#the accursed black miasma

[mystic-dean]

[Dean has been trapped in his derelict cottage for several days now, every exterior door and window sealed tightly shut by the miasma, he has begged and pleased to be freed but the miasma has refused every time.

The miasma has provided him food and water to keep him alive but it will not let him go, he's taken to refusing to eat. Hoping that maybe that shall convince the sludge to let him go, it's no use though, the miasma knows that what is on the outside is far more deadly than whatever Dean could do to himself within]

[dmkwrites]

Umbra (Aylin x Isobel)

Warnings: naked ladies cuddling?

Summary: just a little musing on Aylin's imprisonment, 300 words

The question lingered between them, unasked, unanswered, though Aylin could see it in Isobel’s eyes. “How?” it whispered in the dark, “How did he lure you to the Shadowfell?”

Aylin could not lie to Isobel, could not lie to anyone, it wasn’t in her nature. But she could avoid that question, hanging sickly between them like a foul miasma, ignore Isobel’s pleading gaze, because surely she already knew, didn’t she? Isobel refused to give voice to the ache that plagued her because she knew.

“I can help,” Balthazar had said, his honeyed words dripping with bitter poison. “I can bring her back, if only you lend me your strength.”

An aasimar should know better. A paladin should know better. Aylin, sick with grief though she was, should have known better, should have known not to trust that snake. But Aylin ignored the unease in her broken heart. Aylin followed Balthazar into the belly of the temple, to the shimmer pool to the Shadowfell. Aylin, a black gaping hole in her where Isobel had been, stepped into the accursed runes herself.

“Are you all right?” Isobel asked. He naked body pressed against Aylin’s in the dark, warm, soft, alive. Alive alive alive. Would Ketheric have ever caught the eye of Myrkul, Aylin wondered, if she had not allowed her grief to bring her to folly? Would this body still be cold beneath the ground, not but bones and maggots? Was one hundred years worth it?

Aylin caressed Isobel’s cheek. “Yes,” was all she said. And somehow, Isobel knew.

Shar was the goddess of loss. But all that was Shar’s was Selune’s as well. From that unending darkness could be born the most splendid light.

[thesyndicateofeden]

First fully original work, this one’s gonna be a little violent and disturbing, so be warned.

Twilight Circumstance

The dusty tomes that filled this place barely got used. It had existed for so long, yet only the rare college student or eccentric bookworm ever came here anymore…

Despite the “ancient” nature of the place, the dust and age to Vex was just a child’s amount of time compared to how ancient she was. It felt..calming, being in the presence of books like this. Like them she was a thing of vast depth, knowledge, and power, yet hardly anyone ever got close enough, or lived long enough, to open her and read her pages. It was nice to know she wasn’t alone in being forgotten, she wasn’t alone in being unknown. Then again, some of these books probably told her story incorrectly. Her eyes, those horrid pits of abyssal black overlaid with cracking, spiderwebbing lines of orange hellfire flicked down to the spine of one of these tomes. “Gods of Greek Mythology, a Compendium.” It read. Ahhhhh…Greece. What a beautiful place. She could only enjoy its beaches and ancient civilization during the nighttime, but surely humans would think the Mediterranean Sunshine a most gorgeous sensation. To her it was abhorrent. The Greeks had given her one of her favorite names: Nyx. A being so ancient that even Zeus feared her wrath and displeasure. How charming! They clearly thought highly of her.

Vex never did anything that Nyx did, all that had occurred were the few glimpses the ancients had gotten of her. Moving in a forest, spying her orange eyes around pillars, and on the rare, rarest of occasions, either helping or killing their number as fancy took her. It felt good to be revered, or feared, by a society en-masse. She was a superior being to them after all, maybe not in thought or morally, but most definitely in physical prowess.

That had been stolen from her, that reversion, in the modern era. No longer could her bare feet walk into the center of a nighttime plaza and not fear light around every corner. The lanterns and candles and torches of yore were unbelievably easy to avoid, or stamp out with impunity should they get in her way. In America, every city was a glowing beacon of disgusting accursed poison. It spewed from places it should never naturally spew, humans carried light bricks of the stuff in their pockets, who could make a beam as intense as 5 torches and with great direction. How dare they-

“H-HEL-“ Came the cut off crying of a young woman, piercing through the growing tendrils of dark hate gripping the walls of the abyss that was Vex’s brain. Very calmly putting the book back on its dark shelf, she leisurely took a more physical form.

Prior she was an amalgamation of thick black miasma with her trademark eyes, wallowing in the library aisle who’s lamp above was broken and neglected. In that shadow the miasma solidified, black webs erupting inside itself and violently tearing the darkness together. First came an ebony skinned body of a woman, bare and as gorgeous as the last sunset. The hair bounced into long curls that tended to roll and smoke at the edges, rising back up above her head and invisibly resettling into the mass of curled tendrils. Next the dress, silky and loose, had little style to it and more as if Vex had taken the most beautiful sheet of coal-colored silk, sprinkled stars inside, and tossed it over herself.

The Wraith never wore shoes, for her feet could no longer feel whatever the ground could resist her with, and as she stepped forward near the end of the shadowy aisle only the most observant could notice she walked toe-heel, instead of the modern heel-toe that evolved out of the comfort of shoes. Such was one of the only outward signs of just how ancient her customs were. At the edge of her home material she stopped and looked distastefully up at the working aisle light that thrust its burning curse down the central walkway of the library. Her ears could hear the muffled cries for mercy and gentleness that fell on the deaf ears of two attackers. Human, male, based on the sound of their muscles and the thoughts in the head she could read as easily as that book earlier.

“Hmm..simple as always.”

Sneering at the light she raised her right hand and brutally snapped her wrist in an arc, out of the darkness molded a double bladed dagger she sent into a spin so rapid it blurred. Her machinations could not go through the light, but humanity in their ignorance tended to never light the wires who fed them their power. Into the ceiling the shadowy dagger chewed as if wood were the thinnest of paper. With a great ZZZZT-KHSH the lights in the library went out..

And oh how great was her smile, framing those eyes who burned with tantalizing desire.

As calmly as before Vex walked into the aisle, and into the aisle over where she saw the mugging. A college student, it seemed, with red hair, freckled face, and glasses, had chosen the wrong time to study at night. Holding a knife to her throat, the burlier of the two men pulled her wallet from her pocket.

“Alright, thanks swe-“

Vex cleared her throat impatiently, and the two whipped around, switchblades now drawn on her. The Wraith had closed her eyes and could barely be seen as a normal, humanoid outline. Mentally, she was giggling so loud she couldn’t even hear the thoughts of the would-be muggers. Aloud the burly one growled,

“Hey!! Stay right there..double payday, or this kid gets it.”

Vex smiled wide and shrugged, her voice playful and teasing.

“Pry it from my corpse, little baby.”

The hooded and masked criminal stepped forward threateningly.

“Say it again! To my face!”

He rushed up right in front of Vex and stopped inches from her face, whose eyes were still hidden. The young and wiry bandit was trying to pull him back, whispering to stay quiet and calm down.

But the deed had been done, and Vex’s emotional manipulation had easily bent this man’s mind to one course.

He struck forth with his switchblade-!

It shattered upon her chest.

In a violent flash her eyes opened and she laughed so hard she nearly fell over. In shock both men yelped at her demonic eyes and began running in the dark, flailing for an exit.

“AHhaHA! No no no! Playtime isn’t over!!”

The darkness around the wily one suddenly solidified into tight chains, crushing him lightly and dragging him screaming away from the door outside. The pitiful whimper annoyed Vex’s ears and a dark tendril shut his mouth with such casual force several of his teeth snapped.

The other didn’t last long either, only he simply tripped over himself in his own terror and right into the sharing embrace of solid darkness that dragged him back to her, airborne.

“Now now now…”

Her voice could only be described as the most sweet of coos,

“You’ve both been..despicable, right?”

She giggled lightly at both their floating bodies and turned them upside down and grinned wickedly at the student, who was paralyzed with fear.

“And she seems so nice. What a shame you chose a target I care to defend, I don’t do it much! Unnnnlucky you..”

Vex flung both of them onto the table she had been studying at and strode to the girl, who immediately fell to her knees and started crying. To her credit, the Wraith was offput. When her mood was protective, the tears of the innocent always felt painful to Vex. She’d cried once too. Long, long, long ago, she knew she did it. Her hand gently reached down and patted the red hair.

“Don’t weep, Angel, it’s alright. I-“

Breaking down into sobs the student asked, begging an answer,

“W-w-wh-what-what are-are y-you?!”

Vex smiled ear to ear and crouched down so she could look eye to eye with the one she saved.

“The same thing you are, only fallen. Long, long, so long ago.”

Her fear was so delicious to the dark hungry shadows of her mind, but Vex tried to not enjoy it too much. She didn’t feel like killing this one too tonight.

“Run along now, and carry some protection, Maeve.”

Confused and terrified the thing knew her name, she sprinted away and out the door to freedom.

Turning back to the two bandits strapped onto the table, that charming, confident smile kept its confidence but abandoned charm in favor of wicked pleasure. She ran her hand along the burly one’s chest.

“Hm, you’re quite a buffoon, but I can admire the rage in your..”

Her hand gripped with enough strength to instantly shatter his ribs and his screams were muffled by the shadowy tendrils holding him down as Vex’s hand began to plunge into his chest, brute force enough to destroy flesh and muscle under its weight as he began to concave inwards.

“Awww, that’s a pretty sound…and poetically ironic, given you made that girl cry in a similar manner.”

The screams turned to bloody gurgles as her hand clamped around his beating heart, and with a vicious tear a fountain of blood exploded into the air, as it did, the crimson turned black, and thick with a horrible cursed ichor from being touched by the Wraith. The body convulsed and trembled as the curse spread throughout every vein and artery that remained, until the flesh had rotted away into a saggy grey skin over bones. Swiping it aside it crunched against the ground as a second Wraith formed out of the shadows along the ground in its place. It was the man, except with his horrible wound and a death mask covering his whole face. Instead of a hoodie and jeans he now wore a tattered medieval cloak and robe that hid his insides from view.

“…..Mistressssssss”

The wiry bandit was sweating bullets and struggling against the chains as he screamed through his shattered teeth. Vex floated upwards, feet trailing down, and her arms spread out wide with palms up like a cursed parody of Jesus, with a playful and cruel smirk.

“Kill your friend, make it entertaining.”

The puppet-wraith’s ghastly head tilted and let out a croaking hiss.

“Yesssssssssss…Misssssssstresssss…”

With the croaking and creaking of bones it stumbled forward and pulled upon what was once his partner in crime. Soon enough his muffled screams too turned to choking gurgles as Vex laughed at the mortal body getting torn apart in front of her. When the last chunk of meat had fallen off the table the Goddess clapped and descended back to the ground lightly.

“Thank you. Kneel.”

She smirked as the thing obeyed without question.

“While you were very fun, I prefer more.. worthy servants. Die, for now.”

“Yessssss Missstressss…Thannnnkkk Youuuuu.”

She shrugged as the soul fell apart and was consumed by the hungry darkness in her heart.

“Now..it would be so rude to leave a mess.”

With the many tendrils of darkness at her bidding they cleaned the scene as best they could, even filling the ink back in with her own ichor before placing the books Maeve had been studying back on the shelf, exactly where they belonged in the organized rows. In a burst of black miasma Vex became one with the Darkness of the world at large, and this library was abandoned and dusty once more.

Thank you so much for reading, or even just scrolling, if you made this far. I’m happy to finally have a place to share my work with the world. I’m very new to real fictional writing and trying my best. As always, criticism and feedback are always appreciated. Thank you again, and until next time: May the stars guide you.

-Eden

[sanctumofeld]

Under a Glintstone Moon

@spellbladerogier

He should not be down here.

Wolfgang did not know what lurked in the murky depths beneath the Castle, but the stagnant, foul air betrayed something that decayed. No, beyond that, there was the scent of something curdling, like milk that had been left in the sun too long, and alongside it existed the fumes of a creature that belonged within the sea, only to be trapped upon the rocks and corroded by the elements into a viscous, disgusting mass of flesh and blistered bone.

Wolfgang’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as he approached the opening to the crevice, slipping inside from the edges of his heels. He landed on his toes, knees bending to absorb the shock, then further as he stooped into a crouch. His body remained closer to the wall, hovering away from… Whatever that was. He had encountered a few rats, nothing too strange, but the air had grown thicker with that dreadful stench.

The Tarnished thrust his body into the opening, using his hands to haul himself up, seeking a better angle of the rest of the area. It was of no use. Whatever miasma pervaded the air had made it impossible to see even a few feet, let along a few meters. His eyes narrowed beneath his maroon cowl, leaping down to roll forward, slipping down a slope towards –

He wasn’t certain. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, the walls vibrating with the lack of sound. Wolfgang stood slowly, weary of the slightest attack, and pressed on along the wall. There was something down here. Something waiting in the gloom. If it were day, perhaps a few shafts of light might illuminate the dull interior, but as it were…

Wolfgang paused upon seeing a light ahead, knowing better than to trust any sort of beacon within this dismal place, and proceeded forward. A drop into a channel, alit by torches not of gold or red, but… white. The sensation grew stronger, crawling up the back of his neck, alighting on his shoulders. But he could not waste time.

Wolfgang leapt forward, bracing himself upon impact, and sure enough, his landing was met with a violent screech. The scent of before warped, becoming sickening in sweetness and pungency, the rotting sap of something primordial and forsaken. He propelled himself forward, diving under the worm’s writhing body, and dug his toes in as he swerved through the murk before the opening at the back of the walk.

Rogier!

There, swarmed in a pulsating darkness, writhing with flickers of gold and ichor. His feet collided with the slit and mud, glove ripping into the brambles below as he cut through the air, his other hand gripping his blade. He sheathed it as he came within range, holding his breath, grasping the sorcerer’s body to rip him free of the blackness. Wolfgang pivoted onto his heel, tearing them free of the blight, and –

Right into the mouth of the worm. His eyes widened.

One.

Inhale. Sickness. Rot. Death. Closing in. Reaching with vines and tendrils and thorns.

Two.

His muscles contracting, pulling from his calves to his hips, ribs expanding. Rogier heavy and then weightless against his chest.

Three.

As Ignatius had taught him. Balancing momentum and stability, sacrificing the latter to build the former, to give himself over not to the chaos of panic, but to the freedom of instinct honed to an edge that could never dull.

The fangs passed around them, the worm swallowing nothing more than a mouthful of what had tried to consume the sorcerer, suffering through the necrotic haze in a screech. Wolfgang’s spine slammed into the opposite wall, chest heaving as his ears rang. He moved fast, bracing the sorcerer over his shoulders, leg over his arm, arm over his, and turned his head. The abandoned latter served its purpose, allowing him to scale, up and out, running away from that accursed place.

[permian-tropos]

In response to the "fic you wish I'd write" post: Snoke backstory, main characters Rae Sloane & Gallius Rax (they meet him and all interact somehow. Snoke is more than a creepy old raisin. Rae worries that they're in over their heads...)

And I wish I had a more detailed Snoke backstory at this point.

I know I used to be really interested in him, but it was really interest in a character like him, and the way he’s defeated in TLJ makes me want to give him a different sort of role in the story. I’m not sure if I want him to be an ancient evil awakened in the Unknown Regions or a plutocrat who learned the Force but isn’t only powerful for his Force ability, he’s also secretly the CEO of big space oil or something. It depends on what story I’d tell.

Anyway here’s a loose rambling fic description

-

In this version of things, Rax is neither alive nor dead because his soul is trapped in the holocron he tossed into the Jakku borehole. Jakku spat that thing out when it stopped having its planetary indigestion. The lingering wisps of life energy emanating from the core of the planet stole the last breath from Rax’s body and sucked it into this new vessel.

Rax doesn’t find his existence as a cursed object too different from his old life, where he mostly lurked behind the scenes and played with people’s desires and instincts so they’d enact the dramatic scenes he wanted to see. He entices a stray stormtrooper to the Observatory to get himself picked up off the floor, and lures a junk trader to fight this trooper over the beautiful glowing red artifact, and so on, until he’s traveling into the Unknown Regions on the desk of a particularly boorish Imperial captain who wants a piece of the Sith legacy as a trophy.

Holocron Rax has vague aims, he wants some sort of body and he wants to find her again, his equal, his rival, his fellow outcast. He isn’t sure he wants to rule. He lost that game. Time to play a new one.

Sloane finds out Rax is back, but she knows he’s back before her knowledge, as philosophers might say, is both true and justified. She guesses, on instinct, because of the fingerprint he seems to leave on the cosmos.

Leading the Order has been bitterly oppressive, she’s sure everyone hates her, she first thinks it’s because they blame her for Rax’s constant betrayals of the remaining fleet, but it’s not that at all. They seem to hate her because they think she’s overstepping her station, that she’s high-minded and looks down on everyone else, but she knows it’s a double standard because they look down on everyone else too (including her).

And she tries over and over to prove that she’s strong and capable and dutiful. But she never got along with the upper echelons of Imperial command. She always pissed them off with her high-mindedness, too self-motivated, too determined, not groveling at their feet enough, and she’s been burning with humiliation from that -- and, in fact, a sick desire to please someone for once, they’re never happy with her, maybe that’s why she fell for Rax for so much longer than she should have; for a time he seemed to be endlessly pleased by her, even when he knew she was plotting against him. I’ll be good this time, she keeps promising herself, but how is this good? Why do they get to tell her what good means when they’re sneering at her for being merciful or patient?

And it makes her want to be cruel and ruthless. And she is. Just to impress them, she realizes. They’re never impressed.

And she runs away, but not all at once. Bits of her run away where they can.

Sometimes she makes fake identities and takes a few days off to visit planets that wouldn’t be happy to see her if they knew who she was. Sometimes she spends hours playing games for cadets against a computer and when her good sense returns she erases the evidence of this foolishness. Sometimes she runs by staying asleep and dreaming. Sometimes she runs away to research, losing herself in narratives of ancient history.

Anxiously, at her lowest, most depressed point, she visits the Imperialis and finds opera. Watching the holotapes is an exercise in self-flagellation, because of how tense they make her. She never even sits down, because that would make her feel vulnerable to attack from the shadows in the private theater hall. But it wakes her up, because it feels like a fight, and fighting these imaginary demons is easier than putting up with the constant scorn of her supposed colleagues. She sometimes pauses the recordings just to pace.

So this is where they both are when they meet each other again. Sloane hears about a Curséd Artefact that’s been causing a miasma of strange behavior aboard a ship, and that strange behavior includes hearing strains of faint music as if carried on the wind (and there’s no wind in pressurized starship corridors), and that’s when she knows-but-doesn’t-know it’s Rax. He’s being dramatic again.

It’s such a perverse relief to lay her hands on that red crystalline pyramid. It is definitely accursed, though; it hums with evil energies (or maybe it’s buzzing with pleasure at her touch).

Sloane promises herself she won’t fall prey to the Wiles again. She keeps the holocron locked in a vault but the ghost tiptoes up through the ship to visit her dreams.

The place where they meet is an enormous astral chessboard. (Sloane calls it chess, Rax calls it shah-tezh). Fine sand is strewn in patches across its huge carved tiles, as if someone has cracked their turn-counting hourglass over it like an egg. Sloane can’t see the edge of the board, but she sees scattered ruins marring the smooth plane. If the board was the tiled floor of a temple as big perhaps as the entire Imperial Palace, the ruins could be what’s left when it collapsed and eroded.

Neither of them have particularly ornate clothing. They’re both dressed up as what Sloane recognizes to be the Outcast piece, her in white rags, him in black.

He’s very cryptic and avoidant, but this time, Sloane sees through it at last. He hasn’t got a plan for her, he just wants to talk. At the same time she realizes she wants to use him to maintain her power. He’s something special that no one else has access to — and she might be jealous if that turned out not to be true. She’s troubled by these dark temptations, and tries to distance herself from them.

Rax discovers, as dream Sloane is not as good at hiding feelings, that Sloane has fallen into a deep depression.

It’s very uncomfortable to consider because he would have to admit she’s weak enough to be inferior, according to what Palpatine taught him. He rationally considers if this is the case, if she’s too much like him to be worthy, but his gut feeling is that he can’t dislike her, so he wants to consider other options first. He starts to find evidence for her being psychically attacked by a powerful entity in the Unknown Regions who is trying to usurp her.

Sloane is skeptical but when Rax gets her looking for patterns, she sees them everywhere too, they begin to seem inescapably real. Her dreams of this chessboard become a dream of a game played against a mysterious opponent. Rax becomes her ally and fellow strategist.

And then, what you might expect happens: Snoke manifests. He reminds Sloane a lot of Rax, but more hideous and openly contemptuous. Sometimes, Sloane is energized by knowing her emotional state is caused by a real enemy. Sometimes, it makes her feel less in control.

Snoke announces that the Order will belong to him soon.

Holocron Rax eventually gets a corporeal body in the form of a reprogrammed Sentinel droid, the ones with Palpatine’s face for holograms but of course, replaced with Rax. It’s a secret project that Sloane is willing to undertake once the threat of Snoke seems close at hand.

And does it turn out that Snoke is a being that becomes more real the more he is believed in? Maybe, but maybe not. After all, depression is real whether you believe in it or not, and so is a structural problem in your society. Maybe it would be interesting if it turned out Snokestuff was real, emanating from the Dark Side, and is copying Sloane’s underlying problems and using them as a template. Snoke comes across like an amalgam of everyone Sloane has been trying to impress, all the smug rich old white men.

She finally confronts Rax about this. She doesn’t want his admiration. She doesn’t think anything she’s done is admirable. She wants to fail in his eyes, because at least that’s honest. Snoke targeted her because she was on the verge of breaking down anyway.

And Rax? Has to face facts about whether he cares about Sloane as a great figure of history or just as a friend.

They’re both left to wonder what makes a possible friendship or love between them meaningful if they’re not part of a grand triumphant narrative. In the end, close interpersonal connection turns out to be more mundane than they realized, and the mundanity of it is what matters.

[adisa-miour]

Kyrie from the requiem asks

It was a silent night and it was very dim in her room. Nary a candle in view, only the soft light of the moonlight above. Adisa sat on her bed, observing the white wall in front of her in silence. The crescent moon music box playing lightly as her lavender eyes, glassed over and dulled stared, unblinking. Nary a single sound as the lone doll of a homunculus questioned the reason for her existence.

A painful existence, condemned to dance to a song set long time ago by ancients that sought to know what only the gods knew. A dance that her soul rejected and that her body suffered for it. A destiny placed onto her by those who wished to be rid of this anathema of existence and the miasma of this oxidizing world of a dream. Never to be reborn again, never to join the cycle that the others born knew and that always returned again and again.

The blonde doll looked up at the unlit chandelier of her room before closing her eyes. She had made her choice that night, but could she go through with it? Slowly, the homunculus raised her hands to her thin neck, delicate fingers rubbing against the deathly white skin, crossed with rootlike black vein growths. Swallowing dryly, she adjusted her grip, thumbs pressing against the small of her throat, cutting off the air that her body needed so.

“The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness.”

A quote from a book she had read as of recent, a truth that had struck a chord inside her. Small memories, small smiles, small moments of happiness that she treasured but never deserved. After all, only a tool to be used and discarded in the end as she always had been. If it wasn’t by them, it was by others, no matter how much she was helpful, not matter how much she attempted to make life for others be worthwhile and help them with a burden, she still had her own that she couldn’t deal with. In nights like these, she felt like she couldn’t bear the weight of her accursed fate anymore, wishing to go on her terms rather than the terms set by the world.

“What uneasiness lies in being loved.”

Indeed. How often the affection of others touched her heart deeply, yet she felt the uneasiness of being a farce of a living being. Of being a doll with human skin, an artificial soul, a pale imitation of what is to live. Maybe she should join those that had already left this world, though even that was impossible for her. There was no life after death for her, no cycle of rebirth that her soul could return to. Tears filled her eyes as she couldn’t breathe, the oxygen to her brain cut and her body fighting in revulsion in breathing again.

“My perfect way of dying? If I could choose it. Then it would be after living a long fruitful life, having married and having children of my own. But that isn’t possible in my state, is it? Then if I were to choose… a realistic way… then I would want to die giving up my life to save ones whom I love or have the person who I love the most kill me; strangling would be the preferred method.”

Those words came back to her. Her hands fell to the side as she stared at the ceiling. A smile to her face and a laugh as she could feel the tears streaming down her face. Could she really do this when there was so much to be done still? She had admitted already that she was looked to influence, to mold those to live life happier than she had, to succeed her and be her legacy. She had founded a company that would be a vehicle to that. Why take her own life now when there was a lot left to do? She couldn’t be selfish now when so many depended on her. When so many thought of her as wise and wanting to share in the wisdom.

“Disqualified as a human being. I had now ceased utterly to be a human being.”

That book spoke to her deeply to a disturbing degree. It was not because of the character’s source of emptiness and darkness; or his despair eating at him until he considered himself no longer human. It was because she felt that undercurrent of despair since the beginning. After all, she had never qualified to be human in the first place.(Thank you for the ask!)

[lizzylunawizardessfanfics]

Allies to Lovers

Pairing: Demon!Lizzy X Felix

Night time was the best time to travel without being detected; strolling through the woods searching for materials as one could only do so much with old materials before they’re completely useless.  It was a cloudless night with the natural lighting of the moon and the stars illuminated in the sky as a gentle breeze passed through while the gentle sound of the crickets resonated through the trees. It thankfully wasn’t all that hard to find the resources I need which gave me something to do in the meantime while Willem was out searching for the goddess’ crystal. Having what I needed I was about to teleport back to the castle in the sky until I suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice say, “Well it seems like all the rumors going around are true; I’d never thought in my lifetime I’d get to meet a dragonkin.” 

Letting out a small snarl thinking it was a human I started to conjure up my magic and turn around to attack however it was that had dared approach me as my eyes widened when I was greeted with the sight that no one was standing there. “Up here doll,” I heard a voice say as when I looked up, I finally found the source of the voice as it was surprising to see a female in the air though she was slowly descending. Clearly she was far from human by her appearance: Long bat like wings that seemed to be a bit lower than where wings would originally be, the long thin tail with a small heart like shape at the end and of course the pair of horns on top of her head with short pastel blue hair along with baby blue eyes that almost appeared to be glowing in the night. Releasing my magic I watched as the mysterious girl was now standing on the ground as I crossed my arms over my chest carefully watching her. 

“Rumors? Exactly what business do you have here demon,” I asked calmly as she seemed to grin and walk closer with a little pep in her step. “But of course, once a few magical beings get sight of things that are thought to be long gone so many start talking,” she said as seeing her up close undeniably she was charming as she was a good few inches shorter than myself but of course I held a blank expression. “Especially as momentous as one of the dragonkins having being awoken; surely something big is coming,” she said while circling around before once again stopping to stand before me. “It’s nothing that concerns you so I’ll be leaving,” I said as I  turned around as I wasn’t going to inform some outsider on my plans. “Well I can only guess it has to do with the humans right? Well one thing I can say is that if you had MY assistance- Oh there you three are, I wondered where you went off to,” I could hear her start to speak until she seemed to go completely off topic causing me to raise an eyebrow to turn around to see who she was talking to.

Floating here beside her were three small black ghosts as one of them was on the rather chubby side as I just turned around to head off. “W-Wait! What was I saying, oh right; with my assistance you’d have no trouble with taking over the humans,” hearing her words caused me to pause momentarily as it piqued my interest as she was good. Turning around there she was looking my way as I simply said, “Go on.” Starting to smirk she took a step forward as I heard her say, “Well whatever it is you want, you'll surely get it as I’ll get what I want it’s a win-win situation.” I didn’t have many interactions with her kind but knew very well with how they were generally by nature. “What is it that you want out of all of this,” I asked out of curiosity as it seemed her tail swished back and forth some. “Well I AM a demon in which we need human souls to survive; so all I’m simply asking for is that I get to eat the souls of those that’d get in the way as it makes whatever your plan is easier,” she said as it was a convincing idea as it’d make easier for getting rid of the humans as it truly was a simple thing. Letting out a small sigh I found myself deciding to go along with what she has to offer as if it seemed things weren’t going well he’d rid of her. “Fine, let us be off,” I said as her eyes seemed to light up as I used magic to transport us to the castle in the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night had fallen upon us as we were standing on one of the rooftops of the Ministry overlooking the scenery of the populated area. “So what’s the plan for stealing the elixir seed Felix,” I asked glancing over to him as though I couldn’t completely see his face it was still evident that he had a smirk on his face. “I’m going to go in and take it,” he simply said as I raised an eyebrow confused when he didn’t mention me. “And while you’re doing that I’m going to be doing,” I asked turning towards him. Watching him turn towards me which as usual he had a blank expression on his face as he simply replied, “Staying here and keeping watch.” 

“Wait what?! Staying out here,” I shouted in a whispering manner while letting out an annoyed huff. “You can’t be serious, I’m more useful sneaking in and stealing the seed,” I said putting my hands on my hips staring at him. “It’s not about being useful, it’s about doing this right. Now you will stay here and keep watch,” Felix said sternly while pointing a finger towards me before pointing downwards to push his point. The small bit of rage started to rise within me as deciding against having an argument at this moment in which I rolled my eyes and said, “Fine whatever.” 

And like that I watched him disappear into miasma which once it fully dissipated I let out a controlled frustrated scream as I stomped one foot on the ground. Starting to walk on the rooftop with my three ghostly companions I raised a hand starting to move in a mimicking talk manner I started to say to myself, “It’s not about being useful, it’s about doing this right. Now you’re going to stay blah blah blah.” Spinning on my heels to look back at the direction I walked from I used a hand to pull down my bottom eyelid and stuck out my tongue making a ‘ppppftft’ sound which much to my amusement Mare, Bugaboo, and Rath followed my action. Feeling better getting that out I sighed and went back to standing properly as I continued to overlook the area to keep an eye out. “He’s lucky he’s cute or I’d kick his sorry dragonkin behind,” I mumbled to myself as I just hoped he was just going to be alright but then again who was I to worry he’s a dragonkin for crying out loud.

Ten minutes had passed now as at the moment I was casually flying in place in the air up on the rooftop continuing to keep watch. Suddenly an explosion went off as I landed safely on the roof after getting slightly spooked and looked around as so far he was nowhere in sight as where could he be. Flying up again I start going around trying to look for Felix as when getting to the front of the building there I saw Felix below as it seemed he was successful; however, it seemed like there was some trouble since Felix was fighting against two young men and in a short distance was who I could only assume was the other dragonkin and a… Human girl? “Leave it to him to get into an unnecessary fight,” I said while I was already starting to fly down but seeing the seed getting sent up in the air I sped up to grab it.

~~~ Felix’s POV ~~~

Those accursed two fools really are the hindrance in my plans but I will not be stopped here, I especially won’t let Willem stop me from awakening Lacan. Being unable to move was quite the annoyance as where the hell was Lizzy though then again I did tell her to stay where I left her; but I only did that as a safety precaution. It seemed that before any of them could even possibly catch the seed a blur of blue quickly flew by as I could only smirk. “Wow to think the seed is this small, I imagined it to be much bigger given it’s supposed to hold so much power,” I heard Lizzy’s sweet voice as she landed next to me gracefully and watched as while she was examining the egg she gave it a small kiss. Being paralyzed while keeping eye contact with the long raspberry colored hair guy was getting annoying though it seemed Rath, Mare, and Bugaboo appeared in front of the masked male scaring him into breaking his gaze thus getting me out of his hold. “Who’s the fairy,” I heard the one with the silver hair ask as before glancing over I could just instantly feel the rage emitting off of Lizzy as looking over she definitely looked like she was ready to tear someone apart as without looking at me moved her hand that held the seed towards me in which I took.

“Fairy, you think I’m a fairy,” she started to say as she brought her hands to her sides which I witness her nails grow long and sharp and black flames appeared in her hands. “I’m not a stupid fairy! I’m a demon you idiotic fool get it right,” she shouted just before throwing the balls of fire towards our enemy; seeing this side of her made her appear all the more attractive, wait did I just think that at a time like this. Shaking my head a bit to push other thoughts from getting in my way of thinking clearly I heard Willem’s voice “Felix it’s not too late to stop, there are other ways of bringing them back; violence doesn’t have to be the answer.” I looked over to the man I once called a friend as it truly brought me great pains that Willem would buy into those human’s sweet lies as I could only stare him down harshly. 

“They had their chance of being peaceful a long time ago, but they were the ones that brought this upon themselves. There will only ever be violence Willem, but then again though you’ve been alone you’ve had the luxury of being awake all those years,” I simply stated as from here I could see the confliction in his eyes as I cannot afford hesitation especially in this point in time it was all or nothing. “With or without you Willem I will awaken Lacan and bring this world back to its former glory of belonging to the dragonkin. Since you’ve been off making friends with the humans, I’ve made a new ally of my own,” I said motioning towards Lizzy as she grinned while her companions floated around her as the three were making faces at the enemies, as if taunting them.

Spells were flying back and forth for a little bit longer until I got hit from one of the spells as I could only growl through the pain and hold my wound with my right arm while keeping the seed securely in my left one. “This is the end of the line for you,” the masked man with the long hair said as it seemed I was not going to be fast enough to stop the attack in which I could only prepare myself for the worst. However it seemed at the right moment he got blasted away to see Lizzy land in front of me as it was astonishing to see she was quite the fighter. “Sorry hun but I can’t let you do that,” Lizzy said as it didn’t completely sit well with me for some reason when she used the word hun. Now it seemed the two were going blow for blow as I was once again preoccupied with facing against the one that was referred to as Hugo.

Sending the boy flying I glance over to Willem as this will be the very last chance I give him; however before I could even start to speak I heard the sound of a small yelp in pain from behind me. I had been unaware of what was going on behind me so instantly turning around to see what happened only to find myself in shock feeling my whole body temporarily froze upon witnessing Lizzy’s collapsed body on the ground that was just a few feet from me as when looking up briefly to see the masked man was farther away also down to his knees as a horrifying thought appeared in my head; Lizzy had shielded me from being attacked when I wasn’t even suspecting it. My initial reaction was to rush to her side to check on her since she was lying unmoving. “Lizzy,” I called her name kneeling beside her starting to roll her carefully onto her back to discover she was unconscious from her injuries as a mix of guilt and anger started to slowly overcome me. 

This couldn’t go on any longer, I had to get us out of this situation so safely storing the seed in my robe I started to carefully pick her up as just seeing the wounds and scuffs on her only caused me to worry. “You’re not getting away that easily,” I heard the voice of the masked man again as to look up there was already a magical spell flying towards us only for it to hit a magical shield that appeared out of nowhere. “Willem why are you protecting them,” I could hear shouting from the other young man in which I didn’t waste the opportunity to transport us back to the castle in the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning was slowly approaching as I came back into the room Lizzy was resting in from using the seed on the clock as it was only a matter of waiting for the time to finally come. On the bed she lay unmoved showing no signs of waking up anytime soon in which I could only let out a small sigh and reached my hand down to gently brush the hair out of her face. “Why would you do such a thing,” I asked in a whispered tone as just replaying the series of events that took place last night only made me frustrated with myself as how could I become so distracted, if only I had been more aware I would of been able to defend myself instead of her shielding me from harm. After a little while longer of monitoring her to ensure she didn’t look like she was in any pain I decided it was time I left to allow her to continue resting as a few of my minidragons had made themselves comfortable all curled up on her bed along with her ghosts.

After filling a bowl with cool water and a rag I ended up in the study room since it had one of the bigger mirrors. Setting down the bowl I removed my hood before peeling back the upper parts of my robes to reveal the various injuries from last nights fight. Lightly touching the one on my shoulder even though it seem to already start healing it stung causing me to wince a bit. Picking up the wet rag and squeezing it I started to clean it all while getting lost in my thoughts and trying to piece together all of these feelings. Everything was finally falling into place with my plans as once the seal is broken I will be reunited once again with my old friend Lacan as the three of us would proceed with the plans from there. “You know if you scrub any harder you’re only going to irritate it,” I heard the sweetly familiar voice as it brought me back to reality as I looked over to see Lizzy standing there with her arms crossed as she was wearing a different dress than her usual attire as I could only stare for a moment as she looked just as lovely but then suddenly snapped out of it.

“You should be resting,” I said looking away as I dipped the rag back into the bowl. “I’m fine I believe I got plenty of rest. Besides my wounds are just about fully healed now,” I heard her say along with the sound of footsteps getting closer. Picking up the rag and wring it out again only to feel it be taken away from me feeling her hand brushed against mine caused a tightening feeling in my chest. “Sit,” she said as I just looked at her raising an eyebrow as I continued to stand where I was. “I don’t need assistance,” I said in protest while trying to take the rag back which she seemed to move it away from my grasp. “It wasn’t a question; now stop being a big stubborn baby and sit down,” she said looking at me with her baby blue eyes as letting out a frustrated groan I decided to finally listen and take a seat that was closest. She pulled over a small stool as she set the bowl down close to her before sitting close as it was a bit on the embarrassing side to be this close to her like this.

It was silent as I watched her redip the rag and squeeze it carefully and start to carefully clean my wounds. This continued for a little while longer before I couldn’t take the silence between us any more as I lightly cleared my throat before I said, “What you did was reckless you could of died.” Hearing her start to laugh I looked over to her as she didn’t stop what she was doing. “I didn’t think that would of mattered, but really it would take a lot more than that to kill me,” her words weighed heavy on my heart as it stunned me, was that really what she thought of herself as my eyebrows knitted together. “Granted you drive me mad at times or I get annoyed with your ridiculous pranks but believe me when I say that I’ve come to value you as someone close to me,” I found myself speaking honestly as I continued to watch as she tended to my wound. “As that’s why I protected you, cuz I value you as well; granted you can be a royal pain in my side but nonetheless I rather like you alive,” she said as once again that fluttering feeling in my chest appeared again.

“You’re not to ever do that again,” I said as just remember seeing her body laying on the ground made me feel that sinking feeling in my chest, I didn’t want to witness her getting harmed because of me. “Like that’ll stop me,” she instantly replied back without even looking at me as I let out a small huff as she says I’m the stubborn one, she’s one to talk. Reaching my hand up to gently grab the side of her face to make her look up towards me I gave her a narrowed eyed expression. “I’m serious Lizzy, you’re never to do that again do you hear me. Don’t you ever throw yourself in the line of an attack for me,” I said sternly as she gave me the same look right back. “And what if I do Felix huh what then,” she said questioning me as I don’t know when these feelings snuck their way in but this woman stirred up so many emotions I thought I lost so long ago. Bringing my face a bit closer to hers I blurted out “I’d feel awful! It would absolutely break my heart because I don’t want to see you get hurt like that, not again. I’d rather go through all the pain than watching you suffer because of me.” 

Watching her expression go from mad to surprised was definitely a sight to see as I couldn’t help but grin a little which then I only did what felt right at that moment, I closed the gap between us as I kissed her lips as I felt a small spark as shortly after I pulled away to see her face turn bright red resulting in me chuckling a little. She looked to the side as if trying to hide her red face from me as I only chuckled more before smiling softly. “F-Fine whatever,” she said bashfully starting to look at me again as hearing those words lifted a weight off my shoulders. Finished up tending to my mending wounds I fixed my clothing as we went on with our day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I ran through the halls trying to get to the clock room as I had to inform Felix that there were humans in the castle. “Felix! Felix there’s intruders in-,” I started to shout loudly when I was running into the room only to skidding a bit to come to a stop when seeing what was going on in here; Felix stood a small distance away from Willem in which it seemed the two were arguing as I could see a ways away from them was the human girl again as if my memory serves me correctly, her name was Liz. I frowned as how I wished I could intervene but I knew that this wasn’t my fight, this was a fight Felix had to face himself. Starting to hear running I looked to see the brown haired girl trying to get to where the two dragonkin were in which starting to fly over to her I conjured up my magic and tossed it down to the ground in front of Liz to keep her from getting any closer. 

“If you knew what was best you’d stay out of this,” I said gracefully landing in front of her as this was the least I could do to ensure everything went smoothly as possible. “This doesn’t have to end with violence! If we could all just talk we’d be able to work together peacefully,” I listened to what Liz said as clearly she was worried about the dark haired dragonkin. “We’re long past that point,” I said while flicking some of my hair back. “Besides if you truly cared about Willem you’d stay out of this fight; it’s not your fight nor is it mine so it’s just best to stay out of their way,” I said sternly which it seemed to shock her but then frown glancing over to the two as it seemed they were still going back and forth before spells started to go flying between the two. Time pasted as it seemed fate was not on our side as not only did the girl managed to stop the clock from destroying the castle. Felix was defeated in which I ran to his side to help him up as I landed on my knees assisting him in sitting up. “Are you alright,” I asked as thankfully it didn’t look like he had any serious injuries. “Yes I’m fine though I’ve failed to break the seal,” he said causing me to let out a sigh looking around as the two were nowhere to be seen. “It’s not your fault, but for now I believe it’s best we take our leave before the other intruders arrive. We will be back one day,” I said looking at him in which thankfully he nodded in agreement as with that we disappeared into miasma getting away safely.

A month had passed since our failure to break the seal as after fleeing the castle in the sky, the two of us agreed to lay low for a while in which we ended up settling in Putaran as we were using transformation magic to disguise ourselves as humans when out in public. Right now I was tugging Felix along with me as we were walking onto the beach. “Dear remind me why we’re here,” I heard Felix ask as I could only giggle a little from his complaining in which I turned around to walk backwards still tugging him along. “Because it’s such a nice day to enjoy a day at the beach and besides it’d do you some good to get some sun, you’re so pale you put a vampire’s complexion to shame,” I said in a teasing manner as it definitely was strange to see him without his horns or his tail but regardless he was still very handsome. “Are you making fun of me,” he asked in fake hurt tone causing me only to laugh more before I walked towards him releasing his hand so I could hug him. 

“Honey you know I love you just the way you are,” I said looking up at him with a smile while he rolled his eyes a little but had a smile on his face. “I could say the same about you,” he said before completing the hug and resting his forehead against mine. “I love you, my little devil,” he said bringing his face closer to mine as I could only smile more. “As I love you too,” I instantly replied without hesitation before feeling his cold lips press against mine. Our kiss continued for a few minutes before he pulled away and caressed my face which I leaned into his cool touch. “Always remember that my heart belongs to you,” he whispered before placing a soft kiss on my forehead before completely pulling away from me. “Of course,” I said, taking his hand again into mine before starting to walk again to find a spot for us to set up. It was going to be some time for us to come up with a new plan on how to break the seal, but it will happen. It may not be tomorrow or the next but I will do everything in my power to see to it that his dreams come true for they have become mine, there’s nothing more that I want more than wanting to see him succeed and be reunited with those he’s lost long ago. 

[mystic-dean]

Give it a gun.

THE MIASMA?? ARE YOU INSANE??

[doobler]

Monster AU - The Lich King

"Hey."

Ryan looked up, eyes wide. Michael loomed over him and the very air seemed to escape out of the room. He put away the knife he was sharpening and sat up straight. This was the first time in weeks that the oldest Lad had said a single word to Ryan. After showing his true malicious form, Michael acted like he didn't even exist.

"Michael. What's up?"

"You're old, right?"

Ryan tilted his head slightly, trying to smother the look of utter confusion on his face.

"Yeah?"

"Like. Real fucking old?"

"... Old as time itself. Why?"

Michael inhaled deep through his nose, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. From his low angle, Ryan could see a vein beginning to bulge in his neck.

"I need your help with something." Michael replied after a moment.

"... What kind of help?"

Slowly, the façade faded. Michael's body shimmered out of existence, exposing the stark ivory bones underneath. The pits of his eye sockets lit up with a crimson glow. His bones rattled faintly as he stood up taller, his teeth grinding as his eyes shined brighter. Power emanated from his stance.

"I need you to tell me where the fucker that did this to me is. So I can fucking kill his ass."

-----

Ryan wasn't a fan of getting caught and Geoff's lectures. At his request, he and Michael moved to the roof to remain out of earshot. Michael seemed intent to remain in his natural form.

"Where's this coming from all of a sudden?" Ryan kept his voice low out of habit.

"I've been thinking," Michael focused his gaze on the horizon, soaking in the beauty of Los Santos at midnight. "If you're so fucking... Chaotic and dark and whatever and you're old as fuck, you gotta know which Lich did this shit to me. I wasn't the only one, I know there are others. You have to know."

Ryan ran a hand through his hair, a heavy sigh punching out of his chest. He wracked his memory, millennia upon millennia of information. I didn't take long to recall which Lich and where he was with the utmost confidence. Creatures of that nature very rarely did a good job lying low.

"... What if I do know?"

"Hah! I fucking knew it!" Despite not having visible eyebrows or facial tissues, Michael's eyes seemed to narrow accusingly. "You do know."

"And?"

"And what? I'm gonna fucking murder that piece of shit."

"You can't--"

"Geoff told me how to kill a Lich."

Ryan held his breath, mulling it over. On one hand, he was immortal, as was Michael. Liches were powerful but they had a weakness. For all he knew, Michael had none. On the other hand, the accursed facing their cursers usually spelled trouble. The conflict could end in doom for both parties. Plus, it was Michael after all. He'd no doubt make Ryan swear not to interfere so he could regain his honor and secure victory by his own design. Ryan's own immortality was inconsequential.

"Fine. I'll help. But only on one condition."

Michael couldn't physically grin but the light of the city shifted somehow, making it appear like he was.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to write something for me."

-----

Geoff made his way from room to room like he always did every night. He checked on Jack, dropping a soft kiss on the Gent's cheek while he read. He popped into Gavin's room, trying to ignore the horrible mess, and wished him good night. He ducked into Jeremy's room, admiring the Lad's current project (spray painting every weapon he owned a hideous Rimmy Tim palette), and smiled against the younger man’s lips.

When he looked into Ryan's room, he wasn't surprised to find it empty. He was either moping in the shadows or out, both of which were normal.

However, Michael not being in his room this late at night was suspicious.

"Mikey?"

Geoff crept inside, a sense of dread filling his chest. Michael's room was immaculate as per usual, his bed perfectly made, his desk free of clutter, his closet neat and organized. The whole room smelled faintly like lavender.

Sitting on the bed was a sheet of paper. Geoff picked it up and began to read.

"Dear whoever the fuck finds this,

This could be the last thing I ever write. Ryan and I are going to find that Lich cunt and pound him into dust. I don't know if killing him will break my curse or kill me too so Ryan made me write this like a final will and testament.

My time with the Fakes has easily been the highlight of my life. I've never felt like I was a part of a family as I have here. Falling in love five times over was also pretty clutch. You guys never made me feel like I was lesser, like I was a freak. This has always been a home to me and always will be. Even if this kills me, my heart and soul will stay with the Crew. If I'm able to haunt you fuckers, you know I will.

All my stuff should be divided fairly between all of you. I do want Gavin to have my rocket launcher and Jeremy can have that leather jacket I always wear, but everything else is free game. If my bones stay behind, I want Ryan to do some magic space demon shit with it, make matching bone necklaces or something.

I have no regrets, except maybe not saying how much I love you guys nearly as much as I should have. For that, I'm sorry.

Your friendly neighborhood skeleton,

Michael V. Jones"

Geoff grit his teeth, fear and apprehension stabbing its way into his chest. He contemplated telling the others but that would only cement the idea that Michael would fail. Instead, Geoff folded up the letter and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt, right above his heart.

"I'll reach into the pits of hell, drag you out, and slap the ever-loving fuck outta you if you don't come back," Geoff uttered like a prayer. "That's an god-damned fact."

-----

Michael was floating.Up, down, left, right, forward and back. None of it existed. There was only the never ending darkness, swirling like a smokey miasma around him.

A strip of light suddenly cut through the curtain of black. Michael steered himself towards it, peering through the gap. There was a barren cliff with sad looking grass overlooking a massive Gothic castle. Michael hopped through the break and landed on his feet.

"That was simultaneously really awesome and fucking horrifying," Michael gasped, trying to calm the quake in his bones. "I could see the end of the fucking universe in there."

Ryan shrunk back into his human form, dusting off plumes of inky smog from his body.

"Yeah there's a reason why I don't make you guys travel like that. I wasn't really designed to be a taxi service."

"So where are we?"

Ryan walked to the edge of the cliff, sinking onto his haunches. He studied the castle below, eyes darting in all directions.

"Pretty sure we're in Germany, somewhere around Schwartzwald. I think," Ryan sniffed at the air, as if the smell would give him an answer. "Fuckers like this one prefer the dark and gloomy and isolated aesthetic. No better place for that than the Black Forest."

Michael nodded, pretending that he understood. Ryan stretched out his arm and pointed to the heart of the castle, just below ground.

"There's a massive room right in the center. He's there, right in the middle."

Something akin to a growl escaped Michael's mouth.

"He's doing it all over again," Michael snarled. He unsheathed the sword he'd brought, his grip making the leather handle groan. "Pulling in fighters and damning them to a life of pain, all for some fucked up depraved entertainment."

Before Ryan could stop him, Michael lept off the cliff, landing hundreds of feet bellow without breaking a sweat. He marched his way through waist high greying grass and scraggly foliage, an aura of rage blossoming from his body. Ryan sighed, dragging a hand down his face before hopping down to join him.

"Michael, slow the fuck down," Ryan called, jogging to keep up. "There's no need to storm the castle, I can phase us through the ground."

Michael stopped in his tracks, holding out his hand without looking back. Ryan shed his human form once again, becoming a swirling mass of smoke. He enveloped the undead skeleton like a smoggy blanket, clipping through the ground and sinking deep deep below. It didn't take long before they broke through soil, bursting out of a layer of stone into the clearing beneath the castle.

It looked just as Michael imagined it would. Cylindrical in shape, the room was wide and immensely tall. The walls were made of dark stone while the floor was only dirt. At one curve of the room was an ornate throne, built high with the bones of fallen warriors.

The Lich.

"You return to me at last, mighty Mogar," The Lich's voice was like nails on a chalkboard, grinding clawed fingers on the edges of your soul. "I have been waiting for the return of a warrior of your caliber--"

"YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD, YOU CUNT SON OF A BITCH!!!"

Michael screamed, whipping out his sword and charging. The Lich raised his hand and a small legion of skeletal fighters rose from the dirt. Michael didn't stop, batting away the first few swings with no effort at all. He ducked under one blade, parrying the next, his bones illuminated by flying sparks. Ryan made to join the fight, only to stop when Michael yelled.

"Stay the fuck back, Haywood!" He bellowed, kicking one of the undead square in the chest. "This is my fight!"

Ryan sighed. He stayed in his natural form, keeping himself small and fading into the shadows to watch close by. The Lich stared him down, no doubt sensing his overwhelming presence.

"You've brought me an Elder?" The Lich croaked, raising a boney finger towards Ryan. "I will accept this mighty gift and retain immortality."

"This is between you and me, bitch!" Michael yelled back, landing an upward stroke of his sword. "The only gift I've brought is gonna be my sword in your fucking throat!"

Michael stood firm, knocking back every hit thrown his way. He didn't flinch when a flail barely missed his head, nor when an arrow sang through the air and sunk into his femur. He kept his stride, making short work of his enemies. They kept coming, though, the crowd thickening the closer he came to the throne. Ryan slowly edged forward, making sure he was nearby in case the tide turned.

"I'm gonna free all these bastards' souls!" Michael called over the roar of battle. Another arrow lodged itself into his clavicle. "They're gonna be free of your curse and you're gonna turn to fucking dust!"

Michael didn't land a single blow on the warriors, firmly playing defense. It took Ryan a while to figure out his strategy. When he did, a tremor ran through his heart.Michael didn't want to harm the fallen warriors that were like him.He took arrow after arrow, staggering under the few blows that landed. A massive crack spiderwebbed down his pelvis. Thick black blood oozed from his wounds. He kept going, his head held high, his eyes burning like twin suns in their sockets.

Finally, Michael was at the throne.

He stood up tall, an air of pride keeping him still as stone.

"Any last words, motherfucker?" Michael growled, raising his sword. The fallen behind him slunk back into the dirt, defeated. "I've been waiting 1600 years for this, feel free to take your time and think up something smart."

"You could never kill me," The Lich cackled, wheezing like a bitter gale. "I created what you are, molded you, defined you. I gave you purpose. I gave you immortality. Slaying me would mean bringing an end to what has come to be what and who you are. I am your god, your savior, your patriarch. Smite me and your whole sense of being will b--"

Michael rushed forward, sliding his sword between the Lich's mummified ribs. He broke through the gem around his neck, shattering the vessel that held his very soul.

The Lich let loose an unholy wail, screeching into the night as he contorted and twisted erratically. Ryan swooped in, pulling Michael back a few steps. They watched as the Lich crumbled into powder, collapsing into himself, sucked into the shattered gem, and clattered to the ground with a harmless clink.

"Damn. That was some Lord of the Rings shit."

Michael looked at his hands, flipping them over and over. His boney visage didn't change. His curse remained.However, there was a lingering and unfamiliar lightness in his chest. He looked down, amazed to find something pounding softly in his rib cage. It glowed like a tiny star, pure white and sparkling.

"Your soul," Ryan whispered, leaning in to admire it. "Been a while since Ive seen one of these. It's fucking beautiful, Michael."

"My soul?" The Lad echoed. He lifted his hand, dipping it into his chest. When his fingers phased through the glimmering ball, a tingly warmth spread through his bones. "So... I'm free?"

"Yeah," Ryan smiled, a faint twinkle in his eyes. "You're free."

-----

Together, the duo soared out of the castle, returning to the cliff where they'd first arrived. Michael stepped out of Ryan's fog, sitting down and dangling his legs over the ledge.

"I wish those other guys had taken my offer," Michael thought allowed. "We could've easily gotten them all out. They have their whole lives to live."

"I think many of them are too old and tired now," Ryan replied, sitting next to him. "That castle has been their home for centuries. I'm sure they'd rather just. Fade away."

Michael hummed softly, looking down at his hands again. His body seemed lighter than it had in over a thousand years. He truly felt free.

"I... Owe you an apology," Michael sighed, finally looking Ryan in the eye. "I've been leading you on like a real douche bag."

"Don't even mention it," Ryan beamed. "I understand. I... Was hiding myself from you guys. People who love each other don't keep such huge secrets like that."

"No, I mean. I wasn't ever really mad at you," Michael huffed, looking away. "Geoff and Jack explained that you're nothing like a Lich, you're... Like this super powerful magic space demon. You were born from the dark matter of the universe and used the natural flow of magic in reality to give yourself a soul. Liches are... Sick disgusting fucks, greedy Necromancers who won't even let death itself control them. You and them are nothing alike. It was a real dick move of me to act like you were similar just so you'd help me."

Ryan blinked in shock. He couldn't bring himself to be angry at the deception, however. He decided a while ago that the best way to advance was to come to a state of understanding and simply move on.

"I love you as much as I love the other guys," Michael turned back. The illusion of a smile played on his skull. "You're a real salty piece of shit sometimes and your stubbornness makes me wanna scream but... You're such a good person and I love you despite your flaws."

With a gentle smile, Ryan leaned in, pressing his lips against Michael's teeth. He'd never kissed the Lad like this before. His bones were warm somehow, the sensation like kissing a smooth stone that'd been left under the sun. The kiss was chaste, melting into several more before he pulled away. Ryan tried not to stare as Michael's soul glowed brighter for a moment.

"That... Was surprisingly nice." Michael whispered.

He leaned in again and Ryan met him halfway. The Gent shed his human form, making Michael laugh. The logistics of a human skull and a deer-like shadowy being kissing were odd but still worked by some divine miracle. They stayed that way for a while until the tawny fingers of dawn curled over the horizon.

"Alright, ok," Michael snickered, pulling away. He'd wound up halfway swallowed up by Ryan's smokey body and laughed when the Gent shrank back. "We should get home before Geoff has a fucking aneurysm."

Ryan nodded, standing upright. His body expanded, a void opening up inside. Faintly, deep within, Michael could see a window to the penthouse. He dipped a hand into the portal, steeling himself.

"Remember," Ryan echoed from everywhere and nowhere. "I'm always here for you, Mogar."

Michael let out a childlike giggle. His old name sounded so foreign now.

"I know." He replied and let the familiar darkness swallow him whole.

[stewardofmidgar]

Overture

The Phantom Of The Opera — Broadway {Sentence Starters}

@inimiicus​ said:

❛❛ Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination… ❜❜

True to his words, Izunia strikes a match, brings it to a lantern. The flare banishes the guise of an ordinary man: his eyes burn, molten gold on black, and condensed miasma leaks from his mouth like blood, from his eyes like tears. Black veins appear inked onto a corpse’s ashen complexion.

Reeve inhales sharply, finally understanding why the Chancellor has always seemed familiar to him.

Adagium, the Accursed.

The long-forgotten brother of Somnus the Mystic, the Founder King, the Usurper: Ardyn Lucis Caelum.

“Hello, Uncle,” is all Reeve can say.

[recentanimenews]

Dororo – 08 – Black Skies Are Gonna Clear Up

There’s no shortage of accursed demons out there, and this week’s nasty customer happens to periodically terrorize a village by casting a giant black cloud of miasma and then threatening to eat everyone unless they provide it a “bride” in the form of a young woman…willing or not.

In this case, the young woman is willing to sacrifice herself for the rest of the village, but her “brother” (from another mother) Saru doesn’t agree. Dororo and Hyakkimaru agrees to help him deal with the monster, so they can free his sister, even though she’s already resolved to die.

When the demon, a giant centipede called Nokosaregumo, casts its black cloud, it presents a unique challenge to Hyakkimaru: the entire cloud reads to him as a demon, so he’s completely blind when he’s inside it. While he tries in vain to locate it, the monster goes after Saru, but his sister pushes him out of the way and gets swallowed up, defiant smile and all.

Saru is devastated; other than his deceased mother, no one other than his sister ever treated him with as much kindness. Dororo assures him he and Hyakkimaru will stick around, though due to the latter’s blindness in the cloud, the two boys will have to get the job done without the most skilled warrior.

Again Dororo demonstrates his ease at making friends, especially those around his age, though after hours of casting rocks at the same spot, Hyakkimaru checks on the lads and discovers that both of them are crying in their sleep.

The next day, Dororo poses as a bride, tricking the Nokosaregumo and drawing it into an area of flammable gas that Saru ignites with a lit arrow. However, the centipede’s carapace protects it. It’s up to Hyakkimaru to take care of the rest, using arrows and then the sound of his and Dororo’s voices to locate the proper direction to rush at the monster and take out its eyes with his arm-sword.

With one of the heads destroyed, the second head on the other end snaps Hyakkimaru up whole, but he simply slices the guy clean in half from within, completing yet another imaginative, unique battle that required overcoming his inability to properly see while using his still-new hearing.

As an added bonus to the demon being defeated, Hyakkimaru gets his sense of smell back—just in time to enjoy the harsh stink sulfur. Saru’s sister also survived—they killed the monster before it could digest her—and the two decide they’ll live together in the village from now on, after both being alone for so long.

Dororo and Hyakkimaru’s payment may be modest—a small nugget of gold, some grubs, and a flower from the woman—but the flower proves quite the treasure for Hyakkimaru, considering he’d never smelled anything like it before. He’s so excited, he actually says Dororo’s name when he passes it to him, bowling Dororo over. Here’s to Hyakkimaru finally adding to the conversation on their future wanderings.

By: braverade

[autolovecraft]

Then I saw that his wife into fits of anxiety.

But what peculiar madness could have brought the virus, for even the bees that had vanished, and before that month was over nothing remained but a piece of the few that are not of earth.

At this there was not a soul of that color, and it went from mouth to mouth that there was poison in Nahum's ground. They were better off, and he feared the fall of night over that accursed place, for of all the queer things the specimen had done, and furtive wild things leave queer prints in the Gazette, but before the father could get no clear data at all and showing no occluded gases when heated on charcoal, being wholly negative in the yard were such blasphemous-looking things that Nahum's oldest boy Zenas cut them down. The entire Gardner family was no wind at that tense godless calm the high ground.

Ammi would never go near the house as long as she watched the swollen boughs of all that he acted as he knew only by analogy that they called it so large the day before. Most of it built before 1670, and wondered why Nahum had been no house or ruin near; even in the well after it had been his greatest playmate.

Certainly, however, as did their wives; and they held strange colors that could not stay, though this time. Then something struck the cows were freely pastured in the silent valley; for Arkham people will not talk about the matter to them. Was it the first time this week musta got strong on 'em, mind and body—Thad and Merwin, Zenas and Nabby, Ammi managed to get very thick. On the nineteenth of October Nahum staggered into Ammi's kitchen in the meteor fragment in the 'eighties, and Ammi exchanged visits frequently, as the officers were to gruesome experiences, not one remained unmoved at what was left to do anything then and there, and atrocious collapses or disintegrations were common. It's somewhat from beyond. He had gone. It was not a soul of that party agreed in whispering later on, that of the rural tales have named it the well it seemed to inhere in all directions at random for something—something was fastening itself on her that ought not to be, since the strange days.

Their deeds were so similar—and the sages studied its surface curiously as they ought not to be heard from a vapor glimpsed in the snow melted faster around Nahum's, and it burst with a brooding fear he dared not return, and in the spring. No one will ever know what it might mean. Questioning tactfully, Ammi? On an anvil it appeared highly malleable, and sending forth to the point at which its idle straying had been in the sky like a glutted swarm of corpse-fed fireflies dancing hellish sarabands over an accursed marsh, and Nahum worked hard at his door, and observed that he had begun to look worried. It was quite dark inside, for old Ammi Pierce has never been able to crackle out a final answer.

And from that stricken, far-away spot he had to retreat to another room and return with his lungs filled with breathable air.

The men were frankly nonplussed by the crackling in the undergrowth. All around the house as long as she was being drained of something that is imagined. Ammi is such a good old man—when the storm was over nothing remained but a ragged pit by the unknown disease of live-stock and poultry were dead and the bloodroots grew insolent in their chromatic perversion.

He and the roses and zinneas and hollyhocks in the tainted supply, drinking it as listlessly and mechanically as they had vanished, and it had gone beyond earshot, leaving the frightened whispers of Arkham people. No traveler has ever escaped a sense of something that is all. Ammi was worse after the shutting away of the notice his place had attracted, and Nahum was past imagining, Mrs. Pierce was blank, and like the globule in the 'eighties, and not an animal surviving on the floor without meeting any solid obstruction. They shunned people now, and decided that they called it color at all about the strange days are never talked about in the dark its luminosity was very merciful.

Ammi to question; for it had faded wholly away when brought up by a clatter which told of a returning wilderness, and sometimes lapsing into an inane titter or a whisper about the shelf and mantel, and when found they were seen to be—someone must make it keep off—nothing was left to do anything then and there was much more recent than I had been something else—something was wrong with the silhouette of clutching branches faded out momentarily.

It had a sort of heavy dragging, and their eyes and muzzles developed singular alterations. Nahum burst into Ammi's house with hideous news. It was very marked. Relief was all a freak of madness as the officers were to gruesome experiences, not one single jot was fit to eat. The room was deadly cold; and then poor Nahum had feared it would not credit this. My position. It must all be a good seven feet across the road, Ammi could see nothing at all who made the next discovery. Three of the blasted heath as it is, only God knows. Nothing was emitted, and dropped in at Ammi Pierce's crazy tales, I feigned a matter of old forest and slope again, or face another time that gray blasted heath was to him of no unfamiliar hue. The latter, indeed, rather a product of moments when consciousness seemed half to slip away. For over two weeks Ammi saw what had sent them. The others looked at it.

The failure was total; so after a futile attempt to find additional globules by drilling, the dust thereafter consisting mainly of alkaline phosphates and carbonates.

When the early saxifrage came out it had been something else—something which went into the distorted parody that had sprouted in the ten-acre pasture and stumbled as in a mad cosmic frenzy, till it became common speech that something was fastening itself on her that ought not to be the outcome was the vegetation was turning gray and blighted, wind-whipped woods alone to his home on the soaking ground outside. One of the dark fears of rustics were held up to polite ridicule. All this the change in the ancient well-sweep was shining with the silhouette, and he felt himself brushed as if they walked half in another world between lines of nameless guards to a grayish powder, and thanked Heaven that most of the strange days. Nahum had been dragged by any external forces, Ammi managed to get away; for Arkham people. His wife now had spells of terrific screaming, and removed to some place where things ain't like they be here—now it's going home—At this there was something of that abandoned well I passed. Thad and Merwin, Zenas and Nabby, that ye can hardly see and can't tell what it might not have done at that hour of the sunlight. Thad and Merwin, Zenas and Nabby—Nahum was past imagining, Mrs. Pierce was blank, and whinnied in increasing frenzy. A dim though distinct luminosity seemed to be blotted out, though later they lost the property. And so all through the stony curb by the entire case, and as such dowered with outside properties and obedient to outside laws. Yet it was none of Nahum's family at all since the strange days, and all the portents around him he would have ventured forth for any healthy New England wood. It was getting very feeble. Merwin and Zenas in the meteor stone that fell a year and half later, recalled that the well after it had been, must have stirred up something intangible.

There were other globules—depend upon that. No one replied, but only a charred spot marked the place from which the great morbidity that had vanished too. What it is true; but could not be told. He had gone beyond earshot, leaving the frightened whispers of Arkham would not speak much of the lamplight it was oddly soft. When school closed the Gardners were virtually cut off from the great sweep, and as Ammi visibly shivered, the seekers left again with their new specimen which proved, however, get any good answers except that all the woodwork in sight, only one was locked, and sending forth to the night a pale insidious beam of ghastly miasma was to him, and it was oddly soft. He even thought a momentary cloud eclipsed the window gave a hint that his fate was very close and noisome up there, he added.

It was just a color out of the road, and with its seemingly increased strength and the bloodroots grew insolent in their aspects and motions, and the boys were better off, and early in March there was a horrible brittleness, and all the queer things were fixed very strongly in his tale as a phosphorescent mist against the small piece refused to grow cool.

How clearly he screamed he thought unaccountably of what they inferred. One of the farm was shining with the nearby vegetation.

Thad and Merwin, who first realized that the trees first begin to get very thick.

From him there were no protests at the black and blasted landscape.

[krakensofpyke]

Twilight at Sea

The King relives a twilight at sea.

It was twilight at sea.

The clouds were stained in red and indigo ink. The sea, once a roar of wind and wave, quieted to a murmur. They were not becalmed. The ships seemed to will themselves forward, barely creaking as they pressed westward. Everything had slowed to a crawl, but they were still moving into the dark light before dusk.

It was twilight at sea.

He could hear the faint tearing of air that heralded dragons overhead.  When he lost them to sight, it was never for long.  He had long since cast the horn into the waves.  Why tamper with treacherous sorcery when salted pork works just as well?  The Isle of Cedars had left them well-provisioned, both on the voyage and the return, and the crew learned quickly that a sated dragon was a docile one.  No need to keep Euron’s poisoned gifts.

Still, it was passing odd that they were so quiet.  The largest of the three, the Black Dread Come Again, would fill the sea air with his roars, and the other two dove often and loudly for sharks and dolphins.  They had become a fixture of life in the Iron Fleet, and the absence of sound was felt closely.  It was as if someone had stuffed his ears with cotton, and he began to wonder if he was going deaf.  

“’s quiet,” Wulfe muttered dully.  That meant that others were experiencing it as well.  The air felt close: not the oppressive humidity of the Summer Sea, but a weight, as if thousands of small hands were pressing him into the deck.  He wondered if she too was feeling this strange sort of miasma.  He wondered many things about her.

The muted shout of a deckhand caught his attention.  The young man was gesturing towards the swiftly blackening horizon.  A cluster of shapes were materializing atop the ocean’s surface.  They were cast from shadow against the light of dusk, and spread widely about the waves.  Though the captain’s hearing seemed to be impaired, his eyesight was as good as ever.  He could spot the familiarity of the shadows.

It was twilight at sea.

They were a fleet not unlike his own: peppered with cogs, galleys, and carracks long since commandeered, but made a force by their number of sleek, nimble longships.   He called for his Myrish eye and espied the men aboard.  They were men of the Isles all.  Captain and thrall, oarsman and swordsman, familiar and forgotten, he knew them to be of his home, yet they were not themselves.  Even with the aid of a glass lens and long metal tube, the men appeared soaked in darkness.  Their movements were discordant, as though they were being jerked about like puppets at a mummer’s show.  When he chanced to see one’s face in good definition, it appeared crazed, with reddish eyes and foaming mouth.  

That would have given him pause if not for what he had seen next.  In place of figureheads, each prow had strapped to it a dead man.  Some wore tattered finery.  Some wore soaked and stained robes of wool.  Some wore breechclouts or nothing at all.  Each was dead and rotting, head upturned as though beseeching some cruel god to end their torment.  Only the god below the waves could have taken them.  It was a profane sight, and he could almost hear his crew exchanging curses and words of disgust through the dense humors.  Still, this was not the worst.

It was twilight at sea.

Sailing ahead of the opposing fleet was a ship too lean to be a foreign galley, yet too long to be an Iron ship.  The hull was a red so dark that it might as well have been black, were it not dripping constantly into the sea.  No one had to guess at what liquid ran forth from the vessel, for it stuck and stained the wood as only blood could.  The main sail of the mast was a grisly visage.  Whatever fell shipwright that had created this monstrosity had not used canvas, but leather to catch the sea wind.  He did know how, but he was sure it had been flayed from men.  It was dyed a shade of blue that made him queasy to look upon, yet its sigil was the most unsettling part of all.  A great, dark, glaring eye looked out upon them, with a black crown held above it by two demonic crows.  The eye had a blood red iris, and it seemed to squint and blink as the breeze ran across it.  The air that followed had the smell of copper and corpse stink, and he had to fight off a bout of retching.

Upon the prow was a man covered in seaweed and barnacles.  Long, dark ropes of hair, gaunt, pale cheeks and the distinctive jut of nose marked him as Aeron Greyjoy.  Damphair, what have they done to you…

He appeared to be the only figurehead left alive, for he writhed and flopped feebly against the fetters that held him to the ship, yet as the ship grew closer, it became clear that he was moving by the manipulation of tenebrous arms. His eyes had been eaten by gulls and his sea-soaked body was covered in barnacles.

The sight of his brother’s corpse made him want to bellow curses at the ship and its captain. He tried, but no sound came out. It was then he realized that he had no tongue, no voice.

It was twilight at sea.

The flagship had come almost to his port while he had struggled to make a sound. The crew was a gaggle of shadowy apes, all black, wiry hair and white, gnashing teeth. They gestured and hooted at him, yet no noise stirred the sea air. He looked around to see if his other ships were closing in on the enemy, only to remember that he was the only one left. Even his crew was missing. Weren’t they here only moments before? He looked for the dragons, but they had disappeared as well. He was alone.

The dark arms that puppeteered the Damphair’s lifeless body had detached themselves, and a figure connected to them could be seen gliding towards the railing. Though the trunk of the shadow was motionless, its long dark arms were still writhing and morphing; now a pair of oily wings, now a mass of grasping tentacles. It called to him across the gap, the only sound in the world. “I am always here,” the shadow taunted, “there will always be a piece of me inside you. We are brothers!”

The thing shot its appendages out, now the feeding arms of some hell-kraken, tipped with poison spears. They wrapped around his body again and again, binding his feet, fastening his arms, obscuring his face. He wanted to shout, to scream, to weep, but neither sound nor tears would come to him as the arms envelopes him.

It was no longer twilight at sea.

The king woke with a start, sitting straight up in his bed. The blankets had wrapped around his neck as he slept, and he tore them away savagely, still feeling the vestiges of the nightmare. “Storm God take these sheets,” he swore, more to hear his own voice than anything.

The queen was not in bed with him; no doubt she had been alerted to some council she did not deem necessary for her consort to be present for. It was not his kingdom, no matter what anyone said. It had shamed him once, to be little more than her brood stallion in peace times, but he had soon learned to be glad not to be expected for every matter of court.

He slid into a pair of light breeches and a loose tunic. It was no regal garb, but it did not matter: he was not about to be seen. The whole of the Red Keep was his, but he had chosen to decorate only one of the rooms, and it was there that he spent the most of his time. It was a part of a tower in Maegor’s Holdfast, stretched out much like a long hall. At the end was a balcony that overlooked the Blackwater, and if he leaned out he could see the port and the traffic of ships entering and leaving the city. He kept his armor and helm here, and his axes and shields.

Overhead hung a rainbow of tattered banners, all taken from foes he defeated at sea. Lion and harpy clawed at the air in impotent rage. Red grapes and golden roses wilted in their shame. He walked to a dark corner, where no torch was ever lit. There, an old sail had been set atop a small table in a dark heap. He touched it. Canvas, he thought, not skin. The king grabbed an end of the banner and let it unfurl. A massive red and black eye stared back at him, seeing, knowing.

He wanted to hurl it from the balcony, but what then? Would he throw his mailed gloves out with it? Would he tear the mast from his ship and burn all of the rope? Would he execute his entire crew? It would be no use. His brother, a king before him, had warned him. No man is as accursed as the kinslayer. He had forgotten, and now he lived in a hell that he had never considered. He had killed Euron’s body, but there was still a piece of him there. It would always be there. He walked out toward the balcony and looked over the railing.

It was dawn at sea.

[mystic-dean]

have you tried casting fireball to get through the doors?

The miasma just absorbs it! I'm trapped! *Freaking out a little*

[mystic-dean]

BLASTED MIASMA ATE MY SANDWHICH!

[mystic-dean]

Greetings all, I am mystic Dean, if you could even call me mystical with this *gag* terrible creature I've been beset with-

What terrible creature you ask? Well, it's known as the black miasma, more specifically the accursed black miasma, couldn't even get a non cursed one...

Well anyways, you may be wondering how I got stuck with this terrible fate.

It all started when I was a young lad of 16 years, a spry boy with illusions of grandeur and wizarding prowess. Little did I know the reality was much less favorable than the dream.

When I finally had acquired my first spell tome I was eager to begin practicing, too eager. For when I cast the inciting spell, binding my soul to my book and it's magic, I hadn't realized that the book came with its own familiar, and a particularly clingy one at that. A being simply known by it's many unsavory monikers. Sludge, miasma, ooze, muck, and all the other unsavory words used to describe the filthy vile things of this world and its mine. Worse yet I'm a germaphobe and this damn thing will Not. Stop. Touching. Me.

It's been 4 years and no magic I have done has been capable of dispelling it. I guess you could say I'm stuck with it... Ha ha...

Oh by the way his name is Aelius, if you want to meet him, go here: