#*the idea of slamming a crystal into your sword hilt to turn it into a staff

[raisengen]

Trying to get back into FFXIV now that they've expanded the free trial. And, Red Mage feels... surprisingly swagless.

It's meant to be swashbuckling, right? With the fancy red coat, the rapier, the flamboyant pose. And it's the class that can do everything; swordfighting, black magic, white magic.

But then:

It's using the same clothes as the other magic DPS, which read more like "bookish nerd" than "skilled duelist",

You spend 90% of your time hanging back casting spells, so waving around that sword makes you look like a poser,

Your actual casting animation has far less oomph than what the other magic-users are up to*,

That 90% is also just alternating between a basic pair of spells, which hardly plays to a sense of "skilled and sophisticated", and as far as I can tell that doesn't really change at higher levels.

...Oh well, we still have Ninja.

#arrxiv #*the idea of slamming a crystal into your sword hilt to turn it into a staff #then snapping it out again to go back to melee #is a great one... but it doesn't work here #the camera is 10m away pointing at your back #you just can't see that going on #and besides #since you're casting so many spells you may as well leave the focus on #instead of having it floating around doing nothing but making your arm get tired

[saabbi]

Regret part 7

Warmth in the freezing snow

Genshin Impact Adeptus!reader au

warnings: light angst?, mentions of drugging and syringes, probably messy, crappy quality

words: ~2.8k

Notes: series is resuming after the hiatus. I had a hard time writing this chapter (because I suck at writing) so I really hope this chapter didn't turn out to be too messy and confusing. ao3 series link

[previous] [next]

Stepping out the ship, you’re immediately greeted by the harsh and nostalgic icy cold breeze. Pure white snowflakes that dance around your vision and the pile of soft snow beneath your feet tells you that you’re back in Snezhnaya.

You asked a subordinate to help you deliver the lantern you had bought for Teucer and obediently followed another Fatui member, who guided you to the chamber where the Tsarista is patiently waiting for your arrival.

“Your highness, I have returned.” You kneeled down on one knee, head lowering to pay your respects. The Tsarista’s ice cold gaze pierces you, making you anxious on why she summoned you.

“My loyal subject.” a voice so calm and quiet, barely to be heard, yet crystal clear and reverberates around the shallow and empty hall, sending a chill down your spine. You look up upon her call, acknowledging that she remains ever so strikingly breath-taking, as resplendent as the most exquisite flower, as elegant as Snezhnaya’s never-melting snow.

“Dottore has found a way to further enhance the capabilities of Fatui, and your aid is needed to achieve it.” She walks closer to you with each step, stopping just before your kneeled figure.

“To achieve it, your aid is necessary. I trust that you will provide all the help Dottore needs dutifully, yes?” A simple question, but her tone indicates that she does not accept rejection as an answer.

“Yes, of course.” The Tsarista seems delighted at your answer, resting her chilly hand on your cheeks and lightly caressing it with her thumb. The subtle intimate gesture however, was nothing resembling that of affection. The Tsarista’s sharp gaze remains fixated on you, yet it doesn’t feel like she’s properly looking at you at all. Her gaze has always been like that, as if she’s looking for something deeper in your soul, but not your existence.

“Dottore, come in. The final mission of our primeval harbinger shall now be performed.” The coldness on your cheeks is replaced by the sudden gushes of wind, the words leaving the Tsarista’s mouth leaving you off guard as you abruptly shot your head up.

“...Your highness? What does that-” Cut off by a harsh slam of the door, you turn to the entrance only to reveal a masked man with curly blue locks- Dottore. The condescending smirk spreading on his face as he meets your wary eyes sets off alarms in your head, screaming that this man is up to no good.

Your hand immediately reaches towards the hilt of your sword resting on your hips, ready to draw it out if he makes any suspicious movements. Furrowing your eyebrows and eyeing Dottore’s every move, unsure of what he would do.

“Relax, relax. This is all under the Tsarista’s orders, doesn’t do too much harm...I guess?” Dottore, now casually twirling a syringe filled with a dangerous-looking fluid, puts his hands up in the air in a placating manner, but his halfhearted response only makes you glare at him cautiously.

“I will have to question you on what you’re about to do, Dottore.” It’s all under the Tsarista’s orders, and you thought it would just be something about training new Fatui recruits, but Dottore’s behaviour insinuates that there is much more than that, and seems like the syringe is to be used on you.

“Oh this? Haha! I’m not quite sure, maybe knock you out for a bit? Y’know, draw out your adeptal powers to the maximum potential, I weaponise it, and voila! Fatui gets a new upgrade! Wonderful plan right?”

Dottore sure made it sound like no big deal, but you know that’s not all the catch. Because if it’s about your adeptal powers, then surely, the Tsarista’s intention is to-

“You’d better not do any stupid movements with your sword, yeah? It would be bad if you were to go against her highness’ orders, after all, you are her most loyal subordinate. Unless… you plan to commit treachery?” Dottore leered as your grip on the sword tightens, conflicted on what to do.

Reluctantly, you peered over to the Tsarista, who has not said a word at the impasse and tense situation between you and Dottore, silently watching everything unfold before her. The Tsarista’s glacial smile never fades as she meets your gaze, not giving you a definite response, but perhaps acknowledging Dottore’s words.

“That’s… not all there is to this, is it?” Despite your loyalty to the Tsarista, this question must be raised for your own sake. Adeptal energy has always been a rather sensitive subject to both you and the Tsarista, with you knowing that she has always wanted to utilise your mysterious powers to help her achieve her goals.

“Quite the sharp one huh? Well I suppose there’s no use beating around the bush, I’ll do you the favour in telling you this- Your adeptal energy is to be drained completely for us to use, ahahaha!” A fit of manical laughter jolted through him, his atrocious appearance matching his abhorrent personality.

“And that would leave me...vulnerable and powerless?” The appalling smirk that makes you want to throw up, the messed up plan that makes you want to run away from the Tsarista’s chambers.

“B i n g o! You neither have a vision nor delusion, so without those powers, you’re pretty much useless.” Dottore approaches you, barely stopping in front of you. Lowering his voice, he mumbled into your ears, “and you’ll be thrown away by the Tsarista, officially being useless to her. I’m sure you know by now, that all her highness cares about is that adeptal energy of yours, and not you yourself?” even at such a low volume, his mockery towards you can clearly be heard.

Of course you knew, that all the Tsarista’s interested in is your mysterious powers. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out her intentions in bringing you to her nation. Even after millennia of you serving her with your utmost loyalty, all she has taken interest in is your powers.

The cold Tsarista that requested you like an object from Morax as a trade of peace, and never paid you much attention. The Tsarista who only shows you some form of affection and addresses your name when she needs you to carry out her plans. To her, it was obvious that you are a mere chess piece, for her to attain her grand goals.

Despite knowing this, you still turned your head once more towards the Tsarista, locking gazes with her, searching for something that even you yourself wasn’t sure what you’re looking for in her eyes, but to no avail, the same empty eyes with no any sort of emotion returning your disappointment. That is how little you meant to her.

It has always been, a foolish hope of yours, to believe that one day, if you stay by her side long enough, you would become a figure that holds much more place in her heart. But that has never been the case, her icy heart never had space for you, locking you out. She has enough love for all the other harbingers, all except you.

The best course of action right now, is to draw out your blade and resist against the Tsarista. You have to defend yourself, you have to get out alive and well, because you promised Zhongli, Xiao, and Ganyu to return. You have to unsheathe your sword right this instant.

But your hands remain frozen, disobeying your commands and desperate internal cries. It should be simple, to protect yourself against those who could not care less about your existence and never acknowledging you, and flee to Liyue. So why can’t you bring yourself to do so?

Because it would mean that you’re defying the person whom your loyalty is dedicated to, denying the Tsarista’s ambitions.

The same Tsarista who ripped you apart from your family, but also the one who gave you a new identity, and a new place to call home, giving you a reason to live on by serving her.

And you who watched over her carefully throughout your lifetime; when she became obsessed with the idea of bringing down celestia, to the point where delusions are invented just for the sole purpose of resisting against the sacred land where gods are rumoured to reside.

You never found out the reason behind her obstinacy in bringing down celestia, but you stayed beside her long enough to witness her desire for power and authority to continue to expand into a bottomless abyss, and the times when she struggled.

Times when her immature plans backfired, times she felt livid and Snezhnaya would be in raging blizzards for weeks, times when she doubted her own decisions. You were always there, by her side and ready to jump into action whenever she needed you to.

Through trial and error, she learned to develop well thought-out plans after calculations and taking precautionary measures, and recruited talented individuals. The harder she falls, the higher she bounces. She was undeniably a dazzling existence to you.

The Tsarista is a blinding lone star that continues to glisten even if other stars have faded, showing its resistance towards the devouring night sky. Someone so cruel and brutal, yet ever so resplendent, that you couldn’t peel your eyes off her.

A star that defies the night sky.

And you, who only knew how to live under orders and pretty much lived a tedious life besides carrying out Fatui duties, are dull and have long succumbed to darkness.

So how could you deny her? The one who never faltered, the flames of ambition that refuses to die out no matter what? You couldn’t bring yourself to betray her even at this very moment, because you have watched over her for far too long.

“This turned out to be rather...disappointing.” Seeing you loosening your grip on the sword and putting down your defenses, Dottore scoffs.

You take a sharp inhale, making up your mind. Regretfully, your decision is to stay loyal to the Tsarista and faithfully do as she wishes up until the very end. A very foolish decision even you are aware of, and one that makes your heart scream in agony knowing that you’re once again being thrown away. Even so, this is the path you have chosen.

.

.

.

Drained, you felt. It felt as if your powers erupted all at once, and got sucked dry by a vacuum cleaner and left to die on the road. Your role as the twelfth harbinger has been dismissed, now just an identity-less wanderer. The Tsarista truly is a cruel person, you thought, to just throw you out and let you crawl away all by your own whilst surrounded by nothing but coldness and snow, knowing that you right now are incredibly weak and vulnerable. She didn’t even have someone to escort you to a shelter, simply took away your harbinger identification with the usual eerie smile.

But archons do you feel horrible, dizzy and nauseous, on the verge of passing out. Now that you’ve lost your place, where would you go? Tired, cold and nowhere to go, you lean on a nearby bark to grab a hold of yourself, trying figure out what to do from now on.

Slumping down and shutting your eyes, you are forced to face your own emotions that you have repressed in the Tsarista’s chambers. Your heart aches so much, the strong pulsations being the only thing resounding in your ears, it hurts more than how your body is right now.

What a pathetic destiny you face, to be thrown away whom you trusted and served twice in your lifetime. It hurts so much, your heart continuously screams to you, not forgiving the way you hurt it so severely. So pathetic, you are so pathetic, you thought.

Even after millennia, you still never found a place you truly belonged to, your miserable and pathetic self was not accepted anywhere. You know very well the Tsarista has always been using you, yet facing the harsh reality is not as easy as you thought.

Wouldn’t it be better if the abyss consumed you? To be embraced by darkness and vanish, not having to face pointless emotions and drama? If only your eyes never opened back from the first time you dirtied your own hands, and instead swallow by the cold and hungry arms of demise- if you only died back then, would you still have to face such circumstances?

“...Hey, comrade.” a light whisper of a familiar voice enters your ears, dragging you back from your thoughts. You looked up at the one who called for you, only to find your vision blurry and cheeks feeling wet and cold. You didn’t even realise droplets of tears had trickled down your cheeks, you are even surprised that you’re capable of crying, you hadn’t shed a tear, let alone cry out loud for so long that you had forgotten how it felt.

Childe crawls closer, slowly wrapping you into a warm hug and gently strokes you on the head like how he has treats his siblings. You feel embarrassed to be comforted by someone much younger than you and being treated like a child, but returned the hug nonetheless. Not knowing how much you needed a hug, you find his embrace to be pleasant and safe.

“There’s a ship heading to Liyue, so let’s get you home to where it’s warm and safe, yeah?” Home, Childe said, you wanted to retort, but somehow ‘home’ and ‘Liyue’ just sounded right. Is it okay if you return there? To seek asylum?

“Come on comrade, it’d be devastating if you missed the ride!” slumping your weak arms over his shoulders and a hand on your waist to support you, lifting you onto your feet to lead you to the harbour.

“I-I’m sorry for what happened, and that I...I couldn’t help you. If I had known what Dottore was scheming, I would have talked to the Tsarista and convince her not to adopt such a brutal method.” His cheery voice is replaced by one with remorse, avoiding your eyes.

“I didn’t know Dottore came up with such an outrageous method, the Tsarista didn’t inform us of her plan! I- I should’ve known Dottore was up to no good! I could’ve done something-” Getting agitated, his speech hastens and stumbles over his own words.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you know it’s not your fault.” You cut him off, giving him a soft slap on the back. “The Tsarista had such plans a long time ago, she just...never found the right methods until today, I guess.”

Somehow, it only made Childe feel even worse, guilt and sympathy all shown on his face.

“Come on, where’s your usual jolly self? A gloomy expression doesn't suit you at all. Teucer and Tonia will be worried for their #1 toymaker of Snezhnaya.” you mustered a feeble smile, assuring him that you’re fine.

“Well, never thought I’d hear you crack a joke after all these years…” Childe’s lips curve into a relieved and playful smile. Although, you have to admit, it does makes you feel better knowing that he’s worried for you.

.

.

.

“This is the Crux, you might’ve seen their crew around Liyue before. I spoke with the captain, and it’s a huge relief that she accepted our request!” You and Childe stumbled into the guest room that is kindly lent to you, with Childe immediately helping you get on the bed and wrapping you in blankets.

“You had a not-so-pleasant eventful day, it’s best if you warm up and rest now. I can’t go back with you, but I’ve contacted Zhongli, he should be there to pick you up when you arrive.” with a soft tone, Childe picks up your hand and gently strokes your palms, taking a note of your pale complexion, you remind him of his siblings when they were sick. He turns to leave you alone, about to close the door.

“Hey, Childe?” He abruptly stops and turns back to you with a concerned look, worried if you’re still feeling unwell and perhaps he could help.

“Thank you.” but only two simple words came out of your mouth. So simple and short, but more than enough to convey the gratitude and respect you held for him.

Childe breaks into a beaming smile, “Of course! We’re friends after all, right comrade? I think I’m even your best friend!” to which you chuckled. Yeah, you suppose he isn’t wrong on that.

Just before he closes the door completely, he halts and opens his mouth, “Teucer adored your gift, he and Tonia wanted to prepare something in return… I’ll bring it to you next time, yeah? And perhaps drink tea too at Zhongli’s?”

“Yes, I shall look forward to dear Teucer and Tonia’s gift then, it’s a promise.” You feel your consciousness slip away, closing your eyes and replying to Childe with a light smile on your face.

“It’s a promise!” He enthusiastically replied, only to realise he should tone it down to let you sleep in peace. “Sweet dreams, comrade.” Just before passing out on your bed, you hear Childe’s almost inaudible reply and a click on the door shutting close.

[previous] [next]

for extra info/drabbles on this series: #adeptus reader asks please feel free to send some asks as well :)

taglist [request to be added/removed in taglist]

@hanniejji @pebblegwn @daphnyehh @calfigaman @zaythetic @kachuuha @4everanimesimp @creatorofstars @sugary03 @pidgeison @porcosslvt @yoomi-omi @aethwie @meowsamune @lill0w0 @pandaquick @cruelstring @ryuukero @deathkat657 @photoglassuwu @normalisthenewnorm @just-some-stars @dearalatus @fairlady-ying @chinchillinbb @calfigaman @schleepyflocci @gvnnhildr @tvwhoresblog@elephantasmosgocomics @qiqiscocogoatmilk @ooriru @keqingmylove @scoupshushushu @xiaoqijin-blog @kaeya-l0ver @yuuuumiiin @meg-doodles @michaos @mkrll3 @toshiswifey @sweetstrawberrybabe @lifenotgood @wouldyoulikesomepollen @stupefried @sangchu @yamatosworld @heijeuxx @keiq0

Please tell me if I missed any one of you!! Those in red, I can’t tag you I’m sorry. You can dm me, but I don’t know how to solve it either... if someone changed their username and that’s why I couldn’t tag you, please by all means send in an ask/ comment on the original post to let me know!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #zhongli x reader #ganyu #ganyu x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #genshin impact ganyu #genshin impact xiao #genshin #genshin x you #adeptus reader

[crystalirises]

Walls of False Illusion

Slight context: this is basically a fic of Wilbur catching Fundy going out of L’Manberg’s walls and in this fic Fundy has never been allowed to fight in the frontlines so he has rarely left L’Manburg and has never met the DTeam.

Ye, hope you guys like it! :D

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

“Did you believe I wouldn’t notice your absence?” Fundy froze, a silhouette appearing from behind the tree that stood beside the entrance to L’Manburg. “Fundy, what was my one rule?”

He gripped the bottom edge of his uniform shirt, bits of string hanging loosely from the cloth as he turned around to face Wilbur. The man looked utterly exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes as a cool breeze ruffled his uncombed, curly brown hair. Wilbur stood at attention, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword as Fundy felt his father grasp his arm. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to speak as Wilbur dragged him deeper into the confines of L’Manburg, soft chuckling from somewhere in the darkness (no doubt Tubbo and Tommy watching Fundy be dragged off into another lecture). Fundy bit the inside of his cheek, the hto dog van coming into view as Wilbur practically shoved him inside. Shadows clung to the furniture, the soft hiss of potions brewing the only source of noise within the small space that Fundy nearly wished that Wilbur would just leave him there to sulk for the night as his punishment. Luck was not on the fox hybrid’s side.

“Have you any idea how horrified I was to find out that you were missing? I was this close to sending out search parties, Fundy. I was this fucking close!” Fundy hung his head, his father’s yelling accompanied by the sickening slam of the door closing. He pressed his lips together as Wilbur grabbed him by the arms, his hold nearly bruising as Wilbur glared into his eyes. Fundy felt a trickle of fear, “I can’t have you doing this again. Do you know how reckless and stupid―”

“I just wanted to take a walk, dad…”

“A walk? A WALK?! What if you got caught? What if you ran into fucking Dream? Have you no self-preservation. FUCK!” Fundy flinched as Wilbur let go of him, only to slam his hands against the table. Wilbur was breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down as if he was calming himself down. “I can’t lose you, Fundy. Dream’s a tyrant, he would do anything to win this war.”

“Why? Are you scared they’re going to use me against you? They probably don’t even know I exist since I’m not even allowed to leave this place! How could they even know you have a son to use as blackmail when you don’t let me wander outside the walls?!” Fundy hadn’t meant to raise his voice, stuttering into a fearful pause as he realized the seeping anger in his tone. Wilbur glanced up at him, shock dancing in those dark brown eyes. Fundy leaned against the wall, the cool metal sending goosebumps down his skin… or perhaps that was the rising frustration. L’Manburg was Fundy’s entire world, he barely knew anything outside those depressingly large walls that seemed to reach up into the heavens above. Wilbur had made it clear to everyone that Fundy was to never leave. “Dad, I can’t live my whole life here. There’s a whole other world out there just waiting to be explored. I… I just wanted to see it. You can’t keep me inside forever.”

“It’s not forever, Fundy. It’s just until the war is over.” He felt a gentle hand caress his cheek. Fundy didn’t even realize that Wilbur had moved closer, “Then you’ll be free to… wander.”

Fundy chuckled at that. His dad was a terrible liar, he couldn’t even conceal the hesitation in his voice. Fundy focused his attention on his muddy boots instead, remembering how the wind felt against his hair as he raced through the forest, a skulk of foxes yipping after him as they skittered in and out view among the forest shrubbery. The silver rays of moonlight had been his only guide. Of course he did run into a few trees, even running into a strangely colored lime one that he swore made a peculiar sound when he bumped into it. He had eventually come to a stop by a clear lake at the center of an empty clearing, watching as the dark shadows zipped around the bottom of the water. Fundy had sat at the edge, water falling his fingertips as if they were blue laces of crystal. As he let himself catch his breath, it felt as if someone was watching from afar―

“Give it time. We’ll have our freedom and perhaps I’ll let you leave L’Manburg every now and then.” There was a hand on the top of his head, soothing his ears down as a smile formed on his dad’s face. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to return it. “I promise. Just stay inside for now, hm?”

“You promise?” He moved closer, clutching the front of his dad’s coat. Wilbur placed a hand at Fundy’s back, hesitant as if Wilbur wasn’t quite sure if Fundy was asking for a hug. Fundy gritted his teeth at the idea of even hugging Wilbur at such a time. He took a sigh, willing his voice not to shake or for tears to spring into his eyes as he glanced up to meet his father’s eyes. He hated how he barely reached his father’s chin despite being older than Tommy or Tubbo. “You talk of freedom and independence as if they were inevitable. Don’t you see how hopeless this is dad? You’re fighting a losing battle. You think you can beat a god? A fucking god? We’re all going to die. I-I’m going to die. I’m going to die without ever having lived, dad―”

The rest of his words were swallowed away as Wilbur pulled him into an embrace, a hand pressing his head against his dad’s chest. Fundy could almost hear the erratic beat of Wilbur’s heart, felt the way that his dad held him in as though his words had actually frightened Wilbur. Guilt trickled into his heart but Fundy tried not to hold onto it. “Don’t say that. You won’t… you can’t die. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be fine, my son. You won’t die on the battlefield.”

“You can’t promise me that. You can’t promise me a chance against death.” Fundy wasn’t sure if Wilbur could hear him - not sure if Wilbur would dare to hear him - but he had to try. Wilbur began to hum, a discordant tune that sounded more like droning as if he was trying to block out Fundy’s voice. Fundy curled his hands into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palm. His dad was doing it again, ignoring the negative as if it didn’t exist. “Dad… you have to let me live a little. We don’t know how much time we have left before… Let me feel freedom for once.”

Silence ticked by as Wilbur moved away, a pained look in his eyes as he looked down at Fundy. There was the shimmer of tears but Wilbur didn’t cry. No. Never in front of Fundy. Wilbur wrapped his arms around himself and Fundy realized that Wilbur was reassuring himself more than he was protecting Fundy. This wasn’t about Fundy at all… this was about Wilbur’s fear.

“I love you very much, my little champion. I love you enough to say no to what you’re asking of me. I… I can���t have you running about in the forest at night doing gods know what. Not when Dream is out there… waiting.” Fundy rolled his eyes at that. For all this talk of Dream, he’s never even seen the illusive man at all. Fundy was beginning to think that Wilbur had made the man up, like did once when Fundy was a kid and Wilbur had jokingly said there was a monster underneath the bed. Wilbur regretted it as Fundy refused to be left alone for an entire month. “Do you know why I built those walls? The walls you are so adamant to hate? I built them for you. I built them to keep you safe, Fundy. I need to protect my sweet little son. Can’t you see that?”

“Can’t you see? I’m not that kid anymore. You need to stop seeing me as if I was still a helpless baby.” Fundy felt his last inkling of hope disappear. Wilbur would never understand, never will for as long as he thought the world would take his son away. Fundy turned to leave, ignoring his dad’s call for him to come back. He stood at the door, hand hovering above the handle.

“Fundy Soot, you get back here this instant. The conversation isn’t over.” He let out a low growl. It was over, Fundy was ending it. He pushed the door open, the cool, night wind blowing through his hair and into the cramped and heated van. “Don’t you growl at me, young man. FUNDY―”

He looked back, snarling loudly that Wilbur immediately backed off, a surprised look on his face. Good. Fundy didn’t want to stay there any longer. Fuck Wilbur and Fuck L’Manburg too.

“You know what, Wilbur? I never asked you to fucking protect me. You made that choice. Now I’m making mine.”

And with that, Fundy was gone.

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

next

#fundy #wilbur soot #mcyt #slight angst #I will never get over the fact that Wil said he built the walls for Fundy ;-;

[lokispettigerr]

To Summon A Witcher: Chapter 2- Geralt x Reader NSFW Smut

Summary: Part 1 located on Masterlist. Reader lives and works in one of the most romantic cities in the US, Charleston, SC. However, because of the city’s colored past, romance isn’t the only thing that can be found there– it is said that ghosts, goblins, ghouls and the like make the city their home. When Reader meets one of these creatures she has to get the help of someone not quite so human in order to be free, but he frees her from much more than she ever expected.

Word Count: 1,641

Warnings: Violence, Witchcraft, Supernatural Spookies

Taglist: In reblog

A/N: Chapter 3 is already completed and I am practically humming with excited energy to continue this story with you all! I hope you all enjoy it. Part 3 will be posted on my Patreon a week before it is posted here. Check it out if you are thirsty and need access to this lusty soul drink sooner!

The bell above the door trilled loudly announcing my entrance.

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom of the shop I could barely make out the odds and ends that took up residence in, “Dos Gatos Negros”, the local metaphysical shop that I had been a frequent patron of. The owner of the shop had been the only person to successfully help me with the shadow-beings that haunted me in my teenage years.

A muted voice called out, “It’s alright, mi amor. You are here now.”

I could finally relax. I was safe here and I let that feeling of security wash over me.

The crystal curtain on the far side of the store rattled as Maricella pushed past it.

“Marci, I need your help.”

“Estoy aqui. I knew you would be here this day.”

For being a “bruja”, a witch, Maricella looked completely normal.

Marci wore simple clothing, a floral button-up blouse, black jeggings, and ankle-high, slip-on boots.

Marci rushed towards me and grabbed my arms, her fingers gently resting at the hook of my elbow.

“Speak to me.”

“It’s started again, Marci.”

“How long?”

“A couple of months,” I said.

Marci released my arms and clicked her tongue, “Mesas?! You waited this long in your suffering, to come to me?”

I bit my lip.

“Why, mi amor?” Her voice softened.

“I’m not a child anymore, Marci. I’d hoped I could handle my own problems.”

Of course, I tried to handle the entity that had latched itself to me but without Marci’s guidance, nothing was effective. Everything I tried felt fraudulent like I was trying to be something I wasn’t and I was certain the entity knew that.

“Come,” She said as she guided me back through the beaded curtain and into her private room.

As I sat on the other side of the round, cloth-covered table laden with animal bones and teeth, dried herbs, smoking palo santo, tarot cards and the like, I relayed the story of the cemetery and the storm and all that had happened the last couple of months.

While I told Marci the story she poured me a cup of tea and urged me to drink it from time to time.

Finally, I finished the story and my tea.

“Here,” she said, indicating for me to give her my now empty teacup.

I handed it to her and she held it before her eyes to inspect the remnants of the tea leaves.

Marci quirked an eyebrow at me.

“The cup says more than you. Speak.”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Marci.”

Marci walked over to stand beside where I sat and held the cup before my eyes.

“Look there!” She impatiently pointed, “A man here and a wolf. Don’t you see?!”

I scrutinized the blob of sodden tea leaves, but no shape took form.

“Marci, I--”

“No, you see! A man, here, yes? And a wolf within his heart. And there!” She pointed to the opposite side of the teacup, “Is the sombra, the shadow that follows you.”

“...Oh, yeah, yeah I think I see what you mean.”

Marci slammed the teacup down sensing my fib.

Her lips twitched as if I was humoring her, reminding me of a parent trying not to smile as they caught their child in an imaginative lie.

“Who is he?” She pointed at the teacup.

Because of my lack of involvement with anyone I thought perhaps she had made a mistake.

Marci stood, impatient, all but crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot.

Just then, it dawned on me. I wanted to dance around with a lightbulb over my head shouting out “Eureka!”.

“Marci, I’ve been having a reoccurring dream. Well, more of a changing dream but reoccurring of the same person! A man with shoulder-length, white hair that carries a sword strapped to his back almost like someone would place their bow and quiver. Around the hilt is a brooch. He wears a wolf pendant around his neck!”

I then relayed a few of the dreams I had to Marci.

Marci took a deep breath, strode over to her seat across from me and plopped down.

“You dream of him because he is the only one who can help rid you of this sombra.” She said, knowingly.

“But Marci!” I exclaimed, “I’ve never seen this man in my life. From the look of the dreams, the clothes he wears, where the dreams take place, he isn’t even from this time.”

“Not in this life,” Marci corrected.

Marci believed in past lives and that whoever you connected with in a past life often found you in another, as a kind of kindred soul. Kindred souls sought each other out, never ceasing until they were united again.

It sounded cheesy and ridiculous and overly romantic on the whole notion of souls and “soulmates”.

In truth, I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about past lives, but I really wasn’t ready to start believing in them now.

“You must find him.” Silence followed Marci’s words ad they settled on me, a weight that I felt I could not begin to bear.

I imagined myself acting like a child saying in a whiny voice, “Nu-uh, I don’t wanna and you can’t make me!” All while Marci dragged me along as I pouted and kicked out.

I sighed, “I have no idea how to do that, Marci. I don’t even know who he is.”

Marci scooted her chair away from the table and stood, “Well, you came to the right place.”

I groaned.

“Shh,” she snapped and she moved to stand behind me.

Her hands rested on either side of my head and her warm fingers touched softly at my temples. “Close your ojos, mi amor.”

I did as she ordered, letting my world succumb to the unknown and willing sightlessness.

“Relax your breathing.”

I did as I had done many times before with her and relaxed, breathing in 1,2,3,4, holding, and then slowly exhaling.

Marci was leading me into a trance state.

Her voice lowered an octave, resonating pleasantly.

“Now think of this man. Everything about him, his hair, his eyes, his face, his body. Let him appear before you.”

“He’s here,” I said, my voice sounding distant and hollow.

“Muy bien. Watch him very closely. Listen to all that is around him. Listen for his name; look for a year, a place. Anything. If the scene changes, let it. Move with him.”

Slowly, my physical senses fell away. My reality shifted and I was no longer with Maricella. I was no longer sitting in the back room of her shop; no longer felt the velvet cloth that covered the table under my fingertips; no longer smelled the smoke drifting from the palo santo.

Instead, the man was before me, the scenes changing as if I was flipping through the entirety of the dreams I had of him like the pages of a catalog.

I followed him through a deserted town. The ground beneath my feet was made of stone slabs that felt slick with rainfall. I watched as he stood before several men, all with intent to slay him, and I continued in the shadows as he painted his blade with their blood, until he stood alone.

The scene before me shifted, like fog removing all that was around us, and replacing it with something new. He wearily entered an inn, trying to hide his identity with a large, black cloak-- his eyes glowing through the shadow cast upon his face as he scanned the tables and patrons.

Near the bar, a man wearing an apron was nailing a yellowed parchment to the wooden wall. A calendar, indicating that the year was 1210. 1210!

My eyes found the white-haired man again. He looked so tired, so withdrawn as he moved to the far corner to sit at a table alone as he listened to all the boisterous noise of the crowded inn. I wondered why he wanted no one to recognize him. It was as if I knew that he craved for no one to notice him but for someone to see him.

Then all around me the noise and the smells and sights of the inn fell away, being eaten up by my avid and hungry mind and replaced with something new, something better.

In the bed, beside me, he lay, his scar-ridden, broad-muscled shoulders before me. I reached out my hand, fingertips tracing the scars as if mapping out a constellation of pain.

The bed creaked as he shifted to turn toward me.

His eyes opened like the petals of some breathtaking bloom.

My breath caught in my throat, painfully, as he looked at me, his golden eyes missing nothing.

“Hmm,” he hummed.

The sound made me swoon. Never had I heard such an erotic utterance.

His strong, deft fingers smoothed a stray lock of my hair behind my ear and I leaned into the palm of his hand.

“All manner of creatures have I seen,” he purred, “and not one has captivated me as much as you.” His lips curled into a heart-melting half-smile.

“If I saw nothing else,” He kissed my forehead, “No beauty upon this ground ever again. I would mourn not if only your face was the one I saw.”

I bit my lip and giggled, my hand moving to cup his chiseled jaw, “Geralt,” I sighed, “What would I do without you?”

I awoke from my trance with his name, a decadent utterance, falling from my lips like warm honey. My lips held the ghost of a kiss he had placed passionately on my lips. I looked to Maricella, my eyes wide with wonder and my revelation.

“Geralt of Rivia,” I said, “His name is Geralt.”

#geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt #the witcher #geralt smut #geralt fluff #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt lemons #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill geralt #lpt

[meltingangels]

What if Kade is the Dreadlord’s new Host?

Okay, so I got an idea at like 3am, and decided to write it. 

Well, a rough draft of it at least. And I figured I’d post it on here, on the off chance that someone enjoys it.

Please keep in mind that this is a very rough version of this idea- I plan to expand upon it and make it better. 

I just wanted to get this idea out there.

"You should prepare yourself, child." the Priest says solemnly. "The brother you lost...may not be who...or what...you get back."

"I know. Whatever happens, at least...at least I'll know what happened to him." I ready myself, taking a firm fighting stance.

And, although it pains me to even go through the motion, I draw my blade- and hold it in front of me. The idea of me holding a sword at him being the first thing Kade sees upon his return is...nauseating. It makes me sick to my stomach. 

But I know I cannot afford to let down my guard. 

Should Kade be lost to me, or should something follow him through the crystal, I have to be ready.

As Nia and the Priests begin the ritual, speaking words in a language I cannot recognise, I find myself unable to hide the shivering that has overtaken my body. I have travelled through many of this continent's most dangerous depths, conquered evils I could never have thought possible...but this...has me truly on edge.

Just as I feel myself on the verge of losing control over my emotions, I feel someone place a firm hand on my shoulder. Glancing behind me, and upwards, I see Imtura- who is wearing an oddly solemn expression...but with a smile that radiates warmth behind it's sadness. 

Another hand clasps my right shoulder, and with a quick turn of my head, I see Mal- wearing a similar expression to Imtura. 

Familiar armoured hands place themselves over mine, which are clasped so tightly to the hilt of my blade that the whites of my knuckles are showing through. Tyril's hands. 

And, as I look up, I see those beautifully familiar eyes, pairing with the most tender of smiles. Keeping our eyes locked together, he gently pushes my hands down. Confused, but understanding, I hold my blade at my right side- standing down.

"If...when...Kade returns...yours should be the first kind face he sees." Tyril speaks softly.

Feeling tears brimming in my eyes, I give a small nod- unable to find the words to express the kaleidoscope of emotions that are warring in my mind. Once certain that I've understood, Tyril moves to stand protectively in front of me- but not blocking my face from the shard's view. 

As the blackened crystal begins to crackle with an eerie, oppressive energy, Nia glances towards us. Her expression is grim and focused, at first- unlike any expression I've ever seen on her, but it morphs into that familiar sugary smile for just a moment. 

Quickly returning her focus to the ritual, Nia's expression hardens once again.

Black, smoky shadows begin to seep through cracks in the shard- and my companions all draw their weapons in unison- at the same time that the guards clustered around the room draw theirs. As the smoke grows, filling the space further, the tension in the air becomes palpable, almost physical in its intensity.

The smoke suddenly stops, before rushing back into the crystal, as if it is being wound back to where it came. Faces paling, the Priests immediately split, rushing to the guards for protection- their ritual complete.

Nia reaches us just as the shard seems to implode in itself, creating a shockwave of a smoky black mass that Tyril and I barely manage to shield us all from in time.

In the time it takes for the smoke and shadows to clear, I can almost hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears- and can feel sweat beginning to bead on my forehead, the very hairs on the back of my neck and arms standing on end.

When the room is finally clear, the shard stands where it once was- but whereas before it seemed filled with an inky, dark mass, it now seems...empty. The light is actually able to shine through it, as if it were no longer a shard...but a crystal. Daring to hope, I focus on the body that lies crumpled on the floor. 

A body with torn, worn clothes, and more than a few superficial wounds- and far thinner than I had last seen it. But it was-

"Kade!" I go to rush forward, but everyone immediately reigns me back in.

At first, I am furious- but I am forced to focus on just where Kade has returned from. And the possibility that what lies unconscious on the floor...may not be my brother.

Several moments tick by, and I am beginning to grow restless- before Kade finally lifts his head from the floor. He looks inexplicably confused and dazed, but as soon as his eyes drift over to me, all the glaze seems to fade- and his eyes light up like a bright summer's day. 

He frowns when he sees the amount of people pointing weapons his way- but when he sees my encouraging smile, his expression softens a little- and he takes his time getting up, aware of how his every movement is being watched.

"Blythe?" Kade speaks, his voice hoarse, when he finally stands shakily on his own two feet.

"Kade?" I step forward slightly, but then stop.

I turn to Nia, who has cautiously moved over to the rest of the Priests- who have begun to approach us, clustering in one corner of the room. 

After a moment conferring with them, she bounds back over, a huge smile on her face.

"There's no darkness, Blythe! We did it! By the Light, we did it!" Nia claps her hands together excitedly.

Those words finally break my resolve. I shove everyone, even my Tyril, away- sheathing my blade as I run towards my brother...who has also started stumbling towards me. 

When we finally meet, and wrap our arms around each other, I hug Kade harder than I ever had before- with all my strength. His body is warm, familiar, and undoubtedly roughened up...but it's still him. Somehow, despite everything, despite the far more likely outcome that Kade would be some wrinkled husk...my brother has returned to me. 

Unable to contain my emotions, I finally let my tears fall, audibly sobbing as Kade and I fall to our knees in the embrace. I bury my head in his shoulder, drawing him as close as I possibly can. 

After several blissful moments, I pull away slightly- remaining close as I look my brother over. 

"Are you..." I start.

"I'm...alright." Kade smiles tiredly. "Maybe not...completely alright, but...I'm still...I'm still me."

"I...I can hardly believe-" I wipe my tears away. 

It is then that I notice how Kade himself isn't shedding any tears. Which is more than a little unusual- he has always been extremely expressive. And, though he loathes to admit it, more than a bit of a crybaby. 

Finding doubt swirling in the pit of my stomach, I immediately quench it with the knowledge that Nia and the Priests have confirmed there is no darkness in Kade. 

One of my most trusted friends would never tell me anything but the truth, after all.

But still, I am unable to help myself from questioning the sudden lack of emotion.

"You're not alright." I say softly, lifting up a hand to gently cup Kade's face.

"I am, Blythe. Honestly..." Kade starts.

"You've always been a crybaby, Kade. Though you'd never admit it-"

"Blythe, I'm-"

"Whatever they did to you..." I lower my voice tactfully. "You can tell me. I can help you."

"I don't need your help." Kade's voice drops several octaves, going menacingly deep.

Before I can even begin to register the sudden change, I feel something rush past me- and hear the sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath. Just as I am releasing Kade from my grasp, he moves impossibly fast- and I feel an agonizing pain pierce through my abdomen.

Choking out a gasp, I look to my brother's emotionless face...before looking down at the source of the pain quickly overwhelming my body.

My own sword has been driven to the hilt into my stomach- and I can feel the blood seeping down my back. The blade which I have held for all these months...has struck straight through me.

Beyond the growing ringing in my ears, and the sudden difficulty with breathing, I hear the room dissolving into motion around us- and can hear Tyril calling my name as he and my companions rush towards me and...

Me and...

"You're...not...Kade." I choke out, hands coming to grip at my sword's hilt as he rises to his feet.

"I am. Well, this is Kade's body. He's still in here, somewhere." the husk of my brother speaks. "But I'm afraid he's trapped in his own mind. I've just...borrowed his body. For a little while.”

"How- the priests-" I find blood pooling in the back of my throat, and am unable to stop it from seeping out my lips...and dripping down my neck. 

"They didn't account for my arrival. I don't blame them, honestly. They did everything right. They just...weren't quite strong enough to detect me."

Realisation hits me just as hard as the blade piercing my stomach, slamming into me with enough force to send my mind reeling. I am overwhelmed at once with fear, and guilt- but above all else, anger at myself. 

I should have accounted for every possibility.

But...how could any of us have foreseen this? 

Nothing in any of the lore we'd scoured indicated he could enter our realm like this. Through a ruined onyx shard that was barely holding together as it was.

"You're..." I spit out more blood, gasping with the effort of simply lifting my head to look him in the eyes. "The...the Dreadlord."

#bolas #choices: bolas #choices bolas #blades #blades of light and shadow #choices: blades #choices: blades of light and shadow #choices blades #choices blades of light and shadow #bolas kade #bolas tyril #bolas imtura #bolas mal #bolas nia #tyril x mc #tyril the mage #choices tyril #tyril starfury #playchoices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #choices #choices: stories you play #personal #random #fanfiction #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #blades fanfic #blades fanfiction

[searchingwardrobes]

This Girl Ain’t Going Anywhere: 4/4

Here it is, the exciting (I hope!) conclusion! @katie-dub​, I can’t believe it took me almost a year to finish your gift. I really wanted this to incorporate things I know you love, strong female heroes topping that list. I hope you like it!

Summary: The Brothers Jones have built a reputation as the most feared pirates in all the realms. When they hear of the bounty on the heads of two princesses – The Princess of Fire and The Princess of Ice – they don’t hesitate to set sail on the Jolly Roger to hunt them down. But have the Brothers Jones finally met their match?

Rating: T

Also on Ao3

Words: 2,000 and some change in this chapter

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @kday426 @winterbaby89 @nikkiemms @teamhook @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @jennjenn615 @distant-rose​@scientificapricot @snidgetsafan @tiganasummertree @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @shireness-says @spartanguard @optomisticgirl​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @welllpthisishappening​ @wellhellotragic​ @superchocovian​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @courtorderedcake​

The land of the Quapah was typically still, the only sounds the wind whistling eerily. The people themselves were reserved and had a mysterious gentleness about their way of life. So when that quiet was broken by the clanging of steel and shouts, the Jones Brothers were on their feet and racing into the center of the village with swords drawn.

Killian had no idea what kind of warriors, if any, this ancient race possessed, but he shouldn’t have worried. The Quapah wielded swords of blue flame that met steel with a clang and a hiss. They moved with grace and ferocity, and combined their sword play with magic - lifting stones from the earth and hurling them at the enemy.

“Knights of Camelot,” Liam called out to his brother.

“I noticed,” Killian quipped, parrying a blow from one knight as he sent another sprawling with a kick to the stomach. “The red seal of the round table was a bit hard to miss.”

Killian’s blood ran cold as a broad, confident knight galloped into the fray atop a black steed. It was King Arthur himself. Stories of his obsession with the dark arts had become the thing of legend. His wife’s betrayal with the knight Lancelot had only sent Arthur falling further into madness. It wasn’t a foe Killian was keen on facing.

The Quapah hurled magic in Arthur’s direction, and it was a kind of magic Killian had never seen before. The earth trembled, sending rocks spraying in Arthur’s direction. A geyser of water followed after, hitting Arthur square in the chest and knocking him off his horse. The horse reared in terror, then galloped back down the mountainside. In the chaos, Killian saw Arthur race towards the path that led to the temple.

“Liam, the princesses!” he shouted as he took off after the King of Camelot. Liam followed at his heels.

Yet several of the knights of Camelot saw the brothers chasing their king, and soon Liam was battling three of them at once, leaving Killian to face Arthur alone. The king’s face blanched when he saw the hook at the end of Killian’s left arm, and the pirate smirked.

“Never faced a pirate before, your majesty?”

Arthur’s only response was a growl as he swung his sword. Killian met him stroke for stroke, but the king was forcing him up the hill ever closer to the temple that hid Emma and

Elsa. Killian had to draw Arthur away from there, so he spun and swiped at the man’s legs. Arthur anticipated the move, however, dodging to the right. The rocky, hilly terrain threw Killian off balance, and Arthur took advantage of it. Before Killian knew what was happening, he was tumbling down the hill, his cutlass flying from his hand. Well, at least I’m drawing him away from the princesses he thought dryly. His shoulder slammed against a large rock and he groaned as Arthur drew near, laughing. Killian turned his head to see his brother dispatching a knight, but two more were closing in on Liam.

“You shouldn’t bring a hook to a sword fight,” Arthur sneared, grasping the hilt of his sword with both hands.

“Well, I brought a sword,” Killian replied with sarcasm, “but I seem to have misplaced it.”

Arthur brought his boot down on Killian’s shoulder, which he had apparently injured in his tumble down the hill. Killian cried out in pain. Arthur’s sword was coming down on him, and he held his breath -

Suddenly, another sword met Arthur’s with the ring of metal hitting metal. Killian gasped to see Emma standing over him, her face contorted with rage. She had saved him! With a cry, Emma flung her other arm out, and as she did, her entire body became luminescent, her hair glowing like embers. A ball of fire hit Arthur and sent him sprawling backwards.

Killian looked up at her in awe, her name slipping from his lips like a prayer. She looked down at him, eyes ablaze and intense. Behind her, Killian could see more knights of Camelot descending on them both. Where was Liam? Emma flung both her arms out in front of her, dropping her sword. The earth beneath them shook, water spurted up, and the soil beneath Killian undulated like a wave, carrying him backward. Emma turned one palm up and flung her arm skyward. The geysers followed her movement, and Killian’s view of her was blocked by a wall of water.

“Killian!”

No voice had ever sounded sweeter, and Killian turned to see his brother being deposited by another wave of earth right next to him. He noticed Elsa on the other side of Liam, but then she flung her arms outward and ice flew from her fingertips. The wall of water instantly froze, and before Killian or Liam could process it, they were completely surrounded by walls of ice.

“No!” Liam shouted, scrambling to his feet and rushing forward. He pounded on the ice wall, yelling Elsa’s name.

“I don’t think that’s going to help,” Killian said, unable to keep the humor out of his voice.

Liam scowled at him. “Why would they do this?”

Killian arched a brow. “To keep us safe, it looks like.”

“But that’s . . . but we’re supposed to -”

“We’re supposed to save them?” Killian laughed. “Hate to break it to you, brother, but it looks like we’re the damsels in distress in this little drama.”

Liam scowled and kicked and pounded at the ice wall. He finally let out an irritated breath and turned on his brother, his hands on his hips. “They do realize we can freeze to death, right?”

As if the princesses could hear Liam Jones, a crackling fire suddenly sprang up in the center of the ice fortress. Killian threw his brother a lopsided grin before plopping down before the fire and rubbing his hands before the flames. He rolled his shoulder as warmth spread down his entire arm. Hm, Emma had even taken care of his injury.

“I don’t know about you, brother,” said Killian smugly, “but I thought Emma looked incredibly sexy saving my life.”

*******************************************************

There wasn’t much one ship could do when surrounded by multiple fleets. The Jolly

Roger had no choice but to fly the white flag of surrender.

Yet the attacking fleets had no interest in the codes of war. Anna’s knees buckled and Henry’s face turned white as the enemy ships prepared their canons. Kristoff hugged them both close, praying to every god he could think of as explosions rocked the air. They all braced for impact.

An impact that never came. When one pregnant moment faded into another, those aboard the Jolly finally, hesitantly lifted their heads. Smoke and embers float upon the air around them, as if the cannonballs were disintegrated before they found their mark.

“Look!” Henry cried, pointing.

Through the smoke, two figures seemed to hover above the ocean waves. Elsa seemed to skate across the water on a sheet of ice, wind spinning through the air around her. Walls of water poised to crash turned to ice in her wake, Emma rode along an updraft, fire at her fingertips, turning the sea water to vapor. Her hair writhed around her, her skin sparking, yet she was not consumed. Elsa’s eyes were of arctic ice - blinding, fiery, and piercing. She was a blizzard incarnate, roiling across the sea. Emma obliterated canon balls then absorbed the fiery explosions, the green of her eyes brighter and sparking like emeralds.

An inferno surrounded the enemy ships, Emma in the midst of them, luminous, incandescent, yet the vessels were not consumed. Elsa rose beside her upon a glacier rising slowly from the sea, hailstones raining down like diamonds. Each crystalized weapon disintegrated, however, on impact, the intent not to harm, but to warn. The ocean bit, chilled, blazed at the hands of the two princesses, pushing back the fleets until finally, each ship flew its own white flag of surrender.

Anna realized she was trembling against the railing, scarcely feeling Kristoff’s arms around her. She was numb, stiff, chilled to the bone. Was her sister now the monster everyone claimed?

“Look!” Henry cried. “They’re leaving! All of them!”

“Ann,” Kristoff whispered to her gently, “Anna, it’s over.”

She shook her head, pressing her face to his shoulder. He gently pulled her away, forcing her chin up to meet his eyes. He grinned broadly.

“They saved us without harming a single ship. A battle without a single casualty, Anna, it’s a miracle!”

She blinked and looked around in awe at the suddenly calm seas. Kristoff helped her to her feet and pulled her close. There, across the water, Elsa calmly walked towards them, snowflake shaped crystals of ice bearing her weight. Emma glided next to her, streams of fire pushing her against the waves. They approached the Jolly Roger with elegant ease, then clambered up the ladder to board. When the princesses’s feet hit the boards, Emma ran immediately to embrace her son, and Elsa stood before her sister, confident and with a peaceful smile upon her face. Anna blinked before words spilled from her lips in a rush.

“How did you do that? And you’re not freezing - I mean, of course you froze things, but you aren’t freezing, and . . . oh gods, how did you do that?”

Elsa laughed as she threw her arms around her sister. “We’ll explain it all soon, I promise.”

“Where are Killian and Liam?” Henry asked worriedly.

Emma bit her lip sheepishly. “Yeah, about that . . . “

Elsa laughed. “Liam will probably want to strangle me for literally putting him on ice like that.”

Emma gave a shrug and tilted her chin. “I think Killian thought I was sexy.”

*********************************************

Killian growled, yanking the tie from around his neck and tossing it to the ground. Liam chuckled and bent to retrieve it.

“Those things are designed for people with two hands,” Killian muttered. “I don’t see why I have to wear it anyway, Emma likes my chest hair to breath.”

“This is a royal wedding, little brother,” Liam countered, “I don’t know that chest hair needs to be on display.”

“It’s younger brother,” Killian corrected automatically, but he didn’t protest when LIam took over fixing his tie. It was a bit odd to be in their naval uniforms once again, albeit this time in the colors of Misthaven and Arendelle, respectively. Killian was proud of his new career, yet he would miss his brother. He arched a brow at Liam teasingly. “Do I call you Admiral Liam or King Liam?”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Technically, I’m Prince Consort Liam Jones. Queens under Arendelle law do not share sovereignty. You, on the other hand, little brother, will be king along with Emma when she takes the throne.”

Killian snorted. “I don’t think either of our lady loves need our help to lead their people.”

“No,” Liam agreed, voice laced with pride, “they surely do not.”

“Are you nervous?” Killian asked, feeling like a lad again.

“There, your tie is perfect,” Liam said, patting his brother on the shoulder, “thank the gods you’ll have a wife to do it for you after today.”

Killian was still getting used to doing things one handed, and normally it would rankle that he couldn’t handle a bloody tie. Yet having Emma at his side to help him through it all? Somehow that didn’t bother him quite so much.

“You dodged my question,” Killian pointed out.

“Am I nervous about standing up in front of two kingdoms to declare my vows? Yes. Am I nervous about declaring my vows to the woman I love? Emphatically no.”

Killian smiled in complete agreement with his brother. Watching the women they loved work so hard with the Quapah to balance their powers by calling on all the elements - earth, wind, water, and fire - and then fight for peace between all the realms had only made them fall deeper in love.

“They’re ready for you,” a voice called from the doorway.

The brothers shared a smile, scarcely able to believe how far they had come from their days of servitude. They followed the Arendelle castle steward into the great hall and took their places on either side of the priest. Killian’s heart thundered in his chest, his eyes intent on the large double doors at the end of the hall. Soon, a trumpet sounded, and the doors opened. His breath caught as he saw Emma in a long, filmy white gown, her golden curls tumbling down her back, and flowers in her hair. Elsa was there too, he knew, but he only had eyes for his own bride.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as the crown princess of Misthaven and the queen of Arendelle pledged themselves to their childhood sweethearts in a double ceremony. When LIam and Elsa were declared husband and wife, he lifted her off her feet when he kissed her, the queen throwing her arm around his neck in a very undignified manner.

His little brother, of course, had to outdo him. When the priest announced Killian and Emma husband and wife, he dipped his bride as they passionately kissed. The crowd laughed, hooted, and cheered with joy.

Later, the royals greeted their subjects who crowded outside of the Arendelle palace. They stepped out on the balcony, greeted by cheers and shouts. Instead of fireworks, Princess Emma sent sparks of fire racing across the sky in a rainbow of colors. Queen Elsa then sent giant multicolored snowflakes floating down upon the crowds. The people of Arendelle and those who had traveled from Misthaven celebrated into the wee hours of the morning.

The Queen of Ice, however, slipped away with her husband far earlier. They had their own beauty to create. The Princess of Fire also slipped away with her husband to create fireworks of their own. The Brothers Jones had, in fact, met their match, and they were entirely okay with that.

I've searched the world to find my heart is Yours

Oh, my heart is Yours

#cs ff #frozen jewel #enchanted forest au #lieutenent duckling #captain duckling #brothers jones #frozen swan brotp

[kat-hawke]

Qwor wgah za kaaxth

(Following [Open Doorways] These events run in tandem with [Darkened Woods, Darkened Vale], which provides Alyssa’s point of view.)

The assault on the Vale of Eternal Blossoms had heightened since her last visit. The Old God’s influence spread wider and likely deeper, the count of eyes and gaping maws had increased tenfold. Tendrils of various sizes twisted and restricted the landscape, armies of N’Zoth were now embedded across the landscape, torment camps and ritual sites peppered the Vale.

Lingering on the rocky overlook from the secret mountain pass Kat looked upon the land below as Pandaren, Horde, and Alliance forces all clashed with the twisted minions in the clearing between the Shrines. For now, neither side gained any ground, the Golden Pagoda appeared to be the choke point that the denizens of Azeroth couldn’t seem to pass.

‘Gul'kafh an'shel. Yoq'al shn ky ywaq nuul.’ The dark whisper clawed at her mind as she watched the horrors below.

Eyes squeezed shut with an groan of discomfort, fingers pinching the inner corners and rolling softly as if hoping to relieve a headache which did not exist. Whispers and illusions had grown stronger over the last couple weeks but Kat continued to ignore the warnings. Shaking her head with a heavy breath she slipped the dark leather hood over her head and began her descent along the mountain edge.

The pull of the void grew with each step she took, feeling as if the massive eyes protruding from the patches of dark flesh within the valley were staring right through her soul. For the first time since Kat had flung her into the wall Alyssa spoke up.

"This makes it harder to preserve the power you've put into the dagger."  

Kat could feel the subtle tugs of the woman within the dagger working to preserve both sanity and soul.

"I have faith in your strength." Spoken without sarcasm, in a hardly recognizable sincere tone as she leapt across a weathered crack in the narrow stone path.

It took a moment before Alyssa responded, having been caught off guard. “Thank you. Work quickly. I will hold off the worst of it.”

"Quickly is the idea, but we'll see.” Her gaze scanned the burial grounds as she came to a halt on a small outcrop, crouching low in hopes of remaining undetected. “There's a lot more here than before. I'd say stay put, but."

"I wouldn't listen if I was there in person."

Slowly Kat nodded beneath the hood, muttering a soft ‘exactly’ under her breath before continuing the descent. Shadows shifted with life as they were pulled over the Director’s figure like a cloak, keeping to the outskirts of the burial grounds all the same as she speculated the larger Faceless would see right through her magic.

Pausing for a moment she quickly scanned the area, spotting on the far end a set of three ancient pandaren souls which had been pulled into this realm by the two k’thir who worked to twist the center most soul. Dispatching them wouldn’t be a problem, but the increased number of beheaders and faceless since the last excursion were a problem. 

Eyes narrowed as she pieced together a plan to move, her thoughts interrupted by a whisper that dragged across the mind like nails on a chalkboard.

‘Nothing you do is beyond my sight.’

Immediately Kat snapped her gaze to the left, finding the source of the insidious whisper. A single orange eye floating in the air, staring the director down, seeing straight through her shadowy stealth.

“Shit.”

With the single curse uttered she let a knife fly, the blade finding its mark in the center of the eye. With a piercing shrill the orb shriveled inward on itself until evaporating in a cloud of red and black smoke. The sound of its demise altering the forces around. Black beady eyes and helmet covered visages all turning to the Director’s position.

A tone of annoyance hung on her breath as the cloak of shadows was cast aside. Gloved fingers collecting the mechanical hilts from either hip. Thumbs flicked against the switches at the top of each, snapped the wrists to spin the hilts over as they unfolded for a second before fingers pulled them whole again. The blade within springing from the hidden position to unfold to the full extent with a click.

The first enemy charged; one of the human beheaders, the sword scrapping along the stones as it gained speed. Closing it raised the weapon overhead, bringing the sword down where the Director stood. A skillful pivot on one leg evaded the attack, using the momentum to dart forward in a low stance and drag her own blade across the beheader’s knee. Metal scrapped against metal as the attack proved ineffective. 

Her opponent swung a second time, bringing the sword around in one hand as it turned to face her. The opportunity to strike was slim but Kat took it, lifting one of her own swords to catch the attack. The folding blades couldn’t withstand a direct parry against the larger blade and Kat knew it, angling her’s so the barbed guard of the blade would catch.

As the weapons sung in their collision she capitalized on the kinetic energy, forcing the beheader’s arm up and over as she ducked beneath. The second sword lunging upward where the plate armor ceased to exist under the arm. Dark, almost black blood spewed from the wound as the blade receded from it’s strike, the Director stepping away in the half spin and shoving the opponent away. The larger form crashed to the ground with a heavy thump, starting to push itself up no sooner than it had hit the stones.

Both swords were held in one hand as fingers swept over the azerite stone that hung around the neck, drawing the stored energy into the palm, the euphoric sensation coursing through the Director’s very core. Fingers curled inward as the arm reached outward towards the struggling foe, the blast of fire singeing the glove as it snuffed out the twisted minion.

With a cant of the head her attention turned to the next set of approaching challengers, tossing the sword back to the hand before moving in. Sounds of blades colliding filled the air, magical discharge after discharge scared the surrounding landscape and armor of herself and foe alike. 

After several long moments she stood victorious over the half dozen bodies, panting heavily as she scanned the area for any further threats but none were to be found.

‘For every one you cut down a dozen more will take their place.’

The booming voice caught her off guard, causing her to stagger where she stood, boots shuffling on the stone to maintain her balance. Eyes shutting for a moment as the nose wrinkled up, ignoring the voice despite the urge to respond. Slowly her gaze lifted to the obsidian well the followers had constructed. A red hue radiated from within as a large stone tablet hovered in the air above, flanked by shattered pieces of tables on either side.

There was something beckoning Kat towards the well, tugging invisible strings she couldn’t help but follow. One foot in front of the other she moved closer, incoherent whispers flicking against the hears with each step she took. The brief moment of respite from fighting let her guard drop, distracted by the urge to investigate the potential power stored within the well.

The moment of mental fixation came to an abrupt end as the massive arm of a faceless dominator crashed into her side, sending the Director’s tumbling across the stones, swords knocked from her hands and sliding to either side. Dazed and disoriented Kat tried rushing to her feet, head still spinning from the blow as she staggered to a stand. Seeing double of the foe that rushed she tried to discharge another blast of azerite, choosing the wrong target from the two and missing completely.

Wasting the small window of opportunity the faceless came crashing down upon her. The three “fingers” of the largest hand wrapping firmly around her head, the leather hood doing little in the way of protection as it was torn from the armor. Like a vice the tentacles constricted around the skull and upper body, screams of pain muffled against the dark flesh. The monstrous creature flaying her mind within it’s grasp, speaking in the guttural tongue.

‘Sk'shuul agth vorzz N'Zoth naggwa'fssh.’

Writhing within the creatures grasp she choked and struggled for air, the challenge greater as her mind was assaulted. Memories pulled apart and reconstructed in horrific visions. One hand anxiously patted around the belt, searching for another blade, anything to try and free herself with.

A screech one could only associate with anger came from the faceless being as it slammed the Director into the ground within it’s hold. The resulting shock wave knocking the air from her lungs and clouding the mind. The overwhelming sensation of the void pouring into her thoughts tore through her very core, the body naturally rejecting the invasion.

‘Gul'kafh an'qov N'Zoth.’

Reality shattered as Kat’s vision was flooded with a vision of the Sleeping City. Dark obsidian and red hues twisted into view, wicked temples and obelisks stretching as far as the eye could see. Devotees and acolytes moving through the chiseled streets. Massive maws opened from the rivers of blood, countless minions of the Old God pouring from the open hole.

‘KYTH ag'xig yyg'far IIQAATH ONGG!’

Sanity began to crumble as her physical form curled up in the pain. Screams were drowned out by the creatures hold as the vision within continued to twist and grow. Sinister eyes now focusing on her within the mental space, the feeling of loss becoming overwhelming with each passing second. Fear set in as hopelessness washed over the breaking psyche.

A desperate plea was made, one final act before accepting the end. The azerite crystal on her neck was nearly depleted, unsure if enough energy remained to break the strong grasp of the faceless. Drawing upon what little she could find without physically reaching the vision slowed, buying precious seconds of clarity that couldn’t go to waste.

Without hesitation one hand reached across the waist to the dagger sheathed on the thigh. Breaking it free with a swift tug and sinking it into the pulsating arm of the faceless beast. It was a high risk move that put Alyssa directly in harm’s way, a risk she was willing to take if it meant survival.

Another round of ear piercing shrills emanated from the dominator as it dropped the Director against the solid ground and stumbled backwards. The other arm of the creature was nothing more than a single tendril which proved unable to grasp the dagger for removal, not that it could anyway.

Sucking in a deep breath as she clenched the leather at her chest Kat laid on the stone and shifted her gaze to the dagger. It’s glow growing brighter as it siphoned the life force from the faceless, a fleeting moment of panic for the warlock within crossed the Director’s mind as she watched the creature crash to the ground in a shriveled and colorless husk.

Pushing herself to her feet as she panted Kat stumbled her way towards the fallen creature, sounds of footsteps behind her prompting her attention to shift over the shoulder. A sigh of defeat rolled over the lips as she spotted another group of beheaders making their way down from the upper level of the burial ground.

As quickly as her feet would allow Kat scrambled for the soul-bound weapon, tugging it free from the withered flesh of the faceless and attempting to draw power from the blade itself. She was met with resistance as the warlock within refused to let her have the dark energy which had been siphoned.

"No.  You're out of balance, you can't have this." Alyssa’s voice quickly called out.

Spinning around the face approaching foes Kat growled beneath her breath, panic gracing her tone. "Fucks sake, now is not the time to be greedy!"

"It's not greed, this thing is pure void and insanity, you can't have this in your current state."

Beheaders were only a few steps away, the Director shouting aloud and within their telepathic connection as her eyes widened in alarm. "Alyssa!"

Whatever the warlock had said in response was lost as Kat focused solely on the power that was relinquished to her. Greedily she absorbed everything, forcing every once of energy back across the blade as it swept across the air. Each foot moved to carry the motion to completion, the amount of power that arced across the arm seared pain that reached her core, a deafening scream was let out but did little to ease the pain.

A wave of dark matter cut through the air where the dagger trailed, rushing forward in a large sweeping arc. The volatile strike cleaved the beheaders in half at the waist, moving through the foes until it reached the torment cells beyond. Unfortunately for the innocent pandaren hostages within, the cells gave way to the blast, resulting in the prisoners also sheared in two.

Weak and drained Kat collapsed to the ground again, catching herself on the hands and knees as the dagger clattered to the ground beside her. Vision blurred as she fought to catch her breath, bile lurching upward and spewing on the stones as she coughed. The left arm was completely numb, remnants of the void burns smoldering on the destroyed leather.

Heaving a few more breaths she looked to the dagger beside her, the pale glow of the soul within was much dimmer now than it had ever been before. “No...” Was all she could manage to get out, just barely above a whisper as a shaking hand reached for the hilt of the blade.

Sitting back on her haunches she pulled the dagger into her lap, staring with worry to the faint glow of the engravings. Swallowing hard between her heavy breaths she reluctantly asks, “Alyssa?”

"Here," Alyssa replies almost immediately, though a bit exhausted. "Over?"

Kat’s head rolled back with a weak smile as a faint feeling of relief washed away the previously held concern. “Yeah, let’s just get what we came for.”

"Thank goodness," some clear relief in her tone as well. "That got bad.  I could use a top up if you find anything uncorrupted to stab."

"Doubtful.” Kat’s gaze shifted to the cleaved Pandaren on the other side of the field. “Just make do."

Pushing herself to stand as Alyssa responded with a simple ‘I'm good at that.’ Kat took a moment to regain her bearings, moving slowly at first as her body raced to catch up in its current condition. Collecting the swords she had lost in the scuffle they were folded inward and the hilts were returned to the clips on the belt.

Attention turned then to the ancient pandaren souls she had come for, making her way to the disturbed graves were the golden incorporeal forms hung in the air over head. Drawing the Gilnean dagger again she sunk it into the heart of a soul, watching with hunger as it was drained.

[ @alyssa-ward​ ] [ Slight relevance: @simplysoriya​ ]

(Chapter I: Dark Secrets) ( [pt.I] [pt.II] [pt.III] [pt.IV] [pt.V] [pt.VI] )

#ic #plotlines #Descent #pt.VII

[pilot-boi]

Fall For Me: Chapter Two

The Fall

Heroic sacrifice looks good on paper. In practice, it’s much trickier to achieve.

AO3 LINK

“Head’s up!”

Nora landed smoothly, flipping the trigger on her hammer a few moments before her boots hit the crumbling stone. She caught her weight on her hands and continued the count, as Ren dropped down next to her. A few long heartbeats later, the crystal blew out and they matched stares as the aftershock washed down. 

She gritted her teeth at the extra flickers of chill memory that danced under her thoughts, in reply to the shock of it, and she focused on Ren’s reassuringly steady face. Then the pressure released again, back to the almost familiar background horribleness, and she relaxed a bit. Ren nudged her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Always,” Nora nodded, a little more shakily than she would normally have done, and grinned. “Thanks, Renny.”

He held out a hand and she grasped it gratefully. They pulled each other back upright, and Nora glanced up at the stark shape of their now-empty second pillar. To give Weiss the credit, nothing like glyphs for a little boost when push came to shove. Even when the sickening corrupted feeling of this place was playing havoc with their Semblances and Aura.

Another crack of discharging Dust broke across the plain as she turned back, to where the third figure of their squad had set up a position behind a chunk of jutting rock. She was knelt down behind it, sword stabbed deep into the cracking stone with a snow white summoning glyph spinning around her.

Little wisps of plasma rose from the giant ethereal form of the knight, and there were smears of half evaporated darkness fading away from it’s sword. Weiss wasn’t even looking up at it though, her gaze fixed firmly on the battle raging above them. And the Grimm were getting very close.

The too-angular houndlike form of a Beowulf howled into existence a few feet away from Weiss’s distracted form. Growling furiously, its pitch black fur bristling as it lunged-

And it was hit in the face almost immediately by a bright pink shape. The creature and grenade broke apart in a scream, a shower of blackened steam a few bits of falling bone. Nora gave a whoop of triumph, punching the air, as her other arm sun Magnhild back into a hammer.

“Oh yeah, take that!” She caught Ren’s gaze again, and grinned a little sheepishly. “Taking the wins we can get today.”

“I can tell,” Ren said, smiling about as calmly as could be expected. Weiss drew her rapier from the stone and the knight dissipated, even as the heiress loaded her last round of Dust bullets into the hilt.

Nora started to reply, desperate to have some of that familiar reparte in this terrible situation, but her words died on her tongue as the roar came again. She swivelled, looping up towards the distant gleam of blazing eyes that were suddenly visible against the permanently red dusk of the sky.

Icy horror poured down her neck. They weren't finished yet?! She’d been keeping track of the other explosions, and they were only halfway done.

“Oh no,” she murmured and glanced around quickly, scanning the rest of the plain for the other towers. For their other friends. Yang and Blake, Jaune and Oscar, and Ren, Weiss, and herself. 

Ruby was understandably occupied.

Ren and her assigned pillars had been fairly close together. Between the combination of Weiss’s summons, her own grenades, and the occasional lime bright shot from Ren’s pistols, they’d managed to keep the massing Grimm at bay rather effectively.

It helped that the monsters seemed to be confused by the multiple sources of detonation. They flocked this way and that as different towers went off. This, she knew, had been the plan. Cause so many sources of danger for the Grimm that they didn’t know where to go. At least it was going well so far.

There was certainly less appearing just behind them going on than they’d managed before. And she could swear she had seen at least one overshoot in its charge and vanish struggling into the tar pits whence it came.

Which meant that their most defensible place was backed up against the primordial ooze itself. Which was just great, naturally, but it was technically better than nothing when they were dashing between pillars.

But the next nearest pillar was back towards where the dragon was coming in from.

“Of course it is,” Nora muttered to herself, then stopped. Weiss gave a snarl behind her and spun the chamber of her rapier, unleashing another round of fire. But that wasn’t what was suddenly hammering for focus at the edge of Nora’s attention.

She squinted in through the haze of the air here. Something else was happening, just in front of the returning behemoth.

The scene resolved, with a suddenness of realisation that wrenched down through her in horrible succession as her insides lurched violently. She couldn’t see the grapple wire, too thin at this distance, but there was definitely a distant figure hanging partway between the next pillar and its canyon edges.

And nothing else here was white. Not that pearly white that she’d recognize even with her eyes closed. Dread bloomed, even ahead of the sickening surges of old darkness prompted by the ongoing roar, and Nora’s breath came up short.

“Jaune!”

She was running before she even realised she had started to move. Followed first by the surprised cry of her partner and from their friend, then the thuds of footfall as they came after her. She heard Weiss swear, heard the crack of gunfire going off somewhere behind her, and the squawking otherworldly screech of a Nevermore.

But they were running right on the edge of the central area now, and she could feel the wrongness to the air here, even beyond everything else wrong of this place.

The ground shuddered underfoot more than it should, and a few times she had to jump over narrow chasms that plunged into bubbling nothingness. Or worse, in some cases, when there was a glimmer of Grimm-eyed brightness beneath, right at the bottom edge of her vision.

But she wasn’t going to look down, wasn’t going to look away from that distant point of incorrectly pure white. So when the dragon burst out of the horizon, all wings and smoke and the horrible violet brilliance of a gaze like an alternate spectrum hell, she was looking right at it.

The too thin breath congealed in her throat, clamping her chest down on itself and she stumbled as she saw the creature sweep forward. Saw a beam of twisting light spear into it as it passed over the pillar. Saw the huge tail slice where Jaune’s line must be without even a pause. And she couldn’t even manage a cry as the suspended figure began to fall.

No. No, not here. Not like this-

And he stopped. He swung to slam hard into the side of the pillar, but he stopped. Hands grabbed Nora’s shoulders, pulled her back. She barely had time to realise how close the edge of one of the smaller chasms she had been, as Ren’s voice blurred around her and her own heartbeat hammered deafeningly in her ears.

The grapple was still attached. At one end. It was still attached.

Gods preserve her.

She straightened up, gripping Ren’s arm tightly in reply or reassurance, she wasn’t sure which, and they started running again. Towards where Weiss had veered away from their initial direction, skirting the edge of that pillar’s splintered canyon. She had headed for where Oscar’s distinct figure was now surrounded by a closing knot of Grimm.

Reactionary brilliant shooting stars from Weiss’s rapier tore holes the staff hadn’t managed to reach yet. And by the time the pair of them caught up, the rest of the attackers had been dispatched.

Oscar nodded to them grimly. The boy was pale under his freckles, bleeding in a few places as his Aura struggled to battle the oil slick magic of this place. 

“Going about as well as ever,” he said, but there was strain under his voice. “Any one of you got a way to get him down?”

“I’ll fly up,” Weiss replied firmly, twirling her rapier, preparing to cast the glyphs necessary to complete the feat. Nora didn’t miss the way the heiress’s hands were shaking though, as she glanced up at where Jaune was pulling himself awkwardly back up onto the pillar top. “I can do this, just need a minute to concentrate. I think I know-”

“Look,” Ren cut in. “Your Aura is drained, and there is no guarantee that the connection will even last long enough to-”

His interruption failed as the crystal flared again, hurling a second brilliant ray out to where the dragon had spiralled upwards over the middle of the maelstrom sky.  It was snapping and twisting at the red figure that was slicing desperately at it. 

Closer to it not, Nora could hear the beam. It made a tearing glass screech that set her teeth on edge, and she winced as she ineffectively tried to shield her ears, and squinted up at the crystal.

She wasn’t sure exactly what the beams did. Heal the monster that used to be Salem or something, Jaune had suggested. But getting rid of them was a good idea even just to stop that noise.

Jaune was standing up now, backlit against the shivering light, and… What the hell was he…?

“Nora,” Osacr’s voice was tight as he followed her stare, to where the distant figure had adopted a braced stance, reaching towards the sword still strapped to his side after everything. “Nora, oh this is bad-!”

#rwby #nora valkyrie #lie ren #weiss schnee #oscar pine #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #mine #my writing #fall for me #chapter 2

[antman-56]

The Long Night Pt. 16

Team BLAD and STRQ were now in their corners, waiting for the doors to open.

***Red Corner

Summer (covering her face and mumbling fast) : Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygodsohmygods . . .

Raven (smirking) : I think the words you are looking for are ‘thank you’.

Summer (screeching) : NO I DON”T!!!!

Raven : Look it’s just for today and this is revenge for lying to me about the broken comb still being in my hair.

Summer : I SAID I WAS SORRY!!! I . . .

Raven : Doesn't matter anymore. So are we going Rosebird or Flown North?

Summer (calming down) : Rosebird. I’m going to need you in case something happens.

Raven : Wardrobe malfunction?

Summer looked away and tensed up from her answer.

Raven : Alright, boys your on your own and here (she tossed them a small box). We are going to split up and if we get in trouble we’ll go to you and if get in trouble just make a signal.

She looked at Tai at the last part. He in turn smiled and winked at her.

Now it’s show time.

The girls went left and the guys went right.

***The Safe Zone***

Team BLAD ran to the middle, ready to meet their opponents only to find no one. 

Ben (internally) : Where are they?

Lenny : Doesn’t matter, Alvin scream! 

Alvin took a deep breath and let out a high scream.

They looked at the Main Scream to see if anything changed. Nothing.

Ben (internally) : Damian guard Alvin. Me and Lenny will go and find them.

_LAD shook their heads sideways.

Ben (internally) : If we go together they will run hit and run tactics against us. If we separate it the other way around. From what Jaden said, he thinks Qrow’s semblance involves luck, Taiyang’s semblance is turning damage into fire, Raven’s semblance involves teleportation, and Summer’s semblance is still a mystery. We’re at a disadvantage. We might as well split up to cover more ground and now that I think about it Alvin with me, Lenny, Damien go. Scream in your mind for help. I’ll keep everybody updated. Now lets move.

***Cave Biome***

The girls were just now used to the lack of light and the lack of hearing.

They anticipated that if they couldn’t find them right away then they would have Alvin scream. The earplugs that they got work like a charm.

Right now both girls were ‘chatting’

Summer (mouthing) : I hate you.

Raven (mouthing and smiling) : You love me and you know it.

Summer (pouting and looking down) : I don’t like it.

The outfit she was wearing was tight in some places she didn’t like to be tight and they showed off the things she wanted to hide.

She turned her head away not wanting to look at Raven.

Raven finally stopped tormenting the girl and considered what she was feeling.

Raven walked over to Summer and taps her shoulder.

Raven (sincere) : I’m sorry okay. I . . . I just wanted to help.

Summer (confused) : Help? How? 

They see a light.

Both girls looked at one another and knew what to do. The answer will come later.

***Foggy Castle Biome***

The boys found a castle and some chalk in one of the barrels. Right now the both of them were in one of the towers the castle had.

Tai (writing) : Soooooo?

Qrow (writing) : So?

Both men looked uncomfortable on how to start the ‘conversation’.

That was when Tai took his earplugs off and Qrow followed.

Tai : We need to address the elephant in the room!

Qrow : No, we don’t.

Tai : It was obvious!

Qrow : Shut up.

Tai : I saw you! And so did Summer!

Qrow : I will throw you out the window!!

Tai (smirking) : Look it’s perfectly natural to check out a girl, but to make it that obvious.

Qrow (smirking) : How about I tell Raven what YOU were looking at?

Tai put his hands up to mockingly surrender.

Tai : Okay I’ll stop with the teasing, but Summer didn’t seem to mind you looking at her. And that is all I am saying for now. Okay.

Qrow (flustered) : Shut up.

The front gates were heard opening. Both of them put their earplugs back on and took to the shadows.

Damien and Lenny were walking carefully into the courtyard, afraid of setting off traps and watching for an ambush.

Like Tai and Qrow  both Damien and Lenny had earplugs on.

Everyone was at disadvantage. An ideal huntsmen relies on all his senses to destroy the creatures of Grimm, so to have one of them taken away would be a problem.

Lenny and Damien were now in the middle of the court yard.

Lenny turned his head to see Damien being shot.

Lenny (internal) : Contact! Contact! 

Lenny was able to block a punch with the blade of his sword.

The force of the punch knocked him on his back. Lenny looked up to see Tai’s about to kick his teeth in. Lenny dodged and was drawn out his sword. He went to meet Tai’s next punch with his blade. 

Both men looked each other in the eyes and a silent agreement was made. No touching of the hair and face.

***Cave Biome***

Alvin (internally) : That girl . . . good bust, nice ass, those curves, cute face, and those eyes . . .

Ben : Dude jack off later. Focus now.

Ben put his hand up to stop Alvin and to get him ready for another scream. The echo in the cave would add another amplifier to his semblance.

Ben : Lenny and Damien are fighting and  . . . they . . . need . . .our dude what are you doing.

 Alvin (internally) : That . . . voice

Alvin was hearing a siren call out to him. The singing was beautiful and like a moth to a light he followed it. The weakness to his semblance was that his ears become more interested with a soprano singers.

Ben quickly took off his earplugs and was taken aback by how good the singing was, but ignored it and went to drag Alvin back into hiding.

***FLASH***

Both boys went to cover their eyes and scream.

Ben screaming for Alvin to stay near him and Alvin saying “What”.

It wasn’t till Ben felt a boot to his gut that sent him into a different ravine. When he final came to he found that he was alone and the siren song was still playing but now it was playing og every direction instead of one. He twisted the hilt of his zhanamadao and let the short katana guard him. He activated his semblance to get an idea of the situation.

Ben (internally) : Alvin, where are you? Lenny whats your status? Damien?

Ben was panicking no one was answering and he was alone in the dark with someone.

All of a sudden a green light appeared.

***The Castle BIome***

This sucks.

Those were the two words that every combatant here had. They lost ,in their mind, the most important sense to a huntsmen and have made it into a liability.

Lenny’s Aura was at 30% and Tai’s was at 25%.

Lenny was able to use his semblance Counter on Tai after his third try.  Both of them desperately trying to gain an advantage over the other.

For Lenny it was keeping Tai at a distance and whipping him with his blade. For Tai it was to get close to Lenny and give him no reaction time.

Both men were fighting in the courtyard while another pair of fighters were on the highest tower of the castle.

It started with the both of them next to their partners and then changed when Damien threw Qrow into the tower they were now fighting on top of.

Qrow and Damien’s fight was in some sense a beautiful dance. They seemed to switch positions of offense and defense perfectly.

Qrow activated his Sythe and was dancing around Damien. Striking him with grace whenever he was open and dodging whenever he tried to attack.

Damien activated his semblance Harden, it makes his skin harder than diamond at the cost of mobility. It helped lessen Qrow’s attacks by dropping his Aura by 1% or by nothing at all.

Damien (internal) : Ben we need help. Southwest of the safe zone big castle. Lenny is almost out of Aura. This guy is fast and I’m getting tired.

Silence.

Damien realized he needed to take charge of his situation and fast. He pushed Qrow’s last attack away and cocked his gauntlets and slammed them to the ground. The drills retracted themselves back into their respected compartment of the gloves. Leaving him with metal hands.

Qrow went for a strike, just for Damien to catch his Sythe, rip it away from his hands and throw it off the tower.

Damien (cracking his knuckles) : Now lets have some fun!

***Cave Biome***

Alvin finally got back on his feet and found that he was in an area that resembled a dust mine; lights, carts, railings, dust crystals, and support beams. He continued to hear his favorite voice to a higher degree and was able to pinpoint where it was coming from.

He entered a main chamber of the cave and saw dust crystals everywhere and in the middle the source of the beautiful singing.

Summer stood their singing her heart out. Her eyes closed and focusing on making her voice not crack.

Alvin continued to walk towards her. The dust around them lighting up and adding more beauty to the scene around them. Alvin seemed to focus on Summer’s face and started to admire her features.

It wasn’t till he was in arms distance that Summer opened her eyes and that seemed to stop him. He raised his left hand to try and met her check only to feel something sharp hit his head.

Alvin’s Aura dropped to 54% as he fell to the floor. Summer in turn started to run away from him all the while dropping another flashbang. When Alvin recovered he from the initial hit he chased her. Not a few moments after his chase he was again engulfed by a flash.

When Summer was out of the dust mine she activated her trap.

***Higher up in the cave biome***

Ben was hiding from the lights. The first time he saw them he rushed it thinking it was an enemy instead what met him was a sudden flash of the blade’s color and then a kick, punch or slash came after. 

His Aura was now at 45% and he just saw another one being placed. He was in a dark corner  and could see 5 colored blades in front of him and maybe a couple behind. If he was fast enough then he could-

**BOOOOOOOOM**

The cave began to shake violently and seemed to be collapsing. He saw some of the stalactite fall from the ceiling and he ran for it. He closed his eyes and tried to retrace his steps.

Raven on the other hand made a portal to Summer, grabbed her immediately and made a portal to Tai.

Ben found an exit and was running for his life. He could see it, he dropped his weapon thinking it would make him faster. When he was near the exit he jumped for it and made it just in time.

The cave shut behind him. He turned onto his back and started breathing heavily. His legs felt like jello and the artificial wind felt good. He went to rest his eyes not knowing that Alvin was eliminated and that his enemies escaped unharmed.

***Castle Biome***

 Qrow was not doing too good.

It was a one sided fight and Qrow was out of his league. Qrow was an adequate fighter in hand to hand combat, but Damien was on Tai’s level. Qrow’s Aura was at 32% and Damien’s was at 87%.

Whatever Qrow threw at Damien he either blocked or countered it.

Qrow went for a kick to the torso, but Damien caught it effortlessly and elbowed his leg. He tossed Qrow’s leg away making him lose his balance and rushed him with his shoulder to make him fall to the floor. Damien decided that he would get revenge for Blif and Chip and had an idea that would make them both happy.  Step one involved grabbing Qrow’s leg. He found that Qrow still had some fight in him, holding onto whatever he could or trying to kick Damien’s hand. Damien began kicking him back to cease the struggling and began walking towards the edge.

Tai on the other  was having an easier time with Lenny. He was able to predict all of Lenny’s attacks. In the end, he decided to use his semblance and end the fight with Lenny. 

“LENNY McCORMICK ELIMINATED”

Tai let out a held breath when he felt a hand on his shoulder. On instinct he went to punch where it lead only to stop when he saw the love of his life flinch. She reached for his earplugs.

Raven : I’ll let you have that one because you can’t hear. Where’s Qrow.

Tai : He’s up . . .

Tai stopped what he was sawing and looked in horror. Raven and Summer soon followed his gaze and followed his example. Their they saw Qrow being dangled above the tower from his leg.

Tai ran full speed towards the tower to try and catch him. Raven made portal to try and stop him from falling. Summer stayed in place, mouth open and just couldn’t stop looking at him.

Damien let go of Qrow’s leg and Summer screamed. Tai was too far away from the tower to catch him on time and Raven made a portal to the roof where she was now kicked Damien off to follow her baby brother.

“QROW BRANWEN ELIMINATED”

“DAMIEN STEEL ELIMINATED”

Both combatants were out for the count and were lying on the floor Aura broken and both in serious pain. Not life threatening but painful none the less. 

Summer, Tai, and Raven looked in shock for a moment then realized that they were in a simulation. None of this was real and they would be fine.

Raven started to chuckle then laugh, then Tai, and Summer covered her eyes in embarrassment for screaming.

Raven : I can’t believe we thought Qrow was gonna ...  

She continued to laugh and Tai followed her example. 

Summer : Guys we need to focus on where Ben is. He is the only one left and he could be coming at us any moment. And we need to ... stop laughing he could have died.

Raven : No he wouldn’t ... have .. you screamed and Tai’s face was just ...

Raven continued to laugh. Then she stopped slowly, a sharp small pain started growing in her head. She wasn’t the only one. Tai and Summer felt the same thing and it was slowly getting worse.

Summer fell to her knees and clutched her head. Raven fell to the floor and closed here eyes hoping it would lessen the pain. Tai just activated his semblance on full blast and started screaming for it to stop.

Summer felt something come out of her ears. When she put one of her hands to her face she saw blood and soon felt something go out of her nose and eyes.

Tai and Raven were experiencing the same horror and the peanut gallery was in  full panic.

Students were told to evacuate the building, Scarlet was shouting at the emergency phone to bring in medical teams and telling students to leave.

The world started to go black and soon their eyes started to get heavy. The last thing they heard before they subcombed was from the announcement machine. 

**MATCH TERMINATED**

#rwby au #rwby #Summer Rose #qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #raven branwen #long night part 16

[hayleysstark]

Secret

Words: 2008 Warnings: Swearing Summary: "So," Arthur says, "are you powerful, then?" "Um," Merlin says. "I can hold my own." Arthur snorts. The day Merlin can hold his own, he'll eat his sword. // AU. Post-S4, post-reveal. 

Notes: I had far, far too much fun with this one. Seriously, if you stayed this long, you deserve a medal or something. This was just a heap of shameless self-indulgence, and I'm sorry. Sort of prequel to my other post-reveal fic, Hug. 

Read on Fanfiction or AO3

"So," Arthur says, after a week of fighting, of shaking fists and slamming doors and accusations and betrayals bleeding through all the walls that separated them, and then another week of silence, inflexible and awful and every-kind-of-miserable-there-is silence, and then a third week of I'm sorry and so am I and I didn't want to lie and I know and are you going to banish me and no, that's a bit farther down the schedule, I was thinking I'd lift the ban on magic first, "are you powerful, then?"

"Um," Merlin says. He fidgets with the edge of his frayed sleeve. "I—I can hold my own."

Arthur snorts. Hold his own? Right. The day Merlin can hold his own against anyone, or anything, even with his magic, Arthur will eat his sword and top it off with his shield. Gods help them if Merlin ever has to hold his own.

"Right," he says, dismissively, "so, you're still completely useless."

Merlin doesn't even try to argue—maybe he's too happy Arthur's talking to him again to put up a fight, or maybe he just knows better than to think Arthur would believe him, because he shuts his mouth, and he smiles, and says, "And you're still completely a prat."

Arthur throws an empty wine goblet at him.

"So," Elyan says, through chattering teeth, three weeks after that, after Merlin's completely idiotic insistence that he can hold his own, while they're out on a routine patrol and the weather's turned against them, and now it's started to rain, and everyone's cold and exhausted and soaked to the skin, and Arthur can barely see, "you think you can get us a fire going in all this, Merlin?"

Arthur snorts. "Don't be ridiculous, Elyan. Even magic can't—"

The rain stops.

No, the rain actually stops. Right there. In midair. A thousand crystal-clear droplets hang suspended, for several moments, in front of Arthur's eyes, and then the clouds clear up and the sun comes out and the thousand crystal-clear droplets just—just vanish, just evaporate, just disappear into nothing, and Arthur is left wide-eyed and open-mouthed and slack-jawed, and did Merlin actually just control the weather?

"I don't think," Merlin says, like he just—just picked up a sword, or went up a staircase, or—or something equally unremarkable and ordinary as that, not like he controlled the weather, not like he sent rain spiraling off to gods know where, and he doesn't even—he doesn't even sound out of breath, or anything, "a fire would be a whole lot of use to us in rain like that, Elyan."

"Merlin," Gwaine says, "holy fuck."

Percival nods fervently.

"What?" Merlin says, and looks at the knights, one by one by one, from Leon to Percival to Gwaine to Elyan to Arthur, and a pink flush dusts his cheeks. "What?" he repeats, a touch of real impatience to his voice now.

"You told me," Arthur says, and he can't completely keep the note of betrayal from his voice, "you told me you weren't powerful."

"Um." Merlin fidgets with the edge of his fraying sleeve again. "Surprise?"

"So," Leon says, "I don't believe I ever actually got to thank you for saving my life."

The druid elder, who has introduced himself to them as Iseldir, relaxes his wrinkled face into a wide, warm smile, and shakes his head. Chin-length grey hair drags down his badly-shaven cheek with the motion. "No need for thanks, Sir Knight," he says simply. "We will always help those in need of it."

Arthur steps up. "I know we're a large party," he says, hesitantly—these are people he has hunted and killed in his youth, and there is no word for the impertinence he is about to display, but it's the best chance they've got, "but if we could wait out the night with you—we've lost our horses, and we've lost the trail of the cockatrice out there—"

"Of course," Iseldir waves a hand in welcome, gesturing to the stretch of simple tents and fires at his back, "please, join us. It will be an honor to house Emrys and his companions."

"Em—?" Arthur's tongue catches on the strange sound, the foreign name, and it sits, unfamiliar, and coldness in its unfamiliarity, in his mouth. "Emrys?"

Leon coughs. "Um. His—his name is Arthur. Actually."

"You know what," Merlin says, very loudly, "I think we should take our chances with the cockatrice!"

"You—!" Arthur, boots squelching in the mud as he paces, back and forth, from tree to druid tent to other tree to other druid tent, rakes his fingers through his hair again, for what's got to be the millionth time since Iseldir got down on his knees and bowed to Merlin and called him my lord. "You—!" He turns, on his heel, to jab an accusing finger into Merlin's chest. "You are king," that's not a word he ever imagined he'd apply to Merlin, not once, not ever, but it's the right one, he knows it's the right one—the reverence and respect on the druids' faces is evidence enough of that, "you are king of the druids! The druids! And you didn't tell me?!"

"Um," Merlin says, "king is a—a very, very strong word—"

"Merlin, they were bowing," Elyan reminds him.

Merlin reddens. "I hate it when they do that," he mutters.

"King!" Arthur shouts it again, because now that it's in his head, Merlin with a crown and a cloak and a throne and a castle won't leave him alone. "King! And you didn't tell me!"

"I am not," Merlin says, firmly, "a king."

"Don't worry, Princess," Gwaine pipes up, "Camelot is safe from the neighboring ruler."

Percival sniggers.

"Gwaine," Merlin says seriously, "shut the fuck up."

"So," Percival says, "what do we do now, then?"

"Um," Merlin says, and shifts slightly, rubbing at his calves with a wince—Arthur's seconds away from doing the same, it feels like they've been crouching here for hours, "I might have an idea."

"You hear that, everyone?" says Gwaine, who isn't even close to forgetting their impromptu overnight stay with the druids anytime soon. "King Merlin's got a plan."

"Shut up, Gwaine," Merlin and Arthur murmur in unison.

"Let's hear it," Elyan tells Merlin.

"Erm," Merlin rubs at his legs again, "how are you lot with heights?"

"So," a dragon—an actual dragon, and not just—not just any dragon, oh no, of course not, that would be too normal for Merlin, wouldn't it, too normal for Mr. Emrys, Mr. Powerful-Sorcerer-Who-Can-Stop-The-Weather, Mr. King of the Druids, no, he just had to go and make nice with the dragon that tried to kill everyone in Camelot and is supposed to be dead, "the truth has come to light at last, young warlock."

"Well," Merlin says, "not—not all of it."

"Merlin," Arthur gasps, with one hand on his sword hilt—he's ready to go down fighting, if he needs to, "tell me this isn't the dragon I killed. Tell me this is not the dragon I killed."

"Um," Merlin says. "Okay. It's—it's not the dragon you killed. It's—um. It's his. Identical twin."

The dragon makes a rumbling noise that Arthur thinks might be disapproval. "You haven't told him you're a dragonlord?"

"A—a what?!" Gwaine spins on his heel to look at Merlin, eyes like saucers.

"I—I wanted to ease him into it," Merlin mumbles, red to the tips of his ears.

"A dragonlord?" Arthur repeats incredulously, because no, no, no, Merlin cannot be a powerful sorcerer and a druid king and a dragonlord, he just—he just cannot, it's impossible for anyone to be that ridiculously magical. "An actual—" he snorts. "You're actually a dragonlord, now, too?"

Merlin scuffs the toe of his boot miserably on the ground. "Well—this wasn't—um—exactly recent—"

"Merlin," Leon breaks in, frown creasing his face, "why did you and Arthur go and seek out Balinor, then, if you had the power the whole time?"

Merlin swallows. "Oh. Um. Okay. I—uh—I think Arthur needs to sit down."

"So," the girl says, as she rises from the center of the silver lake in a series of ripples, her long dark hair flowing like a waterfall down her back, and a slightly wistful smile on her face, and she glides to the bank, and places her palm flat to the bleeding gash on Merlin's chest, "can't stay out of trouble, can you, Merlin?"

"Merlin," Arthur says, as the girl whispers a word, and the gash disappears, just like that, in a blinding flash of light, "why is there a girl in the water?"

"Um," Merlin says. He looks at the girl. "Can you put the wound back? I think I liked it better when I was dying."

The girl from the lake laughs.

"How do you—?" Percival looks between them. "How do you two—?"

"About that," Merlin says, uncomfortably, but come on, there can't be anything worse than the magic, and the king-of-the-druids and last-dragonlord thing, can there?

Can there?

"We're—we're kind of—?"

"Married," the girl from the lake finishes for Merlin, with a wide, beaming smile.

Oh. Okay. Apparently there can.

Gwaine whistles approvingly. "Way to pick a queen, Merlin!"

"So," Gwaine says, "we're fucked."

"No," Merlin says, out of the corner of his mouth, and under his breath, "no, I don't think we are."

"Merlin," Arthur hisses, "if you summon that dragon again, you are going to be mucking my stables for the rest of your life."

"No, he won't," Percival murmurs, "he's still got a kingdom to rule."

"Percival!"

"Right," Elyan says, "what's the plan?"

"I'm going to loose everyone's ropes—"

"There are over a hundred men in this camp," Arthur points out.

"I love the long odds much as the next man," Gwaine adds, "but I don't think even we've got it in us to fight a hundred men."

"We're outnumbered, thirty to one," Leon murmurs.

"Percival counts as three," Elyan says fairly.

"Really? I'd say five," Gwaine objects.

Merlin huffs. "Listen. I'm going to loose everyone's ropes, and you all are going to run. All right?"

Arthur twists around to stare at him. Surely, surely, even Merlin can't be that stupid. Right? "Merlin," he says, "there are over a hundred men in this camp."

"Yes," Merlin says testily, "I heard you the first time, Arthur, thank you."

"Yeah, apparently not."

"I'm serious—"

"So am I!"

"—I'm going to loose everyone's ropes," Merlin repeated, for the third time, in what Arthur had come to think of as his King-Merlin voice, the one that sounded actually sort of commanding, "and you lot are going to run. Do you hear me? Get to the trees. Don't look back, don't wait for me, I'll catch you up."

"What do you think you're going to do?!" Arthur burst out. "Tickle them to death?!"

"Arthur, for fuck's sake, if you don't listen to me right now—"

"Yeah, come on, Princess, respect your sovereign."

"Gwaine, if you call me that one more time, I am going to personally invent a spell that will sew your lips shut."

Arthur shifts in his ropes. "I don't like it," he murmurs.

"Ah, come on, Arthur, you're still our king, no matter what the druids—"

"I meant Merlin's plan," Arthur snaps.

"—oh."

"Well," Merlin says, "neither do I, but I don't hear you lot coming up with anything brilliant, so, my plan it is."

"So," Merlin says, "I'm going to guess you have some questions."

"I just watched you take down one hundred and twelve men at once, Merlin. Yes. I have some questions."

"Yeah," Gwaine pipes up, "like, is that how you do diplomacy in your druid-kingdom, because yeesh, no wonder no one tries to fuck with the druids anymore—"

"Shut up, Gwaine!"

#merlin #bbc merlin #emrys' spellbook

[chysgoda]

GAME OVER >:3c

From the Game Over prompt

I sat on the steps of the capitol building and watched the shades go about their business in Emet-Selch’s dollhouse of a city. The irony of bringing this battle here tasted like bile but it was the safest place to hold the battle should my attempts at parlay fail yet again. The young heroes, called under false pretenses, had not listened to my pleas for caution. “Ardbert” had torn down my words at every turn, slowly casting my concerns, my weariness in the light of a villain. 

“One fool to another…” I murmured to myself echoing Adbert’s words from years ago. My fingers absently traced the vambrace on my right forearm feeling the quiescent aether that would mold into the shape of a shield when I awoke it. I’d forgone my heavy armor and dressed for the blood sands instead. My lips quirked remembering the black humor of the sands, always make sure you’ll look good as a corpse. And there would be a corpse today, death was an old friend to me and I could feel it hovering near. 

Movement caught my eye and drew it upwards to a grey bird. I watched it with a frown, it was that damned shoebill. I pulled a whetstone from my pack and turned my attention to my blade, no doubt it would find a cozy place to watch. I settled into the ritual of sharpening and caring for my blade. When the grey bird landed in front of me I paused. When it began to change I turned my head, while the shape-shifting was hardly the most disturbing thing I’d seen, I also had no desire to nauseate myself. 

“Art‘imis Chysgoda, the savior of Eorzea, Liberator of Doma and Ala Mhigo, Champion of the Source.” Emet-Selch’s voice was smooth and dramatic as it ever had been in our short acquaintance. He invited himself to sit next to me. “A rather different perspective from this end is it not my dear Warrior.” 

I finished the movement I’d paused in and set the blade aside. “Does Elidibus know that you survived our battle?”

“Given you don’t seem surprised to see me I doubt he would be.” Emet-Selch shrugged. “So you have lived to see yourself become the villain of this doomed star to which you granted a reprieve. Granted, Elidibus helped rather a lot with that. Even mortals don’t forget such debts quite this quickly.”

“You are rather chipper for a man believed to be dead.” I stood to stretch my back and secured my blade’s scabbard to my belt. 

Even sitting Emet Selch did not have to look up far to meet my eyes. He chuckled, “And you lack the appropriate drama to be the final villain of a story.”

I snorted and started to make my way down the over large stairs. Emet-Selch was waiting for me at the bottom smug smirk and spread hands saying that if I had just asked for assistance. I looked him up and down, entertaining the idea of taking out his kneecaps. “I do not intend to be the final villain of this story.”

“No, in the end, it is Hydaelyn that is to be the final villain in the story.” He reached out as if stroke my hair and pulled his hand back as I stepped away from him. “She stopped using the souls of her summoners as her pawns after the third rejoining. Since then she has sought out the souls of those who would make us heartsick-“

I rested my left hand on the hilt of my sword and pulled it so that a few ilms of shining metal gleamed in the blue-green light and the blade would draw easily when I had need of it. “Appeals to a woman who no longer lives will not sway me to your cause Hades.”

“I know my once love.” The air cracked as he snapped. Behind me, I felt a disturbance in the aether and turned to face it. There were two portals from which two black-clad ascians stepped out. 

From behind me, Emet-Selch struck like a snake and a dagger dug into my left side just above the waist. It was a deep wound and one that would kill me slowly. My healing magic would not be enough to heal entirely before a fight. He twisted the dagger viciously before pulling from my side. I lashed out at him, “Coward!” 

Emet-Selch tut-tutted at me as I awkwardly drew my sword. “Were you not the one who called honor in battle merely a way for the powerful to stack the deck? And Hydaelyn is so very good at stacking the deck in her favor and calling it the right thing to do.” 

The three Ascians started circling me widdershins forcing me to move constantly to keep some semblance of an idea of what to expect. Emet-Selch summoned his crystal staff to him and the glowing, red, flowering hovered around his opposite hand and forearm. The other two Ascians summoned weapons as well, one a great sword and the other a short sword and war hammer. I forced myself to breathe evenly, I’d fought injured before, I could do it again. I reversed the grip on my sword and slammed it towards the ground as I bent my will to bring down blades of light around me. The Ascian with the great sword hissed, but there were no other reactions.  

“For millennia the crystal mother has snatched the souls of those dear to us from the very lifestream in a desperate attempt to discourage our great work,” Emet-Selch spoke but I could only half pay attention to his words as I raised my aether shield to deflect the hammer blow from one of the other Ascians. “Deprived us of tangible hope that our plans would come to fruition. Forced our hands to kill the flesh of those we sacrifice everything for.”

Fighting one Ascian with a full strike team of eight was risky. Fighting three by myself was folly. I wove my blade and shield around me, called up spells of defense and maiming. The two weapons masters worked together seamlessly and I could not take the time to cast any kind of spell to knit the flesh Emet Selch had cut. I took a blow from the great sword on my shield but the pressure forced an awkward bend to my knees. I pushed back and sidestepped away from the arc of the sword only to step into the arc of the war hammer. 

I felt time expand. The hammer moved with painful slowness and I simply could not move fast enough. When the hammer caught me it was just above my tail, scales tore and I felt something break. I fell to my knees which then collapsed. Then the pain caught up to me. A blinding knife of pain all through my spine and radiating out from there. The two materially armed Ascians stepped back as I tried to push myself up. It was getting harder to breathe. I was able to raise my upper body with my arms but I could not get my knees up no matter how I strained. 

It was several moments of straining before I realized that I could not feel my tail lashing in agitation as it normally would have. I stopped breathing and focused. I could not feel my tail, or my knees, or my toes. I changed focus, tried to curl my toes in my boots but I could not feel the stretch or contraction of the muscles. I sucked a breath of air in as panic and terror swarmed through my veins like a flash flood I mumbled denial under my breath. Anything else I could defeat or if I couldn’t by myself I would have a friend that could help me. This, there was no mending this. There was no….

Gentle hands with long fingers turned me over on to my back. Emet-Selch caught a flailing fist and trapped it against my side as he wrapped an arm around my ribs and pulled me into his lap. “Shhhhhh… this shall pass soon my dear warrior.”

“I am not your dear warrior,” I snarled, wriggling in his grasp. It did me no good but I couldn’t just give up. 

The hand with the aetheric vine wrapped around it motioned like a stage magician and a purple crystal appeared between his forefinger and thumb. I’d seen its like before in the crystal that Lahabrea had collared Thancred with. I began to struggle more but his arm shifted and fingers dug into the stab wound he’d given me. “Enough Lilith! I will not be forced to do this again! I will not lose you, Hythlodaeus, Idunn, or Ananke to her again! I will not! I will keep you close until the ardor” 

I flinched away from him. There was desperate madness deep in his golden eyes. “I’m not her, she’s gone. Even if you succeed, your Lilith is go-“

“NO!!” I closed my eyes against the rage there. The pain was stealing my will and blood loss was draining my strength to resist. He pressed the cool crystal onto my chest above my heart. “This will be washed away, not even a bad dream to haunt you, after all, is said and done.”

I shook my head in denial, letting tears fall as I felt something hook around my breastbone and tear. I screamed scrambling to hold on to consciousness, to memory as I was being torn away from it. I cursed him in every way I knew. I begged for reprieve. I-

Hades watched as amber veins grew and threaded through the purple crystal. He blocked the Warrior’s screaming out of his mind; this malformed mind would be shucked away from his beloved’s soul shortly. Now that there were nine shards joined together, her soul was weighty enough that he could capture it. When the broken body went slack he stood and vanished the blood from his robes with a snap. He motioned to Fandaniel and Pashtarot to follow and they left the first to its fate. 

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp ask meme #no good comes of this prompt #and it fought me soooooooooo much #stars-bleed-hearts-shine #art'imis chysgoda #emet selch #bad end is bad

[dasozelotvonnebenan]

A Dragon saved, A Dragon lost

Y’all seemed to have loved to hate the Trahearne lives AU story I wrote in August.

A few days ago someone brought up the idea that trahearne was supposed to be Vlast’s champion and I could not resist the idea so get ready for “Can we make a sad story by saving everyone 2: Electric boogaloo”

With his last strength the commander pushed up against the chains they were caught in. Rytlock and Vlast were probably in a similar position.

Balthasar towered over them, glaring down to where Tyrias greatest hero was squirming in the dust. “No more words...” the god had said after the commander had refused to join him. True to his word, the only sound was that of the fires all around the plateau and Rytlock’s enraged growling as the charr struggled to break free.

“... Only Death” Balthasar raised his hand, his sword following the motion, its point directed at the commanders head. A magic glow gathered around the blade, heat radiating from it that put the desert sun to shame.

There was a high pitched rattle, right as Balthasar ordered the sword to kill, and while the commander instinctively raised his hands to catch the blow Vlast threw himself before them, covered in scars and patches of burned flesh where the fiery chains had cut into him as he freed himself.

With an outcry the commander watches the dragon fall. But as the dragon rolled towards the edge there was no blade stuck in his side. Confused Vlast stared towards the god of fire, and the commander followed his gaze they could see why Balthasar had held back.

Two hands had gripped the sword by its hilt, smaller than Balthasar's, but holding it firmly in place.

The commander blinked, trying to clear his vision, as what they saw clearly could not be true.

Behind Balthasar stood, clad in lush green foliage and looking impossibly not dead, Trahearne.

Bones covered his arms and peeked out from his clothes, dark green swirls of necroluminescence connecting them as they formed a second skin, while claws of long dead beings anchored the sylvari, and by extension the sword, to the ground.

“How dare you, puny weed!” Balthasar turned around to face the new combatant. “Do not think I will forget this insult. After I am done with the dragon I will burn your tree to ashes!”

“I am afraid I can’t allow that, Balthasar” Trahearne said straight faced. More and more bones were appearing from the sand below him, now starting to form a cocoon around the sword. “You are done here.” He shouted, flinging Balthasar's Blade off into the distance.

The gods smile disappeared as the sword did not return to his stretched out hand. Red with anger a ball of fire formed in his hands. “This is but a minor inconvenience. There are other ways to end you.”

Vlast once again launched forward, catching Balthasar in his side. They slammed into one of the columns, toppling it over as they each tried to get free of the other. Balthasar cracked the golden crystals Vlast tried to encase him in and smashed his still burning hand into the face of the dragon. As Vlast flinched from the pain Balthasar crawled backwards, away from the dragon.

Balthasar rose to his feed, his armor dented and his coat torn. He coughed a “We will meet again, Commander!” and vanished in a burst of smoke.

Trahearne stepped up to Vlast, leaving a trail of falling bones behind him, and inspected the burned side of the dragon’s face with a worried look. His golden glow was almost blinding, pulsing in sync with the shimmering crystals that covered Vlast.

 “Well done.” He smiled and chuckled as he pulled himself up on Vlast’s back.

There was a sadness in his eyes, the commander noticed as Trahearne looked at them. “Commander.” Trahearne nodded, his voice sounding jovial as always but the meaning being choked the underlying sorrow.

- - -

The commander hadn’t even noticed the chains had disappeared before he was being pushed back as the dragon took flight.

Kasmeer came running up behind him, Canach following shortly after. “Was that …”

“...Trahearne?” The commander asked. “I don’t know. It's impossible.”

Rytlock dusted off his fur. “Whoever created that illusion must’ve known him really well. How he was talking, his tone, his stupid happy cuckling. So tangible.”

“There!” Kasmeer pointed at a single shard of glowing crystal, suspended in the air. “Looks like the memory crystal we saw in Glint’s Lair when the Master of Peace received Aurene’s egg.”

The commander stepped forward, laying their hand on the smooth surface of the crystal. “How do you-”

- - -

“I did not ask for this destiny, my fate was bestowed upon me.” Two echoing voices said, easy to recognise yet impossible to differentiate from each other. “I feel trapped in this role … this legacy”

“The mantle is heavy - at times too heavy. But mother believed so we must endure.”

“I am sorry” the voices, stopped for a moment, then one after the other continuing. “I am sorry sister, I am sorry Commander that I must leave you to bear this weight alone. That I was not strong enough to wait for you to grow.”

#gw2 #Guild Wars 2 #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary #Trahearne Lives AU #I am an evil person I know #even funnier because Kasmeer actually know that Trahearne was still alive

[tsc-living]

TMI but Alec and Clary were raised as siblings

(Requested by @dru-and-ash based on this post by @imkazbrekkerslittlebitch )

Clary looked up from her pink toenails to her brother who was reading on the lounge opposite the arm chair she was occupying. His black hair was wet and tangled from his shower and she could see the water droplets sliding down his cheek, but he didn’t seem to care. “Hey Alec?” She called and he didn’t look up from his book, but he made a hum in acknowledgement, “Can I paint your nails before we go out tonight?” She asked. He did look up then, but only to glare at her. She grinned in response.

“No you can’t.” He replied, “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I want to parade myself around like some camp fool.” He added. Alec had come out to her and their mom the year before, and she knew it was because they had been brought up by a free thinking artist even if she sometimes was obsessively overprotective sometimes.

“One day you might fall in love with some camp fool who douses himself in glitter and wears intense eyeliner and gives a shit about fashion, and you will eat your words and your disdain mister.” She said, waving her nail brush at him.

“Someone like that would never fall in love with me.” Alec said, eyes wide with disdain as if the idea of someone sparkly and obscenely happy with their sexuality terrified him. Although, she supposed it would terrify him.

“Then what type of person would fall in love with you?” She asked, a teasing smile on her face, “If you say someone like Simon I will probably have to die right here.” She added. Alec sat up straight and slammed his book shut with a resounding thud.

“Do not be ridiculous Clary! Simon is like a little brother to me, I would much rather him fall in love with you than with me, because then at least he would be a brother by law.” He said, looking absolutely horrified at the idea of being in love with Simon or of Simon loving him.

“Oh my god you sound like Mom!” Clary cried, “Simon does not love me.” She added and Alec just danced his eyebrows at her.

“Shouldn’t you go get ready anyway?” He asked, “Aren’t we meeting lover-boy in a little over an hour?” He teased. She threw the cushion at him, but he caught it easily with his annoyingly fast reflexes. She had seen him trip over his own feet because the cute boy at the cash register in the local supermarket complimented Alec’s phone of all things, and yet she had also seen him catch a glass a moment before it hit the ground.

“I have to wait for my nail polish to dry.” She sniffed and he grinned at her, putting the pillow behind his head and getting comfortable again to read.

***

Later that night, Clary an Alec were in line at the Pandemonium club with Clary’s best friend Simon. The line was long, and inside the club looked crowded, but that was to be expected with all ages nights in New York. There was boy at the front of the queue getting into trouble from the security guard for his prop, saying it was too sharp. The emo looking boy with the spiky blue hair touched the tip, bending it and explaining that it’s rubber. As the bouncer let the boy and his prop in, Clary caught sight of the frown on Alec’s face.

“What?” She asked him.

“That was a real sword?” He said, but doubt was creeping across his face.

“No it was-“ She was cut off by Simon elbowing them both good naturedly.

“You thought he was cute.” He said, but she wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or Alec. Alec’s response was to glare down at the smaller, younger boy and Simon moved to stand on the other side of Clary. She smiled and shook her head at the two of them, stepping forward to the scary looking bouncer who let her in with no qualms.

Inside, Alec and Simon looked so out of place and uncomfortable as they always did in the club and she was reminded again how they only went there because she wanted to. Alec, she knew, was always on edge and uncomfortable there. He had once said it felt eerie and wrong inside the club, like something was going to go bad or something bad had already happened there. Yet he was drawn to it, or at least drawn to going there with her due to his protective big brother demeanour. Simon was just uncomfortable anywhere that wasn’t a beanbag with a video game controller in his hands, or playing D&D, playing with his band or curling up next to Clary watching anime. Needless to say, inside the alternative night club was not his comfort zone. At least he tried, bobbing his head and shoulders to the sound of the music, whereas Alec just stood near the two of them with his arms crossed and eyes surveying. Clary didn’t mind, she had spotted the cute boy with the spiky hair and the rubber sword at the bar. He looked at her and she smiled, pushing her long red hair up off her neck and swinging her hips to the sound of the music. She may as well try something. Although it wasn’t long until she realised his gaze had gone off of her. He had straightened up, reminding Clary of a dog whose interest had been peaked by a rabbit, she could almost imagine his eyes pricked forward. However, it wasn’t a rabbit that he had noticed; it was a pretty girl with gorgeous long black hair, Amazonian long black legs, beautiful features and an old fashioned white dress with a high colour and long sleeves tapered and laced. She was the epitome of beauty and the opposite of Clary, she wasn’t surprised that the boy was no longer interested in her. The gorgeous girl was walking directly towards him, passed him, and he followed like a puppy. She sighed, watching him go and she could sense Alec was watching them as well. She lead him into a storage closet or something of the like and the door closed firmly behind them. They didn’t see the shadow of a person following behind them. A boy in a hooded jacket, dressed in all black, following behind closely. It wasn’t until he opened the door and followed in behind them that Clary grabbed her brother’s sleeve. “Did you see?” She asked and he nodded firmly.

“Go get security.” He said and before she could protest, he glared at her, “Go.” He repeated, shaking her off and heading towards the door that they had disappeared through.

“What is going on?” Simon asked and Clary whirled on him.

“Go get security, take them to the door back there.” She said and after a stern look from her, he nodded and plunged into the crowd as Clary pushed her way after her brother, catching up to as his fingers curled around the door handle.

“Clary no this could be dangerous!” He hissed, but she just raised her chin stubbornly and put her hand on top of his.

“You’re my brother Alec, where you go I go, especially if it isn’t safe.” She said, her heart pounding painfully with the truth of it, with the love she had for him. If he was plunging into a potentially dangerous situation, then she was going with him. He rolled his eyes and twisted his hand under hers, jerking the door open. He crept in and she followed, shutting the door silently behind them. It was dark inside the store room and they hid in the shadows, hugging the wall. The boy she had found attractive was bound up by a silvery coil and the dark haired goddess looking was standing nearby, the hooded boy was next to her, but his hood was down to reveal he had softly curling blonde hair. Clary and Alec ducked behind the nearest concrete pillar to watch. The blonde boy was now pacing in front of the punk kid, his arms crossed over his chest. “So,” He said, “You still haven’t told me if there are any others of your kind with you.”

Clary and Alec shared a look and she mouthed your kind at him in question, but he shrugged.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The blue-haired boy sounded weak, but angry and perhaps even superior.

“He means demons,” The girl said cheerfully, “You do know what those are don’t you?” the boy looked away, his jaw working as if he was grinding his teeth.

“Demons,” drawled the blonde boy, tracing the word with his finger in the air, ‘Religiously defined as hell’s denizens, the servants of Satan, but understood here, for the purpose of the Clave, to be any malevolent spirit whose origin is outside our own home dimension-“

“That’s enough Jace.” The girl said and the blonde boy sighed.

“Oh come on Isabelle maybe it needs a lesson on semantics- or demonology.” Jace argued, but Clary was too busy deciding then and there that they were genuinely crazy. Isabelle shook her head and Jace raised his and smiled. There was something fierce about him, reminding Clary of documentaries she had seen about lions.

“Isabelle thinks I talk too much,” He said to the punk, “Do you think I talk too much?”

The blue-haired boy ignored this, “I could give you information,” He said instead, “I know where Valentine is.”

Jace tilted his head and glanced at Isabelle who shrugged her shoulder elegantly. “Valentine’s in the ground,” Jace said, “The thing’s just toying with us.”

Isabelle tossed her hair, “Kill it Jace,” She said casually and yet savagely, “It isn’t going to tell us anything.”

Jace raised his hand and Clary saw dim light spark off the night he was holding. It was oddly translucent, the blade clear as crystal, sharp as a shard of glass, the hilt set with red stones. The bound boy gasped, “Valentine is back!” He protested, dragging at the bonds that held his hands behind his back, “All the Infernal Worlds know it- I know it- I can tell you where he is-“

Rage flared suddenly in Jace’s icy eyes and Alec grabbed Clary’s hand protectively, “By the Angel, every time we capture one of you bastards, you claim you know where Valentine is. Well, we know where he is too. He’s in hell. And you-“ Jace turned the knife in his grasp, the edge sparking like a line of fire, “You can join him there.”

Clary jerked her grip free of Alec’s and lurched forward from behind the pillar, but Alec lurched after her as if to stop her. “Stop!” She cried, “You can’t do this.”

Jace whirled, so startled that the knife flew from his hand and clattered against the concrete floor. Isabelle turned along with him, wearing a look of astonishment on her face that was so familiar to Clary it surprised her for a moment.

It was Isabelle who spoke first, “What’s this?” She demanded, looking from Clary and Alec to Jace as if her companion might know what they were doing there.

“It’s a girl and a boy,” Jace said, recovering his composure. “Surely you’ve seen those before? You are a girl for example, and I am a boy.” He took a step closer to the Fray siblings and Alec pulled Clary closer to him, “Mundies,” Jace said, half to himself, “And they can see us.”

“Of course we can see you,” Clary said.

“We’re not blind.” Alec added, still holding Clary to his side.

“Oh, but you are,” said Jace, bending to pick up his knife. “You just don’t know it.” He straightened up. “You’d better get out of here, if you know what’s good for you.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Clary said, “If we do, you’ll kill him.” She pointed at the boy with the blue hair.

“That’s true,” Admitted Jace and Alec’s fingers on Clary’s arm tightened again, “What do you care if I kill him or not?”

“Be- because-“ Clary spluttered.

“You can’t just go around killing people.” Alec said firmly.

“You’re right,” Said Jace, “You can’t just go around killing people.” He pointed at the blue-haired boy, “That’s not a person, little girl.” He continued, ignoring Alec, “It may look like a person and talk like a person and maybe even bleed like a person. But it’s a monster.”

“Jace,” Said Isabelle warningly, but when Clary glanced at her she saw that the other girl was staring at Alec with a strange look on her face, “That’s enough.” Is all she said.

“You’re crazy,” Clary said, backing away from him, “I’ve called the police you know. They’ll be here any second.’

“She’s lying,’ Isabelle said, but there was doubt on her face, “Jace, do you-“ She never got to finish her sentence. At that moment the blue-haired boy, with a high, yowling cry, tore free of the restraints binding him and flung himself on Jace with hands that glittered as if tipped with metal. Clary backed up into Alec, wanting to run, but her feet caught on something on the floor and she fell into him. They both fell hard into the ground, knocking the wind out of them. She could hear Isabelle shrieking.

Rolling over, Clary saw the blue-haired boy sitting on Jace’s chest. Blood gleamed at the tips of his razorlike claws. Isabelle was running towards them, she was brandishing a whip in her hand. The blue-haired boy slashed at Jace with his claws extended. Jace threw an arm up to protect himself and the claws raked it, splattering blood. The blue-haired boy lunged again- and the whip came down across his back. He shrieked and fell to the side. Swift as a flick of Isabelle’s whip, Jace rolled over. There was a blade in his hand. He sank the knife into the boy’s chest and blackish liquid exploded around the hilt. Jace wrenched the blade out as he stood, the dying boy shuddering on the floor opening his eyes and fixed his gaze on Jace. “So be it, the Forsaken will take you all.” He hissed. Jace snarled.

Before their eyes, the dying boy started folding on himself until he disappeared entirely.

Alec hauled himself to his feet and jerked Clary up after him, the two of them prepared to run. Jace was glaring at his arm where he had been wounded, but before the two siblings could flee the scene, they found their way blocked by Isabelle’s whip which curled around Clary’s wrist.

“Stupid little mundies,’ Isabelle said between her teeth, “You could have gotten Jace killed.”

“He’s crazy,” Clary said, trying to pull her wrist back. The whip bit deeper into her skin and she gasped. Alec glared at Isabelle.

“You’re all crazy!” He said, “What do you think you are, vigilante killers? The police-“

“The police aren’t usually interested unless you can produce a body.” Said Jace, cradling his arm as he picked his way across the cable-strewn floor towards Clary and Alec.

Clary glanced at the floor where the boy had died, but there was nothing there, not even a smear of blood. “They return to their home dimensions when they die,” Said Jace, “In case you were wondering.”

“Jace!” Isabelle snapped.

Jace shrugged, a freckling of blood on his face still reminding Clary of a lion with his widely spaced tawny coloured eyes, and that gold hair. “They can see us Izzy, they already know too much.”

‘So what do I do with her? He obviously won’t leave without her.” Isabelle said and Alec glared at her.

“Of course I won’t, she’s my sister.” He said. Jace, for some reason, looked amused by this.

“I wouldn’t pick the family resemblance.” Jace said and Alec glowered at him. It was true, Clary and Alec didn’t look alike. Clary had flaming red hair and was small like their mother, the same green eyes a mirror of each other. Alec was tall and built, wavy black hair and piercing blue eyes. Jocelyn, their mother, always said that Alec looked like their father who had died when Alec was two, before Clary had even been born.

“I look like our dad.” Alec snapped, “Now let my sister go.” He said, and Clary was surprised to see that he sounded dangerous. Jace, who didn’t strike Clary as someone to take direction from anyone, surprised her by nodded at Isabelle.

“Let her go,” He said quietly. Isabelle shot him a surprised, almost angry look, but didn’t argue. The whip slithered away, freeing Clary’s arm. She rubbed her sore wrist and wondered how the hell they were going to get out of there.

“Maybe we should bring them back with us?” Jace mused, “I’m sure Hodge would like to talk to her.”

“No way are we bringing them back to the Institute,” Said Isabelle, “They’re mundanes.”

“Or are they?” said Jace softly. His quiet tone was worse than Isabelle’s snapping. ‘Have you had dealings with demons, little girl? Walked with warlocks, talked with the Night Children? Have you-“

“My name is not ‘little girl,’’ Clary interrupted, “And I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She looked at Alec and she could see that he was thinking the same thing that she was. Don’t you? You saw that boy vanish into thin air. Jace isn’t crazy- you just wish he was.

“We don’t believe in- in demons, or whatever you-“ Alec began, but he was interrupted by Simon.

“Clary? Alec?” The Frays whirled around. Simon was standing by the storage room door. One of the burly bouncers who had been stamping hands at the front door was next to him. “Are you guys okay?” He peered through the gloom, “Why are you in here by yourself? What happened to the guy- you know the one that came in here to hurt someone?”

Clary stared at him, then looked behind her to where Jace and Isabelle stood, Jace still in his bloody shirt with the knife in his hand. He grinned at her and Alec and dropped a half-apologetic, half-mocking shrug. Clearly he wasn’t surprised that neither Simon nor the bouncer could see them. Somehow, neither was Clary and after a shared glance with her brother, Alec didn’t seem surprised either. Slowly she turned back to look at Simon, knowing how her and her brother must look to him, standing alone in a damp storage room, her feet tangled in bright plastic wiring cables.

“I thought they went in here,” She said lamely, “But I guess they didn’t. I’m sorry.” She glanced from Simon who had gone from looking worried to looking embarrassed, to the bouncer who just looked annoyed.

“It was a mistake.” Alec said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Behind them, Isabelle giggled.

***

When Clary woke the next day she found Alec and their mother drinking tea in the living room, Jocelyn had paint on her cheek and neck, and Alec was in a sweater pockmarked with holes much like usual. “Good morning sweetheart.” Jocelyn said kindly, “I was just asking Alec why you were out so late last night.” She added, the sharpness behind her green eyes belying her kind tone. Alec and Clary had broken curfew and she wasn’t happy about it. Clary glanced at her brother, hoping he would look calm and unfazed, hoping he had a logical explanation for the events of the night before, but it was clear he remembered everything and was just as confused as she felt.

“Sorry mom, we just lost track of time at the club. It won’t happen again.” She said and Jocelyn took a mouthful before replying, but Alec winced so Clary knew the response wasn’t going to be good.

“That is word for word what your brother said.” She said and Clary felt her heart sink.

“Because it’s true!” She said, but Alec subtly shook his head and Clary fell silent.

“What happened?” Jocelyn asked and Alec smiled charmingly at her.

“Nothing mom, honestly!” He said, “We just got caught up in the music. We won’t miss curfew again.” He reassured her and Jocelyn sighed.

“Okay well, we should still discuss a punishment for you both. How about over lunch, we haven’t hung out as a family for a little while. Besides we need to talk, I need to talk to you.” Jocelyn said and Clary smiled, kissing her mom’s cheek.

“Tomorrow mom, I’m going to a poetry reading with Simon today.” She said and Alec stood up too, looking just as apologetic.

“And I said I would help Luke at the bookstore before I went to class.” He said, kissing Jocelyn’s other cheek. Jocelyn looked at them with her eyes wide. It was clear she didn’t want them to go, but Clary couldn’t understand why. Alec had signed up for politics classes during the summer, like Clary had signed up for art classes although she started the next day.

“Actually… the classes are what I wanted to talk to you about. Now… I know you have both worked so hard to save up for these, but we’re going to Luke’s farm tomorrow for the summer. As a family-“ Jocelyn was cut off by protesting from both of her children, Clary feeling a hot surge of anger in her body. She didn’t want to go to Luke’s farm for the summer and neither did Alec. They had their classes, their friends, drinking coffee at Java Jones and late nights at Pandemonium to do that summer, they didn’t want to be dragged to the middle of nowhere.

“I’m leaving.” Alec snapped and Clary nodded.

“Me too.” She agreed, grabbing her bag off the back of the seat, “I’ll be home later.” She added and ignored Jocelyn’s attempts at keeping the two of them there. Alec threw open the front door, pocketing his keys and nearly smacked into Simon as he stalked onto the landing of the apartment.

“Bye mom!” Clary said and pulled her hand away as Jocelyn tried to take it.

“Please don’t be home late Alec, Clary!” She cried after them as Clary grabbed Simon’s hand and hauled him after Alec down the stairs, “We still need to talk about this!”

“No the hell we don’t.” She muttered. She ran downstairs, catching up to Alec and the two of them nearly ran into a tall, skinny man coming out of the downstairs apartment, his eyes slitted like a cat. They both stopped dead and gasped, Simon nearly running into them from behind.

“What?” He demanded, but Clary shook her head.

“Nothing sorry, nearly stepped on Madame Dorothea’s cat.” She said and Alec nodded.

“I didn’t even know she had a cat.” He added, pushing the door and walking out into the humid New York air. Clary leapt forward and caught the door before it fell closed behind him.

“Do you two need a ride anywhere?” Alec asked, standing next to his beat up old car.

“No we’ll walk, it’s just to Java Jones. Where are you going?” She asked. Alec looked down at the wheels of his car and shrugged.

“I don’t know. Luke’s then to class I guess.” He replied. Clary stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. He hugged her back, picking her up off the floor for a moment before setting her down, although they didn’t let go. He smelt like sandalwood as usual, and he was warm and strong and familiar. She let go and he smiled down at her, pushing a lock of her hair off her cheek.

“Be good kid,” He said and she mockingly scowled up at him.

“You too, and Alec?” She said before he could turn away, “Mom is probably just mad we blew curfew, she won’t make us drop classes.” She said, but she knew she was just being hopeful. He mussed her hair and shrugged.

“I hope so.” He agreed, “See you tonight?” She nodded and he climbed into his car, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Okay what the hell was that about?” Simon demanded and Clary smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, let’s just go.” She said and they walked down the street towards their favourite café.

***Jace appears and Jocelyn vanishes and Clary shoves a sensor down a demon’s throat etc***

Clary woke up dazed and still with her eyes closed she caught snippets of conversation, most of which she remembered, and the voices felt familiar enough to her that she could recognise Jace and Isabelle.

“Where did you find him?” Jace asked.

“Staggering to a car with demon poison coursing through him,” Isabelle answered, “I had to drive him here and I have never driven a car before.” She added.

“You didn’t think to go and kill the demon?”

“He was going to die! Besides, I didn’t know he had been bitten inside their apartment.” Clary fell asleep to Isabelle’s petulant response, knowing she was talking about Alec.

“Yes, exactly. Valentine is back.” Jace said urgently, waking Clary up again.

“He can’t be.” Isabelle argued.

“He is!” But Clary didn’t hear anymore before falling asleep again.

“Is she going to be okay?” This time it was Alec’s voice that she heard when she came to, and she clung to it.

“She’ll be fine.” Jace said, “Hodge is the best.”

“Alec?” Clary whispered, coughing against her dry throat.

“Oh my God, Clary.” Alec said and she felt herself get pulled against him. He smelt like odd herbs and hospital, but under that was sandalwood and familiarity. She clung to his shoulders and he rocked her, stroking her hair.

“Alec?” She whispered, but he shushed her gently.

“Not right now Clary,” He whispered, “Just rest, it’s going to be okay now.” She fell asleep to the soothing rocking and his familiar voice calming her.

When she woke up again, opening her eyes to see Alec asleep in a chair next to her on one side and Isabelle cleaning her whip with a bored expression on her face next to him. Clary coughed and Isabelle’s dark eyes flicked to her.

“You’re awake.” She said and Clary nodded.

“Jace will be happy to know.” She said and Clary blushed. Isabelle rolled her eyes, “Only because he’ll be happy to know he didn’t kill you.” She added and Clary frowned.

“What do you mean?” She asked and Isabelle shrugged.

“I’ll go get him, he wants to take you to Hodge. You can wake your brother up.” She said and flounced off, her whip coiling around her wrist. Clary reached out and took Alec’s hand. Her brother sat up with a start and when he saw her looking at him he let his breath out in a whoosh.

“You’re okay.” He said, voice weak with relief as he sat down on the bed an pulled her up into a hug like he had before. She let him hug her tightly, looking at her arm where Jace had drawn on her before.

“Alec wh-“ She began, but he sighed and shook his head, leaning back to see her properly.

“It’s a lot to take in, I’ll let them explain it when they get back.” He said carefully. Clary nodded, trusting her brother. Her heart was aching though, and she had to ask him even though she knew it was going to hurt to hear his response.

“Mom?” She whispered. Alec’s face creased with pain and he pulled her back against him.

“Gone Clary, we don’t know where she is.” He whispered and she felt tears pool in her eyes.

“We have to find her.” She said and he nodded, kissing the top of her head and she realised with a start that he was trying not to cry. Alec never cried, her big brother was made of ice and steel, but it was clear that he loved their mom as much as she did.

“We will, but right now I am just glad you are safe here with me.” He said, voice heavy with emotion.

(Obviously some content directly referring to and taken from Cassandra Clare’s City of Bones) (Thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3)

#possibly part 1 because I want to write the trauma of Alec and Clary finding out that Alec is a Lightwood and then more when she finds out #Jace is her 'real brother' #and angsty stuff bc they both have a crush on Jace #clary fairchild #clary fray #alec lightwood #jace herondale #isabelle lightwood #au #fanfic #requested #tmi #tid #tda #tsc #twp #tlh #fucking long ass fic omg #ten a4 pages #help #my assignments are yelling at me #We'll see

[dietaku]

Amazing Quest 1: Chapter 8

Here it is, the penultimate chapter. Only a little bit more!

Chapter 8: Collect-a-thon! Alright, team, ready to get all the items necessary for the best ending? Of course you are! The first and most important thing in this chapter is that we can get Hiro's ultimate weapon now. We actually need to go back to the small, otherwise-useless lake near Toruble Castle and you need to go noodling a few times and then sit and wait 5 real-world minutes. Go ahead and grab yourself a drink or a sammich or something. Hiro: Doo-doo-dee-doo~ Hm? Suddenly, the water in the lake glows and a lovely, buxom lady rises slowly from the light. Hiro: What the heck--?! Woman: Fear not, Hiro of the Pudding Tribe, I am Eroustei, goddess of light and mercy. Eroustei then presents two swords, one a glimmering gold color, and one with an ornate hilt and silvery blade. Eroustei: Did you drop this Sword of Power, or this Gold Blade? Hiro: But I didn't drop a sword. I have mine right here. Eroustei: … Let's try this again. Did you drop a sword that will grant you great might, or this sword that will bring you great fortune? Hiro: Oh, I don't need either of those. I have my friends. So long as I have them, then I don't need to rely on artifacts and legends to find my way. Eroustei: YOU BITCH!!! Eroustei very angrily winds up and hurls both swords at Hiro, who bash him with their hilts. Hiro: GYAAAAH! Hiro is knocked flat. Eroustei: YOU THINK IT'S EASY DOING THIS LADY IN THE LAKE THING, YOU INGRATE?! Hiro: Owww... Eroustei: YOU NEED TO THINK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE'S FEELINGS, YA JERK! Eroustei drops back into the water and out of sight. Hiro gets: PdngSword and GoldSword! Hiro: Wh-what just happened...? Hiro's best sword is, obviously, the PdngSword which is a huge step up from any other weapon in the game for him. The GoldSword is, in itself, useless (Loyroll can equip it, but it's not terribly strong), but leads to our next quest! We have to find the little encampment to the south of ToneLand's island, which can be a little tricky to get to. But once we're there, we'll meet an old man. Old Man: Hey there! I'm the weapons maniac! I dedicate my life to things that cut others short! Haha! A little dark humor there! Hiro: That's pretty dark alrig-- Old Man: Hey, is that a sword made of gold?! M-may I please see it? Hiro: Sure. Not doing us any good anyway. The Old Man takes it, admiring it lovingly. Old Man: The sheen. The weight. The beauty... Loyroll: The inability to retain an edge? Old Man: I... I must have this! W-what if I traded you for something of equal value?! Hiro: Um. I guess... that's fine? The Old Man runs into his tent and returns, giving the party the TinFlStar, the strongest weapon for Kimaywa! Kimyawa: Yatta! Old Man: This weapon is deceptively powerful. Treasure it always! Hiro: Um. Well, one man's trash, I suppose... At this point, wander around and get into a fight with Kimyawa and Loyroll in the fray. Have Loyroll use the Mirror of Ki and you'll be treated to an amusing scene where Kimyawa's new weapon gets caught in the fire and all the enemies get incinerated. Kimyawa: Nii-chan! Baka! You nearly cooked us all! Loyroll: Even after all this time, this legendary artifact of our ancestors contains fabulous secret powers! Perhaps we could harness this more constructively? You've unlocked Kimyawa and Loyroll's strongest dual tech: Over-Arcing. This deals huge light-based damage to all enemies. And now it's time to revisit an old friend: you have been taking care of Stinky the Griffohump this whole game, right? Well, if you have, by now, he's likely evolved into his adolescent form, where his wings are more developed and his mismatched eyes have evened out. Once all his stats are over 500, which should happen around now-ish if you've been taking good care of him, he'll evolve into his adult form, where he actually resembles a majestic creature of myth and even has a Pudding Warrior Knot on the side of his head, like Hiro's. Hiro: Yes! I knew you had it in you! You were just like me – you just needed a guiding hand to help you out! At this point, the rancher from before walks up. Hiro: Have a look! It's all thanks to you! Rancher: Who'd have guessed you'd really do it? Well done. Hiro: The last of his kind, the proud Griffohump~! Rancher: Oh. Right. That. Yeah, no, he's not the last of his kind. Hiro: W-what? Does that mean... you found him a mate? Rancher: … Dude, Griffohumps are everywhere. They're overpopulated in most regions of the world where they live because nothing wants to eat them. People that try usually end up in the hospital from food poisoning and depression. Hiro: … Rancher: We tell people they're the last of their kind to give them some kind of marketing appeal. I'm genuinely amazed that you made something of him. So I guess the joke's on me. Hiro turns to Stinky as the rancher walks off. Hiro: You and me. We are more alike than you know, my friend. Now with Stinky fully grown, we can ride him around on the overworld map! This not only moves us faster and reduces the encounter rate, he can even fly short bursts when you get a running start, allowing you to clear mountains and get into areas previously inaccessible, including one north of the ocean of Mermania to get Mancala's ultimate weapon, the Abacus of Ages. But as no one uses Mancala, who cares? There's also a neat, but ultimately useless trick you can use because the game maintains Stinky's speed regardless of turns, so if you have him run back and forth over two spaces rapidly, you can cause him to fly anywhere at any time. This is dubbed by the fans as The Stinky Shuffle. Anyways, now it's time to address a particular plot thread that's been dangling since chapter 2. Return to Toruble and speak to the King. King: Siigh... Hiro: … King: Siii-iiigh... Ozma: … King: Siii-iii-iii-i-- Ozma: What's wrong, daddy? King: Oh! Ozma! When did you get here?! See, I've just been a little melancholic lately. Can't quite shake it. It's just been so quiet here in the castle without you running around randomly braining people. Ozma: I have never done such a thing!! … Recently. … in the past few months. King: I just wish I could shake these blues. I haven't been nearly so proactive in banishing people recently either! Hiro: So some good has come of this at least. Ozma: Seems that way... The party exits and fans out. Kimyawa: Dame desu. This is no good. A king can't rule his land like this. Moore: There must be some means by which to cheer him up. Loyroll: It seems more severe than just having a rainy day. Perhaps he is coming down with a bad cold? Ozma: There's a doctor we could ask for help from, I suppose. Let's go have a chat with him! So, now it's time to return to the Mountain of Outcasts. Thankfully, this time, the Dreaded Mountain Maze is in rubble due to Ozma's last temper tantrum here and we can take a shortcut through it and monsters no longer spawn here. Once on the other side, there seems to be quite a change: there's way fewer NPCs here than last time. Eh, probably not important. Go back to the doctor's house and Ozma will knock. You go, JeffCom, reuse those art assets for great justice! Ozma: Doc, it's me. Please open up. The door opens a small bit. Doctor: W-what do you want?! Oh. Princess Ozma. Ozma: Daddy's been really down in the dumps lately. Would you please come have a look at him? Doctor: That's... not really a very good idea. Reasons, you see. Valid reasons, mm, yes. Ozma: I... what? Please, I'll talk to him about overturning your banishment and-- Doctor: No, no, quite busy here, please, and thank you! He slams the door shut and there's a sound of many, many locks being slapped into place. Ozma: W-what...?! What's he trying to pull?! Why that! I'll turn this door to splinters!!! Ozma winds up and slams into the door. When she hits it, she's stopped cold and overblown, comedic tears rush down her face. Ozma: … G-gimmie a hand, please! Hiro: Right. Ozma: On the count of three. Ozma backs up a few paces and counts on her fingers with an accompanying “click” sound so the player knows when to go. If you mistime it, Ozma will back up and count again, signaling you when to go again. If you both hit the door at roughly the same time, your party will go plowing through it and enter into a cave-like bedroom. Ozma: Alright! Doctor, now you listen here-- eh? Hiro: No one's home? Ozma: He couldn't have gone far. C'mon, how deep could these caves go, anyway? Let's find him! There's a bed you can rest in and a save point here, which is a none-too-subtle hint that this is more than just a town. You venture deeper into the caves and monsters start appearing like Banished Munchkins, Outcast Ostriches, and Willow Whips, ghostly plant-like monsters. Most monsters here fear fire attacks, so Kimyawa and Loyroll are excellent choices. A few floors down, the caves change and suddenly have crystal structures laced in the walls, giving this place a weird sense of style. Around here, new monsters like the Crystallis Caterpillar, and Wind-Up Golems start appearing around here and despite looking very rock-like, they're weak to earth attacks. Go fig, right? A little further in and the caves are completely replaced by metal corridors and what looks like a lab setting. Ozma: W-what in the world is this...? Loyroll: This is no mere hide-a-way for the untouchables. Whatever is happening here is happening on a grand scale. You can then go forward, but the puzzles here get a bit dickish. There's one room where you have to rush into a library and sort out books via Dewey Decimal System in a very short span of time, otherwise the room resets due to “Radiation” as a nearby sign will say. After that, you play a minigame not unlike the board game operation, and failing at it causes the miniboss monster, Chimantera, to spawn an infinite number of times. At least, in the SNES release. In the GBA remake, it'll only spawn once and win or lose, the door to the next room opens. Here, you play hopscotch against a kangaroo to cross electrified floors. There's a reason fans of the series call this area “The Cut Content Dungeon” as there doesn't feel like there's a unifying theme here. But once you're past that, you can then go to the last area here, a massive, circular room with a large tube in the center of the room with a woman inside of it and the doctor standing before it. Ozma: Doc! What are you doing?! Doctor: Gah! H-how did you get here?! Ozma: We let ourselves in. What is this? What were all those weird things we passed to get here?! Doctor: N-now that you've seen this... my, you've really put me in a bind... Ozma: What is that...? Oh my God! Is that... my mom?! Party: Say whaaaaaaat?! Doctor: … Well, since you're here anyway and you're so damn curious, I'll enlighten you. Your father hired me to save your mother from her unfortunate condition. At first I thought it a fool's errand – to find a cure for Disney Parent Syndrome! Preposterous! But... as I began my work, I started making breakthroughs and discovering new things... things previously completely unknown to modern medicine. Curiosities in the genetic structures of what we once believed to be ordinary humans. “Golden Tribe” indeed, I must say. Ozma: What are you...?! Doctor: I don't suspect a silverback gorilla such as yourself could appreciate it, but I've been wanting to tell someone about these discoveries for such a long time and I'm about to kill your asses here and now... well, let's just call this two birds; one stone. Hiro: Ozma! Ozma: I'm fine... Doctor: You see, true humanity is no longer with us. They haven't been with us in eons!! The mitochondria here indicates that there was an extinction event of some magnitude. Deima: Cough-cough-hack! Doctor: And now, modern chimerism is nigh-omnipresent! Every tribe! Every person! It's just a matter of dose! Ozma: I don't get any of this! And what's any of that have to do with my MOM, you creep?! Doctor: As I thought, you don't appreciate the meanings of the truth I've discovered here... very well. Let us cut to the heart of the matter then, shall we? The King tasked me to save the Queen... and abandoned her. I was the only one there with her in her twilight years! I realized she was... perfect. Ozma: Oh God, please tell me this isn't going where I think it's going... Doctor: She had to be... preserved. By any means necessary. Ozma: Oh God, it is!!! Doctor: She was too beautiful. Too pure... Ozma: Oh God, I'm gonna barf... stop lusting after my dead mom, asshole!!! Doctor: Dead? Dear girl, she is not dead. She is alive and well and I was just putting in my finishing touches on her new, perfected chimeran body! Ozma: You... you what?! Doctor: Arise! Perfect Human-Chimera 01! The tube's glass slides upward into the ceiling as the green goop pours out. In the Japanese version, the nude woman falls flat before standing up and throwing up some of the green fluids. This was removed entirely in the international release and she was even given a white towel from out of nowhere she clearly did not have previously. Woman: Where... where am I? Ozma: M... mommy?! Woman: O... Ozma? Is that you? You're so tall now... And, um, buff! Like, um, damn. Doctor: Oh-ho-ho... her memory is perfectly in tact too. Seems the “donations” made by my fellows here on the mountain weren't spent in vain! Loyroll: Stand down, you dastard and know when you're defeated. To flail about helplessly is disgraceful. Doctor: You think I am helpless? I'll show you the fruits of my labors, such that even simpletons like yourselves can appreciate them! The Doctor runs to a control panel and messes with buttons. Hiro and Loyroll advance, but the Queen steps into their path. Hiro: Y-your majesty?! Loyroll: Heh. Truly, this is not the first time a naked woman threw herself at me. I'm just not interested. Queen: H-help! I can't control my body! Doctor: Haha! Yes! It's better than I could have dreamed my perfect woman, my perfect creation, and your perfectly beautiful demise! Hiro: You're sick! Doctor: Prepare to die! Ozma: No! Mom!! -Boss Fight!- PHC-01 LP: 70000 MP: 6000 This is a dangerous fight as her stats are not dissimilar to Ozma's, having very high physical stats with very low magical abilities. Equally so, Ozma cannot attack directly during this fight, as you get the unique message “Ozma can't bring herself to do it!” so she's either benched or on support during this battle. Oddly enough, if you invoke her double techs with another character, this circumvents this – so punching her mom is a “no-no” but slapping her with a fish is A-OK! Focus on Kimyawa's elemental abilities or have her and Loyroll use Over-Arcing, use any attack items you have (which are calculated vs. magic defense) and heal often as her physical blows are enough to drop the likes of Mancala in one blow. When her health dips below 25%, then you have to worry about her special attack, Chimeran Rage, which hits the entire party for physical, melee damage and runs the risk of reducing physical attack and defense stats in the party. If this happens, you must heal quickly or she'll just reduce you to paste. -Boss Fight!- Queen: Ah... something just snapped. Doctor: No! Dammit! Move! Move! Queen: I'm free. Ozma: Mommy! Queen: My Ozma. You've grown so strong. And you have such wonderful friends. I couldn't be more proud of you. Doctor: This is an unforeseen turn of events. I didn't think they could go toe-to-toe with Perfect Human-Chimera 01!!! Queen: And as for you... The Queen turns to face the Doctor. Doctor: Oh... shit. Queen: My name is NOT “Perfect Human-Chimera 01”! My name is Valerie Po Toruble, Queen of the proud nation of Toruble! And as its Queen, I must establish justice within the boundaries of my beloved nation! Submit yourself to the court and beg for mercy as your sins will be dredged up before the light of day! Hiro: Um. Wow. I better take notes... Ozma: Mommy!! You're so cool!!! Doctor: Very well, Plan B it is. The doctor messes with the control panel again. PA: Emergency! Self-destruct sequence is initialized. This entire mountain is about to be leveled to the ground in 60 seconds. Have a nice day! Hiro: Quick! Grab him! There's time! Queen: There isn't. You lot get out of here. I'll ensure the evil of this place never spreads beyond this God-forsaken mountain!!! Ozma: Mother! Queen: Ozma. As the Princess of this nation, you must never forget... your heart gets a vote, but your brain has veto authority. Tell your father you love him, dry your eyes, and continue on your journey. You are our beloved land's future! Ozma: Mommy! No! Not without-- Hiro and the others restrain Ozma and pull her out the door. Queen: That's right. Be a good girl and listen to your mother. The Queen turns around, then just puts her entire arm through the Doctor's body. Doctor: BARF!!! Queen: This is the way it should be. The past is in the past and the future, set free into tomorrow. Farewell. The screen whites out here. In the SNES version, the party is returned to the overworld without further delay, but there's an extended scene that cues in the GBA remake when the party enters Toruble again. The House Man we saw briefly before walks in through the ruins of the lab. House Man: My, my what a loud explosion that was... He moves around, exploring the ruined boss chamber. House Man: Hmm... his research was thousands of years behind my own... but I must admit, he had some good ideas. I could probably put these to some good use, even if it takes some time. House Man chuckles to himself, as he uncovers a charred remains of one body. House Man: But then again, I have all the time in the world~! The party returns to the throne room of Toruble. Ozma: Daddy, I-- King: Oh-ho! Ozma! How good to see you! Ozma: Huh? Daddy?! King: I don't know why, but... it seems that funk I was in has been lifted from my shoulders! I'm ready and chipper and ready to start some banishing! Ozma: Ugh. Father... King: Oh, before I forget! The King goes to Ozma and gives her the Queen's Knuckles. Ozma: What on Earth? King: These were your mother's. I found them while taking my little trip down memory lane. I'm sure she'd want you to have them! Ozma: … King: What's the matter, dear? I thought you'd be happy! Ozma: I... I am. I have great friends and my whole future before me. I love you, daddy, but my travels aren't over just yet. See you soon! King: Do your best! Now Ozma has her ultimate weapon and unlocks her final attack “Regal Rampage” where Ozma bequeaths royal beatdowns, which hits six times and runs the chance of lowering one corresponding stat with each blow! Hiro: Your mother had a set of custom brass knuckles? Ozma: Yes, why? Hiro: No reason... And now, the only character without their ultimate weapon is Moore. At this point, we need to return to Moore's hometown and they'll mention a “legendary weapon of the miners” had recently surfaced and that a weapon's expert had it. So that's your cue to return to the weapon maniac from before. Old Man: Oh, hello. Here to discuss weapons? Hiro: Sort-of. We're looking for the legendary weapon of the miners. Deima: If this just ends up something dumb like a shovel, prepare for pain, old-timer. Old Man: No, no! Not a shovel! Much more sophisticated than a shovel! Moore: W-what? What is it? Please, tell us! I'd do ANYTHING to be not be rock-bottom tier in this game! All: … Moore: It's never going to happen, is it? Hiro: A-hem. Show us the weapon. Old Man: Can do! Got: Rusty piece of crap! Deima: Okay, so clearly, you want to die... Old Man: Eep! I just dug it up! If you want to see its true power, you'll have to go see the Old Lady Weapon Maniac! Deima: There's another one of you?! Old Man: Just head east from here! You'll find her there! Well, this is just a damnable lie. You need to go WEST from here to find the small hut in the middle of an island that's otherwise quite easy to overlook. Going east is useless as that section of the map is impassable. When you go there. Old Lady: Good morning! Are you here to ask about my weapons collection? I do love weapons! Moore: Sort of! This is... Old Lady: Ah, yes, the legendary weapon of the miners, unrivaled in their tribe as the pinnacle of design and form. Moore: So it can be repaired? Old Lady: Yes, yes! But I'll need the POLISH. Hiro: Special polish? Old Lady: Yes, but you're saying it wrong. It's POLISH. Hiro: Of course it is. Moore: Where do we find it? Old Lady: A merchant in Mermania has some! Mancala: Sounds simple enough. Let's go. So head to Mermania and speak to the merchant guild merman. Moore: So we're looking for the, uh, POLISH. Did I say that right? Guildmaster: Well, you're too late. I just sold the only POLISH I had to a man in Toruble! Hiro: Is this weapon really that great? Moore: It must be! It's the very best weapon of my people! Deima: Yes, God forbid we overlook the tallest of the dwarves. So head to Toruble! There, we find a wealthy looking fellow. Merchant: Oh? You want this POLISH? It cost me quite a lot! Moore: You don't understand, it's a matter of pride... Merchant: Hmm... okay! I'll give it to you! Moore: You will?! Merchant: But first-- All: ugh! Merchant: Bring me a Lucky Rabbit's Foot! Moore: Just... a rabbit foot? Merchant: No, ding-dong, the LUCKY RABBIT'S foot. The Lucky Rabbit only lives on Mushroom Island. Moore: That doesn't sound so hard. Let's go guys! So now, you need to head north-east-ish until you find a newly-made bridge and cross over to the previously-inaccessible island. There, you'll enter a cave and see a large, white rabbit sitting in front of many, many mushrooms with different spot patterns. Rabbit: What-ho! Welcome to the sacred ground of the Rabbit Clan! How can I help you? Moore: um. I am of the miner clan. I wish to request you for, uh, a Lucky Rabbit's Foot. Rabbit: That's all? That's not really a problem, but would you mind doing something for me first? Deima: HISS!!! Rabbit: Go to the top of the hill here and find me a mushroom that looks like... this! The rabbit places down a mushroom with a particular spot pattern. What pattern this is varies in each playthru. You then head up the mountain dealing with Mushkins, Hedgeshrooms, and Ecobandits, all of which can inflict poison. At the top of one of the four staircases are sets of mushrooms, so one of the 12 mushrooms up here is the one that matches Lucky Rabbit's request. Take it back to him. If you bring the wrong one, he'll scold you for being “dumber than a miner” and show you the one he's after once again and you'll return. Once you get it right, he'll speak to you again. Rabbit: Oh, frabjuous day! Here you go! Obtained: Lucky Rabbit's Ruler. Hiro: What? But this is a ruler and-- oh. Wait. I get it. Lucky Rabbit's... foot. Moore: Let's go guys! You then return to Toruble and speak to the merchant. Merchant: Excellent! Just what I needed! Hiro: Odd, I thought you wanted a, y'know, like a foot-foot. Like the Rabbit's actual hind-quarters leg. Merchant: Eww. You're weird. And gross. Here, take the POLISH and get outta here, ya weirdos. Hiro: Grumble... Then head to the Old Weapon Lady. Old Lady: Awright! Now I'll apply the POLISH and... there! Moore: Is it ready?! Old Lady: Almost! Head back to the Old Weapon Man and he should apply the finishing touches. All: Ugh! Moore: C'mon, guys! For all this work we're putting in, this weapon is going to be the best! So return to the Old Weapon Man. Old Man: Why, you lot have been busy. Now, let me just use my RUST REMOVER here and it'll be ready before you can say “Done”! And... Do-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooone! Got: Pickax! Moore: Of course!! Where a shovel fails, the Pickax prevails! All: … Deima: That tears it, everyone dies. Moore: But-- Deima thrusts her hand skyward and the Old Man's tent is blown away. Old Man: Oh noooooo! Moore: Cough. Cough. W-well, on the bright side I got my best weapon in the ga-- wait, does this mean I only HAVE two weapons in this WHOLE GAME?! Hiro: … The Pickax is... a little better than his shovel, I guess? But now that we have all the legendary weapons, we can finally go to that random forest in the north stretch of the game, with the healing spring in it. When we go to heal in it this time, Hiro and the party just jump into it. You'll then follow a spiral staircase downward until you reach a Pudding Shrine at the bottom. “But wait!” I hear some of you call out, “How the hell were we supposed to know about this?!” All I can say is: Player's Guide Sales! Go inside and Hiro will pull away from the party. Hiro: The final shrine... A small, strange, hairy creature appears before him. Hiro: Um. Lulz: Greetings, Hiro. I am Lul Invictus, but you can call me Lulz for short. Hiro: Very short. Lulz: Oh, the wit. Never heard THAT one before! You do remember my voice, do you not? Hiro: Um... Wait... you were the one who spoke to me when my powers first awoke! Lulz: Indeed so. Your journey is nearing completion, Hiro. You will need the fullest extent of your abilities now. Do you know what I mean by that? Hiro: Yes! My friends! Lulz: Indeed! You've learned much! I now release the limitations on your abilities and bless you with the mighty power of the Final Swirl Flavor Fusion! Hiro glows brightly. Hiro: Thank you, Lulz. Lulz: Fare thee well. And remember: Pudding is meant to be enjoyed! Not contained! Keep those snack packs a popping! Hiro: The more you speak, the less I understand. But I'll do my best despite that. Hiro returns to the others, draws out his sword and poses. Hiro: Do that which is right, live your life for others, and never, ever give up! That is the oath of the Light Puddings! Ozma: Heart~! Kimyawa: Sugoi, Hiro-ni-chan! Loyroll: Well said, friend! Deima: Heh. Hot. Moore: Mm! Mancala: Ooo, we should copyright that phrase and make mint after the war's over! And with that, the last optional quest is finished and we're ready to get us the best ending of the game! It's time to enter the next chapter, with our heads held high!

#Adventure #writing #fiction #fantasy #science fantasy #infrequently asked questions #Amazing Quest

[jazelthegentle]

The Vilaari Rift

Sliiiink! Sliiiink! Sliiink! Sliiink!

J’azel ran her whetstone down the edge of Sovaaki, her sanctified ambrosium greatsword. She had been here for hours, sitting in silence on an overturned barrel in the corner of the room. Her kin were upstairs, shouting and laughing in celebration of the Burning Legion's demise, but she paid them no mind. Here she was alone to wrestle with her thoughts, free to mentally prepare herself for the worst to happen.

Her last encounter with her sister was not a warm or welcoming one. The Man’ari almost killed her with her bare hands, tossing her around the command chamber of the Krakenax like she weighed nothing. Her pyromancy was supreme, wild, and feral; it took her and the Oathguard’s strongest elves to take her down, but much to J’azel’s shock, she didn’t stay dead. With Miraan’s demon soul regenerating her physical form in the Twisting Nether, this may be the J’azel’s final chance to save her sister from the brink and return to being a family again.

Light rushed into the chamber when the only door slid open. J'azel stopped sharpening her sword to see her beloved step inside, clad in lightsteel from neck to heel, and wreathed in a soft golden glow. Her faint smile was short lived, dying the instant she saw the two monstrous hands on his shoulders; she could tell by the slight grimace behind Folcan's nervous smile and the subtle threatening tone in Taarth's booming laughter that the Vice Admiral was giving her beloved a hard time.

"So this is human you speak so highly of?!" Taarth chuckled, the muscles in his hands tightening. "He is so puny, yes?! Like High Exarch Turalyon's soft, baby brother! Hahahahahaaahhh!"

J'azel rose to her hooves and lifted her sword over her head, letting it fasten to her back with a soft click. "Please stop crushing darling's shoulders."

"Aww I'm not hurting him. Isn't that right, darling?" Taarth mocked, playfully slapping Folcan on the back; he almost knocked the wind out of him. J'azel cleared her throat as loudly as she could, her piercing glare fixed onto the Vice Admiral. She wasn't amused at all. "I will do system check…" Without another word he mercifully released Folcan and trotted to the inactive transponder at the other end of the room.

“Your Vice Admiral sure knows how to leave an impression.” Folcan smiled, rolling one of his shoulders.

“Taarth is very protective of me, yes? Don’t let him intimidate you.” J’azel began helping him fasten his shoulderguards on. “Did he hurt your shoulders?”

Folcan looked up at J’azel with his dimly glowing silvery-brown eyes. “It’s nothing one of your back rubs can’t fix." As she tightened his other shoulderguard, Folcan glanced up to stare into her eyes; he waited until she was done before gently taking her hand. "Jazz… we’re going to get through this together. No matter what happens… we will weather this together.”

J’azel pressed her forehead against his with a faint smile on her lips. She wanted to believe everything would turn out for the best. As she looked into Folcan’s eyes, the fear of watching him drown in felfire caused her hands to tremble; she had to believe in him and his confidence, now more than ever. He playfully brushed their noses together and leaned in for a kiss, but Taarth had turned to face them again.

“You will be going in blind. Vilaari Rift is on edge of known cosmos, yes? The Void is strongest here.” The Vice Admiral stepped on a hovering metal plate, and a slow whirring sound vibrated through the floor as the transponder became active. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“We are.” Folcan drew a long breath before lowering his gilded helmet over his head; J’azel remained silent, choosing to attach a crystal apparatus to her lover’s back.

Vice Admiral Taarth slammed his weighty fist against his chest and stepped to the side. “Good luck you two. When you are done, signal for me. I will come get you.”

Everything about this place felt wrong. Stepping onto the surface of this strange land and Folcan could tell right away that they weren't on a planet. The supercontinent they now stood on was almost the size of Kalimdor, but just like Outland, it was broken and shattered, and still slowly spinning from an explosion that likely happened eons ago; asteroids large enough to flatten Stormwind drifted overhead, with the occasional collision rocking the alien sand beneath his boots. A flickering star as purple as amethyst cast a curious light upon the ravaged hellscape, doing sluggish laps along the horizon. Then Folcan looked up to see where the cluster of countless stars abruptly ended. Before him was an empty and shapeless expanse, stretching further and further out for eternity.

He felt a presence; the silhouette of an uninvited guest at the door, the shape of a stranger hiding behind a thin black veil. Something was tugging at him, the gentlest pull Folcan has ever felt. The longer he stared, the larger the black emptiness became. Before long the stars were behind him. The planets were behind him. J’azel was behind him.

“Folcan?” Her voice was far closer than he was prepared for. He blinked and turned around, noticing she was a few yards away. She was finishing up with their only way back home when she turned to look at her beloved from over her shoulder. “Where are you going…?”

“I…” He didn’t know how to answer that question. He really didn’t even know himself.

"Don't stare into cosmos." J’azel warned, beckoning him to follow her. "There are things out there that we don’t want, yes? Stay with me." Down the side of the hill they found strange and unsettling corpses sprawled out across the ground; tangled messes of tentacles and claws, innumerous glazed and lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, slimy arms and legs ribbed with jagged teeth and claws, and leathery hides gestating with poisonous fumes and leaking boiling black blood. Both Folcan and J’azel gave these faceless corpses a wide berth for good reason. What started as a sparse few scattered along their path turned into huge piles the moment they stepped through a crag and out into the valley. Some of these corpses were gigantic, easily towering over the storm giants in Northrend. They all had two things in common though - they were all dead, and all charred with felfire.

J'azel grabbed Folcan by the wrist and pulled him down behind one of the corpses. A colossal Faceless One came stumbling forward, dragging its elongated arms along the ground. A deep growl gurgled from its writhing appendages before it collapsed to join its fallen kin. A Man'ari as red as the Silithus sunset appeared on its back, with a sword buried to its hilt in the Faceless monster; her face was contorted into a half grin, half grimacing sneer, pumping ran felfire deep into the dying creature. When she glanced in their direction, they instinctively ducked down to hide.

"Come on out, cowards!" Her voice carried across the umbral plains of the Vilaari Rift, and the echo caused J'azel to tremble. "I can smell your pitiful Light from here!"

Folcan firmly squeezed J'azel's hand to get her attention. "Together." He whispered, smiling beneath his helmet. She took a long breath before nodding, and they both rose to confront her.

"Sister…?" Miraan sounded genuinely surprised. "I didn't think you would find me for another few centuries." Her eyes snapped to Folcan. "What is this human wretch doing with you?"

J’azel raised her hand to stop Folcan from answering. “He is friend.” She answered, shooting him a quick glance. “We want to help you, sister. Come back with us… it doesn’t have to end this way!”

“We’ve done this bit already.” Slowly Miraan pulled her hideous sword out of the Faceless Corpse, the felflame turning the corrupting blood into boiling hot vapors. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you? Without the Burning Legion, the cosmos is doomed to die a slow and painful death in the hungering Void. We were to be its savior.”

“Savior?” Folcan couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “You torched countless worlds! You butchered millions of innocent people!”

Miraan’s eyes flickered back to him, but her face remained still as stone. “Salvation demands a heavy price. My Master’s methods were cruel, but they had to be. He couldn’t afford weakness in his Burning Crusade. Only the strongest had a chance of defeating the Void.” She raised her sword up to point at the empty darkness of space above them. “Do you see that? The endless black that slowly consumes our reality? The mightiest heroes can’t stop it. Your precious Light can’t stop it. Not even the Pantheon can stop it. At the zenith of his power, perhaps not even Lord Sargeras could stop it.” She lowered her sword to point at J’azel and Folcan. “Your ignorance has doomed us all. But… death would be mercy compared to what the Void Lords have planned for creation. The good news? Neither of you will be around to witness it.”

“I just want my sister back!” J’azel shouted, taking a few steps forward. “I just want us to be a family again! Miraan, please! Please return with us! We can fight the Void together! This isn’t-!”

“Just stop.” Miraan raised her hand; felflame began licking at her palm. “There’s nothing you can say to convince me to turn myself in and bow to your Lightforged overlords, and there’s nothing I can do to bring the Legion back to its former glory.” Folcan raised his shield and reached for his hammer while J’azel was on the verge of tears. “I’m going to continue killing these Faceless horrors until I starve to death. It’s what Lord Kil’jaedan would have wanted. But before that happens… I’m going to kill you and your human slave. I’m done talking.”

Folcan’s eyes widened at the flash of felfire in her open hand. “Jazz look out!” He tackled her to the ground, rolling in the sand for a heartbeat as a searing blast of raw fel magic hissed overhead. Miraan was upon them before they could regain their footing. She brought her sword down on Folcan hard, but he caught the strike with his raised shield to let it harmlessly ricochet away from his body. The blade came back down again, far faster and harder the second time; rising to a knee and ducking behind his shield was all Folcan had time for before he was struck again and again, with agony beginning to surge through his arm. He couldn’t withstand much more of this punishment.

In the corner of his eye he saw J’azel leaping through the air. Miraan turned around before she reached her and their blades clashed with a thunderous clang, showing sparks of Light and Fel all around them. Folcan rose to his feet with a pained grunt and lunged at Miraan from behind to finish her off. As the Man’ari jumped back to dodge J’azel’s downward thrust, she shot a quick glance in Folcan’s direction before one of her hooves shot outward as quick as lightning. She caught Folcan dead center, denting his chestplate and sending him airborne. He skipped across the sand like a smooth rock across still water before he began slowing down into a rough and disorienting tumble. Folcan felt his body begin to fall straight into a bottomless, lightless hole in the ground, but he managed to grab hold of a nearby Faceless corpse to stop himself from certain death.

“Folcan!” J’azel cried out, but he could barely hear her. The kick to the chest would’ve killed him if he was wearing his old armor; the wind was still knocked clean out of him, however, and rolling that hard and long had left him almost dizzy enough to pass out. He clung to the tendril in his grasp as his life depended on it, taking short and quick breaths to regain his senses. Slowly he began pulling himself up, ignoring the twitching of the tendril in his grasp, instead focused only on surviving. He gripped handfuls of sand to anchor himself the moment he felt confident enough to do so, hearing only his own heart pounding in his head, and the distant yet familiar song of swords.

J’azel and Miraan dueled each other with a grace he wasn’t expecting. Locked together in a dance of death, his beloved wasn’t giving her sister a moment of respite, staying right on top of her with an otherworldly flurry of seemingly reckless swings of her claymore. Yet every time she seemed to gain the upper hand, Miraan would erupt with a burst of felflame, and they would disappear in a cloud of smoke before reappearing to start the dance all over again. “F-Folcan?!” J’azel turned to see him still alive, but that brief lapse was all Miraan needed. The Man’ari raised her sword over her head and swung down with all of her might, clashing against J’azel with a crippling blow. Her fel-infused strength was enough to force J’azel to one knee, with keeping that fel sword from cutting her in half as her only course of action.

Miraan’s bladed tail flicked around her body and buried itself in J’azel’s side. Her surprised gasp of agony caused Folcan’s heart to skip a beat. “JAAAAZZZ!” His chest imploded with maddening fear and unshackled rage. He couldn't afford to lose another woman he loved, and this time no one was around to pull him away. He snatched his hammer out if the sand on his way to charge Miraan down before she finished his beloved off. Miraan disarmed her sister with one hand and grabbed her horn with the other, forcing J’azel to further scream out as all of her strength and will to fight escaped from the back of her throat.

“Not so fast, human filth!” Miraan turned around and held J’azel in front of her. “One more step and she dies!”

"Put her down!" Folcan shouted while he slid to a halt. "If you kill her…! I swear to the Light-!"

Miraan's cruel laughter drained the threat from his tone. "You two are lovers, yes?! I knew it!" Her hand that held J'azel by the horn lit up in felfire, burning through the bone and filling the air with his beloved's agony. "Are you paying attention, sister?! You and all your Lightforged puppets took everything from me! Now, I return the favor. Watch closely as I roast him alive and feast on his corpse!" With a twist and a yank, J'azel's horn came off, and she collapsed into the sand with a hard thud.

Miraan closed the distance between her and Folcan quickly. An underhanded swing almost took his head off if he didn’t leap out of harm’s way. His hammer came down to crush her wrist, but she leaned in and caught his weapon with her shoulder instead. Her tail lashed out and struck him just beneath the knee, punching through most of his armor but skidding across the chainmail underneath. Her other hand came up, tearing at his side with J’azel’s severed white horn. Then, she brought her sword around again with enough strength behind the blade to cleave his body in half.

Miraan’s movements were too quick to follow, her strength was too vast to counter, and her three weapons proved too much to handle against Folcan’s sword and shield; every time he would get the opportunity to strike, she would either brush it off or dodge it completely, and he would get punished for it. Folcan hurled his hammer at Miraan’s head in an attempt to anticipate her movement. She leaned back and let it sail harmlessly away before she lashed out with sword and tail and horn once more. He caught her blade and J’azel’s horn with his shield, but her tail punched another hole in his armor again. “As I suspected!” Miraan cackled, leaping back to let the human collapse to one knee. “Slow and weak!”

Behind his shield he clenched his hand and pulled backward, his hammer flying out of the sand to return to his grasp. It struck Miraan in the back of the head, shattering her horns into a shower of bone fragments. She bottomed out her lungs with her screech, stumbling forward to catch her face with the brunt of his shield. His hammer came down and slammed into one of her knees, filling the air with a wet crack before she buckled backward to fall flat onto the ground. The Holy Light surged through Folcan with the taste of victory on his lips, his righteous fury exploding out of his back in the form of shimmering white wings. It was short lived.

He heard and tasted the foul fel magic before he saw Miraan’s arms lit up in a sickly green flare. The Light within him surged outward to encase him in his divine shield just in time before the fury of the Man’ari came pouring out of her like a shattered dam against a raging river. Folcan was ripped off his feet and sent spiraling through the air in a colossal wave of raw felfire, blinded by the sickly green flash and deafened by its bellowing roar. He slammed into a cliffside so hard he swore he went to the afterlife right then and there. His arms certainly felt broken, as did his legs and ribs; he crumpled to the ground, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. His breathing apparatus had shattered into dust on his back, and now he was exposed to air that was too thin for comfort. He grasped at his throat to little avail, desperate to catch a full breath to recover his dwindling strength.

“You’re going to pay for that.” Malice dripped from Miraan’s words like venom. Blood oozed from her broken nose and split lips as she limped toward him. “You’re going to BURN for that!” Folcan tried to raise his shield to protect himself, but it was too heavy to lift; all he could do was gaze up at Miraan’s glowing palm in between ragged breaths, and brace himself for the final green flash that would guide him to the other side. He heard the roaring flames but he never felt them. Folcan opened his eyes to see Miraan staggering forward while she reached for something behind her; when she turned around he saw her wings had vanished, and the flesh on her back had been seared almost completely off. “Wh...aaat…..?!”

J’azel was standing again, wreathed in the Light. Looking directly at her was like staring into the blinding rays of a lighthouse, her body shimmering with newfound runes as her eyes were filled with cold fury. She raised her hand again, sending another volley of light that struck Miraan and ripped her off her hooves. Miraan collapsed in a heap of smoke and seared flesh, writhing about in the sand as her arrogance fled. “RAAAAUUUGH! WAIT! SISTER!” She was able to roll onto her stomach and push herself up, but one of her arms looked like it was half-eaten by the holy flames, and threatened to snap under her weight. “Y-you wouldn’t kill your sister, yes?! Without me, you have no family!”

“I have Folcan.” J’azel shot a quick glance in his direction. “He is family now.”

“No…! NOOOO!” Miraan hissed out when J’azel raised her hand again. “J'AZEEEAAAGH-!” The Light surged forth and washed over her sister in a blinding tide of cleansing fire. The silhouette of her sister's skeleton flashed amongst the searing heat before crumbling into dust and ash. In the end, her remains vanished in the wind with the pillar of smoke left behind.

Folcan felt her gentle hands reach down and lift him onto his feet. His arms were numb and unresponsive, his legs felt like jelly, and he was still trying to catch his breath. "I've got you." J'azel spoke into his ear while pulling his arm over her shoulders. Blood trickled from her wounds and each step took an eternity to make, but they slowly began heading back to the beacon. Back to safety. Back to home.

"You belong here." The softest voice whispered in Folcan's head, filling him with a strange soothing warmth. He used what little strength he had to look up, seeing the endless darkness above swirling and spinning ever closer. A distorted shapeless entity appeared for a brief instant at the edge of his vision, but when he looked at it directly, it vanished. "There is no misery, nor sadness, nor pain. You will be free. Safe. Happy."

"Don't listen to voice!" J'azel warned, staggering a bit before trying her best to pick up the pace.

"Stay with us. You are so tired. Rest now." The voice filled Folcan with overwhelming joy, but he was no fool; through a panicked smile he began forcefully lifting his dragging feet to help J'azel lead them to safety. Soon she began to tremble from giggling, affected by the same crushing presence. A rock shifted her hooves out from underneath, and they fell into the sand. "We can give you everything your heart desires."

Folcan burst into laughter while he lay face down in the sand. He knew he should be terrified, but this encroaching presence flooded his mind with joy. Euphoria washed over his body as he turned to look at J'azel, who was on her back while clutching her stomach, cackling madly; tears were streaming down her face while she pressed a few buttons on her wrist, but her maniacal laughter abruptly stopped the moment she sat up and saw something in the distance.

"Mom…? Dad…?" J'azel's jaw dropped upon seeing her parents standing beside each other. Her father Uverin waved at her with his huge hands, smiling faintly alongside her mother Xiraas. Both of them were wreathed in the Light, and lightforged just like J'azel. "You survived Argus…?"

"Of course, my Little Comet." Her father's voice caused her eyes to shimmer with tears. "Come. After we give Miraan proper burial, we should return to Argus, yes? We can be family again."

"Don't… hahahhhh… listen to it… haahahahaahh!" Folcan could barely speak through his fit of laughter. He tried to reach out and grab her by the wrist, but she was already on her hooves again. "Ja… jahahahh… Jazz…!"

"Family…" Slowly she began walking toward her parents, still clutching the wound on her side. Folcan watched helplessly as she walked toward the hallucination only she could see, desperate to stop her from wandering off into the dark to lose her sanity.

"Over here!" A familiar voice bellowed from behind. Gigantic hooves slammed into the sand beside Folcan before his body came into view; Taarth dashed toward J'azel and grabbed her by the wrist, sending her into a frenzy.

"Let go of me!" She begged, turning around to punch and kick at him. Taarth ignored her protest and scooped her under one of his arms, letting her flail aimlessly at his side. "NO! PARENTS NEED ME!" Taarth grabbed Folcan's hammer before grabbing him by the collar of his armor. The joy that filled his heart Immediately turned into fear and hatred; he weakly clawed at Taarth's grip, but he was too sore and weak to stop him. Other Lightforged Eredar surrounded them, escorting Taarth back toward the beacon.

"Don't leave us. We don't want to be alone." The voice pushed overwhelming guilt and shame into his mind, but he was helpless to stop Taarth. "Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't." The last thing Folcan saw before the blinding light from the beacon, was a gigantic mass of long tendrils choking out the purple star, and thousands of unblinking eyes staring straight through him.

Back aboard the Vindicaar, he sat upright on a makeshift bunk. Food grew cold on a plate beside him, but his appetite was nonexistent; pings of joy and sadness still shivered up his spine like a twitch, but the presence was thankfully gone. He tried raising his shield arm, but pain jolted through his body, from the tips of his fingers all the way up into his back. Folcan winced and looked down to see his skin was purple and swollen underneath his wound dressing. Terrible bruising to be sure, but at least nothing was broken.

The door slowly opened on the adjacent wall. A spark of excitement fluttered in his stomach at the prospect of seeing J'azel, but it was short lived. "You are not eating. You need to get strength back, yes?" Taarth gave him a warm smile, holding a tankard in his hand. "Here, drink."

Folcan did his best to raise his other hand in protest. "No thanks. My head is swimming already…"

"You are still under influence of evil from Void." Taarth furrowed his brow and jutted the tankard toward him again. "Drink. This will cleanse mind and soul of poison." Folcan couldn't argue with that. He's seen firsthand what that kind of corruption does to people if left untreated; a lot of good men were reduced to blathering cripples in Northrend after being exposed to Yogg-saron's influence. "Oh, you don't want liquid to touch-"

"Whauugh-?!" Folcan coughed and choked on the very first sip. Every muscle in his body was sore one way or another, so every time he coughed it felt like a group of gnomes were pummeling his stomach, chest, back, and head. The liquid was so foul tasting he swore it was boiled goat piss - a common dwarven prank he fell victim to more than a decade ago. "What the fel did you try to poison me with?!"

"Pfeh! Humans are dramatic. It is not that bad, yes? Give me tankard!" Taarth took it from Folcan's hand and took a quick sip. He almost dropped and spilled it all over himself. "LIGHT THAT IS RANCID!" The Eredar grabbed a flank of lukewarm meat from Folcan's untouched plate and began stuffing his face in a desperate attempt to get that horrid taste out of his mouth. "Uuhuugh! Eeuugh…! I think I am going to be sick…!"

"Don't vomit on lover." J'azel commanded, leaning against the door's threshold. Folcan looked up to see wound dressing stained brown around her waist and stomach. A blackened stump sticking out maybe an inch or two from her hair was all that remained of her right horn, and her head was slightly tilting to the side from the uneven weight. He gave her a weak smile before she limped over to sit beside him. "You must drink this before permanent damage, yes?" She took the tankard from Taarth and raised it to Folcan's grimacing lips.

Simply watching Folcan force it down was enough to make Taarth gag. "I will give you two space." J'azel pinched Folcan's nose and lifted the tankard up until most of it was down his throat. He coughed again, but his body began to feel too numb for it to hurt like it used to.

"I am very proud." She softly spoke, smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad." Folcan admitted, trying not to gag. "Worse than you I hope?"

"I doubt this. Facing sister one last time was… exhausting. This is third time I mourn for sister, yes? This time she won't be coming back. Even worse… I saw parents again. They looked so real… I forgot where I was. Why I was fighting. What I was fighting for. It was all cruel ploy by Old God to lure me to death." J'azel inhaled sharply before weakly smiling down at him. "But I am glad you came with me. Facing sister alone… facing evil alone..."

"I'd do it all over again if I had to. As long as we're together." He assured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Anything for my dazzling beauty from across the cosmos."

Slowly she leaned forward to press her forehead against his. Through a weak smile she said, "I am grateful, but… let's never ever do this again." before they both started nervously laughing.

[loveiscosmicsin]

We’re Even

Title: We’re Even Rating: T Warnings: Some language, violence

Timed Quest Day 3: Prompt: “Sometimes I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or strangle you.” @ignoctweek

FFXV AU of Niff!Ignis joining the group after Noctis spares his life and Ignis returned the favor later on. The origin story of the idea played around with and is connected to “Duel”, Ignis becomes the most loyal party member to Noctis. @letshareapapou helped me with writing this one.

-

The astonishment on the Crown Prince's face, one of the rarest expressions the strategist had the pleasure of witnessing and being the cause of, made another appearance. But instead of the strategist celebrating that emotion as he had in the past, there was no doubt that dread and anxiety was thick in the air, innumerable emotions shared by all warriors and civilians in proximity. Ignis Scientia was no stranger to imperial technology. His birthplace, Graela, the glorious capital of the Niflheim Empire, possessed Magitek machines of invincible might, striking one victory after another in unstoppable conquest. The young strategist had seen the devastating effects of its sonic weapons on humanoids, but magic neutralizers were a weapon of mass destruction. Nations outside of Niflheim relied heavily on magic. Prince Noctis and his allies' abilities were enhanced by it. Firearms were prohibited in the Kingdom of Lucis. Only the elite units and members of the royal family were allowed access to ancient magic. It is why the first thought that came to his mind was: So many people were going to lose their lives here.

Noctis, blood oozing from between his fingers, pressed firmly on a wound caused by gunfire. His face was contorted with pain. Ignis quickly brought him to safety, formulating a plan that would get all of them to safety, anything from his experiences he could draw upon to reveal an opening in enemy assault. "I do hope our allies are finding cover as well. It would be a waste if they only served as target practice." Ignis hissed as he glanced out from the pillar they shared. Noctis dropped his hand from his bleeding bicep. "You and the others have to get out of here. They're aiming for innocents, too." The advisor cast a look of disdain at the proposal. "Do you honestly expect me to do that and leave you behind? You are sorely mistaken if you think that’s a sound plan,” he berated with a snarl. Noctis paid him little heed as he got to his feet. Though he haven't signed on for long, Ignis felt a suspicion creep up on him. "You're going to do something brazen, aren't you?" "Someone needs to keep them busy for a while." Noctis turned to Ignis, eying the katana he always had at his waist. "Let me borrow your—" Ignis didn't allow Noctis to finish, simply removing the weapon from its hilt, light gleaming off the blade. Noctis reached out to accept the weapon only to flinch back when Ignis pointed it at his nose. Back in Niflheim, a request to disarm oneself could be taken as an insult. Ignis understood that the prince wouldn't deliberately entrench in a foreign custom, knowingly infringing on the other man's autonomy. The brunet decided that the gesture was an establishment of trust. Being the only ally not relying on magic loaned by the future king, his blade was created by earthly materials, designed to slash through most impregnable metals. The strategist knew that his blade would increase the prince's chances of survival. Ignis flipped the sword professionally, offering the hilt to the prince. "Don't let us share a funeral..." The strategist stated firmly before turning on his heel without another word. Noctis watched the man return to the fray, twisting in battle with a flurry of kicks, foot slamming into a soldier that sent him flying. Sweat ran over his brow and face set in a feral sneer, Ignis looked spectacular and dangerous even unarmed. He certainly wasn’t happy about leaving the prince alone. Noctis turned, hand gripping the katana tight as he barreled into his own fight. He twirled around an enemy as he ran, spinning to position himself into a battle stance, elbows bent to bring the katana over his head. The telltale click of a gun had him perform a back handspring away from a hail of bullets. Noctis wanted to believe that this was buying enough time for Ignis to get to the others. He slashed the katana downward, blood splattered on the ground, but the look of approval Ignis had sent in his direction before he pushed onward filled the prince’s chest with pride before forcing it down. Ignis was not his friend. Noctis tried to convince himself of this, that he had spared Ignis because he would be useful, but honestly, there was more to it than that. He didn't want Ignis to leave his side even if he had to chain him there. Noctis reached the top of the tower. Aggressive gusts of wind slapped at him that he raised an arm to shield his face to search for his target. He ignored the screams of gunfire and the bodies littering the battlefield and focused. He found it easily. The machine was huge, crab-like legs dug into the ground as it ciphened the magic from the air, whirling loudly. Noctis took aim, stance tightening as he braced himself. He took a deep breath before launching himself into the air. Coming down fast, he extended the blade, his free hand held over it. He turned, using the momentum to slam the blade home. The machine screamed its vicious cry, sparks flying as it collapsed. Noctis felt a termor of power flow into him. Time slowed as he reached deep, an Astral's presence bubbling under the surface. He let go. He heard a familiar shout in that second, but it was too late, half-turning to see Ignis reaching for him. The strategist's fingers were iron as he seized the prince's shoulder and steered him away from the manifestation. There was no time to run. The power released with a clash of energy. Ignis sheltered the prince his own body. Then Noctis felt it, the backlash of power unleashed, inside a bubble that still contained it. There was a scream but it didn't come from him. Eos itself felt as it was torn in two. Tremors and a fierce gale separated the two men from each other, Noctis was shoved away from the worst of it. The blast could've consumed him as it obliterated the imperial army. When the dust settled, Noctis found Ignis. Ignis... Ignis didn't rise. - Ignis committed himself to his country entirely. For as long as he could remember, Ignis had honed his talents and received the highest honors of his class. He conquered the console's simulations of artificially intelligent armies and directed a complete override on its programming to achieve swift victories. He mastered subjects in linguistics, history, alstoronomy, and so forth to fortify that a citizen of a superpower was well-spoken and cultured of the world around him. Ignis was taught to despise and look down upon those who weren't from Niflheim, especially the Lucians. Despite records depicting key events of the bloody feud were either lost or brought to question of its accuracy, there was no refuting that Lucis and Niflheim had been at war for many years. All Niflheim subjects were to refer to the neutral and pacifistic Lucians as mongrels. They were unworthy of the Crystal bestowed upon them. There could never be any peace between Niflheim and Lucis. Niflheim saw to that end when the kingdom was burned. Lucians scattered to find places to call home or swore their allegiance to the new masters. That was Ignis was taught. But why... Why did this brilliant strategist who held such promise lose to a Lucian? To Noctis Lucis Caelum, the heir apparent and vile scion of the royal bloodline? Had his arrogance finally caught up to him? He was far more experienced than the younger man... Yet, here he was. The tip of the prince's blade nicked the tender flesh of the strategist's throat. Ignis was at the Lucis Caelum's mercy. Disarmed and tormented, he was to die a martyr for his country. The patriot defiantly met the wrathful fuchsia eyes glowering upon him. The sight of them, magnificent and hypotonic. He could almost see why he was considered a formidable combatant. Shaking out of the spell he was briefly held under, he had something to say. "You are weary. Where is this great unwavering resolve that struck me down, Your Highness? What exactly curbs your bloodlust now?" Ignis reined control over his distressed breathing. He wasn't afraid to die, his life was bound to the empire's ideals. He failed his mission in killing the heir apparent and that alone was punishable by death. "End my life. All I ask..." He swallowed hard, lifting his chin higher to meet the blade. "Do not let me suffer." Even a barbarian such as the prince surely grasped some scope of dueling etiquette. The victor was to execute the loser. The loser was entitled to the final request before being sent to Etro's Gates. Ignis was to close his eyes, but he planned to retain his murderer's face in his last moments until he expired. The Lucian prince held the imperial strategist captive in the now crystal cobalt hues of his eyes. It was a penetrating gaze that shattered anyone under it to the core. Ignis felt that the ceremony was being delayed much longer than necessary. The manners demonstrated were lacking. How long must he be humiliated like this? The blade lost its form, disintegrated into glass fragments. He had sent the blade away. "No," Noctis stated firmly. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. "I won't kill a defenseless opponent." Ignis would have pushed himself onto the blade if the wielder hadn't commanded it gone. He yelled through gritted teeth, knees aching. "Fool." He hissed. "I was supposed to kill you. I could have. If only I hadn't waited.” Noctis stared him down, eyes wide but dark as he watched Ignis. “I could’ve done so much worse. You got no peace treaty to protect you.” Gladiolus moved forward, hand one dropping to Noctis' shoulder. The Shield watched Ignis' face tighten. "Noct, he's a loose cannon." The prince shook off his retainer, taking a knee beside the fallen strategist. “I'll make you a deal: You answer only to me and you get to live.” He smirked. Ignis had never hated anyone more than he had in that moment. "I want nothing of this deal, you cur!" Ignis didn't like that smug tone of his either. "I would rather die." "That can be arranged!" The Shield roared, but the prince held out a hand. It seemed Lucis Caelum had a kennel of hounds willing to serve him. Why would the strategist's servitude matter to a materialistic elitist? "Yeah? Too bad, I want you to live." "Uh, Noct," The prince's blond companion, Prompto, Ignis recalled from the intelligence unit’s data, spoke up. "You sure you wanna go there? What if it's a trap? You know, like what happened to Lucis? How do you know he wasn't the one behind the attack?" Ignis kept his lips sealed. Correcting the gunslinger wouldn't change the fact that he was a loyal subject of Niflheim and he cared little of their opinions on the matter. He wasn't present in the onslaught. It was the kingdom's failing that it couldn't save itself. "He wasn't there." Noctis answered, simply. "Up until this point, Niffs had us running in circles. Probably because of you, right?" The prince asked the strategist. Ignis refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He won battles by understanding the way his enemies thought and in turn, assumed they knew what he was planning in order to shape the battle accordingly. He instead smiled at the statement. Bound, bloodied, and face pressed in dirt, these hapless fools were beneath him. Gladiolus wanted to kick in his smug face, Ignis knew he did. He pulled Noctis around. "Watch him." He barked at Prompto and the blonde nodded, pistol summoned in his one of his hands with a flick of his wrist. - "You can't be serious, Noct. He's scum. He wants you dead." Gladiolus turned back to glance at the fallen imperial slowly roll to his side with tremendous effort. "He'll kill us all the first chance he gets." "Not gonna happen. I won’t let him have it.” The Shield grunted in disbelief and Noctis had gripped his friend’s bicep, their eyes meeting, the prince's were hard. "I won't let him hurt any of us,” he vowed. Gladiolus made a low sound in the back of his throat. “You can't make that promise, you know. We don’t know him, but I bet that he knows everything he needs to about us. Just kill him and get it over with.” "He wants to live." Noctis whispered, his own eyes steady on the imperial now. "I know he wants to live more than anything, and I going to give him a chance to." "You're too soft." Gladiolus sighed, frustrated but conceding. Noctis smiled. “Yeah, maybe, but I’m not saying we lower our guard.” He jerked his chin to Ignis, crossing his arms, "He’s capable and obedient. Maybe he’ll change his mind about us.” - Ignis observed the prince and his bodyguard from afar. He didn't care for the secrecy. He barely managed to hear a couple choice words such as 'enemy', 'promise', and 'chance'. Nothing else. But he concluded that the prince had made a unbeatable argument. "So, uh," the gunslinger spoke suddenly, breaking the strategist out of his thoughts. "How long you've been a Niff anyway? Must be tough, you know?" He twirled his gun around his finger. "You probably don't get invited out to the good parties because of the bad rep." "No tougher than enduring your false sympathy while you're staring at my legs,” the strategist replied, wiggling his bound wrists for emphasis. "As you can see I'm quite incapacitated." "Right. But you sure suck at this small talk thing." Prompto sighed. "I can tell you're gonna be a blast to have around, Igster." Ignis tilted his head. Who was he to address him by such a crude butchery of a name? Before he could remark on it, Noctis and Gladiolus returned. "We don't have much time. We need to leave now so I'll cut to the chase. You're going to swear loyalty to Lucis and come with us to save the world." Ignis opened his mouth but Noctis injected, "Or I'll drag you to Graela and drop you off at the doors myself, gift-wrapped on arrival. We both know they won't be happy to see you." "You would be so careless as to head directly to capital? That would be suicide." Noctis cocked his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "My kingdom is in ruins, I've been dethroned, and the Crystal is who knows where. And everyone else? Dead or being blasted into oblivion. Dunno about you, but I'm a man with nothing to lose." "Fine!" Ignis spat. "Wait, really?" Prompto exclaimed, even Gladiolus looked a bit unnerved at how easy the man bared his teeth. Noctis crouched to meet with the strategist's eyes. "I want to hear you say it, Ignis." The strategist's grit his teeth in a feral grimace. "I swear loyalty to Lucis, and to you, Noctis Lucis Caelum, until the end of my days." "Good, I heard a lot of sincerity in that vow. We'll get along great." Noctis rolled his eyes. He looked up at his companions. "We still have a potion left?" "You're going to use it on him?" Gladiolus scowled as he handed the prince an emerald flask. "Who else?" The prince held out his hand. "Let's get you patched up." The magic was excruciatingly painful. Ignis refrained from screaming while the tears stung painfully at his eyes. Fractures and lacerations mended themselves, anew. He leaned forward on his hands and knees, dry heaving. Noctis witnessed the man's suffering without so much as batting an eye. "Remember that pain. We might not get a second chance at this talk. Get him up. We have to keep going." Was it all just a petty feud? A pointless bloodbath? Yesterday's enemy can easily shift to today's ally.

-

When Ignis came to, he found himself in a sterile and plain room resembling an infirmary and at this side, Noctis himself, almost like the first ray of light he had seen in years. "I thought I told you not to let us share a funeral..." Ignis muttered, his throat dry and raw. Noctis turned to the table and poured water into a plastic cup. After putting a straw in, he directed Ignis’ lips to it. “Sometimes I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or strangle you.” Ignis quickly drained the entire cup. “Why not both?” “Don’t tempt me,” he refilled the cup. “More water?” It hurt to nod but Noctis had the straw ready anyway. "Where's your Shield and marksman?" Ignis asked once he was done. "They’re with the civilians. Dunno how long it’ll take them, but I’ll check on them later.” “And my blade?” Noctis extended a finger to the katana propped against the bed within reach and Ignis’ muscles protested as he touched the knotted cords around the hilt, wrapping a finger around them. - Gladiolus and Prompto had been apprehensive ever since the prince welcomed the strategist in the fold. Ignis would been the same if he were in their shoes. But then again, imperials hardly took prisoners. When something rattled forebodingly in one of the pots in camp, they were the first to raise their weapons at the strategist. He couldn't believe that he had been forced to kitchen duty, him, the brightest and prestigious mind of his time, confined to menial labor.

"If he's coming with us, we should keep him busy with kitchen duty." Gladiolus cemented the imperial strategist's fate by indicating the stove, barely used and in need of a good scrub. "Might remind him how fun it is to be thrown in hot water like he did us." "Indeed?" Ignis felt some dignity return to him in protest. Though he hadn't been directly involved in the sacking of Lucis, he was responsible for thwarting his former enemies at every turn and impeded their progress because of his strategy. He conceded in great stride, "But of course — what does one more act of humiliation thrown upon another matter in our journey?" The Lucian Shield's farce backfired on him when it was revealed Ignis couldn't cook, but his increasingly growing frustrations only cemented role. Ignis had threw up his hands and yelled, "Dammit, I'm a strategist, not a chef!" And when the gunslinger and the Shield were reluctant to try anything that he made, he offered, "I would never try anything as unethical as to poison the Crown Prince, but please, don't mind me. Quite frankly if you don’t like it, go forage for food in the woods for all I care." Eventually, the four young men did come together to dine on the strategist's cuisine. - Noctis stood up. "I have to go, but I'll be back soon. Just rest up, okay?" "I suppose. I've found myself in worst places before.” Fighting back a strange feeling welling up within him, Ignis rolled over to his back and stared at the ceiling. “This infirmary... is adequate for now." "Good. Can't have my... ally not receive the best treatment he deserves." Noctis smiled as he leaned down to kiss the strategist's forehead. The strategist blinked, incredulous with the gentle gesture and that Noctis was serious about that kiss. What did it mean? It probably had little meaning and it was yet another Lucian attempt to unnerve him. But it wasn't... unpleasant. Ignis opened his mouth to speak but instead of the pressing question about the kiss, he asked, "You'll be back?" The prince pulled back, nodding. "You won't have time to miss me." With that promise said, he stepped out of the room.

#ignoct #ignoctweek #ignoct week #ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum #ffxv #ff15 #ff #AU #alternate universe #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy #letshareapapou #gladiolus amiticia #prompto argentum #timed quest #prompt