift in Vakama's eyes, the rahi look...

"We can't leave him to run wild," Nuju says, eventually. "Who knows the damage he'll do in this state."

"Maybe one day..." Nokama begins. "Maybe we'll find a way to reverse this."

"And until then?" Nuju asks. "You know things cannot stay as they are."

"Maybe they don't have to," Whenua says. The others look to him, and his face is wretched. "In the Archives, we have a... a way of dealing with rahi without killing them."

Nuju is the first to realise Whenua's meaning. He doesn't flinch, but – if it's somehow possible for the usually immovable Toa – he freezes. "The stasis tubes."

Whenua nods.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on," Matau says. "Are you suggest-saying we should put him into one of your display cases?"

"It only sends them to sleep," Onewa says. "Right?"

Whenua's mouth thins, like there is a world of distinction between what the stasis tubes do and sleep. "Close enough," he concedes. "His life functions will be slowed down to the point that he won't need either food or air. He won't be conscious enough to know what's happening."

Nokama places a hand on Matau's shoulder. "This will give us time to find a solution," she says softly. Reasonably, as if trapping a fellow Toa – a brother – like a museum exhibit is a natural thing to suggest. Yet, beneath the grip, Matau can feel a tremor in Nokama's fingers.

"Fine," he spits.

No one moves. No one wants to be the one to place Vakama into a stasis chamber.

Then Onewa steps hesitantly forward and slings an arm beneath Vakama's shoulders and hoists him up. Matau knows he should help, but by the time he has found the courage to move, Nokama is already supporting Vakama's other side.

x

Stasis tubes really doesn't do the devices justice. Tubes sounds like something small, compact. Round, now Matau thinks about it. But the machines that Whenua leads them to are more like glass cages. There aren't many intact ones left, not after the cataclysm, but he finds a few unused ones in storage and connects it up to a canister of diluted stun gas. Nokama and Onewa gently deposit Vakama's unconscious form onto the tube's base.

No one says anything.

The double-shell rises up and about its captive specimen resident and there comes the hiss of the stun gas filling the tube.

And Vakama's eyes begin to flicker back to life.

"Can't you speed the process up?" Onewa asks.

"It's gas," Whenua shoots back. "I can't pour it out any quicker. What do you want me to do, change the law of physics?"

Vakama reels. He lurches to his feet, but enough of the stun gas has already entered his system to send him off-kilter. He slams into the inner shell, a growl tearing from his throat, and miniscule hairline fractures scatter across the shell. He raises his right arm, blazer claw flaring into flames, and the Toa wait for the freeing blow that never comes.

Instead, Vakama sways.

The blazer claw dips against the inner shell of the tube, extinguished, and his hand – clawed, jointed in the wrong places – rests beside it. His shoulders hunch, but in the way of one overcome with exhaustion, and his breathing slows. His hand uncurls and, if only in passing, nearly looks like it once had.

And he looks to the Toa.

Really looks.

Before the light fades from his eyes, Matau almost thinks he sees the ghost of a smile, small and sad, flicker across Vakama's face. Almost enough to make Matau believe his brother falls into oblivion with relief.

And then the light – and everything that was once Vakama – vanishes.

"Do rahi in stasis chambers..." Matau falters. He stares at the motionless form of their leader, their brother. Vakama is not like Matau; he wasn't always in motion – not physically, anyway. But his mind had always been racing. Too much, sometimes. Thoughts and visions and fears crowding round in a single head, and now...

It feels almost unnatural that he should be so still.

Matau tries again.

"Are they aware?"

"I think they sometimes dream," Whenua replies.

[lesmisscraper]

The House of Rue Plumet, The House with a Secret

Analyis Part 1.

Okay. One of my most favorite places in Les Miserables and the home of the Fauchelevents after the years after the convent school. The House of Rue Plumet(Rue Plumet as I will mention from now on), is an interesting place, so I will discuss about its structures. First, on the exterior features.

1. Overall Plans

Although inspired by this post, it was hard to think about the whole plan of exterior building plans of the house(Especially about the secret path.), so I referenced through the Brick originally and some features from <Il cuore di Cosette>, which showed the house very often. But it may differ from your own idea since I referenced only one adaptation and .

2. The Pavilion

This house was composed of a single-storied pavilion; two rooms on the ground floor, two chambers on the first floor, a kitchen down stairs, a boudoir up stairs, an attic under the roof, the whole preceded by a garden with a large gate opening on the street.

...

The pavilion, built of stone in the taste of Mansard, wainscoted and furnished in the Watteau style, rocaille on the inside, old-fashioned on the outside, walled in with a triple hedge of flowers, had something discreet, coquettish, and solemn about it, as befits a caprice of love and magistracy.

The main structure of the house and where Cosette and Toussaint . It's totally 3-floored building with Mansard styled roof and the and old-fashioned interior and exterior. It had two rooms and a kitchen(as well as the dining hall) on the ground floor, two chambers and a boudoir(Of course Cosette's bedroom when it's owned by the Fauchelvents.) on the first floor, and an attic. ICDC also kept this style. Interiors would be discussed in later, but I can guess that's a very common French styled house at that time. The below images shown are the Mansard roofs, and the exact example of the same floored and styled building as the Brick's description(But probably larger than Rue Plumet.).

3. The Secret House(Aka. the sort of porter's lodge.)

But behind the pavilion there was a narrow courtyard, and at the end of the courtyard a low building consisting of two rooms and a cellar, a sort of preparation destined to conceal a child and nurse in case of need.

The other building behind of the pavilion, which was originally built for hiding children and a nurse and porter but became Valjean's Place later. Not that much information, only with the floors(Basement and the Ground floor) and two rooms and a cellar are what Mr. Hugo described about this building.

Interestingly, ICDC described as the pavilion and the secret house was almost stuck together in a closed distance. But as in the Brick there's a courtyard between them, so I thought this was only the problem with the depth of the field and made some distance between them on the plan map above.

3. The Garden

The garden thus left to itself for more than half a century had become extraordinary and charming. The passers-by of forty years ago halted to gaze at it, without a suspicion of the secrets which it hid in its fresh and verdant depths. More than one dreamer of that epoch often allowed his thoughts and his eyes to penetrate indiscreetly between the bars of that ancient, padlocked gate, twisted, tottering, fastened to two green and moss-covered pillars, and oddly crowned with a pediment of undecipherable arabesque.

There was a stone bench in one corner, one or two mouldy statues, several lattices which had lost their nails with time, were rotting on the wall, and there were no walks nor turf; but there was enough grass everywhere. Gardening had taken its departure, and nature had returned. Weeds abounded, which was a great piece of luck for a poor corner of land. The festival of gilliflowers was something splendid. Nothing in this garden obstructed the sacred effort of things towards life; venerable growth reigned there among them. The trees had bent over towards the nettles, the plant had sprung upward, the branch had inclined, that which crawls on the earth had gone in search of that which expands in the air, that which floats on the wind had bent over towards that which trails in the moss; trunks, boughs, leaves, fibres, clusters, tendrils, shoots, spines, thorns, had mingled, crossed, married, confounded themselves in each other; vegetation in a deep and close embrace, had celebrated and accomplished there, under the well-pleased eye of the Creator, in that enclosure three hundred feet square, the holy mystery of fraternity, symbol of the human fraternity. This garden was no longer a garden, it was a colossal thicket, that is to say, something as impenetrable as a forest, as peopled as a city, quivering like a nest, sombre like a cathedral, fragrant like a bouquet, solitary as a tomb, living as a throng.

The place where Cosette and Marius met at night after Eponine's guidance and guarded the house itself with the walls and fences. Sadly, we don't know that much on which style was the garden of Rue Plumet. But may 18th century French style gardens would be the same as what looked like the garden after Cosette took over, and even that of the stone bench.

4. The Secret Corridor to Rue du Babylone

This building communicated in the rear by a masked door which opened by a secret spring, with a long, narrow, paved winding corridor, open to the sky, hemmed in with two lofty walls, which, hidden with wonderful art, and lost as it were between garden enclosures and cultivated land, all of whose angles and detours it followed, ended in another door, also with a secret lock which opened a quarter of a league away, almost in another quarter, at the solitary extremity of the Rue du Babylone.

Through this the chief justice entered, so that even those who were spying on him and following him would merely have observed that the justice betook himself every day in a mysterious way somewhere, and would never have suspected that to go to the Rue de Babylone was to go to the Rue Blomet. Thanks to clever purchasers of land, the magistrate had been able to make a secret, sewer-like passage on his own property, and consequently, without interference. Later on, he had sold in little parcels, for gardens and market gardens, the lots of ground adjoining the corridor, and the proprietors of these lots on both sides thought they had a party wall before their eyes, and did not even suspect the long, paved ribbon winding between two walls amid their flower-beds and their orchards. Only the birds beheld this curiosity. It is probable that the linnets and tomtits of the last century gossiped a great deal about the chief justice.

It was the most difficult one to think about the structure, since including ICDC, there's no adaptation I've seen that describes this path to Rue du Babylone, even @coolrobotsupremacist's post I mentioned above only showed the back door. And no reference real life images neither.

Though I described the path not that long in the plan map, its length is 'a half' quarter of a league(À un demi-quart de lieue. What are you doing Hapgood?), at that time a French Metric league was 4km(about 2.5 miles), so the corridor is 500m, which is about 0.3 miles. I think the land between Rue du Babylone and the house is larger than the I described and the I can guess the reason why other gardeners thought it's just only a wall, not a long trail.

Continued on the next part!

[blueiscoool]

2,000-Year-Old Roman Villa Discovered in Naples

A three-year project to build a children’s playground and recreation area south of the Italian city of Naples has unearthed the ruins of a 2,000-year-old clifftop beach house.

Built in the first century, the panoramic mansion — which overlooks the islands of Ischia and Procida — is now partly flooded by the sea. Experts believe it could have once been the opulent residence of Pliny the Elder, the legendary author, naturalist, and commander of the Roman navy fleet stationed there.

The discovery, made last week in the coastal town of Bacoli, unearthed the thick perimeter stone walls of 10 large rooms with floors, tiled walls and a maze of intact panoramic outdoor terraces.

Back in the first century, the mansion would have been located within the Roman port at Misenum, where for four centuries a fleet of 70 ships controlled the Tyrrhenian Sea, the security of which was key to holding the western flank of the Roman empire.

“It is likely that the majestic villa had a 360-degree view of the gulf of Naples for strategic military purposes,” Simona Formola, lead archaeologist at Naples’ art heritage, said in an interview. “We think (the excavation of) deeper layers could reveal more rooms and even frescoes — potentially also precious findings.”

Authorities were surprised by the elaborate style of the walls, which were constructed with diamond-shaped tufa (limestone) blocks placed in a net-like ornamental pattern about 70 centimeters (27.5 inches) below ground.

The villa runs down to a little crumbling stone dock now located about four meters below sea level. That this — and other parts of the unearthed villa — are now underwater is due to the phenomenon of “negative bradyseism,” a term used to describe the gradual descent of the earth’s surface into the sea in areas exposed to frequent volcanic activity. (The area borders a moon-shaped “caldera” or extinct volcanic crater).

Digs will continue in coming months, with authorities hoping to shed further light on not only the form of the beach villa itself, but the broader life and structure of Misenum, one of the most important colonies in the Roman Empire.

“The discovery is even more exceptional given that we know very little (about) the port of Misenum,” said Formola.

As well as acting as a lookout point, Pliny’s beach villa would have also likely been used for leisure. The private dock was where he would greet high-ranking guests arriving by sea for lavish parties. Many Ancient Romans used to flock to Bacoli and the surrounding area, to enjoy their vacation homes and the region’s thermal baths and spa retreats.

Bacoli is located within the so-called “Phlegraean Fields” (or “Fire Plains”), which are dotted with natural geysers and tiny active craters where there are still frequent earthquakes. Due to its blazes and sulphureous vapors, the ancients believed it to be the entrance to the underworld and had dubbed it “the Mouth of Hell.” Indeed it’s possible that Pliny the Elder would have witnessed the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in AD 79 from the villa. It is known he died trying to rescue those fleeing the calamity.

While archaeologists were reportedly surprised by the finding, local lore had long speculated on the existence of an underground treasure in this location. On the beach neighboring the newly-discovered villa walls, a large brick ruin had been dubbed the “talking wall” by local residents as, in their view, it proved the one-time existence of a large residence.

The site will now become an open-air museum, set to open in the coming weeks. “The ruins of the Roman villa will be cleaned and cordoned-off with wooden fences,” said Bacoli’s mayor Josi Gerardo Della Ragione. “They will be the core of this beautiful space which… our citizens and visitors will get to admire.”

By Silvia Marchetti.

[4ce-of-2pades]

I see you're into PJO. If you had to assign yourself and your mutuals a Greek/Roman God/Goddess, who would it be and why?

(Mutuals, don’t feel left out if I… leave you out. This is just who I happened to get ideas for.)

Myself: My instinct is to answer Hephaestus, because he’s really cool and I love steampunk, or Hecate, because magic is awesome, or even Apollo, because I’m both an artist and a singer. But I think I’d be a/be a demigod of a wind god. For starters, my moods often shift quickly and dramatically enough, but I love the wind itself, and will always say so aloud whenever it’s windy. Wind fills me with life, the way touching water energizes Percy. Plus, I really really want to be able to fly, Jason-style. (I had a very vivid dream as a kid that I did fly once, and I believed it for years. Perfect backstory.)

@lexiconic-light: I associate you with Hestia, ‘cause you’ve got that same kind, welcoming personality. If we’re talking demigods though, Hestia doesn’t have kids, so maybe you’d be a plant nymph or a child of Demeter, because you have a lot of plants and take care of them very well. Or maybe a child of Calliope, because of your writing and love of stories.

@many-gay-magpies: Either somebody artsy, or somebody nature-ey. One of the Muses, Demeter, a nymph, a satyr, etc. Though I also get Hecate vibes from you, so maybe her. You’re mysterious and magic-y. And you like birds. And draw/paint really freaking well. Something along those lines. I feel like I’m missing some obvious connection.

@disneyautistic: Maybe it’s just because you were really into Pirates of the Caribbean the last time we saw each other, but I diagnose you with Posideon. You’d decorate everything with shells and bits of sea glass, and paint ocean creatures on your walls, and wear a sea captain’s coat everywhere. Plus, I think you’d enjoy shapeshifting powers, if you could have them (I know it’s rare for Poseidon demigods, but you never know).

@linklog: Based purely on vibes, I assign you Hermes. No solid evidence for that, I just think you have a good personality for a trickster. Or maybe you’d embody the theatrical side of Apollo or Dionysus. Is there a Greek god of fashion and cosplay? Because I’ve always admired the creativity of your outfits.

@whosectype: Both Hecate and something nature-ey, no question. Maybe a satyr that is also a student of Hecate, learning magic like Hazel was? You’d cast dark spells involving bird bones and fungi and lots and lots of teeth, to increase the growth of moss or make something rot faster. You’d draw your spell-circles-on-the-floor™ in fresh mud. You’d enjoy being a little unnerving to the other satyrs, who prefer frolicking in sunlit fields to lurking in the shadowed areas of the forest and watching trees get overtaken by parasitic bugs.

@cupid-shortcake: Between your username and your pastel pink aesthetic, assigning you Cupid or Aphrodite seems like such an easy answer that it can’t possibly be right. I think it actually works though. On one hand, you show a lot of love and kindness to your friends, lifting them up and making them feel supported and appreciated. But you’ve also got that evil streak where you’ll make an endless series of terrible things happen to your characters because it makes a better story (as most writers do). If you applied that evil streak to real people’s lives and relationships, then you’d make an excellent Greek goddess of love.

(Actually, I think assigning the whole @cupheadocscasino crew gods from the Greek pantheon would make a REALLY COOL AU. I just don’t have ideas for all fifteen, and the characters themselves would probably be different gods than their creators would, so even the three here aren’t set in stone.)

[gard3nias]

02 | Ying Yang

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wc: 4.28k

date: 27/04/2024

quick summary: oc and cleo hang out all day at a field; oc meets cleo's cats; oc and cleo childhood flashback

mdi // masterlist // playlist

—Now Playing: Fuel To Fire by Agnes Obel✫

Dogs barked. Whether it was Loki, Luke or some other dog was unknown to Daphne. Stones crunched underneath her shoes as she closed the gate behind herself.

She was heading to Cleo's place, a few steps away from her house, on the left side of the neighbourhood. As she proceeded on the road, the place gradually got more silent enhancing the crunching sound of stones. Birds tweeted, wind chimes rang and the breeze softly blew between her hair strokes, underneath her wide shirt, against her skin. 

Everything was so perfect. Did nature plan it? Plan that this day, the exact day she'd move here, the weather was going to be this beautiful, the people were going to be this nice and everything was going to be this fucking perfect?

The ambience was a blessing in all ways possible. Not to talk about how she felt like strolling on the road in the countryside with the privilege of silence. From when she stepped foot here, her smile has never vanished. It was always there and would only increase or decrease but never disappear. It seemed like it wouldn't leave even if she'd go to bed.

As far as Daphne was involved, the house in front of her was the second biggest if not the biggest house in the neighbourhood. The area was dead silent as if the house wasn't in the same neighbourhood as hers.

The two-story edifice was set in the centre of a wide green land. The frontage was split in two by the front door; on either side were wide arched windows. The top floor had a wide arched window only in the centre while on either side were casement windows. All were as brown as the roof contrasting with the white exterior walls.

A wide green space between the gate and the house was traced in the middle by a stone path. The left and the right were gardens—the latter was more flourished than the other.

Since Cleo only had cats, no dogs were running up to the gate like Loki and Luke do so there was nothing that interrupted the silence as Daphne rang the bell. She slipped her hands into her pockets, squeezing her shoulders in not because of the cold but because of the usual shyness that overwhelms her whenever she's somewhere she doesn't know.

As she turned right to glimpse around, the breeze blew a bit stronger, moving the hair off her face, messing her shirt a bit more, and shaking the swing hanging by the tall tree in Cleo's compound. Her attention was soon carried back to the house from where Cleo came out, hurrying to the gate.

"Hey!" she cheerfully spoke. Daphne shily waved back before she went in. No more stone crunching sounds as she walked on the wide flat stones that paved the way to the front door. 

Leaving the shoes by the door, they went in and closed the door behind them. The interior was very bright, lit by the tall windows. The walls were the same as the exterior ones. The pavement was light brown. Just like Daphne's home, the bottom floor was a singular wide space where the kitchen, dining room and living room coexisted. The kitchen was on the left—the light colours of the furnishing made it shine brighter; in between the latter and the dining room was the living room composed of three detached sofas enclosing the fireplace upon which the TV was hanging.

As Daphne went down the two steps at the entrance, a cat immediately came into her view—a brown cat with big dark eyes and a delicate walk. It stood next to the sofa staring at her intently. "Her name's Lily. She's an adorable little kitten. Don't mind her inquisitive eyes that make her seem suspicious of everything. In no time she'll be making biscuits on your lap," Daphne smiled listening while looking at the little animal. As the girls proceeded into the living room, the cat moved backwards a little only to rush over to Cleo once she called and now, with Lily between her arms, Cleo directed her friend upstairs. 

The top floor was another wide space shared into two—between a long hallway ending with the wide arched window from before. In front of the stairs, taking a pretty wide space was a little living room that accommodated a swing chair, an armchair, a short bookshelf and, against the left, the cats' little beds. One of them was occupied by a little Siamese sleeping cat. This one was a little bigger than Lily but still a baby.

"That's Cinnamon, a sleepy head. I don't think you'll get to see her awake today. She usually sleeps during the day and stays awake at night. Don't ask 'cause I don't know why either," Cleo whisper-yelled before proceeding. The last door on the right was to her bedroom. 

It was a not-so-big room which, just like the rest of the house, was bright. Walls covered in vintage floral wallpaper, floor in laminated wood. On the right was a French bed covered in white pillows, bedsheets and a white blanket. Opposite the bed was a little nook on the left that welcomed a square window and a bench covered in little pillows. On them was the third cat peacefully sleeping.

"Oh come on," Cleo silently exclaimed. Dropping Lily on the bed, she hastily approached the other cat. Daphne's smile wouldn't go away. All these little beings were filling her up with serotonin. Gently carrying the cat in her arms, Cleo excused herself for a moment and invited Daphne to make herself comfortable in the meantime. 

Eyeing the little cat, Daphne sat on the bed who, like before, was keeping a distance and its big eyes on her. Daphne tried greeting it, waving and smiling but didn't force it too much besides, she was a dog person and she wasn't sure about how she should deal with the situation.

"Okay, sleepy cat's been put to her bed so now we can have all the fun," Cleo's enthusiastic voice was back to its normal volume. She shut the door and scurried over to her bed, jumping on it precisely, causing Lily to hiss at her for almost jumping on her.

"Hey! How dare you hiss at me? You little adorable fur ball," Cleo squeezed the cat's cheeks before kissing it. Daphne softly laughed. "Cats are adorable," she confessed, "I know right? I love kittens specifically. I know they're so difficult to keep because they're delicate and sensitive to temperature, but they're adorable... like all the work pays off. I'm surely going to be that one old lady who lives alone with twelve cats," Daphne laughed again.

"Yeah, I agree but I just can't explain why I prefer dogs. We don't have any in the city because of space but here we do and I feel like I'm going to adopt another one. When it comes to this, more certainly doesn't hurt," Cleo eagerly nodded in agreement.

On the right of the bed, below the casement window, was Cleo's desk, a glass surface that welcomed a laptop, a cup of pencils, books in a corner and a flower pot in another. Below this surface was a minor one. In front of the desk was a simple chair. Hanging by the windows were short soft curtains that moved with the waft that blew through the ajar window.

The little slots on either side of the desk were occupied, one by a slim and tall bookshelf and the other by two storage boxes, the smaller one on the bigger one. On each side of the bed was a bedside table, one covered in personal objects, the other by a single lamp.

Crowning the end of the bed was a circular rug. At the foot of the bed was a bench with sandals, slippers and a backpack underneath. Other than with white pillows, the bed was decorated with handmade plushies. "Ooh, nice! Are these the kind of toys you crochet?" Daphne asked studying one up close. Cleo agreed as she lowered the kitten and leapt off the bed.

— Now Playing: Sis by Clairo✫

"Here are the rest I told you about. I have about a ton of them. Crocheting is therapeutic, trust me. You should try it," dropping the small storage box on her desk, she carried the bigger one and sat on the bench in front of the window. Daphne followed right after. "I don't know. Reading is better for me," Cleo shook her head in disapproval, "Reading simply feeds into your fantasies, it gives a sensation of almost absent-mindedness that keeps you away from earth when the sole end of therapy is having people be mentally brought back to earth so, no, reading is not really it."

Daphne puffed in surprise, certainly not ready for such an analysis but the following moment, she was hailing and congratulating Cleo for her handwork.

"You like this one? It's a little cow. I made it while— Ouch! Lily!" by her feet, Lily was struggling to get on the bench next to her owner so she mistakenly scratched her. The latter immediately dropped the toys and caught the kitten, cuddling her up in her arms. "As I was saying, I made it while lying down in the grass. Did you know that not so far away from here is a vast field of tall green grass? With a nice blanket, on a sunny day, you'd have the best time of your life, the best read of your life"—she gasped—"Let's go there today. The weather is so nice. I have two-thirds of my cats asleep so we can't play with them but we surely can take a walk around the neighbourhood. Ooh, yes! Let's do it! We could go with your dogs too," she offered the idea and she agreed to it, all by herself. Daphne couldn't help but giggle. "Yeah, let's do it," she said, trying to ignore the fact that she'd just arrived.

"Ooh, while we're at it, let me just change my shirt. Have you ever had that feeling of when you rediscover an old shirt that went missing or that you never thought you had?" Daphne nodded, "The same happened to me but this morning. Look! I found these two shirts, two shirts goddamn, and they're so cute. How the fuck did I just find them eludes me because if I saw this in a clothes store I'd do anything to have it but, anyway, which one do you prefer?" one was a strapless top, the other was a longer one similar to a white summer dress. "The second one,"

"I know right? I like love, love the wind so this dress-like shirt will have me hopping on the hills like little Heidi. Do you know Heidi?" another nod from the other side, "An adorable cartoon. I think I identify myself with her a bit, you know? Living in the mountains, playing with farm animals, loving nature? You know what I'm saying. Do I give off those vibes though?"

"Yes, you do. You completely match your appearance, maybe you're even bubblier," a little dramatic gasp came from Cleo as she checked herself in the mirror, "I'm going to need a pair of shorts for this one— so wait, I give off bubbly?"—nod—"Interesting. I get called crazy and childish most of the time,"

"W-what? Why?" Cleo shrugged her shoulders. She too didn't know the motive. "Trust me, Cleo, they simply don't match your vibe and they wanted to make you feel bad about it, okay? You're just a very energetic person and instead of saying that, they called you crazy which is, in all honesty, a very different and dramatic thing to label it with. We're not meant to get along with everyone and it's fine, perfectly normal. Don't let them bother you and besides... I'm here,"

Cleo's face gradually morphed into a broader smile, "Ooh, girl, you are so good with words. I told my brother about this before but he explained it in such a psychological manner that he left me with more questions and no answers," the two laughed before they finally placed the toys back in the box but Cleo didn't forget to give Daphne at least three toys and even promised to give her more. 

As clarified before, while Daphne waited for Cleo to place her things back in order, Lily walked back and forth between Daphne's ankles rubbing her fur against the girl's skin only to then look up. When finally Daphne's attention was on her, she sat by her feet and started meowing. 

Daphne could've sworn her chest was about to burst and scatter into millions of flowers then and there. She crouched and took the kitten in her arms facing no resistance. "Ooh, you see? She already loves you. Tries to play hard to get so bad but needs attention more than food. Am I wrong Lily?" the cat simply meowed in reply. Cleo was back-facing them as she braided her hair in the mirror. With two little while bows at the end of each and a little bag of personal objects in her hand, she was ready to go. "Let's go. I'll grab a few things we can eat".

As they went downstairs, Daphne asked about Cleo's brother and father—the house was too silent for them to be around. Cleo replied that the dad was in his shop and the brother was studying in the garden. Exactly, once they'd put their shoes on, sitting in the garden, glasses on and deep into his book, was Cole. He was so focused he didn't even hear them until Cleo yelled at him that they were heading out. By his quick nod, the girls both knew he was not to be disturbed any further.

As all of this unfolded, Lily peacefully rested between Daphne's arms.

—Now Playing: Monolithic by Cults✫

"Hey, girls. How are you doing?" Granny was dressed in tall farm boots with long gloves covering her up to her forearms, flowers in her hands and a summer hat on. The girls cheerfully replied, specifying that they were there to take the two dogs for a walk and that they'd be back before dinner.

"Do you mind if we take the bike? The roads are accessible right?" Cleo eagerly nodded before Daphne excused herself, giving her back the kitten. Rushing inside and hastily taking her shoes off, she ran upstairs to prepare a little bag of personal necessities. A blanket as Cleo had said before, sunscreen, handkerchiefs, a little water bottle, lip balm, a few hair pins and a book obviously.

Once downstairs, she too grabbed a few snacks before heading out again. By the garage, parked against the wall, were the bicycles. "Let's take these 'cause they have baskets."

And that was how a few minutes later, with Cleo leading the way, the dogs running by their side and Lily in her owner's basket, the girls were on their way to the vast green field.

They rode out of the compound and out of the neighbourhood past Cleo's house. The tyres rolling on the stone pavement were enough to break Cole's attention span as he waved at them. They waved back. The dogs barked too.

As Daphne had noticed earlier, the further they get into the neighbourhood on Cleo's side, the more it gets silent and gradually, crunching stones and their chatter were the only background sounds. The wind was as crazy as they were as they sped through, laughing and shouting in happiness whenever they rode fast down a hill. Loki and Luke were happy too.

Hair to the wind, shirts expanding backwards, legs clenching the more they sped up but fingers ready to press on the brakes.

—Now Playing: Mary by Agnes Obel✫

"Guess where we get our milk from?" Cleo asked. They were now riding slowly on a wider road that allowed them to be side by side. Loki and Luke tried to keep up without getting distracted by nature. "I don't know. You probably buy enough at the town centre like once a week or something,"

"Yeah, kinda... but not exactly. And besides, we like our stuff fresh," Lily was fast asleep, cuddled up in the basket. "Well, that means— Oh! On my way here today, I saw a huge farmhouse by the road," as Daphne came to the right conclusion, Cleo nodded and proceeded to talk about how she's a friend with a little lamb that's always excited to see her whenever she goes buy milk.

"Heidi indeed, huh?" Cleo laughed, "I know right? I really like farm animals too, like cows, goats and, most especially horses," Daphne's nods meant she firmly agreed with her friend "I'd love to learn to go horseriding. Wanted to do that this summer but the news of your arrival changed my plans." Daphne smiled. Her arrival was so anticipated that Cleo had to postpone learning how to go horseriding and, by the way she sounded, Daphne could tell she really wanted to do that knowing her love for farm animals. 

"Since I'm here to stay we could try it together next summer, yeah?"

"Yeah." The two girls had smiles across their faces as they proceeded along the curvy road. They were now riding along a road that slid through a forest. The sun's rays penetrated through the leaves as the breeze made itself a bit colder due to the shade. They took various turns in pure silence. A comfortable silence that was just perfect for the atmosphere. Daphne checked on her dogs, turning her head to find them right behind her before facing forward and closing her eyes for a brief moment. She took a deep breath in. Her omnipresent smile widened.

Cleo watched her with a grin, "You can't find an environment as nice as this in the city. Am I wrong?"

"No," Daphne replied, coming back to Earth. "We're here," Cleo notified, nodding her head forward where the forest finished, showing an expanse of just green grass. Daphne tried holding herself back from verbally showing her amazement. "Damn, this place is heavenly,"

"I know right? I call it the Garden of Eden". 

A bit of pedalling later and they were hopping down their bicycles and into the field. The grass was indeed tall, tall till mid-thigh. 

"There are no snakes here, right?"

"No, silly. We aren't in a field of corn," Cleo couldn't help but laugh while Daphne simply rolled her eyes, "I was just being cautious".

They dropped their bikes aside and started setting their spot up: Daphne took the blanket out of her bag and with the help of Cleo, after struggling a bit because of the wind, they laid it out and pinned it down with their bags and shoes at the corners. 

"I've been missing out on so much truly," Cleo simply chuckled as she took her crocheting kit out. "This is the place the greatest artists of all time come up with the most show-stopping ideas ever," Daphne tilted her head, looking for truth in Cleo's eyes, "Oh, you know I wasn't serious. It was just a hyperbole,"

"Don't be angered. I looked at you because a part of me believed it. I mean, who wouldn't? This place would bestow peace upon anything and anyone,"

"Oh, my god. Do you like... read the bible too? But like the 17th century version?" Daphne laughed out loud. "What? Just because of the verb 'bestow'? Never heard of it out of a Christian context?"

"No— Like— I mean— I just never heard of anyone using it in a conversation as casual as this one. I don't know. To me, it sounds like using things like 'thee', 'thou' and adding 'eth' at the end of every verb," she replied laughing but not as hard as Daphne who was laying flat on the blanket clutching her tummy. "You can't be serious,"

"For once that I am, you think I'm not," meanwhile, Daphne kept laughing. "Like how often do you read a book?"

"Whenever my teacher assigns it," it was Daphne's turn to gasp and feign fainting and having convulsions dramatically. "Oh, no! Daphne, please don't die on me! I shall read more often so thou shall not die for life offereth pulchritudinous things one would never liveth in death for in death lays no life!" now Daphne's body visibly shook but because of how hard she laughed. It was the kind of laugh that's silent, a tummy killer. She believed she was going to get six packs after this.

Cleo soon joined her, laughing both because of her dramatic words and because of Daphne's state. 

"Oh, my god!" Daphne tried stopping and taking a deep breath but just couldn't. The more she looked at Cleo, the worse it'd get. "Sorry I'm not a bookworm,"

Daphne coughed a bit and regained herself only to correct her, "I wouldn't say 'bookworm'. That word is too vile to describe such a peace-inducing activity,"

"Oh, please. Peace-inducing? You find peace in constantly having your brain work?"

"I'd rather say 'bibliophile'. See? Such a nice and sweet-sounding word. Besides, there's not one moment your brain doesn't work... other than in death... where lays no life," Daphne laughed again as Cleo playfully hit her.

"No, but really, I just can't read that much and I envy you for that... just as much as I envy my brother. You saw him today, sat in the garden, deep in his book? Yeah, now picture me in the same state. Yeah, no. You could never because it's rather you don't have the resources enough to form such sort of imagination or it's so bizarre, it scares you," Cleo's words were too hilarious for Daphne who watched her in disbelief, "Reading is that much of a hassle?"

"Hassle? 'Hassle' is an understatement. A very nice word to sugarcoat and chocolate-coat the matter. I hate reading... just as I hate studying and school in general but— guess who's the top in PE class?" Cleo proudly winked at Daphne whose tummy was hurting again already. "Oh, my god, Cleo. You're out of this world," and the respondent proudly nodded in agreement.

"But hey, I can crochet and that's the calmest activity I can do. The only activity that can keep me still," and as she said that, she brought her kit forward. "I'm going to crochet mini Luke and Loki. Small enough to be keychains. How adorable right?"

"And I'll immerse myself into this wonderful book that makes me fall into a calming and therapeutic atmosphere as I escape this mere world to a fantastical one," she laughed seeing the dislike on Cleo's face. An expression that quickly went away, "Fantastical? You read fantasy?"

"I read anything that's written."

"Oh. I thought you'd read philosophical or psychological shit like my brother does". She was ready to start crocheting but before anything, she had to give Lily a few scratches on the head because she couldn't overlook the cuteness. "I do sometimes but my top genres are romance and thriller,"

"Ooh, I love thrillers... but like in the movies," they both chuckled.

—Now Playing: Ceilings by Beabadoobee✫

✬Spring, 2005✬

"Wow! Look at that butterfly!" Cleo shouted before her little legs immediately took off in its direction. 

"Cleo! Running after butterflies is what animals do because they don't know they can't catch it!" Cleo stopped in her tracks and angrily placed her hands on her waist, "And what makes you think that I can't catch it?"

"I just know that. Everybody knows that," Daphne asserted. Cleo ignored her and, with a frowny face, she turned around and went back to her butterfly-chasing attempt.

"You know what we can do? Collect flowers. Granny has a lot of pretty flowers at home. Flowers are very pretty and they don't fly away,"

"I know that flowers are very pretty but when I take them they die so soon," frowny face and whiny voice, "Not if you take care of them. Come let me show you. Granny taught me how," and immediately the frown disappeared as Cleo rushed over to Daphne who was crouched next a daisy.

"This is a daisy. Granny said that if you want to collect flowers, you should take them from the roots so you can plant them at home," Cleo awed in curiosity. "Nice but let's do it with a prettier flower,"

"All flowers are pretty!" Daphne shouted, offended by her friend's statement. Cleo frowned once more before she didn't mean to, "I said 'prettier'. I never said it was ugly," Daphne shrugged her shoulders before standing up, "Okay, then. Let's look for another flower".

And they went different ways, looking for pretty flowers in the field until Cleo stumbled upon a little creature that caught her curiosity. "Oh. Look at you," Daphne saw Cleo being so focused so she went closer to inspect, "Did you find a pretty flower?"

"No, I found this," and Daphne screamed before running the opposite way. Immediately the parents rushed out of their homes in shock. "What happened Daphne?"

"A bee! Cleo has a bee on her finger!" she exclaimed stretching upward so her dad could carry her. The dad did and calmed her down saying that it was just a little bee. On the other hand, Cleo was observing, admiring in fact, the little fly and was soon joined by Daphne's sister, Dyanne. "Yeah, it's just a bee. It's adorable—"

"No, it's not!" Daphne shouted at the two, startling her father who reminded her to calm down and took her inside.

⤎ previous page | ❃ | next page ⤏

[d00mbunnie]

“I’ll go with Dimitri.” You respond.

              Dimitri gets up and wipes his mouth and hands with a wet wipe that was sitting next to his plate. He straightens his jacket and comes over to you with his hand out stretched for a hand shake.

              “I will be very happy to show you around.”

              You take his hand and shake it. He has an incredibly strong hand shake. His hands are calloused, probably from living outside for years, having to do hard labor. He walks toward the exit. You follow him out. He walks fast for someone old you think. You do your best to keep up.

              “So, I think we will start at the library.” Dimitri tells you, “it is my favorite place in the whole of Save Haven 13. Very beautiful building. Good lighting. And they have a map, so I think it’s the best place to start.  Plus, if you have questions I can’t answer, they will be somewhere in the library.” Dimitri explains as he guides you to a four-story building build of grey stone and large glass windows.

              You gaze up at the building. It’s the tallest one in town, most of the other buildings are one or two stories high. There are a few 3 story buildings, but most are shorter than that. The library stands across from a red brick building marked meeting hall. When you look at the Top of the library you can see a glass dome on top and the top of a tree which is inside. Dimitri ushers you in excitedly. You can tell he’s really pleased to show you around. You dash up the Stone stairs and walk inside.

              The interior is amazing spacious. The tree you saw the top of is at the center of the building. It has a red sash tied around it’s trunk with various trinkets attached to it. In front of the tree many little offerings people have left. The walls of the library are white with dark wood trimmings. The railings on the many stairways are tarnished copper. At the desk in front of the tree is a pig with blonde hair. You’re not sure if the hair is a really convincing wig or her natural hair, she had cat eye glasses and a air about her that tolerates no bad behavior. The two of your approach her desk.

              “I am here today with my new friend.” Dimitri explains in hushed tones, “I would like borrow a map of the save haven to show them for a bit.”

              The pig nods curtly then disappears under the desk and reappears with a large map that she hands to Dimitri.

              “Thank you.” He says.

              You walk over to the left side of the first floor. There are many long, dark wooden tables. Dimitri unscrolls the map over a table close to the window. The map takes up half the table. You look over the map, you see that the library along with the town is at the very  center of safe haven. You can tell you’ve barely seen most of it.

              “Now, we are here in town, obviously.” Dimitri explains pointing to the town, “most classes and activities take place here, but sometimes things happen other places.”

              You nod in response. You notice the part marked entry fields. There are many little doors drawn on the middle of the field but the fields are even bigger than what you saw they stretch to a place marked misty shore.

              “that’s where I came in.” You point to one of the doors.

              “Ah, yes. Most people do come in from there but there are other ones all around the island. Like at the far end over here were the woods and the beach are also there are a few in the faerie forest but those are just for the faeries.”

              You see that the dark forest is market faerie woods.

              “You don’t go in the faerie woods with out permission. It’s not that the faeries don’t like you, but they’re busy with the up keep of the island and that’s their home so we give them space to relax with out having to deal with us. You wouldn’t want customers randomly showing up to your house, no?”

              “Oh yeah. I could see how that would annoy them.” You nod.

              “May I ask why you have come to save haven? Was there something you wanted help with? Like do you want to go back to school like me or maybe you have money problems? Or life is just too hard right now?

my crappy drawing of the map.

[logicaldelta]

Scrunkly Week Day 6 : Winter Blizzard

Prompt: remember those we've lost

This is about my Final Space OC, Meowcha/Charcoal. While it isn't directly about loss or mourning, it does focus on the crew of raiders that she was rescued by and worked alongside for several years before they died. So! Themes of loss, ehe

•°•

A thudding noise travelled through the floor of the ship, waking Arty from their sleep. They had been on edge since their last raid, having found an injured Ventrexian left in the wreckage of a battle field.

They threw on a lab coat over the top of their sleep clothes — which had slowly morphed into just a random shirt and some sweatpants over time – and made their way out of their room and to the medicine bay.

They found the Ventrexian awake, her one uncovered eye wide and panicked. Her ears bent back as they entered the room, and a low growling sound resonated from the back of her throat.

She opened her mouth to speak but instead winced, lifting a hand in an attempt to feel her face but halting as she realised her right arm was connected to bunch of cords, while her left arm was completely obscured by bandages.

"Try not to move too much, you're very injured," Arty commented, moving to her bedside to offer her some water from a bottle that they held up to her mouth. She hesitated for only a moment before accepting it.

"Where am I?" She coughed a few times after speaking, her throat dry and voice cracking from disuse.

"You're on our ship, we found you in the aftermath of a battle, bleeding out under a broken stone wall. We managed to get you here without you dying. Yay!" Their little cheer is meant to encourage her, but they see her pupils shrink in response and lower their voice. "I'm sorry... you've been through a lot. Does it hurt?"

"Kind of. Mostly my neck."

Arty nodded. "That makes sense. I'll give you some painkillers, and hopefully they'll help you get back to sleep."

"I need to get back to my squadron. They'll be looking for me."

Arty stopped what they were doing, the liquid painkillers held in their hand. They stared at her, at the unwavering look of responsibility on the face of the heavily injured Ventrexian in front of them.

And they didn't have the heart to tell her the truth.

"We'll get you back to them as soon as you've recovered." The lie slips from them easily, years of evading the law making it feel like second nature for them.

She nodded as they began injecting the painkiller into her, eyes slowly blinking as she begins falling back asleep. "Soon?"

"...soon."

She didn't notice their hesitation, already drifting off to sleep.

Arty sighed, placing the syringe down as they stared at her. Half her body had been torn to shreds, yet she wanted to rejoin the fight.

They exited the room, pulling up the report that Rena had sent them only hours before.

A photo of their patient, included on a list of the Ventrexian soldiers lost in battle in the past week.

It revealed her name, which was helpful considering how her identifying soldier tags had been destroyed in the blast that injured her. Arty did not like having to pick all of the shards of it out of Meowcha's skin. Dealing with the armour fragments was hard enough.

They sighed, closing the report and shaking their head. They knew their lie would fall apart as soon as their patient was lucid enough to move around on her own. The first thing she'd do would be to look for information about her squadron if her question from earlier was any indication.

Rena already had a plan in mind for her. They'd look after her while she recovered, and slowly teach her their raiding skills when she's well enough to learn. They'd help her find her squad once she proved that she was able to hold her own in battle once more.

They just had to hope that she'd cooperate with that plan.

•°•

Meowcha groaned as she opened her eyes, slowly climbing out of the bed that Rena had assigned to her when her initial stay in the medbay came to an end. She was still adjusting to having an entire room to herself – she was used to bunks crammed into rooms shared with a minimum of five squadmates. The ongoing war meant that soldiers weren't granted the luxury of personal private spaces.

She was also trying to adjust to the limited hearing in her left ear that she had now. Arty had assured her that it would improve as time passed – they believed her eardrums were just weakened by the trauma of the blast, both in volume and impact – but there was no guarantee that she'd ever fully recover her hearing in it.

Life had been... tough, since the raiders found her. She was glad that they had. She had accepted the fact that she would've died if they hadn't found her and chosen to help her. She'd always be grateful to them for that.

But each day spent with them, learning their ways and getting more comfortable around them, made her feel some sort of shame deep inside her chest. It felt wrong to not be with her squadmates. It felt worse to not be fighting the Tryvuulians like she had been for years. But she knew that she'd be no use in a battle right now.

Staring at the fresh scars forming on the left side of her body reminded her of that. She could barely move without the pain from them making her wince. It was obvious to all of them that she'd be useless in battle.

But Rena tried to keep her entertained, doing her best to teach her everything possible while she wasn't field ready. Even Lear had tried teaching her how his job worked, though she didn't understand that much. She was never good with mechanical stuff like he was.

Meowcha tried to go through the very basic training exercises that she did when she had first joined the Ventrexian army, in order to try keeping her strength up, but the pain quickly grew too overwhelming for her to continue.

It was a difficult realisation for her to come to. Knowing that her body had become so weak and sore after the blast that she could do even the most basic exercises without collapsing affected her badly. She figured that was why the others were trying so hard to keep her occupied, to prevent her from falling into a depressive spiral.

She appreciated it. Even if they did get a bit overbearing with it sometimes.

Her train of thought was broken by a knock on the door, followed shortly after by Arty popping their head into the room. "Good morning, Charcoal!"

She was still adjusting to the new nickname that they'd all given her. It was strange, but she didn't hate it.

"Morning," she replied. "What's the plan for today?"

"We're approaching an old junkyard that's been abandoned for ages." Arty grinned, seeming pleased about something. "You ready for your first raid?"

[baldwinivmybeloved]

(মন্দ)⠀Charper IV , Jerusalem ⸺ Allishah x Baldwin IV

The king and the rose

The day progressed naturally, the sun rising low and golden, casting long shadows over the arid desert as Reynald's caravan returned to its journey, advancing towards Kerak. The wheels of the carriages screeched in the dust and stones of the road, creating a constant rhythm that seemed to mark the passage of time. Allishah, leaning out of the carriage window, observed the landscape with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. The journey had been long and exhausting; The excitement of arrival was overshadowed by accumulated fatigue.

Allishah turned to her mother, Silvia, who also looked exhausted but was trying to maintain a dignified attitude. Silvia adjusted the veil on her head, trying to restore a look of elegance, while Allishah played with one of the carriage curtains, murmuring at intervals.

—Mom, do you think Kerak will be as beautiful as they told us? Allishah asked, trying to hide her nervousness behind a playful smile.

“Kerak has its own greatness, my dear,” Silvia replied, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and concern. But I advise you to keep your eyes wide open. Not everything will be as we imagine.

Allishah turned to the window again, the warm wind caressing her face. The barren fields gave way to thicker vegetation as they approached the castle. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and the contrast between the desert landscape and the vibrant promise of their new home seemed almost surreal.

When they finally saw the imposing walls of Kerak, Allishah felt a mixture of admiration and nervousness. The castle stood majestically on a hill, with towers that stretched into the sky and stone walls that spoke of centuries of history. It was much bigger than I had imagined.

The carriage stopped in front of the main entrance, and the horses neighed in signal of rest. Reynald de Chatilleau, standing at the entrance, waited with his usual expression of determination. Beside him, some of his servants and guards were ready to receive the new arrivals.

“Welcome to Kerak, Silvia and Allishah,” Reynald said with a calculated smile. I hope the trip was comfortable.

Silvia stepped down from the carriage with dignity and bowed slightly towards Reynald. Allishah, on the other hand, was uneasy but enthusiastic. The young woman descended from the carriage gracefully, her dress fluttering in the wind. Reynald's eyes rested on her with a mixture of interest and evaluation.

"Thank you, Mr. Reynald," Allishah said, looking around with fascination. This place is awesome.

Upon entering the castle, Allishah and Silvia were greeted with an air of opulence and authority. The rooms were spacious and decorated with colorful tapestries and finely crafted furniture. The large windows offered panoramic views of the desert stretching in the distance. Despite the splendor, Allishah couldn't help but feel a slight hint of melancholy for her home in France.

While the servants took care of the suitcases, Silvia took the opportunity to speak with Reynald in private. Allishah, for her part, took the opportunity to explore the castle, fascinated by the architectural details and subtle decorative touches that reflected the rich history of the place.

Allishah strolled through the halls, her footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. He stopped in front of a large gallery adorned with weapons and armor. He approached one of the shields and looked at it with interest.

"This place is incredible," she murmured to herself. I can't wait to see what else it has to offer.

As he made his way through the halls, he noticed the curious looks of some of the castle's inhabitants. The servants bowed in respect, and the gentlemen stopped to observe the new arrival with a mixture of admiration and surprise. Her exotic beauty and air of curiosity attracted everyone's attention.

At the end of the hallway, he found himself in an internal garden, where flowers and fountains provided a refreshing contrast to the desert heat. Here, she met one of the servants who led her to a small terrace where she could see the horizon.

"I hope you feel comfortable here, Allishah," the servant said with a smile. If you need something, don't hesitate to ask.

"Thank you," Allishah replied. I'm sure I'll get used to it quickly.

As the sun began to set, bathing the castle in a golden light, Allishah headed towards her chambers, ready to rest after a day so full of new experiences. The journey was over, but the real adventure was about to begin. The next day, the morning in Kerak began with a cool breeze blowing through the halls of the castle. Allishah woke up early, eager to see every corner of her new home. The huge room that Reynald had assigned to her and her mother was decorated with tapestries depicting scenes of ancient and glorious battles. The sun filtered its light through the large windows, filling the room with a golden glow that made the place seem even more majestic.

Allishah dressed quickly and left the room, her footsteps echoing softly in the stone hallways. He headed towards the large main room, where the echoes of his footsteps seemed to be amplified in the vast space. The living room was adorned with large velvet curtains and a huge stone fireplace that still held the heat from the night before.

“This place is like a fairytale castle,” Allishah murmured to herself, her voice filled with wonder.

As he walked, he came across a small group of servants who were in the middle of their morning duties. He approached them with a friendly smile.

-Good morning! Allishah greeted enthusiastically. Could you show me some of the interesting places in the castle?

The servants, surprised by his kindness, gladly accepted. She was taken to a weapons room, where swords and shields were meticulously organized on the walls. Allishah looked at each piece with curious eyes, asking questions about the different weapons and their uses.

—What is the oldest sword they have here? he asked, touching a sword that looked especially ancient.

"That is the sword of Sir Baldwin, the founder of the castle," answered one of the servants. It is said to have a fascinating history.

-That is incredible! Allishah exclaimed. I would love to know more about the legends of this place.

The servants continued to show her around the castle, taking her to the library, filled with leather-bound books, and to the garden, where the flowers were in full bloom. Allishah was delighted with everything she saw, but also felt there was still much to discover.

Later in the day, Reynald approached Allishah. He had realized her curiosity and decided to offer her a more personalized guide.

—Are you liking the castle so far? Reynald asked, his tone was soft, but there was an intensity in his eyes.

-Yes it is beautiful! Allishah replied, with a radiant smile. I'm impressed with everything. I have never seen a place so big and beautiful.

"I'm glad to hear that," Reynald said. I want you to feel at home here. If you need anything or have any questions, don't hesitate to let me know.

Allishah nodded, feeling flattered by his kindness. However, as the conversation progressed, he began to notice some nuances in Reynald's personality that he hadn't seen before. As they walked through the gardens, he talked about the importance of loyalty and respect, but there was a cold tone in his voice.

"It's important that everyone in the castle works together," Reynald said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. After all, success and stability depend on everyone knowing their place.

"I understand," Allishah replied, trying to keep the conversation light. It seems to me that everyone has an important role here.

Reynald stared at her, and his smile faded for a moment. His eyes revealed a calculating coldness.

-Exactly. "And sometimes, difficult decisions have to be made to maintain order," he said. But I'm sure you won't have to worry about that.

The conversation took a disturbing turn, but Allishah tried not to let her uneasiness show. As they headed towards one of the service areas, Reynald stopped and looked at Allishah with a more serious expression.

"You should know that in this castle, not everyone is a friend," he said. Some are here out of ambition, others out of necessity. Trust is gained and lost quickly.

“I don't like the idea of ​​having to distrust people,” Allishah commented. I prefer to see the best in people.

Reynald raised an eyebrow, his gaze hard.

—It is a noble attitude, but sometimes it is necessary to be more cautious. "Not everyone has pure intentions," he warned. Remember that.

Allishah felt a chill run down her spine, but she tried to stay calm. She said goodbye to Reynald with a forced smile, and he left with an enigmatic expression.

As Allishah returned to her chambers, she reflected on Reynald's words. The promise of a home and the threat implicit in his speech intertwined in her mind, leaving her with an uneasy feeling. His new surroundings were as fascinating as they were bewildering, and he was beginning to realize that his adjustment to life in Kerak might be more complex than he had imagined.

The night unfolded in Jerusalem with an opulence that only the great castles could offer. The banquet hall of Reynald de Chatilleau's castle was adorned with dark blue velvet curtains that fell in elegant folds from the high walls, reflecting the golden light of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The aroma of exotic spices and elaborate dishes filled the air, while the soft music of lute and harp invited those present to relax and enjoy.

Allishah entered the room wearing a gold silk dress that sparkled with every step she took. Her silver hair, tied up in an elaborate hairstyle adorned with pearls, fell in soft waves down her back. The look of admiration from the men present was palpable. As he crossed the room, a wave of murmurs arose. The nobles and knights turned to look at her, some even stopped talking and approached to try to gain her favor.

Reynald, with his typical calculating gaze, watched from a corner of the room, satisfied with the attention his young “daughter” was receiving. He knew that Allishah, with her dazzling beauty, would be an invaluable tool in his political intrigues.

Shortly after the party began, a young nobleman approached Allishah, his face illuminated by an eager smile.

"Would you allow me to give you the first dance, Lady Allishah?" he asked with a deep bow.

Allishah, with a playful smile and a mischievous glint in her eyes, accepted the invitation with an exaggerated bow.

-It would be an honor! she exclaimed, taking the nobleman's hand gracefully and allowing him to guide her towards the dance floor.

While they were dancing, the nobleman tried to start a conversation.

—What do you think of Jerusalem so far? Are you enjoying your new life? he asked, trying to sound interested in more than just the dancing.

"Oh, it's fascinating," Allishah replied, with a touch of mischief. But I'm still looking for something really interesting. The men here are so... predictable.

The nobleman, visibly flattered and a little confused by the comment, tried to keep the conversation going.

—I'm glad to know that you find my company entertaining. Maybe we can explore the city together someday?

Allishah, with a light laugh, said goodbye to him at the end of the dance.

—It would be lovely, but I still have a lot to discover on my own. I don't want to rush!

As time went on, Allishah continued to be the center of attention. Each new suitor who approached was greeted with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. She toyed with them, lacing sweet words with vague promises while staying aloof from real advances.

During the party, Silvia and Sibylla exchanged a few short words. The tension between them was evident, although appearances were maintained for the good of the guests. Agnes de Courtenay, elegant and with a regal presence, stood near Sibylla, observing the interaction with a thoughtful expression.

At one point, Baldwin IV made his entrance. His presence, although not as imposing due to his illness, was still notable. He watched Allishah from a distance as she continued to entertain her suitors. Despite his desire to reach out and talk to her, he found that he was no match for the torrent of attention she attracted.

With a sigh, Baldwin slowly retreated, feeling tired from the crowd and the festive atmosphere. The crowd continued to gather around Allishah as he headed to his chambers. The king's sadness and loneliness were reflected in his eyes as he left the lively room.

Allishah, watching Baldwin walk away, felt a twinge of curiosity. Although she was surrounded by admirers, a part of her wanted to better understand the man who seemed so reserved and distant. However, the desire to explore further with her suitors distracted her from those thoughts.

The party in the castle continued its lively course, with laughter and music echoing in the halls. Allishah, feeling a little overwhelmed by the crowd, decided to find a moment of calm. He discreetly detoured from the dance floor and ventured through the corridors of the castle, intending to breathe fresh air and get away from the social unrest.

The castle, as you moved deeper into the more private areas, became quiet and peaceful. Torchlights cast dancing shadows on the walls as Allishah curiously explored. Her curiosity led her to a less lit hallway, where she noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway. The door was decorated with heraldic symbols indicating that it belonged to a room of importance.

Allishah, without hesitation, approached and gently knocked on the door.

—Knock Knock, it's me. Can I come in? —he asked in a soft voice, but clear enough to be heard.

Inside the room, Baldwin IV was sitting at a desk, surrounded by papers and documents, but his mind was clearly distracted. Hearing the unexpected voice, he turned towards the door in surprise and some confusion.

"Who..." he began to ask, but when he saw Allishah in the doorway, his expression changed to a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Lady Allishah? What are you doing here?

Allishah, with a playful smile, bowed slightly, a gesture that reflected respect and flirtation at the same time.

"I thought I could use a break from the hustle and bustle of the party you know they're all so stuffy," he said in an upbeat tone of voice. It seems to me that the fresh air of the castle is more pleasant than the looks of so many admirers. Is this your secret hiding place?

Baldwin, still surprised but with a hint of amusement in his voice, rose from his chair.

—You could say it like that. He gestured toward a pair of chairs near the fireplace. Please sit. How can I help you?

Allishah settled into a chair gracefully, maintaining her playful posture by stretching.

—Well, the truth is that I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I just needed a little break. He looked around, taking in the books and documents spread out on the desk. Do you always work so late? It doesn't seem very relaxing.

Baldwin laughed softly, shaking his head.

—Not always, but sometimes the work is incessant. Managing a kingdom, even one in my state, doesn't allow for much rest.

Allishah watched him with interest, noting the fatigue on his face behind the mask and the way his hands, still elegant, still bandaged, looked tired. His tone softened a little, although he maintained his playful attitude.

—It must be difficult to carry that load. I didn't realize how committed you were to your responsibilities. He leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. But, between you and me, we never agreed on whether you would teach me to ride a horse.

Baldwin, somewhat intrigued by the question and the way Allishah was looking at him, leaned back in his chair.

—I like horseback riding, although I haven't had much time for it lately. It is one of the few moments when I feel free from all the worries of the kingdom.

Allishah frowned, her look thoughtful.

—I have never ridden a horse. —He said with a tone of slight disappointment—. But I have always heard that it is a wonderful experience. Maybe if I had the chance, I could understand what you feel.

Baldwin watched her with a glint of surprise and amusement in his eyes.

—And what has prevented you from doing it?

—I always thought that horses were too big and complicated. Allishah shrugged, with a mischievous smile. But now that you mention how pleasurable it is, maybe I should reconsider my opinion. Maybe you could finally teach me? Could the king finally accept this request from his subject?

Baldwin laughed under the mask, a sound that denoted both humor and appreciation for Allishah's spontaneity.

—It could be an interesting idea. But I must warn you, riding a horse can be more complicated than it seems, and time is a luxury I don't always have.

Allishah leaned a little closer, playing with a lock of her hair.

—Don't worry, I'm not a student who gives up easily. Plus, if you teach me, maybe we could spend some time together outside of the office!

Baldwin looked at her with a mixture of admiration and caution, feeling the influence of her charming presence. His tone became a little more serious, although he still retained an air of friendliness.

"That's a tempting thought, Allishah." However, I warn you that my world is not as simple as it seems. There are risks and difficulties that accompany this life.

Allishah nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and curiosity.

-I understand. But sometimes, those risks can make things even more interesting, don't you think?

Baldwin rose slowly, approaching the window and looking toward the horizon.

-Maybe you are right. Sometimes life needs a little unpredictability to keep it exciting.

Allishah rose as well, approaching him and placing a light hand on his arm.

"So, will you teach me to ride someday?" I promise to be a good student.

Baldwin, surprised by Allishah's confidence and charm, nodded slowly.

-Alright then. I will consider your request seriously. He turned to her, with a look that mixed appreciation and a touch of vulnerability. And I hope you also consider that life in the castle may be more challenging than you imagine.

Allishah laughed softly, with a knowing wink.

-I will do that. And in the meantime, I will continue enjoying the party. I wouldn't want to miss too much of the fun.

With one last smile, Allishah said goodbye and left the room, leaving Baldwin with mixed thoughts about the young woman who had managed to break a little of the barriers he himself had built.

After her conversation with Baldwin, Allishah felt encouraged and somewhat uneasy. She decided to return to the party, but her curiosity did not abandon her. He was intrigued to explore more about the castle, so he headed towards the guest wing. As he passed through the hallway, he stopped in front of the door to Reynald de Chatilleau's room, a door he had seen only in passing.

He looked out cautiously and, seeing that no one was nearby, decided to venture out. The room was decorated with a luxury that reflected Reynald's power, but there was something that caught his attention: a small desk with scattered documents.

Allishah walked over and carefully began going through the papers. Among them, he found a scroll that seemed to be a detailed report. Upon reading it, he discovered something disturbing: a plan to manipulate public opinion against the Saracens, making them appear responsible for a series of violent events and conflicts. The plan was clearly designed to justify future aggressive actions and maintain the influence of Reynald and his allies.

His hands shook slightly as he read the document. It was a Machiavellian plan involving conspiracies to blame the Saracens for various incidents that had actually been caused by others. Allishah felt a knot in her stomach and knew she had found something very important.

Just then, one of the castle's servants, a trustworthy-looking man named Malik, entered the room. Seeing Allishah looking at the documents, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Miss Allishah?" Malik asked with a mix of concern and curiosity. Everything is alright?

Allishah, although surprised, remained calm.

"Yeah, I was...exploring a little." —He said as he quickly put the parchment back in its place—. Can you tell me something about these documents? They seem very important.

Malik looked at the papers nervously and then approached Allishah.

"Those documents..." he whispered. There are things you shouldn't know. There are plans and strategies that could endanger many if they are disclosed. It is best not to get involved more than necessary.

Allishah nodded slowly, understanding the seriousness of the situation. He decided to return to the party, although his mind was filled with dark thoughts. I needed advice and I couldn't do it alone.

He approached his mother, Silvia, who was in a corner of the room talking with some nobles. Allishah walked towards her with a worried expression.

“Mother,” Allishah began in a low voice. What would you do if you discovered a very big and dangerous secret, something that could affect many people?

Silvia looked at her carefully, noticing the seriousness in her daughter's tone. His expression became thoughtful.

“Dear,” Silvia said calmly. Sometimes it is better not to meddle in matters that do not directly affect us. If you discover something that could cause problems, it's best to let things take their course. Life at court can be complicated, and it is not always wise to intervene in what we do not fully understand.

Allishah nodded, although her unease did not completely fade.

"So, should I just forget what I saw and enjoy the party?"

Silvia smiled slightly, touching Allishah's arm in a reassuring gesture.

-Exactly. Finish enjoying the party and let time take care of other things. The most important thing is that you do not put yourself at unnecessary risk.

With that answer, Allishah said goodbye to her mother and headed back to the party room. The atmosphere was lively, with music and laughter filling the air. However, the revelation he had made weighed on his mind. Although he tried to enjoy the moment, his mind was occupied with the secrets he had discovered and the implications they could have for the future.

The tension was growing, and Allishah knew that, at some point, she would have to face the truth. But for now, she focused on maintaining her happy-go-lucky attitude, as the darkness of the secrets she had unearthed loomed over her.

[blockgamepirate]

Hypixel Technoblade memorial in spring (or early summer I guess)

Image description: (under cut because it’s very very long)

A series of screenshots of the Technoblade memorial and its surroundings. It’s hidden in a remote corner of the farming area behind the white cliffs of a mountain with diorite slopes. There is a melon-headed scarecrow in the potato field on the way there. Flowering cherry and apple trees, blooming in pink and white, frame a sandstone-walled canal that leads to the sea on the right, from which a boat with cyan sails is approaching. A simple dirt path leads you to the memorial, sheltered by the trees.

The memorial itself is a small, roofless, temple-like structure made out of stone bricks and polished andesite. The front is a little bit overgrown with roses and poppies. Big iron braziers made of anvils and hoppers decorate the gate and provide light with their fires. The floating text over the entrance says [PIG+++] Technoblade Memorial, with his name and rank in pink while the rest of it is light blue.

As you step inside, it’s a mix of the natural white diorite rocks of the mountain and the man-made grey structures flowing together organically. The floor is cobblestone and andesite but on each side and on top of the elevated ground there are patches of potato plants and rose bushes. Behind the white rocks there are more flowering trees. A big pink cherry tree partially covers the area with its canopy, like a natural roof.

On your left, slightly elevated, there’s a carving in the stone that forms the shape of a ribbon, with purple wool behind it, to represent the lavender ribbon of cancer awareness. it’s framed by torches placed in front of it.

Directly in front of you, at the back of the small temple, is a sort of altar shaped like a giant throne. Its back is red, decorated with an elaborate stone frame. On either side of the “backrest” there are hopper braziers blazing with fire. There are also sorts of shelves on the frame that are decorated with grey stone pig heads that face slightly inwards towards the Technoblade statue which of course stands in the middle of the altar or throne on a pedestal. The pedestal is stone and decorated with another lavender ribbon. The statue itself is also grey stone, but the crown is golden and gem-encrusted and the sword he holds up is diamond. His cloak has been depicted flowing in the wind.

(I’m also in one of the pictures, standing in front of the throne in reverse F5. I’m just a bespectacled skeleton in a teal 19th century suit and violet bowtie.)

[oxygenbefore1775]

Peal of Thunder

for day 1 of jeankasaweek "rainy day"

pairing: jean x mikasa

wc: 2.2k

summary: seeking warmth after being caught in the downpour

a/n: more like "stormy day" or "rain not being central to the story at all" or "watch me pathetically try to play it down to the given prompt in the end" but i digress; also idky but i made mikasa a bit uneasy with thunder, guess it's from the memory of the day her parents were taken away from her

The rain caught them in the lushness of an open field — cold heavy droplets on their skin, bringing them out of the pools of each other's eyes. Not long after, the downpour grew heavier, with walls of water landing on their bodies. The sounds of thunder rolled off in the distance, sealing the end of their short-lived respite in nature.

The deceiving morning heat left them with nothing but lightweight summer clothes on, now transformed into translucent films clinging to their skin. Another minute in this violent rainstorm would surely soak them and leave them shivering to their bones. Although a single coat that one of them had thought of taking would hardly provide sufficient shelter, let alone for both of them, there was determination in Jean's motions as he draped it over their shoulders. His voice faded into the cascades of the downpour — she could only surmise that he was urging their swift departure, and soon enough, they headed towards home.

A shadow of a smile played on Mikasa's lips as she watched Jean squint his eyes and furrow his eyebrows, struggling to see even a stone's throw ahead of him. The felt of his fedora grew sodden, heavy with water, rendering it useless. The evidence of this was clear, with streams running down his face. Yet, the sight lulled within her a weird sense of security. Surrounded by the cool wet fabric all around, except for the side where his body pressed against hers, it brought her comfort amid the hostile rage of the elements.

Mikasa intercepted his movements, gently taking the lead, "Surely, not this way." Despite the comforting presence of Jean by her side, she yearned to escape the tumultuous symphony of roaring thunder and the blinding flashes of lightning that tore the sky apart. She wanted to get away.

Guided by her, they swiftly reached their cabin, but the speed bore little significance as every inch of their bodies was drenched long before catching a glimpse of shelter from afar. Droplets of water trailed after them to the couch, leaving wet spots on the upholstery that grew as they collapsed onto the couch. With cold stiff fingers Mikasa reached for the buttons on her dress while Jean crouched in front of the fireplace.

The crackling of burning wood drowned the sounds of the rain against the window glass yet the thunder could still reach her acute hearing, although it was significantly lower in its roars. Her mind wandering, Mikasa carded her fingers through the wet tussles of her hair, feeling the dampness cling to her fingertips, while her gaze fixated on the shadow that Jean's broad frame cast on the floor.

"It will take some time for the room to heat up," he muttered, rolling the sopping cloth of his shirt off his shoulders. "I'll go put the kettle on. Maybe some tea will get us warm quicker."

She smiled shyly at the proposition but couldn't resist catching his hand as Jean was about to leave. "My mother used to draw me a bath whenever I was cold, so I'll do just that." Giving his palm a gentle squeeze, her gaze locked with his.

Jean's eyes softened as he met her glance, "Alright, you go first then." With that, he brought her palm close to his lips, leaving a kiss on her knuckles and ready to go to the kitchen again. Yet, she didn't let go of him.

Her other arm slid down his shoulder, still damp and covered in goose bumps. "You're freezing too," she insisted. The glint in her eyes took an alluring spark. "And the tub's big enough for the two of us."

The obvious request froze on her tongue and never fell past her lips. As she was looking down, she didn't notice how he reached for her face, pulling a strand away from her face. "If that's what you want, then with pleasure. Besides, we're already soaked from head to toe." An endearing smile found its way onto Jean's lips.

As the rain clattered against the windows in the distance and the inviting heat of the bathtub enveloped her cool skin, Mikasa reveled in the touch of his embrace. By lifting her arm under the surface and submerging it again into the soapy water, she let droplets fall from her palm, echoing the rain outside. She welcomed the warmth that bloomed in her chest and grew with each second she felt her back against his chest and his hot breath searing the shell of her ear. All that lulled her into sleep yet she forced her eyes to stay open for she wanted to be awake through each moment of it.

"My mother also drew me baths," Jean mused in a hushed tone, as if his voice threatened to shatter the tender silence in the bathroom, "though mine often had bubbles added to it."

The rumble of thunder echoed through the air, swallowing his last words in its mighty roar, sending a shiver down Mikasa's spine. She shook off the trepidation, determined to find solace in their conversation and a refuge from the foreboding storm. "Do you wish that our bath had bubbles right now?"

There was no pause following her words and he picked up with a resolute tone. "No." Without hesitation, Jean's arm reached forward, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Otherwise I won't see all of you just as I am seeing you right in this moment. Every part of you."

"Jean." The flush burned at the tips of her ears as she remained motionless. The mix of emotions washed over her, the flattery tinged with uneasiness. It was what she had come to expect from her husband, yet it still caught her off guard every time. Each unwarranted praise and compliment stirred a struggle deep within her, as if she should respond in kind, showering him with the same vocal affection he bestowed upon her. But the words eluded her, slipping through her fingers like streams of water. Her chest burned yet the cause for it remained unknown to her, be it the heat rising from the tub or Jean's words.

At a loss of meaningful phrases, Mikasa gingerly lifted his palm towards her face. She pressed her lips against his blushed knuckles, leaving a soft cascade of kisses on his damp skin. In that moment a subtle thought crossed her mind — perhaps she should feel greedy, almost demanding. To want more of his lavish affection and the cherished moments of intimacy that Jean would bestow upon her, no doubt about that.

Gentle patter of rain served as a soothing background, uniting in its repetitivness with her shallow breaths and the rhythmic thuds of his heart. "I saw your eyes lit up each time the lightning struck," Jean spoke again, seemingly out of breath. Was she leaning against him with such a force that robbed him of air? "Does the thunder remind you of something?"

The question left Mikasa perplexed, her lips parting as she delved deep in her thoughts, searching for an answer. Her restlessness during these violent outbursts of the nature persisted throughout the years yet she never pondered the cause of it. After all, the thundersorms were a rare occurence on Paradis so she wouldn't be haunted by their fearsome roars to a significant extent. A fleeting memory of stormy days from her early childhood appeared in her mind and she allowed it to play further. Try as she might, she couldn't recall the feeling of fear from that recollection. When she was still living in the forest on the outskirts of Shiganshina there was no fear. It was only after she moved in with the Yeagers that the fear began spring up — that much she knew.

Mikasa lightly shook her head in response, the tightening sensation at her temples threatening to break out into a migraine should another thought of those days visit her. "I..." she murmured, trying to find purchase for her wandering mind.

"For me, it's the memory of thunder spears," Jean interjected, gently prying her mind away from the painful reminiscense, "of the time when we still got to use them. When we had to fight."

Mikasa coudn't see his face yet her imagination painted a vivid image of the shadows weighing down his features, the crease between his eybrows growing deeper with the weight of the memories. "At each peal of the real thunder I can't help but to recall their heaviness in my arms and on my back. How they tremble in my grip right as I'm about to launch them." A sigh, barely noticable by her acute hearing, rolled past his lips and brushed against her nape. "The adrenaline rush after each time I got the target right."

Tone of sour nostalgia crawled into his voice, but Mikasa would lie if she denied the same hold that the memory of the thunder spears had over her. As if caught up on their reminiscing, a peal of thunder rolled off in the distance. This time, it indeed sounded like the release of explosives in the missile.

"I am still not sure if this is a pleasant connection in my mind. Those were good times yet we were always living on the edge of life and death back then."

The silence filled the room again as Mikasa was pondering his words. There was some undeniable allure in the memory of the days long gone — before the war, before the fall of the walls. She herself quite often sought refuge in the past, the sweetness of those recollections too blissfull to return from all that easily. Nonetheless, the joy was tainted by the pain that followed suit like a clockwork. As invitingly pleasant as the nostalgia was, it inevitably closed off with the sorrowful memories, remainder of the price that they all had to pay for the chance for this world to draw another breath.

Her mind robbed of its capacity to think such dreadful thoughts no longer, her body instead became acutely aware of each and every sensation she was reveling in. The billowy steam enveloping her face, its gentle touch leaving tiny water droplets glistening on her skin, indistinguishable from the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The tight hold Jean's hands had on hers, his fingers intertwining with hers. The smell of soap and earthy fragrance of rain still clinging to the tussels of her hair filling the room and fogging up her mind in the most delectable way. The mix of those made her thoughts adrift, lost in bliss her current position bestowed upon her. And it was a welcome one, the one Mikasa was openly relishing and ready to express with zeal.

As her resolve grew, her voice echoed through the air, thick with steam and fragrance. "I suppose it's alright, the way you feel," she concluded, "past can hurt just as much as it can uplift but—"

With that, she positioned her arms at the either side of the bathtub for the purchase lifting herself out of the soapy water. Droplets cascading down the glistening skin of her toned body, she turned around so that she was facing Jean. Her palms quickly found their place at his shoulders as she settled herself back into his embrace.

Despite the heat of the room, somehow even more flush managed to dust across Jean's face, beading with sweat, "Mikasa." Yet with no hesitation to his movements, he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He tilted his head back to meet her gaze seeing as now she was towering over him.

The pitter-patter of rain echoed off in the distance.

"But as this day would end," Mikasa whispered, her warm breath brushing against Jean's features, "It'd be the only thing I'd like to associate the sounds of thunder with." A spark ignited in her eyes as she found herself being pulled deeper into the pools of his gaze.

You she silently mouthed to Jean.

As the downpour washed the outside world, the air in the bathroom came to a halt, rendering their bodies motionless as well. The distance between their mouths almost non-existent, hitched breaths fanning against each other's lips and lingering gazes full of soft silent promise. With a surge of insolence, Jean closed off the miniscule gap between their lips, sealing off the confession in a tender kiss.

The sensation of their entwined bodies, the softness to their breaths and the intoxicating warmth of their embrace — they hoped that all of it etched in their memory. Moments later, they found themselves laying together in the living room, fully dry and enveloped in the comforting warmth of the space. Mikasa's head rested on Jean's chest, her ear attuned to the soothing sounds of the ongoing rain outside. In the tranquility of the moment, they allowed themselves to melt into the atmosphere of the evening, finding solace and peace in each other's presence.

[brineffxiv]

This was a surprisingly pretty dungeon. Those golden fields you fly over astride a dragon to get to the final third especially.

We defeat Lunar Bahamut, and Tiamat and her children are free, finally.

The leader of the Amalj'aa comes to greet us and thank us for our assistance, and vows to make the proposed alliance work. Good. That's progress. His might only be one band of Amalj'aa, but they represent the first step.

But the tower still looms forebodingly, and inside it...

...Are imprisoned dozens of Amalj'aa, their bodies embedded in the walls. Which seem to be made of flesh. The floors also, are disturbingly meat-like. This reminds me both of the Mhachi Void Ark, and the Allagan Aetherochemical Research Facility.

Excuse me, are those teeth in that wall?!

Hey, uh... If the towers are made of flesh... are the towers themselves parts of a primal?? Like, a really huge primal? That spans the world... sort of like the Empire itself?

...Did.

Did Fandaniel make the Empire itself into a primal? Somehow?

Arenvald makes the mistake of trying to free one of the Amalj'aa, and sets off an alarm in the process. Which activates something that makes the Amalj'aa in the walls cry out and writhe in their prisons.

And then all the nerves (?) in the floor light up and...

...Summon Ifrit?? An Ifrit? Lunar Ifrit?

...

Ohhhh... Oh I just now got what was happening. The tower activated, and forced the Amalj'aa to summon their god. And, as we learn a few scenes later, since the Amalj'aa are tempered to Garlemald, so too is the primal they produce.

Arenvald jumps in front of Fordola, trying to protect her, and we cut to black.

Returning to Ul'dah we are met with news that Fordola saved Arenvald from the tower, but he is gravely injured. Alphinaud runs off to try and see him.

Arenvald is in a bad way, and Fordola has had quite enough of Alphinaud's idealism. There is nothing we can do to assist here, and must trust in the chirurgeons.

We meet with the Sultana and are filled in on the intelligence contained in Fordola's report. The towers are being filled with peoples of the beast tribes who, in their tempered state, are being utilized to summon forth primals in service to Garlemald. These primals are strange in that they don't seem to be able to temper people themselves?

Thancred is speaking of a "main" tower of sorts that they observed in Garlemald, and I am thinking of my earlier idea that the towers themselves are extensions of a very large primal. If the towers are like the limbs of a being, the main body of which is in Garlemald: the Empire itself is the primal. This implies that all the people in the Garlemald itself are now enslaved to its will. A will which is likely commanded by Zenos and Fandaniel.

Somehow.

I don't know how that would be done, but I cannot see either of them simply allowing a primal like that to act independently. Perhaps Zenos, as the acting head of Garlemald, is himself the focus of the devotion?

Or perhaps I am completely off base.

Multiple primals like Ifirit have been sighted, but, as they cannot temper, Nanamo wishes us to leave the Grand Companies to deal with them. She hopes, for the moment, to keep us in reserve.

For a scant bit of good news, the Amalj'aa have reached an agreement with Ul'dah.

Left to our own devices we resolve to return to the Rising Stones. With Estinien begrudgingly in tow. (Wow, look how many of us have white hair. What's up with that??)

Krile has decided we should petition the aid of the infamously reclusive nation of Sharlayan, and has already asked for and received permission from the Alliance to act as their Eorzean emissary.

This is not the only thing she shall be doing. While in Sharlayan, she will be looking into the exact nature of Hydaelyn's "blessing". And wants to know when the last time she spoke to me was.

The text prompts inform me that I heard from Hydaelyn at the end of the Dragonsong war, which I'll be honest, I don't remember. I'd have said during the fight with the Ultima Weapon.

Yes, and her failure to even speak to the Minfilias and Ryne is one of several bones I have to pick with our Crystal Mother.

She knows I sympathize with the Ascians and is punishing me for it.

Seriously though, if there is something preventing Her from speaking with us, I wonder what it could be that changed since when I last heard from Her?

Krile is, however, reluctant to leave the Scions less a member at such a critical time, and this is why she requested Estinien accompany us. She asks him, for apparently not the first time, to join the Scions.

And, after a truly touching speech about how inspiring we've been and the change we've effected, Estinien agrees. Wow, Estinien, you've come a long way from a minor antagonist/mentor in the Dragoon class quests.

Meanwhile, in the imperial palace in Garlemald, Zenos has been taking out his boredom on the floor. That is not a good place to store your blades Zenos, you're going to blunt all the edges that way.

He MAD.

Or. Can you even feel anger? Or is it just positive emotions you have trouble with?

That was a failure? I cannot fathom what it is you hoped to achieve... terrorizing some random Amalj'aa? Or were you hoping to capture more fodder for your primal-generating towers?

Oh yeah, there's definitely a scary-big primal in your basement or something.

Apparently, Zenos' new sword is a seeeecret as well. All the secrets.

[brooklynislandgirl]

@ensnchekov

She stands on the back lawn, just behind Andy. The garden is in the last bloom of summer and fills the air with local and exotic flowers from other places her mother has worked, including some of the more distant planets with Minshara class designations with similar conditions as Earth. But for as beautifully scented and coloured it is, no single aspect is left to its wild nature. Down to the smallest leaf it has been carefully manicured to within a centimetre of its life. Every blade of grass carefully measured by an army of gardeners. It contrasts the flag stone courtyard with its fountain, the white outer walls of the sprawling single floor manor that over looks the bay. The land has been in the Admiral's family for generations. So have most of the things on it. Everything is pristine and perfect, right down to the three people waiting for their new guest. There's no fence or force-field around the cliff's perimeter, he'll need to be warned about that. It wouldn't do at all if he were to fall or be swept out to sea. Her mother and the Admiral have been talking quietly about it for months, and only seemingly consulted her brother and her when they'd already made their decision. From that quiet moment at the dinner table to her mother's overseeing of setting up the guest room, to the few hours before now, Andy's practically floated on an cloud of enthusiasm. A young boy about Beth's age give or take. A new sibling to shelter under wing, one he doesn't feel he needs to be over protective one. Does he like sports? Does he read graphic novels and old stories? Does he like to tinker with ancient technologies? An army of questions and possibilities have filled Andy's thoughts. Her mother of course reminds her children to be sensitive. The boy lost his parents, she tells them, and might not wish to speak of that, nor of the years he has spent more or less on his own. Be sensitive to the fact that his culture and life are vastly different than their own, and do try to make him feel welcome. The Admiral himself says very little, except to point out gruffly, and perhaps intentionally pointedly, that the boy has test scores like none he's seen before. That his intellect is a rare treasure and they could all surely appreciate how special he is because of. That in some ways he reminds your old man of myself, and of course, you Andrew. She says nothing, everyone knows she's smarter than her sibling, more artistic, and in some ways, more cultured. The boy is still better. She wonders if he hates it. She wonders if he takes pride in being a golden child. She wonders, too, if he knows how to swim. "Heads up, make yourselves presentable, there is the shuttle." Her mother's voice breaks into her thoughts and Beth finds herself standing at her full if unimpressive height. Hands smooth down her skirt, tucks dark hair back into the braids it had been wrestled into. Andy stands at parade rest, hands tucked behind his back, and her mother is a vision in black and gold, slender as a reed and a little taller than her only daughter though her heels make up a few extra inches. Even into her fifties, her mother is one of the most beautiful women in the world, regal and maternal at once. Beth might have felt better if she'd been permitted to merely watch this all from the window of her room. The shuttle lands on the pad as smooth as glass. As soon as the hatch opens and the boy comes into view, her mother steps forward with a radiant smile parting her lips. "Welcome, Mr Chekov. Chuvstvuyte sebya kak doma."