#agh this was meant for main but whatever its here now

[cottonflurry]

You ever see the worst review on something that clearly shows the person in question did NOT WANT to give the media a chance in the first place and only watched it with the intention to HATE it?

#thats not healthy btw #hate watching is bad for your health and you should look deeper into why you hate watch the things you do #levi pls #agh this was meant for main but whatever its here now #i gotta change my icon or smth its confusing me LMAO

[midas-or-khaos]

Wrong place, Wrong time. Part 1

God of war x borrower oc story

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

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

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

“I won’t, I never do. See you soon!”

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

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

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

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

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

Sindri

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

“Hey Sindri!”

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

“Sorry.”

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

“Boy, be careful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No-“

“-No? Then what’s the problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

The growls took a higher pitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jojo

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

Squawk

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

And he was dressed as one.

Atreus

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

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

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

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

Jojo

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

SSSSSQQQQUUUUUAAAAAARRRRRRRKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!

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

Atreus

“Well that was easy.”

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

Always one to lecture. “Yes sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We go on, boy.”

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

“BOY! COME!”

Oops. He’d zoned out too long.

“Father, I think Sindri was lying!”

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

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

“DAD! Just. Look.”

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

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

#god of war #kratos #atreus #Loki #sindri #oc #original character #fanfic #borrowers #crossover #giant tiny #g/t #gianttiny #gt #giants #g/t fearplay #g/t writing #sfw g/t #g/t oc #giant tiny story #giant male

[forever-more-never-again]

You’re Safe Now (A Steve Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 2949

Warnings: Pain, Blood, Swearing, Self harm (In a way diff than what you think)

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Request: Can I request an avengers team x reader (hinted steve x reader) where the reader is a misunderstood villain that hydra has made (sorta like bucky)? Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

Masterlist

Running. You just had to keep running. If they found you, they would neutralize you. You were positive of this fact.

Fog blew past you as you spun around a tree, pressing your back to it, trying to steady your breathing.

“Stark! Where’d they go?”

“I can’t get a read, this fog is messing with my suit’s infrared.”

Hiding a smirk, you quickly jumped up into the branches of the tree, hiding yourself in the Fog.

“Damnit! Why does Hydra keep doing this?”

You stilled. That name. Hydra. It tickled something in your memory.

Scrunching your eyes shut, you whimpered as your head began pounding. This was a common occurrence every time something happened that triggered a memory of your past.

“Not now!” You whispered harshly to yourself. You couldn’t afford to be caught unaware.

But of course, nothing worked out the way you wanted it to.

“Agh!” You screamed out as an excruciating pain began to hammer inside your skull. You lost your concentration on your cloaking and became visible again.

“Over here!”

You couldn’t see your surroundings. Your hands came up to rest on either side of your head, it felt like your skull was going to implode.

You fell from the tree.

“What’s happening to them?”

“Stark!”

“Got it!”

Your vision began wavering. Black spots filling your eyes.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Lies. You thought dimly. The last thing you saw before going under, a pair of gentle blue eyes.

~

“So...Are they...like me?”

“We don’t think so Buck. But we’re still waiting for the results.”

You heard soft voices filling the room first.

“Woah!” You bolted up, ready to take off. Your body automatically set to escape. “No! Stop! Please!” You barely registered what you were saying as you began fighting the phantoms from your memory.

“Hey!”

“Hey! Calm down!”

“I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Those familiar words, spoken in the same soft spoken way, stilled you.

Your vision slowly came in and you were met with the baby blue eyes from before.

Without realizing you were doing it, you raised a hand and rested it on his cheek.

“Steve.”

The warning tone brought you back to the present.

Jerking away from him, you scurried backwards. You were on a hospital bed. In a medical room of some sort.

“Who are you!? What do you want with me!?” You screamed out. There were only three men in the room. And they all stared at you in varying degrees of concern and suspicion.

“Hello. My name is Dr. Banner. We just want to help you. You’ve done a lot of damage in the past few weeks.”

The calm brown haired man wearing a lab coat took a step towards you.

“No!” You screeched, fear icing its way through your veins. You raised your hands and the man flew backwards, onto a workbench.

Needles, syringes and various equipment went flying as the man fell painfully.

“Bruce!” The blonde man with the blue eyes ran over to the man, hands hesitating as he looked him over.

The man, Bruce, looked up with a wry smile, “It’s okay Steve. He’s not coming out.”

“We’re trying to help you! We know that Hydra did something. We just want to help.”

That name again. Hydra.

You stared over at the man who spoke. Long brown hair. Brown eyes. And...a metal arm.

“Soldat.”

He flinched at your voice.

The blonde, Steve, walked back over to you as Bruce cleaned up where you had thrown him.

“He’s not that anymore. This is Bucky. I’m Steve, and the man you threw is Bruce. We’re part of the Avengers. We want to try to stop Hydra. We want to help you, if you’ll let us.”

You listened intently.

“Hydra...they...Experimented on me, I think.” Your head started to hurt again. Wincing, you raised a hand to your head.

“It hurts. Doesn’t it? The memories resurfacing.”

Bucky took a step forward, despite Bruce’s look of warning.

You spat towards him, but it didn’t hold much strength behind it as the pounding in your head increased.

“Let me go.” Your words were quiet.

Steve...the man with the kind blue eyes, caught your gaze and held it. “What’s your name?”

Wrenching your eyes from his gaze, you stared down at the white bedsheet.

The pounding in your head was growing stronger with every passing minute.

“Steve. The blood work is back. Hydra...did some really fucked up shit to them. You need to see this.”

Another man walked in, holding a tablet.

“Stark. Not now.” Steve warned. Holding up a hand to stop the man from walking further into the room.

“Stark?” You repeated. “Argh!” The pain became blinding white.

“Everyone out! They’re losing control!”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s what I found! They have-”

And the world when dark.

~

The next time you woke up, You were no longer in a medical room. You were in...A cell.

“What?” You went to move, but were brought to a halt.

Glancing down, you saw that your hands were encased in some sort of metal box and the box was stuck to a table.

“No! No! No!” You began to panic. The memories you had uncovered in the past months had you know for certain that something like this had happened before, followed by pain and torture.

You kicked, and screamed, your throat going raw as the hours went on.

“I’ve brought you-Oh no! Please! Stop!”

You were pulled away, stopping you from where you had been chewing on your exposed wrist.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Familiar words. Bringing you back down from your panic.

“Steve?” The name rolling from your tongue with ease.

Glancing up, you saw the tall muscled man holding you in his arms, staring down at you in concern.

“What were you doing? You hurt yourself.” His voice was soft and gentle as he tentatively pulled your sleeve up to look at the bloody mess you had made on your wrists.

You shook your arms, knocking his hands off, though you couldn’t really move away. Being stuck where you were.

“Why am I like this?” You jerked your head to the box, indicating exactly what you meant.

“We had to take precautions. What Hydra did to you. And what you did to Banner...With your memories not intake, you could lash out without meaning to and hurt someone. Your mutation is...highly volatile and seems to go hand in hand with levels of stress. Your shadows...they could hurt someone and I don’t want that on your conscious.”

You tilted your head, “Hydra. I remembered that name in the forest. They...they kidnapped me as a child...I think...I think I was…” You faltered, as snippets of memories floated in your mind.

A hand rested on your arm, bringing you back, “Don’t force it. We can help. Bucky, the man you called Soldat, he was the same, but we can help you find all your memories without any pain.”

You wanted to rub your head, but your hands hit the box, a dull metallic thud echoing in the small cell.

You whimpered, drawing in on yourself, “I promise I won’t hurt you. But could you..please...release my hands?” Your voice was that of a scared child’s. You hated it. But the panic and fear of not having control of your hands, paired with the memory of torture lingering on the edges of your mind, was enough for you to choke down your pride.

“Of course. Here.” Steve gently pulled out a key from his pocket and opened the metal box.

Quickly, you pulled your hands to your chest and nursed them there. The blood from where you had gnawed on your wrist, soaking into the shirt you wore. A dull gray. One that you suspected the doctor had put you in.

Since in the woods you had been only wearing a tank top and sweats.

“Now. I have to ask you some questions. Okay. So that we can help you.”

You nodded. Something about the man put you at ease. Even though he was big and burly, and looked like he could kill you in a second, you found yourself relaxing while next to him.

His blue eyes and gentle face. He smiled at you as he sat down across the table from you.

“You know my name. What’s yours?”

You squinted at him, “You could find out.” You challenged.

He laughed. Your eyes widened. His laugh was so carefree and happy. His eyes crinkled at the corners and dimples appeared on his cheeks.

It had been so long since you had seen someone...something...so happy.

“It’s true. We know who you are, [Y/n]. I just wanted to hear it from you. I didn’t want to steal who you were from you. Do you still go by [Y/n]?”

You breathed deeply, exhaling. You shrugged, “I guess. That’s the only name I remember aside from ‘Shadow Weaver’.” You flinched as you spoke the name that Hydra had given you.

Steve rested his arms on the table, relaxed, allowing you to take the initiative, his hand open, facing up. “It’s up to you. You can be called whatever you want.”

You looked at the hand, then up at the smiling blonde. Smiling for the first time in a long time, you placed your hand in his, “[Y/n] is fine.”

~

“How do you know we can trust them? They’ve been with Hydra for years and on the run for the past several months, destroying cities and robbing stores.”

“They were scared, Buck. Like someone else I remember…”

“Shut it punk.”

“Anyways. I trust them. They don’t seem to want to hurt anyone. I think they were stressed and worried and frightened. I think those attacks and robberies were them just trying to survive with the little memories they have.”

“I got a hold of Shuri but she said it will be a couple months till she can get down here. There’s some political problems that Wakanda is dealing with and she wants to be there for her brother.”

“Alright, so we just have to help them as much as we can. Hydra most likely knows that they are here by now.”

“Hydra? Shuri? What are you guys talking about?” You inched your way into the main common area, tugging the sleeves of one of Steve’s sweatshirts down over your bandaged wrists.

Tony raised a brow when he saw what you were wearing, turning to Steve with a questioning look.

Steve shrugged, a light pink blush dusting his cheeks and ears, “They didn’t have any clothes and we haven't had a chance to go shopping for them.”

You cocked your head, “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” You looked down at yourself in worry. You were wearing a pair of sweats that Steve said someone named Natasha had given and his sweatshirt.

“Nothing. Nothing.” Steve cleared his throat, going back to business.

“So…[Y/n]...that’s a pretty name.” Bucky said, trying to fill the silence.

You jerked. You were still getting used to people saying your name and not your code.

“Thanks…” You said shyly.

“How are your wrists doing? Steve said you went a little crazy on them.” He joked, a teasing laugh in his voice.

You smiled, relaxed in Steve’s presence as you bantered with Bucky, “What would you know, mister metal arm?”

He gasped and clutched his chest.

You looked over and saw Steve watching with a fond look on his face.

“Hate to break this up. But we still need you to answer some questions. Especially with Hydra knowing where you are.”

Tony brought everyone back to the present.

You shuddered, and without realizing, inched over to Steve’s side. His body heat radiating and providing comfort.

“They know I’m here?” You asked, voice small.

Steve whispered, for your ears only, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Those familiar words calmed your frantic heart beat.

Tony sighed deeply, “We don’t know for sure. But news leaked about someone being brought into the tower. That would have been you. And Hydra can put two and two together.”

An ache started up behind your eyes.

A small whimper escaped your lips as you raised a hand to your head, but before you could place it on your forehead, a different hand was there.

Blue eyes met your startled ones. It was Steve’s hand on your forehead, “Are you okay? Another headache?”

He asked, concern in his voice.

You felt tears well up. He was just so caring and concerned for you.

“I’m fine. It’s just a normal headache. No memories.” You assured the men in the room. If it had been a headache induced from an emerging memory, you had to close yourself off, since you lost control of your shadow manipulation during the episodes.

“We managed to find several missions that codename: Shadow Weaver, was used in. We want you to look over them. See if you can remember anything important.” Tony said, pulling up a virtual computer in the air, reports filling the screen.

“Tony, are we sure this is a good idea? They just got used to being here with us and dealing with their memories. This could trigger an episode…”

You placed a hand on Steve’s arm, causing him to stop his tirade and look at you, “It’s okay Steve. I want to help you guys anyway I can. You rescued me.”

Steve smiled down at you, “You rescued yourself. How you got away from Hydra…”

He trailed off. That was one memory you still had yet to uncover.

“I’m surprised you still retained your humanity. But then again. Hydra had you a lot less longer than they had me.” Bucky mused.

You smirked, “I just am stronger.”

Bucky growled, a smile on his face though, so you knew he was playing.

“Alright. Alright. Break it up. [Y/n], if you would.” Tony gestured to the screen.

You walked up. Eyes scanning the reports. Some of the words were in German, which you were surprised to learn you could read.

And then it hit.

“Argh!” It came to sudden. Unlike the others that would build, this one blasted right through your head.

You crumbled to your knees, a keening scream coming from your lips.

“Get out! Everyone get out!”

And then arms wrapped around you, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

The words repeated over and over. Fading as images and words spun through your head.

And then, it stilled.

You cautiously opened your eyes.

Shadows were frozen midair in the wide room.

Shards of black masses. Tendrils winding up the walls.

But a circle of white surrounded you….and Steve.

His eyes were shut as he hugged you to him. His breathing steady as he continued to whisper the mantra that you had come to associate with peace and love.

“Steve..” You whispered his name, not wanting to break the scene.

The shadows trembled as you spoke, reacting to you.

You felt a light inside you. A connection to the light and dark of the world. You raised a hand and wiggled your fingers.

The shadows danced in the air. The shards dissolving and dancing around the circle of light that was around you.

“Woah...it’s beautiful.”

The soft voice filled your heart. Turning your head, you saw the shadows reflecting in the blue eyes of the man beside you. His arms still around you. They tightened slightly as he gasped. Watching the shadows dance.

“I can feel the connection.” You whispered. Your voice a mix of confusion and wonder.

Steve’s eyes found yours. And you drowned in them, “I can feel the connection. With you.”

You don’t know where those last two words came from. You froze. You hadn’t meant to say that.

But Steve just continued to stare at you, the same wonder in his eyes from watching your shadows. “You are breathtaking.”

“What?” You had to shake your head, make sure you heard him right.

“You get away from Hydra. You can’t remember anything except your name. You survive on your own for months. You let strange men ask you questions without fighting them. You trust me. You trust me. You… Why?”

You smiled at the flustered blonde, a hand raised and cupped his cheek as you drew his face near, “I don’t know. But I know that with you I feel safe. I feel like I’m home.”

And your lips gently touched his. A soft gasp from each of you, and then you were tugged close to him, your lips clashing with his in a display of heat and power.

“Uh..guys..”

You broke apart. Staring at each other, and then both turning to stare at Bruce and Tony, both who were standing in the doorway with looks of horror on their faces.

Bruce recovered first, coughing and adjusting his clipboard, “Looks like you managed to regain control of your powers.” He gestured to the room.

You and Steve looked and saw Shadows that were frozen in mid whirlwind around the both of you where you were kneeling on the floor.

Tony choked, “You..You…”

And you and Steve broke. Laughing so hard, you felt tears in your eyes as you leaned your head onto his chest.

“Tony..”

“Pepper! We need to show them how it’s done!”

“Tony!”

The voices faded as your head was brought back and you looked up at the man who had stolen your heart.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered.

You smiled, finishing it, “We’re safe now.”

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[veridium]

March was a wonderful month for commissions. For one, I got to write again for this lovely pairing, Inquisitor Jodianna Lavellan and Ambassador Montilyet. Thank you so much to @brancadoodles for the commission! 

CW: N/A

Rated: PG

--

One did not wander outside of the Skyhold fortress if they were the faint of heart. They did so with an understanding that they would be met by three principle things: first, a great deal of snow. Secondly, a great deal of cold. Last, but not least: a great deal of unsettled and unmarked traveling, likely on foot.

So, indeed, wandering the woodlands was not for the faint of heart. However, Inquisitor Lavellan and the Inquisition’s Chief Diplomat were both women for whom the phrase “faint of heart” did not apply. Though, for Ambassador Montilyet, “healthily skeptical” would.

“My love, are you absolutely certain this is a good expenditure of our time?” Josephine walks by herself, but she is not alone. Her lover, the Herald, is busy in the greenery lining the narrowing trail that is growing increasingly covered in thicket. Her voice cuts clear throughout the wintery stillness.

“Agh! No! I mean--yesAGH!” is all she hears coming from elsewhere. Perhaps east? A bit north of her?

She comes to a standstill just as the path lets off onto what looks like a break in the tree canopy. They must be several miles down from the mountainside, in the valley the main road to the Fortress cuts through on its way across the range. More trees, more flora and fauna to witness -- and deeper snow. As always, though, Josephine comes prepared with thick boots and a heavy, warm, royal blue hooded cape to go over her outerwear. For as much as this excursion has been a mystery of her lover’s conjuring, the day out in the fresh air is a welcome break.

The cold, dry air makes her eyes water and her cheeks go numb. But the intention is what mattered.

“Josephine!” she hears after a couple more minutes, and she looks from side to side.

“Yes, my love? Where are you?”

“Over here! I think I found a place!”

“A place? For what, exactly?”

“You’ll see! Wait...I-I see you! Turn to your left!”

She does as she is recommended, and turns to her left. Just as she is about to press onward in the requested direction, though, Jodianna’s voice corrects her navigation.

“No, the other left!”

Josephine’s chin lifts. The other left? What could possibly be another ‘left’ besides the one...oh. Goodness. She smirks as her hands hold onto her cape fabric. “My love, you meant your left, did you not?”

“Er...yes! Perhaps!”

“Okay, then my right.”

“It’s okay I--GAH!” Jodianna appears out of the tree line just ahead, indeed coming from Josephine’s right side. She falls when her boot gets snagged by a tree root covered in snow. Josephine turns and flinches at the sound of a cracking branch.

Jodianna is resourceful though, in her particular style of grace. She hooks an arm onto a low-hanging and thin tree limb, saving herself from falling flat on her face. Once frightened for her, Josephine presses the top of her softly gloved fingers to her mouth and quells a laugh. She makes clumsiness look so captivating.

“Mi amor,” she hums before hiking through the knee-deep snow separating them, “are you alright?”

“Oh? Me? Yeah, I meant to do that. For...posterity’s sake,” Jodianna huffs, landing on her feet and coming closer. She’s dressed without a cape, and that’s probably for the better. Weaving through the wild is hardly the occasion for having pomp in attire. On Josephine, though, there is always some measure of it, and it rarely is out of place.

“I found the spot,” Jodianna affirms, hands going to her hips, “come with me. I promise, it’s worth your while.” Her smile is keen, inquisitive -- pun perhaps intended.

Josephine smiles, and can’t help but go along with it.

“Okay, but just know I have couriers landing at Skyhold within the hour. I must not be gone long,” she warns, but with a cheeriness. It would be no erroneous hindrance if she was missing from her desk for a bit longer than she should. Just this once.

Jodianna takes her hand, and they break off from the barely-there path. Hiking between old, aged trees, and with Jodianna’s assistance over a fallen one, they come to a small, rounded clearing in the forest. Just secluded enough, but open for a certain mage to have necessary space for whatever antics she has planned. Josephine is unaccustomed to rugged practices but being an Advisor to the Inquisition -- one who had to endure the trek from Haven’s ruins to Skyhold -- has seasoned her more than she ever expected. Still, her experiences pale in comparison to Jodianna’s, and it leaves the Inquisitor looking rather marvelous in this light.

Once there, they stand smack-dab in the middle of the clearing. Josephine’s lungs are recuperating air lost from the robust journey there, but her spirits remained uplifted. Jodianna, meanwhile, releases her hand and steps jovially away from her, her arms going out at her sides.

“Do you even know where we are, currently?” Josephine asks, but has a hunch as to the answer already, which is confirmed by the way Jodianna’s brow becomes uneven and her shoulders hunch up towards her ears. No, but it is of no concern.

“No, not exactly, but!” Jodianna then plants her feet confidently in the snow, shoulder-width apart in a wide stance. “I do know that this is the perfect spot.”

“Perfect for…” Josephine grins, clutching at the opposite rims of her cape, and pulling them over the front of her body.

“For a trick!” she replies simply, humbly even. Alas, nothing is ever rarely as simple as a ‘trick’ with Jodianna. A happy accident, an extraordinary feat, a beautiful disaster -- but not quaint. It is one of the best parts of her, and the most easily beloved. A side of her that makes it rather effortless to forget that the majority of Thedas understands her as an unapproachable world power.

“Alright,” the Inquisitor says as she cracks her knuckles. “Time to show you what being in the woods in the depth of winter can be good for!” She went to stretching her arms, too, swinging them jovially at her sides. Her energy and her high spirits are so contagious. Josephine looked over either side of her shoulder, though nothing about their surroundings would suggest they had an audience. Well, that is, except for the hand full of Leliana’s scouts that were surely following them to ensure safety.

“Might I ask what the parameters are for this?” she inquires, more out of curious jest than legitimate concern.

Jodianna smirks and digs the balls of her feet deeper into the ground beneath her. She has a sly look on her face, the kind she gets before she enchants, and...well, other activities that spur her imagination.

“I am going…” she said, a pause of slight suspense, “to make it snow.”

At first, the statement is...interesting. In the obvious sense, of course.

“...Snow?” Josephine confirms, her face skewing to the right. “Is that not….well, isn’t it...ahem,” she clears her throat, not wanting to deflate the exuberance of the outing. The place was covered with snow and frost, it was the middle of the season. In the Frostbacks, no less.

Jodianna doesn’t miss a beat, though, to be sure. “No, no, I mean, I’m going to make it snow my way,” she clarifies. It is a matter of fact thing. Even though the Ambassador is still unsure what she means, they have come all this way, and it is pleasurable to be in her company regardless. What could humoring her harm?

Well...actually, maybe that isn’t not the most plain hypothetical question to ask, given Jodianna’s tenure thus far and its unorthodox qualities.

“I am going to show you what magic can do. What cool magic can do, anyhow,” Jodi says as she takes off her winter gloves. The gloves are, quite literally, coming off.

“Oh?” Josephine quips, but nothing more.

“Yes! Pun intended…”

Josephine snorts, a chuckle under her breath. She will keep her gloves on, but the commitment to the endeavor is admirable. As Jodianna prepares to execute her plan, Josephine takes a step back to give her some more room. She is otherwise quiet, ready to witness whatever it is that’s on the wings.

“Now, I’m going to have you do something…”

Oh, alright, well, do more than witness.

“What is it you need of me?” Josephine asks, confused as to what she, a non-magically talented person, could do to participate in enchanting.

“I need you to throw a snowball at me,” Jodianna shifts her weight from hip to hip, as if she is readying herself for enemy fire. “A big one, if you please. Nothing that will fall apart mid-air!”

A snowball? What is spectacular about a snowball? Goodness, when was the last time she even made a snowball? It had to have been during a family retreat and towards Yvette’s face. But, she cooperates, scanning the snow before her feet and -- however hesitantly -- reaches down and begins collecting snow between her two palms. Jodianna is smiling, a contagious and bright expression only she can provide.

“There!” she directs, hands clapping together once, “that is the perfect size!”

Josephine evaluates the fruits of her albeit short-lived labor: a snowball patted together, larger than the size of her two fists combined. As she rises from her crouched position, she holds it like a bowl of something to eat rather than a projectile.

“And you wish me to just...throw it...at you?” she holds it gently. It could break apart as easily as she pressed it all together.

“Yes! Aim for my head!”

“Your head?!”

Jodianna bursts into laughter, hands softly hugging her stomach. “Yes, my head! Come on, I know you can do it!”

The whole thing seems rather needlessly hostile. Josephine’s eyes dance from her lover standing across the clearing, and the now weapon in her hands. It is a curious desire to wish a snowball to be thrown at your face, but, there is ideally supposed to be magic involved. Magic that will hopefully intervene before Josephine must both blame Jodianna for her demand and apologize for the blunder.

“All...alright…” she shrugs one of her shoulders, a cleverness to her tone despite being a bit of a fish out of water. How did her brothers throw their ball out in the fields again? Their throws went far, if she can recall. She will need it in order to have her one shot make it across the near half-dozen yards between her and the Inquisitor.

“Are you sure, my love?” she asks, but deep down the contagious playfulness is starting to settle in.

“Yes!” Jodianna chuckles some more, holding her hands out in a welcoming shape with her palms tilted towards the Ambassador. “I promise!”

“Alright…” Josephine sighs a bit, and with a sharp inhale she primes all her strength in her arm and goes for it. Her eyes shut for a brief second mid-throw, and when they open, to her fortunate surprise the snowball is still flying. Traveling high, in fact. Higher than she might have planned.

The arch of the throw seems to work perfectly fine for Jodianna, though. She scoots back a bit, nearly tripping in the unforgiving rigidity of the snow, but she is resolute.

She dust-claps her palms against each other once, and light breaks forth from them. Her eyes don’t exactly get...brighter, but fuller with the colors already contained in them. In a flash she reaches out and sends beams of golden, almost copper-hued light towards the humble snowball. It all goes by so fast that there is hardly time for a full breath. Upon impact, the snow bursts into thousands of tiny pieces of ice. Deflected, so it seems.

Jodianna is not done, however. As the remains of the snow first fly up and then down around them, a few fluid hand motions continue the current of warm light emanating from her hands. It is a beautiful sight, truly, to see her conducting such incandescent power. It seems as though the light is both collected and spread throughout the air, first as rays and then as an aura enveloping the air above their heads. The pale blue sky becomes further washed in contrast to it all: a new kind of sunlight, almost.

The pieces of snow melt, and where it is expected they should disappear, they start to shine. Like glass first, and then jewels -- crystalline, brilliant traces reflecting everything around them.

Jodianna allows them to fall just a hair longer, closer until they are around their heads and faces, and then she snaps her fingers. The snapping seems to be more of a clever facade for what she actually does, but it makes her appear all the more cooly capable. She always has a flare for those sort of things.

Her ‘trick’ makes them all freeze, in unnatural stasis above and around them.

“Hah! It worked!” Jodianna’s rejoicing cuts through the ethereal wonderment of the scene as Josephine steps forward. She turns in her step, around so as to take it all in. It is stunning, indescribable, unlike anything she’s seen depicted in artwork -- and that is saying something, giving her experiences.

“Jodianna, this is…” she is slightly breathless towards the end, “they are splendid!” It seems like such an underwhelming word to use. But, in a rare show, Josephine cannot immediately find the proper rhetoric to deploy.

Jodianna’s smile is broad and open-mouthed, almost like she had just ran onto the scene, her hot breath escaping from between her teeth and into the crisp atmosphere. She, too, comes forward, helping to enclose the gap between them.

“You can touch them, you know. That is what I intended. Go ahead!” she directs, before picking a couple for herself. She collects them in the middle of her hand like small, fragile pebbles. Josephine’s mouth opens for her to speak, to inquire with more questions, but her hands speak for her: finding and selecting a couple right in front of her face.

They are cold, like ice, but not slippery. They hold their shape and do not immediately melt at her touch. If you were to place them in the enamel of some decorative accessory, or jewelry casing, you would swear they were precious stones. Not one holds the same shape as the next one; they are all unique, uneven but not broken.

She holds her treasure close to her chest as Jodianna approaches, an extra kick in her step from pride.

“See?!” she says, “I promised it would be cool, did I not?”

Josephine giggles low and matches her gaze with her own. “You did. Both literally and figuratively, you have delivered on the notion of ‘cool,’ my darling.”

Jodianna further basks in her glory, pressing and playing with the pieces in her hand. She bites her lip and watches them roll in her touch, before hopping onto the balls of her feet.

“Well! Look!” she says, coming closer, “they are not just for being pretty.”

Josephine eyes her, the side of her mouth upturning. While she watches, Jodianna’s hands go to the rim of her hood, and she gently pushes it back off her head of the neat twists and braids of her hair. Jodianna comes around behind her as if she were to place a necklace around her neck. Instead, though, she begins placing the pieces she collects from the surrounding air and placing them in Josephine’s hair. No sharp pins, no clips, and no heavy metals like what she is used to. Careful, loving presses into her braids. Jodianna’s fingers then push gently in the tucked space between her bun and her head; the placements feel so strategic Josephine wishes there could be a mirror to see it.

Jodianna’s focused while she tends to her decorating, her tongue sticking out the side of her pursed lips. Everything has to be just right, evidently. When it is all said and done she comes back around, placing a hand on Josephine’s shoulder.

“There,” she says with contentment, “now it is not only pretty, but purposed.”

It is Josephine’s turn to blush, for even though she can’t see a thing of what Jodi’s accomplished, she trusts it is worth the wait.

“Will it melt before I get a chance to see it?”

“No, not if I can help it. Though, I wouldn’t stand next to the fireplace for long,” Jodi teases, her hand falling from her. It is not a welcome break; Josephine sends her own hand to the side of Jodianna’s face, having her own ideas.

“Smile,” she asks with a warm, endearing tone. Jodianna’s eyes go wide and round at first, caught off guard by the sudden shift into indulgent affection. Josephine stops and smiles back in a persuasive, demonstrative way. “Come now, smile!”

“Okay, okay!” Jodianna loosens up her shoulders. She closes her eyes to take a breath, recollecting her nerves. At last, she smiles, and the world goes still.

Josephine places one of the ice pieces on her thumb, and then with a swiftness she presses it against the subtle, shallow dimple on the corner of Jodianna’s mouth. The touch of heat in her cheeks is palpable even to just the touch of her fingertip. The ice sticks, fitting almost perfectly.

She pulls her hand away, beaming some more. “Do not move! It may fall.”

Jodianna’s brows lift and she freezes as if she’s quite literally stuck in place. Her eyes open, but that is all she allows to move. It is rather adorable how dedicated she is to her happiness, even in the smallest of requests.

A half minute of stifled giggling, and Josephine places a hand on the opposite cheek. Jodianna flinches, her eyes narrowing.

“Josie,” she says out the corner of her mouth, “you’re not making this easy on me.”

The Ambassador laughs, her head tilting back slightly. “Apologies, my love, I cannot help it. Allow me to free you from this commitment.” She leans on her toes and into her, her lips going to the same soft indentation. With a devoted kiss and the surge in heat under Jodi’s face, the ice melts -- a spell broken like in a romantic, and perhaps slightly corny, romance story.

Jodianna sends her arms around her waist, under her cape as she pulls her in close. A kiss on the cheek won’t suffice on its own. Josephine’s lips do not travel far nor long before they collide with Jodianna’s own. On her forehead and cheeks there begins to be small bursts of cold like rain, as the enchantment is resolved in favor of Jodi’s focus on her. A personal kiss in a shallow fall of rain just for them, that is ended as quick as it begins. Josephine can only hope that the ones remaining in her hair have survived, but knowing Jodi, that is a doubt she need not have.

It could not have been more than an hour they were gone. Beyond the tree line and the paths both known and unknown, there were plenty of other ways to take up their time -- and who they were. But, In the woods, lost, and surrounded by that which shines under a sunless sky, endearment yet survives. Josephine, just barely, allows herself to believe it is all there is.

#kofi commissions #fic commissions #commissions #mutuals!! #my writing #f!inquisitor x josephine montilyet #f!lavellan x josephine montilyet #fluff #femslash

[conjurationstory]

Act 1: Light, Part I: Chaos

It all started with a room. Well, a plain room one would see in a sci fi movie where everything was plain. White washed walls, a plain bed, a single nightstand, and white tile floors that smelled of cleaning products and disinfectants. Within this room lies the main character to this story, Xander, a volunteer for the interplanetary space travel project. Outside of the room, a middle aged woman with a few strands of white hair poking out of her pulled back hair bun knocked on the door.

"Xander, it's time for the test!" She called out. "Are you decent?" She called out, while waiting for an answer, she fixed her lab coat and adjusting her identification tag. Her name being Lara Santana. The woman grimaced at her photo within it self consious of the way professional photographers caught angles she wasn't fond of.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she gave another knock. "Xander, we need to go soon. Professor Terrance is an impatient man and last thing I want is for him to get on you for being late."

While the walls and accommodations were bare and plain, Xander had each and every tile of wall and counter space piled with sheets or paper.

Formulas, articles, printed out threads, had all plastered the walls in messes of collages.

Xander had been pacing about the room, circling under the buzzing light of the florescent lamps above the room aiding the room being painted white.

He had been mumbling to himself, deep in his thoughts when hearing the knock and voice calling for him.

"Ah whosa what? Decent?"

He is broken out of his trance as he looks down to himself.

"Oh wow, I was so busy I didn't realize I was still naked! Gimme 3.785 seconds!"

Xander calls out as he quickly slips into the bland titanium white body suits provided by the lab.

He throws the door open to step out seeing Lara.

"Hello, my fair maiden. Let us not dilly dally and meet the professor, hmmm?"

He teases her with a smirk as he runs a finger over her name tag before walking ahead of Lara in the direction to the appointed area, already familiar with the structure of the building.

"Lively as ever I see." She smiles a bit. It was always refreshing for the female scientist to encounter Xander's eccentricity. "Professor Rhys is expecting you in the launch room. And you know how he is in regards to being pressed for time." She stressed, reaching from her pocket and handing a ripe, unpeeled orange to the younger male.

With a series of turns of corners and long corridors, Lara guided Xander to a hallway ladened with windows. Outside revealed the rocket that was meant for Xander to board.

With each footstep had the rocket loomed closer and closer until the set of double doors signaled the end of the long hall. Upon opening it revealed the bustling room with other scientists scrambling in a hurry all under the watchful gaze of a rather bitter looking older male.

Walking up to the two, one raised brow towards Lara caused her to scramble and join the other's with the preparation for the test. "Xander Exodus I presume?" Professor Rhys asked with an unamused tone in his voice, while writing down on the clipboard in his hand. "Did you get eight hours of sleep? Experience any symptoms in regards to sinuses or fever?"

With his relaxed smiled, Xander rests right hand onto his hip as the other does a swift salute to greet the professor.

"Yessir, Xander Lucien Exodus. Eight hours, thirteen minutes, and twenty six seconds of sleep previous night. Blood pressure at one twenty-five over seventy-five, temperature of ninety-seven degrees Fahrenheit, and feeling fit as a fiddle."

Resting both hands on hips, he rapidly taps his left foot due to not being one to sit or stand still for even a minute.

"Didn't ask for any of that but the input is valuable I suppose." Professor Rhys remarked in an unimpressed tone of voice. Hitting a button on his bluetooth piece, he spoke. "It's Rhys. Get Mr. Xander prepared for the rocket." He spoke.

Within seconds, a group of other scientists escorted Xander to a curtained off room. There they hurriedly got the other dressed in whatever equipment the other was lacking. Once that was takem care of, the young male was escorted off to a loading platform.

"Once you're inside, close the hatch and connect to us from inside so you can await further instructions." Professor Rhys instructed, scrawling away on his clipboard in the process.

"You know if you keep your eyebrows scrunched up like that, you're face will get stuck like that? It's true, It's science."

Xander chuckles as he was literally pulled to each corner of the lab to be readied.

Before the hatch on the loading platform, he turns back to flash a thumbs up to confirm his understanding of the inscructions.

Once inside, he shuts the hatch and taps at the control panel to establish communications connection with center control.

"Alo there? This thing on? Should I sing a song of my people to test it out? Or how's about some tasty ASMR?"

Xander laughs to himself as he taps at his suited wrist close to the microphone of his helmet to send clicking noises through.

"Enough with the quips or we can send you home and find a replacement." Professor Rhys remarked back on the communicator.

"The rocket door should've locked as soon as you entered. Now, the mission is as stated, you will begin your mission to the moon. The purpose is to improve the speed in which we can travel to other planets and in hopes to new star systems in the future." Professir Rhys explained.

"You will fly out to the moon, stagnate there in order for us to collect data. Afterwards, we will send the command for the rocket to send you back."

As soon as he was done explaining, the countdown commenced.

[Launch in 10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . .2 . . . 1 . . . Launch Sequence Commenced.]

The rocket then began to move with flames shooting from their exhausts. Even out the window, it showed that Xander was ascending at a faster rate compared to rockets in the past.

With an hour passing, the rocket was back drifting past the moon. The silence was then broken by an incoming transmission.

"Earth Base to Space Craft Selenius. Xander, do you copy?" Professor Rhys spoke. "What is the current status?"

"Touchy, touchy."

He says to himself after switching his microphone off for a moment before he proceeds. He shuts his suit helmet to ready when the atmosphere will be breached.

"Orders understood."

He responds as he braces his body in his seat, eyes staring dead ahead before him on the monitors of everything before the shuttle's cockpit.

Straps in place, tightened so he will not toss about too much as he also keeps a firm grip to his seat as the countdown draws ever closer to zero. He honestly feels tad tense from the build up, heart racing in his throat as if about to pop out.

Soon in a flash his entire weight is crashed in the back of the seat as the shuttle lifts off at high speeds never done before on such a shuttle.

Breaching each sphere surrounding the planet, his body finally relaxes when in the vacuum of space.

He lets his held breath out, gazing at the moon coming closer to him quickly as his communications come in.

"Xander here, all went smoothly and everything is running at tip top shape. Moon is in clear view and look to be reaching it within fourty-four point fifty-two seconds."

"Excellent." Professor Rhys answered back. "We will begin collecting data now. Over." And with that, the transmission ended.

All that happened after was just silence. The moon amd stars in close view and the Sun so close yet so far away. Things stayed like this for roughly an hour.

"Earth base to Space Craft Selenius, we have recognized an unknown anomoly on our radars. Emergency proto-" Professor Rhys' transmission was soon cut off as a rumble throughout the entire craft took place. The red flashing warning lights began to sound as an extra pair of seat belts fastened themselves around Xander.

[Warning. Warning. Unknown Gravitational Force Detected.] Was all the voiceover repeated.

Everything in the rocket jolted as if a piece of metal was being pulled by a strong magnet miles away. The craft began to shake and the emergency power was hanging on by a thread. But what seemed like certain death, it stopped. The craft was back to its stagnated floating.

Instead of the moon, a planet different from Earth was in view and it was getting closer by the millisecond. Within moments, the craft was pulled in by the gravitational force, the rocket igniting like a meteor. All that was left was a loud crash and the eventual sound of wildlife filling the area.

Out of the slim odds, Xander survived the crash. And with slimmer odds, he was now in an unknown area.

"Professor? Do you copy? Your transmission--Agh!"

He continuously pressed at the control panel to reestablish connection to ground control when the initial signal was lost. Xander was cut off by the harsh and brutal shakings of the shuttle, thankful the straps automatically pinning him to the seat.

"What the heck's going on!?"

He yells aloud to himself, clicking at his helmet's communicator in desperate attempts to get back in touch with anyone at the laboratory.

His head shoots to side to side when hearing the repeated message blaring in his ears that he cannot even think.

Soon a blinding flash makes Xander shut his eyes tight as he holds a hand up to protect them, light being caused by a wormhole that swallowed the shuttle with him in it.

Shuttle feeling as if each piece of iron was flying off by the bolt from how fast tbe descent was to the familiar yet alien planet before him, he tightly grips at his seat as all he can do is brace for impact.

.

.

.

.

.

Miracle. Was all could be thought when he awoke. Especially with the only injuries he sustained was a cut forehead that wasn't deep.

The straps were undone, shuttle somehow not on fire from the impact. He stands up, yet tumbles down that he catches himself on the second seat that was vacant to not fall to the floor, as he obverses the new surroundings from the cockpit windshield.

"What. . . the. . . fuck. . ."

Was all he could mutter in a hushed voice.

#original story #conjuration story #chapter 1 #fantasy

[virtual-crisis]

⭐Alpha Centauri⭐

Yes, you heard right, my..... Er, 43 followers [goddamnit my follower count on my main blog is the homestuck number as of writing]. I've started up a new story here, and this one's actually original [albeit dipping into a few fandoms, but it doesn't owe its plot to them]; this one's about an awkward college student that's roommates with an.... Interesting individual, to say the least. Stay tuned if this first part is engaging to you.

Next Part

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Darkness. All I saw was the black of the void. It got darker in pulses for a few moments before growing light on one side. Why? Well, probably because my head was leant on my arm. I winced once more before lifting my eyes off my forearm—I’d dozed off mid toilet break… Lovely.

I groaned, sitting up. I wanted to check the time, but my phone was in my pocket, and my pajama pants were pulled down to my ankles, so I looked out the window. Solaris was pulling its lower half out of the horizon line off to the East, which meant I’d REALLY conked out, considering it was night when I’d sat down. Oh well, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about anything else having to “exit my premises”.

I stretched my arms for a moment before grabbing a long strip of toilet paper and finishing up on the toilet. After that, I skipped over to the sink to wash my hands, then headed back into my connected bedroom.

By this point, I realized while playing narrator that I should probably tell you who the Hell I am. Oops.

So, name’s Alyssa. I’m a college student at Boston University, studying software engineering with a minor in the arts. My parents encouraged me to make good use of my scholarship by going for a PhD, so I could get a really good, high-paying job relatively early on. At twenty-six years old, I’m on my third year for that doctorate, and I’m yet to see this path make itself a mistake. No dead end career, no crippling debt, none of that.

In the meantime, I’d gotten dressed: a pale blue t-shirt, with a blue plaid skirt and black shoes. Covering my legs was my favorite garment—A set of leggings patterned like a starry sky, with various blues, purples and greens under the white dots. Aside from clothes, I held a Hispanic complexion, a fuckton of freckles, and a glossy pair of blue eyes to go with my long, black hair.

As I fumbled around to get my backpack open and my phone inside, I walked myself through the past week’s lectures, mentally. Lots of boring C++ and script writing, but one can’t make the fun stuff without the bare basics.

Thinking on basics reminded me of food, so I closed my bag and headed to my dorm room’s kitchen, where my roommate was seated at the table.

Yeah, uh, my roommate. She was… Green. Bright green and glowing. Not unlike uranium, because that was exactly what she was.

While she had a form that looked human like myself, she was anything but. She said her parents call her a “uranium atronach,” but in layman’s terms, she’s a demon. From Hell.

Yes, I’m serious.

My hand reflexively went over my mouth and nose. “Hey hey, whoa, what’d I say about going all radio in the kitchen?”

The demoness—going by “Tyler” for her human guise—tensed up, pulling on the mask of a hazmat suit she wore in her “pure” form. “Oh fuck, right, I forgot about that,” she said, voice muffled by her mask as she glanced over to me. “Morning Ally, how’d you sleep?”

“Like a damn rock. I fell asleep in the bathroom.”

“Shit, that sucks. Maybe should’ve gone earlier….”

“Oi, I can’t control my ass like that.”

Tyler snorted, before chuckling under her suit. I stared blankly for a moment, before joining her as I went to grab a container of cup ramen to heat up.

“Alyssa,” she said, “do me a favor and never think before you talk to me.”

“Whoever said I did?” I quipped. “Now come on, I got dressed already. You go change into your flesh-suit-thing so we’ll be ready for class.”

Tyler sighed, getting up. “C’moooooon, I just put my mask back on,” she groaned.

“Oh hush, I took like ten seconds to wake up and get moving. That’s like, dangerously fast for me.”

Tyler broke out laughing as she stepped past me to leave the kitchen, and I laughed with her. Once she was out, I turned to the microwave, glancing at the ramen cup. “Microwave for three minutes”. Pfft. I set it to six to be thorough—never could trust the shitty appliances in these dorms.

Soon, a caucasian human girl came into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt for some dime-a-dozen death metal band and jeans she’d cut wear into herself with a knife. Tyler’s ‘human’ form, though she didn’t do a good job of staying inconspicuous with her ‘isotope-green’ mohawk flipped over on the side of her head. Like some dumb 2070’s cyberpunk hacker or something.

I stared blankly at her. “...What’s with the hair?”

She furrowed her brows, swatting a hand in my direction. “Stoooooop asking that every time I change.” she whined in annoyance. I just snickered in response.

Once my ramen was ready, I pulled it out and seasoned it to start eating. Tyler grabbed another cup from the fridge to do the same. I went ahead and headed into the living room, sitting down and flicking through channels aimlessly on the TV. Very little of interest, even on the cartoon channels. The cartoons were just a bunch of mindless pandering to kids’ amusement at randomness, and the rest was either boring news or inane soap operas.

“I wonder if that’s what it’s like to be schizophrenic.”

I blinked, looking over at Tyler. “...What?”

“...Y’know, hearing voices in your head. Or would ADHD be more accurate? Fuck if I know.”

I looked back at the TV, then her again. “...What the fuck?”

She shrugged, sitting next to me. “What’re you even on the cable for anyway? None of these shows are good.” she said, grabbing for the remote.

I held it away from her. “Nooooo, I wanna flick through them. If I watch youtube I’ll just be stuck there for hours.” I whined.

“But youtube’s actually FUN to watch. You get to see people being idiots for others’ entertainment!” Tyler whined back, putting one hand around my shoulders and trying to grab the remote with the other.

“You get that on these stupid shows too if you think about it enough!”

“But I thought you didn’t like thinking!”

“I- agh!” I yelped as Tyler toppled both of us over, flopping on top of me. Fortunately, whoever teaches demons about imitating humans doesn’t get skeletons right, or it would’ve hurt a lot more than it did in this instance. “Ugh… Get off me, fatass…”

Tyler huffed, shifting position to lie on top of me casually and snatch the remote from my hand. “Pff, or what, you’ll thump me on the head? No.” she teased. I rolled my eyes, shifting and struggling to get my legs up under hers since I was stuck there either way.

“...Whatever. Put on one of those ghost pepper challenge tags.”

“Ew, no, that’s a minefield of people like, hiccupping in really gross ways.”

“Not if you know the right channel.”

Tyler scoffed, leaning over to grab an Xbox controller off the coffee table. She used it to turn on and navigate our shared Xbox to its Youtube app, where we spent a good hour or two watching dumb videos of dumb people doing dumb things. It was amusing for the time being.

Eventually, Tyler’s alarm went off on her phone, signaling we had to get the hell out of our dorm and off to class. Tyler was quick to turn off the TV and urge me to get up, but I’d half dozed off underneath her, and my legs had fallen asleep.

“I don’t wanna go to school…” I whined.

Tyler rolled her eyes. “Hey dumbass, you’re already IN school.”

“Well I don’t wanna already in school……”

Tyler snorted in amusement for a moment… Before grabbing me by the shoulder and pulling me off the couch. “Come on you lazy ass, time to learn how to speak robot.”

I sighed in frustration, wrestling away from her and stumbling a bit as my legs got used to having to move again. “Ugh, fine. But what if I don’t wanna-”

Tyler put a hand over my mouth. “You literally asked to learn how to talk to robots.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from her again and turning to saunter out the door of our room. “Whatever…”

Class was uneventful. Another lecture on the inner workings of computer programs. I’d been taught a good bit of software engineering by my mom, growing up, but even she was reading the ‘For Dummies’ book on it. Something something binary, something something programming project, something something research on the developments of programming over the decades.

I elected to spend the afternoon dicking around with some old CD-ROM games that my parents had let us get a hold of to use for school stuff. ‘Us’ as in me and my little brother, Nate.

“So how do you think they programmed the shadows to move in real time? It has to generate a new silhouette texture on the ground every time the model is hit by a new light source.”

He’s about three years younger than me, so I act as his tutor. After all, he decided to take the same major as me, albeit minoring in culinary arts.

“I’m surprised it doesn’t drop the framerate when you pass between rooms, thinking on that. The shadow textures are probably really compressed, since you don’t have to worry about all the details of the actual character model.”

You can definitely tell the food-loving part from a glance—he’s more than a little chubby, same with me—though his real passion’s making new worlds through computer programming. Me, I just love turning reality inside-out through the possibilities of game design.

“Oh yeah, we were talking polygons in class last week. Maybe we should pull up a rendering program and get a closer look at it.”

Call us nerds, but we’re the kind of people that make games for people to be nerds about, so at the end of the day it’s a compliment.

“Nahhhhh, let’s go look for a video on the topic. There’s bound to be some cool stuff talking about atoms and pixels or some shit like that.”

Nate chuckled in response to my suggestion. “Okay, okay, I’ve got lessons on matter states coming up in science anyway.”

The afternoon went by as one would expect with two cheerful, get-along-y siblings like us. Of course in this, I neglect to mention my older sister, Paula. She might not’ve been there now, but she had recently finished her studies in social sciences, supporting us from three terms ahead. Nowadays, she’d be vacationing up in Europe somewhere, but Nate and I always enjoyed when she’d visit, and it’s better I mention her now than have it come as a surprise later.

Before long, we were listening to dubstep and collaborating to make a mock-up of a platformer game. It was a moth and beetle skittering and flying through the rafters of a rave venue. Lots of lights, lots of colors, and nice, complex character models to play with. Nate kept saying to make it run well in time with the music we listened to, but I complained that we’d need music of our own. He retorted that we weren’t really gonna publish it for money anyway. I said, “Fair point,” and we put in some of our favorite tunes and built levels around them. Man, I envied people with synesthesia- they’d have a field day fusing visuals and music for something like this.

As if I’d summoned her or something, Tyler proceeded to walk in on us. “Holy shit you guys, that’s like fifteen songs too many at once.”

“What?” I called, cupping a hand to my mouth. “I can’t hear you over the great-a-f music!”

“UGH.” Tyler grunted aloud, putting up her hands. “I’m supposed to be reading physics textbooks this afternoon!”

I immediately hit mute on Nate’s computer. He seized up reflexively, blinking several times in surprise. “Woah, what the f-” he cut himself off to shake his head.

“Alright, alright, go soak up the universe or whatever that prof’s got you doing.” I said in a slightly mocking tone.

Tyler scoffed, walking to her bedroom. “Yeah yeah, I’m soaking up a lot more than the universe, I’ll tell you that.”

I watched her disappear past the door, before looking to the clock on the computer. “Oh shit, I’ve got art class in half an hour.” I said.

Nate leaned back as he closed most of his music tabs and set the volume to low. “Time for me to go, then?”

I snorted, waving a hand. “Hey, miss Manhattan isn’t gonna possess you or anything—she would’ve done that to me long ago if she had any plans to, heh.”

He shrugged, switching back to his Notepad++ window to make notes on changes he was making to the program. “Eh, true. Maybe I can ask her for some suggestions here…”

“Ah, I wouldn’t bother her with it. She’s got a lot of nuclear shit to read about.”

“Oooh, I can go talk through atomic physics with her, then.”

I snorted again. “Hey, leave her alone, ‘kay? And don’t go eating our food either.” I said, getting up to go switch out notebooks in my room so I’d have my notes for art class—oh right, and my sketchbook. I didn’t use it much, but my professor would chew me out if I didn’t have something of the sort available.

In art class, a couple of my classmates I sat next to were muttering about how the professor looked like Bob Ross, lecturing about color theory. I was too busy blending neon rays and spotlights to bother with their gossip. While some of the others were painting dainty flowers and landscapes, I had dubstep coursing between my ears, translating to rave lighting painting colors on a white moth—a kind of bug I’d always adored—and marking charcoal over the negative space to give an especially blatant night atmosphere.

For a while, I could feel eyes over my shoulder. I glanced over, and one of the other girls was watching me put color to paper. She blinked, and waved at me. “Oh, whoops, didn’t mean to stare.”

I glanced away for a moment, then back to her. “Er, yeah, hey. What’cha want?”

She shrugged one arm. “Well, wanted to let you know there’s a game next week. Gotta practice tomorrow, and the captain’s been upset about you being late recently…”

I stared for a moment, before thumping my head on my sketchbook. Cheer practice. I knew I was forgetting something. Between all the academic stuff I was juggling, I was on the cheerleading team too, and oh god I did not enjoy the physical exertion. I’ve always been a lazy and sedentary person, but I direly craved the love and attention cheerleading could bring. Dad said it wasn’t a good idea for someone so averse to exercise as me, but mom said it could be a good way to get some activity in here and there.

“God, jeez, I forgot about it again, thanks for the heads up…”

“You really oughta get one of those calendar apps to remind yourself—all the rest of us use ‘em.”

“Yeah, but those take time to set up…”

“Well someone’s gotta take the time to remind you…”

I groaned. “Fine, fine, I’ll get to it when I’ve got a chance…” I muttered. That, of course, was a flat lie.

Both of us winced as the professor called us back to attention, specifically calling us two out for ‘gossiping’. Oops.

When I got out of class later, Tyler swung by to bring me to a restaurant for dinner. Nothing fancy, but it was a good quality pizza place, not some ‘drive-thru’ pizza hut. Tyler said she couldn’t tell a difference, but I for one actually had a stomach, rather than some boundless void concealed only by a sphere of whale blubber. Demons being ‘superior beings’. The one I lived with was a superior lack of standards for food.

“God, this pizza’s great. Imagine people COMPLAINING about this being unhealthy.”

“Right? Shit’s delicious, who cares how greasy or high calorie it is?”

I nodded to Tyler’s remark, glancing around. “Best part’s when they put pineapple on it. Real shame they don’t have that here.” I said aloud. I could practically feel people around us squirm.

“I thought you didn’t like-?”

I waved a hand at Tyler to shut her up, quietly shushing her. I motioned at another table with my eyes, where one guy had literally facepalmed Captain Picard style because of my lie about pineapple pizza. We quietly snickered with eachother.

I motioned a hand coyly at her after a minute. “So why didn’t you tell me about cheer practice tomorrow, jackass?”

Tyler rolled her eyes. “I already set my phone to ping you for class, I’m not your cheer team reminder too.”

I huffed, pouting and looking away. “Gee, I thought roommates were a thing to help eachother out.”

“You’re LAZY. El-ay-zee-why. When’s th-”

“I’m ALSO a straight-A student.”

“When you remember to DO your projects.”

“Which is always! I’m literally a professional procrastinator!”

“It’s not literally if you don’t make money from it.”

“Check the dictionary, dumbass, some idiots online got it changed to also mean figuratively.”

Tyler scoffed haughtily, rolling her eyes and going back to eating.

Fast forward a few days. I managed to catch a date with one of the jocks on the football team- him asking me out, surprisingly. I decided not to tell him I was leaning lesbian recently, ‘cause honestly, I was fine going either way. Though if it turned out well, I’d probably have to tell him… Well, nevermind.

The date was kinda boring. He wanted to hang out at a nice bar and grill, get a drink or two, a hearty course of burgers and fries. A great effort, considering the dumbasses he played alongside. I found it kind of dull though—only thing we could really connect over was football, me as a cheerleader, and him as an athlete. His main coursework was in economics, and mine was in software engineering, so neither of us could really make sense of the other’s intellectual interests in that regard.

We decided against talking through more… Recreational interests.

“Sooooo, how’d it go, succubitch?” Tyler said tauntingly when I got home. ‘Succubitch’—pretty obvious what demons like her thought of their lustful counterparts. Then again, she was a demoness of envy. And gluttony. But the latter’s obvious just at a glance—I call her ‘fatass’ for good reason.

“I told him it was a very nice time and that I enjoyed it.” I said, sticking up my nose at her.

“So you hated it.” she retorted, smirking and raising a brow.

I glared at her. “I did not! It was just… Kind of boring? He asked if we could go again some time, and I…”

“Spat in his face?”

I put up my hands. Tyler was sneering evilly. Even for her, this was excessively mean. “No! I told him to maybe look for a girl he can find more to talk about with!”

“Oooooh, he’s gonna be crying about that at the frat house~”

“Shut up!” I whined. Tyler just laughed.

#Alpha Centauri #I figure this'll seem a bit disorganized... It's kind of a chapter of 'mini-stories' cobbled together to paint the picture of Alyssa's life

[setepenre-set]

Love and War (chapter 10)

Strange Magic

Bog/Marianne, T rating

This is a story about two kingdoms, side by side, but worlds apart. And at war.

When the Bog King finally wins his war against the Fairy Kingdom, he decides that a political marriage with the eldest daughter of the deposed Fairy King will help to promote peace.

Obviously, he’s never met Marianne.

AO3 | FFN

The sound of Dawn screaming rips Marianne out of sleep. She sits bolt upright, immediately on the alert, reaching automatically for any sort of weapon that may be at hand, but her sword is on the other side of the room, and she comes up with nothing but her pillow.

She sees the creature perched at the foot of her bed before she sees Dawn frantically pointing at it. The creature makes a chittering noise and leaps off of the bed; Marianne’s pillow catches it in midair, knocking it to the ground.

Something small and hard falls from its paw and rolls over the stone floor with a tinkling noise.

Dawn is still screaming, her wings flapping wildly. Marianne is nearly smacked in the face by one as she launches herself off the bed at the creature. She lands on the floor in a crouch and the little creature makes an alarmed screech of its own and scrabbles over the floor, claws skittering on the stone.

“The window! The window!” Dawn shrieks.

Marianne makes a grab at the creature, just barely missing it as it scrambles out the window. Half in and half out of the window herself, leaning over the ledge, she sees the creature clinging to the outer wall from a few feet away.

It makes a scolding kind of chattering sound at her. Marianne bares her teeth and snarls at it threateningly, leaning a little further out of the window to take a swipe at it. The creature scurries away, clinging to the grooves and the cracks in the stone, disappearing beyond the curve of the tower.

Marianne lets out a breath and collapses on the window seat.

“—what was that thing?” Dawn asks, standing near the window now, too, her eyes wide and one hand on her chest, over her heart, her wings trembling a bit.

Marianne rakes one hand through her hair and looks at Dawn.

“I have no idea,” Marianne says, arching an eyebrow, “but whatever it was, that was a hell of a way to start to your wedding day.”

The two of them look at each other for a moment, and then burst out laughing at the same time.

“You! You tried to kill it with a pillow!” Dawn says. “A pillow!”

“I couldn’t find my sword!”

“A pillow!”

“Oh, and you were a whole lot of help!” Marianne says. “At least I did attack it with the pillow; all you did was scream!”

“I,” says Dawn with an attempt at dignity, in between giggles, “alerted you to the presence of the intruder!”

“You probably alerted the entire palace, the way you were shrieking,” Marianne says, and, as if on cue, her bedroom doors slam open and five members of the palace guard burst in.

Dawn shrieks again and grabs for the blanket on Marianne’s bed to cover her nightgown.

“Your Majesty!”

“Everything is fine,” Marianne says, slouched on the window seat. She waves dismissively at them. “Everything’s fine; we won’t be needing you, thank you.”

The guards look baffled, but do retreat from the room, closing the doors behind themselves.

Marianne scrubs a hand over her face. Now that the excitement of her sudden awakening is fading, she’s starting to feel the effects of too much walking and too little sleep the night before. And of—

There’s a kind of sticky, twisting feeling in the center of her chest, deep inside.

Bog’s going to divorce her today.

Her heart twists again, a horrible, sick, hurting sensation. Marianne vividly imagines clawing it out of her chest and the image gives her some slight comfort.

“What’s this?” Dawn says.

Marianne looks at her, eyes focusing again.

“What’s what?” she asks.

Dawn, bent over, stretches her hand out to something on the floor that—

“This,” she says, picking it up. “That weird thing dropped it when you hit it with the pillow.”

She straightens up and holds it out for Marianne to see.

Marianne takes a sharp breath, on her feet without even meaning to stand.

“It’s nothing,” she says, snatching Bog’s bottle quickly from Dawn’s hand. “It’s nothing; it’s mine.”

Dawn gives her a look that indicates she thinks Marianne may have lost her mind. Marianne sympathizes with her sister. She has lost her mind.

“Oookay,” Dawn says, in a I-am-humoring-you tone.

Marianne forces a smile and curls her fingers around the bottle, hiding it from view.

The Imp scuttles along the outer wall of the palace, its tail lashing behind it and its ears flat to its head.

The flying one with the pretty purple wings was much more fierce than she appeared! The Imp had not at all liked being hit with the pillow! And it had especially not liked the way the purple winged one had bared her teeth and growled at it—as though she meant to eat the Imp!

A shiver ripples over the Imp’s back, making its fur stand up.

Having reached another window, now, the Imp pauses above it. Hanging upside down, the Imp peers cautiously inside. An empty hallway.

The Imp jumps down onto the ledge and then the floor, then shakes itself all over.

In spite of the alarming encounter with the purple winged one, the temptation to return to that room and try again for the little bottle of Love Potion is very great. The Imp could—

The Imp cocks its head, ears twitching.

That had been a very small bottle of potion. Much too small to be the main source of the delicious smell that twines all through the rooms and halls of this place! Has all of the rest of the potion been used up already?

The Imp balances on its hind legs and scents the air as it moves down the hall. It takes a turn, and then another, sniffing the air all the while.

No—no, the potion hasn’t been used up! The scent is a trail, a kind of ribbon through the air; it isn’t concentrated in splashes, the way it would be if it had been used. The only splash of the potion smell in the palace is the one the Imp had found outside the room of the purple winged one. It had thought that this must mean the rest of the potion was inside the room, but—

The Imp scurries down the corridor at a rapid pace, heading again in the direction of the bedroom it had been forced to exit so hastily.

When it reaches the room in question, the Imp hides cautiously in an alcove, behind a curtain, wary of another unexpected attack by the fierce purple winged one.

It hides itself just in time, too, because someone pushing a wheeled cart passes by the alcove just after, making the velvet curtain wave gently. The wheels rattle, and the Imp can smell food on the cart.

The Imp hears the bedroom’s doors open—the low murmur of voices inside the room—the sound of the doors shutting—and then the cart rattles by again, the smell of the food gone.

A moment longer of waiting, and then the Imp pokes its nose out from beneath the curtain. The rest of its body follows and it scampers up to the doors.

Yes, the potion was used here; the Imp can certainly smell it, a heady, sweet scent, that, even now that it has faded so much, makes the Imp sigh with pleasure.

The potion was used here, and a bit of it is inside the room there, but the rest of it—

The Imp scents the air, then stands up on its hind legs, ears and nose twitching with excitement.

—the rest of the Love Potion was taken away!

The Imp makes a quiet chattering noise of glee.

Taken away—this way!

The Imp races off, following the trail of the scent.

They eat breakfast in Marianne’s room that morning, just her and Dawn. Marianne is on pins and needles the entire time, expecting Bog to appear at any moment—the two of them almost always have breakfast together.

(She dreads what his appearance will mean even as she can’t stop herself from longing to see him.)

When her bedroom door finally opens, Marianne tenses—but it’s her father who enters, not Bog.

“Good morning,” he says, smiling at both of them.

Dawn smiles back brightly and gets up from the table to embrace him. Marianne stretches her mouth into a smile too, and takes a sip of tea.

She has never been more grateful for Dawn’s ability to carry a conversation; it means she’s free to be silent as Dawn tells their father the story of their early morning encounter with the strange creature.

(Dawn doesn’t mention the little bottle—the one that Marianne still holds in her lap, beneath the table, and Marianne is grateful for that, as well.)

“—only awake for an hour, and you’ve already had an adventure!” her father says, and he and Dawn both laugh.

Marianne flinches, from the laughter, and from the memory—

(what’s an adventure without a little danger, and Bog’s arms around her and the way she’d actually felt safe when he held her and—)

“—don’t you think, Marianne?” her father says, still laughing.

Marianne comes to herself with a jerk, realizing she’s missed several minutes of their conversation. She smiles and laughs and takes a sip of tea, and fortunately this seems to be an adequate answer to whatever question she’d been asked.

“Agh! I’m running late!” Dawn says, “I have to start getting ready!”

She gets to her feet and kisses her father’s cheek, and then Marianne’s, and then she puts her hands on Marianne’s shoulders and shakes them lightly.

“I’m getting married today!” she says.

Marianne rolls her eyes and shoos her off.

“You’ll be getting married in your nightgown if you don’t go and get dressed,” she tells Dawn, who grins at her brightly, and then practically skips out of the room, singing to herself.

Marianne shakes her head, the smile fading slowly from her lips.

“…Marianne.”

Marianne glances over at her father. He’s looking at her with an expression that makes her frown. He looks…uncomfortable? apologetic? And then he seems to make an effort to lighten his expression.

“Hard to believe Dawn really is getting married today,” he says.

“Yes,” Marianne agrees.

An uncomfortable kind of silence follows her agreement.

“She’s very happy about it,” Marianne offers, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Yes,” her father says.

Another silence follows.

This is why she’s been avoiding spending time alone with her father lately, Marianne knows. Conversations between the two of them, without Dawn, inevitably falter into these stilted staccato silences.

When was it, she wonders, that she stopped knowing how to talk to her father?

Probably somewhere around the time he sold you into a political marriage for the sake of peace, a nasty, bitter part of her mind says, and Marianne flinches at the truth in the words.

“Why didn’t you let me lead the army during the war?” she asks, voice a little too loud.

Her father blinks at her.

“…let you lead the army during the war?” he repeats, and from his tone, it is clear that he’s never before even considered such a possibility, and that, now that it has been called to his attention, he finds the suggestion ludicrous. “Oh, Marianne, of course I couldn’t make you lead the army during the war! Roland is an excellent commander—”

“Roland lost,” Marianne says. “I wouldn’t have lost.”

Her father’s expression turns deeply uncomfortable.

“Yes, well—there were—perhaps some ideas of his that—might have led to a different outcome of the war, but which I didn’t feel comfortable condoning—destruction—too much bloodshed on both sides—”

Marianne rises from the breakfast table abruptly, crosses to her window, fingers clenched around the bottle in her hand as she looks blindly out at the sunshine.

“And you didn’t think that perhaps,” she says, “these—destructive, frightening ideas of Roland’s might be indicative of who he is as a person? You didn’t think that perhaps it might be wise to let someone else lead instead? I could have done it, father!”

She turns to look at her father; he’s risen to his feet now as well.

“I had to keep you safe, Marianne,” he says.

Marianne laughs, the sound joyless and edged with hysteria.

“Oh, and what a wonderful job you’ve done of it,” she says, feeling cold all over in spite of the sunlight streaming through the window.

Her father flinches.

“Marianne—”

“Did you know I would be safe, then,” she asks, “did you know I would be safe when you married me to our conqueror?”

“Marianne, I’m sorry; it was the only—“

“I understand the necessity of it,” Marianne says. “What I do not understand is why you agreed to it without my consent. I was in the throne room when the Dowager Queen brought the message; did it not occur to you to let me answer for myself?”

“Don’t let’s fight,” her father says pleadingly, “Don’t let’s fight, Marianne, darling, please, not on Dawn’s wedding day.”

“Oh, yes, by all means, don’t let’s fight,” Marianne snarls. “Don’t let’s fight on Dawn’s wedding day, and don’t let’s fight on mine, and don’t let’s ever ever fight, let’s just lie down and surrender and let things just happen to us because it’s easier that way.”

Her father lays his hand on her arm; Marianne shakes it off impatiently.

“Fighting is what I am good at, Father,” she says. “I just wish that you’d given me a chance to prove that.”

He blinks at her, clearly at a loss.

“We could have won the war,” she says, “if I had been the one to lead the army.”

She sees his disbelief, reads it in his eyes, his automatic dismissal of the words.

“Marianne, Roland and I did our—”

“You don't believe that, do you?” she says, with a bright, hard little laugh, “You don’t; I can tell that you don’t. But do you know who does believe that? Do you know who told me that?”

Her father opens his mouth, but Marianne does not give him a chance to speak.

“Bog is the one who told me that,” she says, “And since he did win the war, I’d say his opinion on the matter carries a bit more weight than either yours or Roland’s.”

“Oh, Marianne,” her father says, “I am sorry, my dear. I am sorry for the way things have—turned out for you, but—”

Marianne makes a noise of frustration, wings giving a quick flutter of repressed agitation.

“I do not regret my marriage,” she says forcefully, the terrible truth of the words hurting her heart. “What I resent is that I had no say in its happening. Do you not understand, father? Do you not understand that?”

He doesn’t see. She can tell by his expression: apologetic and bewildered and utterly at sea, and Marianne feels the distance between herself and her father as a great gulf, suddenly, no matter that he’s standing next to her.

She closes her eyes briefly, then opens them again and looks at him once more.

He seems—so much smaller to her than he was before.

Marianne swallows down her disappointment in him as she swallows down her tears. She reaches out to pat his arm.

I forgive you for being less than I thought you, she thinks, and, for the first time, she feels no guilt at thinking this.

“That’s all right,” Marianne tells her father gently, a terrible compassion for him tightening her throat. “That’s all right, father. It turned out well enough in the end. You’re right—it’s Dawn’s wedding day. Don’t let’s fight about it any more.”

He looks relieved, and she reaches out to embrace him so that he will not see her face.

...to be continued.

Thank you all so much for the likes, reblogs, and lovely comments! I really appreciate them so much!

#strange magic #love and war #bog/marianne #butterfly bog #arranged marriage au #fanfiction

[short-stories-written-warmly]

How It Feels

“Come on Gina, this is ridiculous!” said a young man as he knocked on the door to room 301, slightly raising his voice.

“You’re the one that’s being ridiculous!” replied a feminine voice coming from the other side of the door.

“How is asking you to come out of your apartment ridiculous?”

“It’s ridiculous because you don’t have any authority to do so!”

“I’m doing this to help you!”

“Why don’t you help me by going away?!”

“You haven’t been to classes for three whole months! I’m not leaving until you open this door!”

“Fine then!”

Suddenly the door swung open, nearly hitting the man before he jumped back to avoid it. Out came a girl with short scraggly black hair and dark eyes to match. She wore a purple tracksuit that covered her whole body, and had an expression of extreme annoyance on her face.

She glared at the startled young man who was pressed against the wall of the corridor. He regained his composure, dusted off his shirt and coat, and straightened his auburn hair. He fixed his green eyes at the girl with a firm expression on his face.

“What do you want, Luca?” she growled at him.

“I want you to come to class obviously. It’s been a three months since you last showed up in campus.”

“Well then if you’ll excuse me. “ She said as she started to pull the door back to close it.

Luca quickly grabbed the door knob and pulled back, holding it in place.

“Please, Gina. This has to stop.”

“Agh, just let go and leave me alone you jerk!”

“I’ve known you since middle school, I’m not going to let you ruin yourself like this!”

“Oh just do whatever you want then!” she huffed as she let go of the doorknob, stamping off back into the room.

Luca then entered room 301. It was one of the rooms of the new apartment, so it still looked quite well. The wooden flooring was still glimmering, and the sofa was still colored bright red. The coffee table did not have any noticeable stains on it, and dust hadn’t even settled on top of the TV and various other furniture.

He went through the living room and into Gina’s bedroom. The contents of her room was a far cry from the immaculate living room. Clothes covered the floor, her bed has somehow lost its blanket and her desk was chaotically decorated with snacks, cup noodles and crumpled up papers. He could barely make out her PC’s lit monitor among all the garbage. He looked around the room, sometimes shaking his head.

“Why are you scanning my room? That’s private you know.”

Gina came up from behind him. She was now wearing a red hoodie, a pair of jeans, and white sneakers. She was at the least, prepared to go out.

“I was just wondering where you went. Did you get changed in the bathroom?”

“I did. I can’t change in there with you around obviously.”

“Good point. So, ready to go to class now?”

“Ugh. I’m going to regret having you talk me into this. Can’t you just let me stay home?”

“Not when you’re properly ruining yourself. What’s with all the junk food in there? And why don’t you clean up after yourself?”

“You’re such a mom. Can’t I just be myself in my own room?”

“Well I can’t let you be yourself if that means…”

“If that means…?”

Luca grabs Gina’s left hand and rolls up her hoodie’s sleeve, revealing several red marks near her wrist.

“If that means you keep doing this to yourself.”

“…”

“Look, I know it was a rough breakup, but you’ve got to pull yourself together.”

“How would you know how I feel? You’ve never been in love with someone and find out that they don’t love you back!”

“I know it was tough finding out that he was seeing someone else but-“

“BUT NOTHING! SHUT UP! YOU DON’T KNOW HALF OF IT!”

Gina tensed up. She glared furiously at Luca, huffing all the while. Her hands were shaking, as if she was trying to hold herself back from slapping him.

“…”

Luca was looking down, his body was tense as well. He was preparing himself for a slap that never came.

“…”

Gina took several long breaths and let out a long sigh.

“Let’s…let’s just drop this topic alright? I don’t feel like talking about it and I don’t feel like getting angry either. Look, I’ll go with you to class today alright?” As she said that, Gina started to walk towards the door.

Luca looked up and looked at with a firm expression on his face.

“Will you promise me not to hurt yourself again?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold on to that promise.”

“Will you promise me to at least try?”

“I guess I can do that for you.”

“Swear it.”

“What?”

“Swear it. Just like we used to do back then.”

“This isn’t middle school Luca. I’m not going to do the silly swearing thing again.”

“Swear it. Please Gina. For me.”

Luca stared her in the eyes to show his resolution. He wanted this done no matter what. Buckling under the pressure, Gina let out another sigh before acquiescing.

“Alright fine. I, Gina Caldwell, do swear on my name, to try not hurting myself anymore.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“You just can’t let go of the past can you Dawson?”

“Now you’re just being hypocritical Caldwell.”

“Fair enough. Come on then, let’s get this class over and done with.”

They both went out of the apartment and got on the bus headed for the campus. They took a seat near the back of the bus.

“This is the last time you’re dragging me to class Luca.”

“Oh? You’re going to go to class yourself next time?”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“You always say that, but I’ll be dragging you off again in a month or two.”

“Eh, by that point I’ll be held back for a semester. You won’t be able to pester me as easily.”

“Then I’ll just pester you harder now. You can’t keep going like this you know. I mean, what would your parents think?”

“They can think whatever. I don’t really care.”

“That’s not something you should say.”

“So sue me.”

“Gina-“

“I’m just tired of it all Luca.” She said as she leaned back on the seat, slowly drooping down from it.

“I’m tired of going to campus. I’m tired of talking to other people. I’m tired of cleaning up after myself. I’m tired of various things right now.”

“For someone who’s tired of talking, you sure are talkative though.”

“Heh, good catch. Seriously though, you don’t know what it feels like. I tried my damnedest to be the girl that he’ll love. I exercised, I consulted fashion magazines, I even started taking lessons to better my posture and how I walk. I felt so happy when I finally caught his attention and we started dating. But then, in just two months, I found out he was cheating on me, and he dumped me for the other girl.”

“Yeah, I remember you calling me about it while crying your lungs out.”

“Yeah. After that I just got tired of everything. I mean, I tried so hard, and look at what it got me. I got tired of trying. I just…stopped feeling like I should get up from the bed, or leave my room. That’s how it all started.”

“It’s been a year, Gina.”

“I know. It’s a long time. But I’m still tired Luca. You know what I’m most tired of?”

“What?”

“I’m tired of living. I have no purpose right now. No goal to strive towards. Nothing to go out for, but also nothing to come home to. Why should I continue living this empty life?”

“Is that why you’ve been…”

“Pretty much yeah. I can’t muster the will to actually kill myself or anything. I’m too tired to even do that if you’ll believe me, heh.” She said in a tone meant to insult someone, but pointed at herself.

“But then why would you…”

“It makes me feel alive you know. I can’t really describe how it feels, but seeing the blood come out. Well, it feels like an affirmation that I’m still alive you know? I was bleeding. I was living. I wasn’t dead yet. It gave me a feeling of…confidence? It’s hard to describe, but it felt reassuring to know that I was still alive despite everything. It gives me a glimmer of hope that maybe, if I stay alive long enough, I’ll get out of this rut and everything will go back to normal, you know?”

“And this all happened just because…”

“Just because I loved someone and it turned out that person didn’t love me back. You might think that’s a petty reason, but that’s only because you don’t know how it feels Luca.”

Luca averted his gaze from Gina and mumbled something in a soft voice.

“What was that? Did you say something?”

“I said we’re here Gina. We’ve arrived at the campus.”

“Oh. Well this blows. Time to get this over with then.”

They got off the bus and walked towards the main building. They greeted various other students in the corridor, most of them were expressing their surprise at Gina’s return. A young man with slick brown hair approached the two of them and greeted them.

“Hey Luca. How’s it going?”

“The usual.”

“Heh, looks like it. Hey Gina, I thought the authorities declared you legally dead?”

“Oh shut up Mark.”

“I’m joking haha. It’s nice to see you back on campus. How long till you lock yourself up again though?”

“You’re incorrigible, and I’ll probably stay home again starting next week. I’m telling you in advance, because next time, Luca is not going to drag me back to this place.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’ll be the case. Just as was the case three months ago.”

“Mark my words…Mark.” Gina snorted at her own joke, while Mark continued to roll his eyes.

“Anyway, if I remember correctly, my class is at the end of the hall there. I’ll see you two later.”

“See you around Gina.” Mark replied.

Gina turned around walked towards the end of the hall by her lonesome. She stopped for a bit and looked back at Luca.

“You better not go home without me Dawson.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it Caldwell.”

She gave him a sheepish smile before walking off back towards her class.

“She’s a handful huh Luca?”

“Yeah, she is.” Luca said as he walked towards a garbage bin.

“What are you throwing there?” Mark asked as he tried to peek at Luca’s hand.

“Razors. As usual.”

“You raided her room again?”

“Yeah. It won’t stop her, but at least she’ll have to delay hurting herself for a bit.”

“Why do you keep doing this for her? She doesn’t really appreciate it you know. Frankly, I would’ve let her be if I were in your shoes.”

“I’ve known her since middle school, Mark. She used to be the most cheerful girl I know, she had this smile that would just brighten up your day and she was sweet on everyone. She was a hard worker too and always gave her all for everything. I want the old cheerful and friendly Gina to be back.”

“Well I know you want her to straighten up and all, but she’s not really trying herself you know? It’s kind of futile. You don’t have to try so hard, you know?”

“I do have to try, Mark. I have to try my hardest. Because…” Luca stumbled at his own words, allowing Mark to interject.

“Because?”

“Because…I just want her to like me.”

Mark shook his head to show disapproval, but he did not voice it, instead he just asked Luca.

“Why?”

“Because she keeps saying that I don’t know how it feels to love someone who doesn’t love me back. Well I just want her to know that I do know how it feels. I know exactly how it feels.”

Luca started to throw away the remaining razors one by one, each in conjunction with every sentence that he finished.

“I know exactly how it feels to love someone who doesn’t love me back.”

*clink*

“I know exactly how it feels to love someone who loved someone else.”

*clink*

“I know exactly how it feels to love someone who broke in front of me.”

*clink*

“I know exactly how it feels to love someone who decided to give up on life.”

*clink*

“I know exactly how it feels to love someone who needed my help to get back on their feet.”

*clink*

“And I know exactly how it feels to love someone…who doesn’t love me back.”

*clink*

As the last razor was disposed of, Luca turned around to look at Mark. He had a wry smile on his face, as if he was mocking himself. His voice was low, almost like a whisper, as he said:

“I want her to know, that I’ve always liked her, but she’s never liked me back, and I just want her to like me.”

I used Writing prompt #817 from @writers-are-writers for the bit near the end here. I appreciate them for posting it.

#writing #short story #shortstory #stories #text #text post #fiction

[mamepwrites]

My thoughts on Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin

Warning, some spoilers for the game’s story are below.

Dark Souls II was the first Souls game I really decided to sit through and play. I’d touched DS1 when the craze reached my ears, and when it came on Steam as the Prepare to Die edition. I probably would have kept playing if it wasn’t running on Games for Windows Live. I didn’t really do much past the Taurus Demon. Considering that, when Dark Souls II was released, I got it instantly. I didn’t even know it was coming out. I hooked up my 360 controller and had a grand time in the tutorial. When I got to Majula, I was so lost. I found my way to Heide’s Tower of Flame and I ended up learning the basics of gameplay from the first Old Knight there. I didn’t even know about the area’s first bonfire. And then I stopped playing the game. When I learned of Bloodborne, I watched the Game Grumps playthrough of it and I wanted to feel that. I still had DS2 in my steam library, so I decided to stick with it. And I beat it! Granted, I wasn’t good at rolling, and I protected myself with a shield most of the time. But I was pretty okay by the end. I then got a PS4 and Bloodborne the summer after, and my experience in Souls helped me play through it with ease. I love hunting, even to this day. Then I got DS3 on release, and played the heck out of that. And then I decided it was time to play through DS1, and I did, defeating all of the bosses except for Priscilla, because so ~moe~. But with DS2 being my first real Souls game, I always wanted to play it again. I’ll put the cutoff here, because this’ll be a long post.

So, the Scholar of the First Sin edition was on sale on PSN a few weeks ago. I got it and I played the HECK out of it. But when Scholar of the First Sin was first announced, I believe it was advertised as being much harder than the base game, considering changes in enemy placement. But having played it, I really can’t say they did much to that end. Maybe it was just easy for me because I’m an experienced Souls player now. But let’s talk a little bit about the changes to difficulty.

The tutorial Things Betwixt has its entire third section blocked off, and for a fair reason. It seems the devs wanted players to not farm on the Ogres that were in that section. So they blocked it off with a statue that you’re able to unpetrify later in the game, and they make the Ogres non-respawning. Sheesh. However, the first real level of the game, Forest of Fallen Giants, has its first available enemy an Ogre. I thought that was unreasonable, so I skipped it entirely. Sadly, later in the level, the Heide Knight was missing, so no lightning sword. The rest of the level was fairly unchanged. I was playing it with a friend, and so we took down the Pursuer fairly easily. It would have been a little tough doing it solo, but I love playing Souls with friends in any case. Anyways, I found that the Scholar edition featured updated item descriptions, particularly in the text for the Soul of the Last Giant. It pretty much said it was formerly the Giant Lord, a boss you fight much later in the game through enjoyable time travel.

The next area, Heide’s Tower of Flame, suffered a terrible change in enemy placement in my opinion. The original DS2 featured Heide Knights as docile-until-attacked non-respawning tough enemies you would find around the world, and they would drop their weapons or armor. But in the Scholar update, practically all of them are in Heide’s Tower of Flame, and they respawn, which is fair for farming their item drops because they’re no longer guaranteed. But once you beat the area’s main boss, all of the Heide Knights are no longer docile and they actively run up and attack you. Coupled with the Old Knights that are still in the area, traversing around is tough. You don’t have to fight them, though, unless you want to fight the level’s other boss, who is optional. But it’s a fun fight, so why should I say no?

Anyways, No Man’s Wharf wasn’t as scary as I remembered, but it seems that they never really fixed the durability issue in the game. Basically, the original game ran at 30 FPS on consoles, and at 60 FPS on PC and in its Scholar edition, but a bug in the game made weapons and armor degrade twice as fast when playing the game at 60 FPS. Considering No Man’s Wharf has no bonfires except the one at the beginning, this was annoying.

Sinner’s Rise is the stage of the Lost Sinner boss. Dark Souls games tend to have a “Big Four” set of bosses relevant to the overarching plot of the game, and the Lost Sinner is often the first in DS2 that players fight. The fight is cool in the way that it’s fought in near pitch darkness, unless the player has the foresight to find a key in a side-branch earlier in the previous level. With the  key, the player can light lamps in the boss room beforehand, so they can fight it more comfortably. I did that. But the stage itself was underwhelming. In the original DS2, many enemies called ‘Enhanced Undeads’ were available to fight. They were big green masses of flesh vaguely resembling dragons, and they were beefy. But in this Scholar edition, they were all replaced by a single weakened Flexile Sentry, which was the boss of No Man’s Wharf. While it made getting to the boss a lot easier, I felt sad that they didn’t even leave even one Enhanced Undead. 

The next area, Huntsman’s Copse, is one of my dreaded areas. Mostly because of the six Torturers that lie in ambush before the bridge to Undead Purgatory. In my first DS2 playthrough, I depleted their respawns. This time I just killed them one by one and went to Undead Purgatory and bam done with the stage. The Skeleton Lords boss of Huntsman’s Copse proper was also much easier than I remembered. The next level, Harvest Valley, was also decreased and increased in difficulty. There aren’t as many Undead Steelworkers (big greed dudes with big hammers), but there is an increase in the Desert Sorceresses encountered. However, I had more trouble with the Old Iron King boss battle this time around. Fricking lava hole. 

I also hate the Gutter and Black Gulch with a fervent passion. There’s a respawning NPC invader. Some forest child or whatever. Screw him. 

I enjoyed how Dark Souls II flips Dark Souls I’s structure on its head. DS1 had you fight a bunch of bosses (while ringing two big bells) until you get to Anor Londo and retrieve the Lordvessel, at which point you go to kill four bosses to acquire their Lord Souls. The bosses are Gravelord Nito, the Bed of Chaos, Seath the Scaleless, and the Four Kings of New Londo. The former two (the Bed of Chaos being the Witch of Izalith) were holders of full Lord Souls, and the closest allies to Lord Gwyn, who also held a full Lord Soul. Seath the Scaleless and the Four Kings all have shards of a Lord Soul, though they still count towards satiating the Lordvessel. This allows access to the final area of the game, the Kiln of the First Flame, and the last boss, Gwyn, Lord of Cinders.

However acquiring ‘the souls of four’ is the player’s first objective in DS2, aside from being told that they may become the next monarch of Drangleic (a plot goal). Upon meeting the Emerald Herald, the effective Fire Keeper of Majula, she instructs the player to seek greater souls, to seek the Old Ones. Embracing these souls allow the player to reach Drangleic Castle, where they expect to encounter King Vendrick, former monarch of Drangleic. After playing the first game, the player may assume that Vendrick is the final boss as Gwyn was in the first game, but the game does a nice subversion in this. Vendrick isn’t at Drangleic Castle. Nor is he the final boss. Nor is he a mandatory boss, for that matter. Instead of Vendrick you find Nashandra, his queen, apparently ruling what remains of Drangleic in his stead. She charges you to find Vendrick. And so from Drangleic Castle we go to the Shrine of Amana (a terrible area by the way, it’s so long and open but filled with pits you can barely see because of the water agh) and from here we gain entry to the Undead Crypt. It is in the Undead Crypt that we discover Vendrick himself, having long gone hollow.

(If you’re unfamiliar with Dark Souls lore, many people are afflicted with the curse of the undead, and continually revive upon death, until they die so many times, losing sight of their goals and becoming a mindless zombo. This is a hollow.)

We don’t have to fight Vendrick at this point in time, and it’s even recommended against doing so, as he has absurdly high defenses. The only thing we need from here is the King’s Ring, a ‘symbol of the king’. This grants us access to Aldia’s Keep (note that Aldia was Vendrick’s sciencey brother), then the Dragon Aerie and Dragon Shrine. They changed up Dragon Shrine a lot. There’s two main types of enemies in Dragon Shrine, the Dragon Knights and the Drakekeepers. The Drakekeepers are practically suped up versions of the Old Knights in Heide’s Tower, so they’re easy. In the original DS2, the ultra challenging Dragon Knights only appeared in the latter half of the level, where you’re climbing a grand staircase. So color me surprised when I start Dragon Shrine and see at least two Dragon Knights standing beside the first Drakekeeper. Turns out they don’t attack you as long as you only attack the Drakekeepers, and you fight the sole Dragon Knight (colored gold instead of black) who attacks you on the stairs. This one’s like a challenge to see if you’re worthy of meeting the one awaiting you at the very end, the Ancient Dragon. So far, the ‘dragons’ you see in Dragon Aerie are all actually wyverns. Fortunately so, because in DS1′s backstory, the dragon population dwindled. However, this Ancient Dragon is a true dragon, at least in appearance. *snicker* 

It gives you the Ashen Mist Heart, which allows you to traverse memories of certain beings. 

You’re meant to use this item to access the memories of the four Giant corpses found throughout the Forest of Fallen Giants. Though, instead of perusing their memories, you’re whisked away body and all, far into the past where you find yourself fighting the very Giants that razed Drangleic in an infernal fury. As it turns out, you end up fighting and defeating the Giant Lord, who becomes the Last Giant in the present time that you fight in the beginning of the game, that itself attacks you in rage. It’s so GOOD. Anyways, the defeat of the Giant Lord awards you a non-physical item called the Giant’s Kinship, or the Resonance with Giants in the Japanese version. This item intrigues me to this very day.

Its description reads: "Each king has his rightful throne. And when he sits upon it, he sees what he chooses to see. Or perhaps, it is the throne, which shows the king only what he wants. The flames roar, but will soon begin to fade, and only a worthy heir might burnish their light. What is it, truly, a claimant of the throne could desire?"

The whole story of Vendrick (the backstory of the whole game, really) is something I find much more compelling than the story of Gwyn in the first game. From what I can make out (with help from VaatiVidya’s interpretation), Vendrick was once like us in that he vanquished old ones and acquired their Great Souls, and with their power he built his new kingdom of Drangleic. He became seduced by a woman named Nashandra, who convinced him that the Giants to the north were a threat, and so he crossed the sea and raided their lands. To please his now wife and queen, he stole something of great importance from the Giants, which is presumably the power to manipulate souls to power golems, which he used to build his Drangleic Castle. It appears it was built above the Kiln of the First Flame, becoming known as the Throne of Want. However, the curse of the undead appears in Drangleic, and Vendrick and his brother Aldia search for a cure to the curse. Aldia made his manor in the east, close to the Dragon Aerie. As dragons were immortal, Aldia may have assumed their properties could help in curing the curse of undeath. Yet, the dragons are long dead, so Aldia made his own, with a soul of a Giant. This is the Ancient Dragon you meet in the Dragon Shrine. And from Aldia and this false dragon, the Emerald Herald Shanalotte is made. They appear to have not found and made use of any answers in time, as the curse reached even Vendrick. He also realized that his wife Nashandra was in truth a shard of Manus, progenitor of the Abyss, the darkness in humankind, and that she lusted for power, lusted for the First Flame, the kiln of which was deep below the castle. However, the pathway to the Kiln (or, the Throne of Want, as it became known) could only be opened by Vendrick. And so he sealed himself away in the Undead Crypt, guarded by his knights, left to rot in the curse’s grip. Long after this, it is the player that finds him completely hollowed, mostly naked aside from his crown, a loincloth, and a massive sword he lugs around. The player is only able to reasonably fight the towering hollow by possessing Souls of Giants, which lower his defenses. I forget where I heard this from, but what this is meant to represent is that while Vendrick is unfathomably strong (having vanquished four Old Ones while still totally human, and therefore with the risk of a very permanent death), the Giant Souls radiate the hate that was borne for Vendrick in stealing...whatever it was he stole, even long after the Giants have died, and by their hate they can weaken Vendrick, or strengthen the player enough to be a match for this king.

SO. With the King’s Ring, the Ashen Mist Heart, and the Giant’s Kinship, the player returns to Drangleic Castle. They venture deep below to the Throne of Want, where they do battle with its last line of defense that Vendrick installed, the Throne Watcher and the Throne Defender. Then, they fight Nashandra, who has cast off her veil and revealed herself as a grotesque figure, of deep black flesh and a skeletal face. She wanted the player to get rid of the Throne’s (and the First Flame’s) defenses so she could sit it herself. 

It’s a nice plot for a Souls game, in my opinion. 

What I particularly like about DS2 in comparison to DS1 is that the player character has their own intial and personal motivations. In DS1 the player is freed from their cell in the Undead Asylum and are told by Oscar of Astora to ring the two Bells of Awakening. They do so, and find that they may be the Chosen Undead, one who would link the First Flame to their very soul, bolstering its blaze and stretching the gods’ Age of Fire once more, as Gwyn did. DS2′s protagonist simply wants to be rid of the curse, to find a cure for it, and are then told that others come to Drangleic seeking the same, and that to find it they must acquire the four Great Souls, they must become the next monarch. DS1′s character is driven by the plot, while DS2′s character’s motivation goes hand in hand with the plot. 

Another thing I like about Dark Souls II is the relation between the player character, and Vendrick and Aldia. They both sought answers to curing the undead curse. Vendrick peered into the very essence of the soul, and Aldia was a scholar of the First Sin, which is Gwyn linking the flame to his soul while he should have let it die out. While upon completion of the DLC, a still-sentient version of Vendrick (encountered in a memory-past through the Ashen Mist Heart) awards the player with a means to stave off the effects of the curse upon completion of the DLC trilogy, a power in crowns, the symbol of a monarch. While wearing one of the kings’ crowns, the player can die indefinitely with no risk of hollowing. However, this is no true cure, but a treatment for symptoms. But still, it’s something. (Helps a lot in the final boss battle against Nashandra, too.) Vendrick tells the player to seek adversities, to seek strength. He tells the player that by letting the flame die, humankind will become part of the Dark again, as is their true nature. This is clearly the choice between linking the First Flame to one’s soul and extending its time, and letting the flame die out to cast the world in an Age of Dark, an Age of Man. However, Vendrick questions whether this is our only choice, whether these are our only options. We learn that to link the fire and to let it die are effectively the same choice, as it is in a cycle. Let the flame die and eventually it will spark again. Link the flame and another Undead will eventually rise to make their choice. What of this third option Vendrick alludes to?

Aldia styles the player character ‘conqueror of adversities’, and if a certain ending is chosen, accompanies the player in their path to find a way to break the wheel, to shatter this cycle of endless linkings and snuffings of the First Flame.

I dunno I really like Dark Souls II.

Oh right this is supposed to be on my thoughts.

I think Scholar of the First Sin could have done more to fiddle with the game’s difficulty, but there’s a point to that that shouldn’t be crossed. Change too much and you don’t have Dark Souls II anymore. Some changes in the Scholar edition were good, some were bad, but I enjoyed my time. 

I may replay Dark Souls III again. I can’t wait for The Ringed City DLC to come out.

#mamep #mamepwrites #dark souls #dark souls 2 #dark souls ii #scholar of the first sin #video games #game blogging

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Tsukigairei 5 | Kado 5 | Grimoire of Zero 5 | Boku no Hero Academia 19 | Royal Tutor 6

Tsukigakirei 5

Ep 6’s title is “Run, Melos!” (走れ、メロス！), a Dazai work.

Bad CGI strikes again.

Oh, I forgot to mention this last time when I explained this ep’s title, but Kokoro means “heart” for those of you that don’t know. That’s its literal meaning, though. It can mean a lot more than that.

That taiko near Kotaro (when he drinks his Pepsi) seems to be CGI.

Glasses guy is basically an older Kotaro…I know I’ll have problems telling the difference between them…

Did they pay Yahoo! for this product placement?

One of Kotaro’s posters seems to be about Muhammad Ali.

Having the screen intentionally the wrong orientation really is one small detail I appreciate from this show, like what I said with Boku no Hero Academia a bit back.

I can feel Kotaro’s heart sinking as student council pres calls him “Curly-kun”. I do admit I have done this sort of thing in the past to someone though (what Akane’s doing), so maybe I shouldn’t be feeling it.

There’s a book called “Delicious Curry” on one shelf, but it has a small green box near the “delicious”. I heard today that mango jam tastes good in curry, as a side note.

I guess it’s well established by now that both members of the couple will have romantic rivals, but only now is their potential to disrupt the couple actually coming in…just goes to show you how much I prefer Ore Monogatari! to this stuff, eh?

That cram school Kotaro goes to reminds me of one I used to go to on Friday nights. Again, the atmosphere’s really been captured by Tsukigakirei and that’s why I’m watching.

More money = more dates and vice versa. That’s kinda obvious if you think about it.

I LOLled at how Akane says she used Maps. Kids these days can’t get around with an ol’ paper map, it seems.

When Kotaro looks at Akane’s face, I remember some words from Arata (ReLIFE) – “You want to hold hands. You want to kiss her…” etc. etc.

I know how Japan is with these things (hugging, kissing etc.) – more so than the West – but still, get a move on, kiddos!

Kado 5

Wow, if Kado appeared on the 27th and it’s the 30th, it’s 3 days in 4 episodes.

The camera guy falling over was a laugh, at least.

Why is there fanservice of an army guy in Kado? (That’s something I never thought I’d say…) Please get some clothes on, (army) man.

Whatever you do, Kanata, please don’t touch Shun-she ate Shunina’s hand?

Kanata’s eating Shunina’s hand, and yet he deems her “appropriate”? *eyebrow raised*

Mifune uses a Windows OS. Well, it looks mostly like a Windows 7/8/8.1.

The slow pan really showed how they cut corners…

Notice Shunina has his disembodied hand on the handrest. It could be a sign he’s getting used to humanity.

If Kanata’s investigating placement of the Wam, I have the feeling this has to do with quantum physics.

Spinodal decomposition.

The mini-Kado explosion was so pretty! Like real fireworks!

Saraka’s eyes are really off model in this ep, eh?

Knowing how many people have died as a result of nuclear fallout and nuclear wars, Wam fighting would involve more than just one death, Shunina. Just a note.

It’s not 5 days ago, it’s 3. Didn’t I just calculate that? (Assuming it’s still the 30th of July, that is.)

I have a bad feeling about this…

I’m actually laughing right here. Everyone’s going “ohmigawd!!!”, even the UN. I did see a tweet saying you could make a Wam prior to watching this ep, but I never knew they meant it this literally. As for deciphering Kanata’s words (if they still need deciphering), I think Wam are like mini black holes in reverse...

Grimoire of Zero 5

I think they’re trying to be mournful, but when you have a guy suffocated by a cube of soil? That’s actually pretty funny. *cue Dumb Ways to Die*

They’ve never answered this, but why does Zero not have a band around her neck?

The still shots are probably the most striking. Certainly, there’s only been a ebelboar and a Mercenary one, but man, they look great.

The final spread has never been on a double page before…clearly this is ramping itself up. It looks like an ending…in the middle of what appears to be a 12 episode series. Unless the staff have something even better up their sleeves for the actual climax, I’m not sure this show is going to be a worthwhile investment from now on.

Boku no Hero Academia 19

It’s quite clear even though he’s being trained to surpass All Might, Shouto still admires the top hero, eh?

Notice Kaminari is eating a battery pack of some sort.

I’ve never seen meta go against someone like Todoroki…(re: Midoriya’s comment about how he’s normally the main character of a manga).

Chanbara. It’s the kind of thing you get with Rurouni Kenshin, apparently.

Aoyama (is that sparkly bellybutton guy’s name?) got his face squashed when Ashido came into the screen…

Todoroki looks a tonne like Yato (Noragami) if viewed from certain angles and not taking colour into account…

Kyouka isn’t even particpating in the cheerleading. That’s so her.

Basically, All Might is saying, “Fake it until you make it.”

Seiji Mizushima’s on econte (sorry, I don’t know what econte translates to)? Oh my glob! I’m not good with directors, but I know that name (from ConRevo)!

Royal Tutor 6

Einspanner. Apparently, it’s a kind of Viennese coffee.

Kapuziner? Hmm…lessee. Google-sensei’ results say it’s “a small black coffee with a bit of whipped cream…so that the coffee takes on the color of a monks hood” (sic).

Dobos torte. Apparently it’s topped with caramel…*drools* *retracts drool* But I ate not too long ago, so…on with the show!

Viktor is so hot when he’s disappointed! Agh! *almost dies from fangirling*

Richard…wait, I get it, actually. Licht is “ri-hi-to”, therefore Richard is “ri-chaa-do” (or something like that, or Richie (similar to what he wanted the professor to call him when he was introduced) for short.

Ooh. That pool shot took my heart away too. Licht really does take after his dad, to the point where I like him with a ponytail, but without the glasses. (His annoying comments from episodes past are still unforgivable, though.)

The “dramatic hair drop” thing really works on Licht. I can actually feel suspense from it.

Dangit, yaoi hands! You ruined my perfect image of the king!

I never saw that coming. What a turn of events, to see the king working in a café. Come to think of it, I once tried to write a story where a fallen angel and a constellation spirit work in a café (it was called Zodiac Conspiracy) but I’ve never worked in a café, so it fell through rather quickly.

The off model in this episode really snaps you out of the cosy, fun mood of this episode. It’s simultaneously the best (because it doesn’t debase women) and the worst (because I think this is the worst effort they’ve made with being on model so far in this show).

Gotta love a good man in a good suit.

I’m LOLling so hard. It’s like Viktor’s a host, not a waiter! Then again, I feel (somewhat) like they’re trying to capitalise on the Black Butler movie (Atlantic) that’s coming out soon and because that’s meant to be a (SPOILERS for non-manga readers! -> )big zombies-on-a-ship spectacle, they’re filling up that now vacant space with actual butlering from the closest subsitute...this show.

A franziskaner appears to be a type of beer, while a linzertorte is a latticed pie-thingy.

That “puis-je vous aider?” line appears to be French for “how can I help you?” (says Google Translate). By the same token, “ou est la gare?” is “where is the station?” and “je vais vous dessiner un plan” is “I will draw you a map”. (You can tell I don’t speak French…)

That Licht pose reminds me of one taken in Atarimae Taisou (it’s at the end of every exercise in that video, so you won’t miss it!), which I saw a few days ago but suddenly it got stuck in my head today…argh.

So…it’s yet another misunderstanding? I can see why people fall out of love with this show, but I’m still a firm enough fan of it that I’m sticking around with it…until the anime’s end, at the very least.

Shouldn’t Licht put his glasses back on and his hair back to a ponytail????

Oh yes, while I was reading this, I remembered something I forgot to mention earlier. Why was Viktor, a person who Heine may or may not have only had contact through mail, the first person Heine could trust? Is Heine from a criminal background, a loner who lived in a cave (like Grimoire of Zero’s title character) or something? (…Okay, I joke about the cave, but otherwise I’m serious.)

#simulcast commentary #boku no hero academia #tsuki ga kirei #grimoire of zero #seikaisuru kado #Chesarka watches Tsukigakirei #Chesarka watches Kado #Chesarka watches Boku no Hero Academia #the royal tutor #Chesarka watches Oushitsu Kyoushi Haine #boku no hero academia 2 #Chesarka watches Grimoire of Zero #kado the right answer