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books-and-catears · 3 years

Text

Just You

- Solomon X Gn!MC

(Warning: Fluffy NSFW. Don't read little babies.)

He'd learnt another new spell. That's what he told you on the phone. An indirect request to meet him right away. Eversince you two started sitting together in Applied Magic classes - you are the first person he shows new things to.

"He's a 1000 year old sorceror-" You sigh as you walk out the door, "how can there possibly be any more magic he's left to learn?" Only he can answer that.

You walk into the Purgatory Hall past Simeon and Luke's room. Solomon's was right next to theirs. The door was ajar so you walked in.

"Solomon? I'm here!" You call out in the dark. His room looked like a cross between Satan's room and the Potions lab. But thankfully it smelt far more pleasant because Simeon and you convinced him to get scented candles.

"Hello MC..." A voice spoke up from behind, rightfully startling you. But that didn't sound like Solomon. Why did it sound like...

"Satan?" You turn around him and see him standing there, smiling cheekily. Did Satan always smile that? No. Something feels out of place.

"Yes it's me. Are you wondering where Solomon went too? He called me here. Told me he'd learnt a couple of new spells." Satan said.

"That's funny. Last time I saw you, you were in the park with the kittens. It was your turn to look after them. And you never come back till your turn is over." You said, inching closer to him .

"Oh is that so? Then I suppose I should have played my prank better." Satan's voice warped into Solomon, as did the clothes and body.

"Shapeshifting?! That's so cool!" You almost jump in excitement. "Oh the amount of chaos we can cause with this!"

"Indeed. We can play pranks and put the blame on others, give exams as someone else and we can even kiss someone we like even if they're taken." Solomon inched closer to you.

"Well the last one is not really advisable but-" You saw he'd morphed into Satan again, his face dangerously close to yours. "What are you doing Solomon?"

"If I pretend to be Satan, won't you give me a kiss?" He locked his lips with yours. You'd parted them in shock but now his lips had invaded the space. But they weren't even his lips...

"Solomon wait!" You pull away and hold him back. He looks at you sheepishly. "Oh that's probably not how he kisses you right? Don't worry I'll get better at it."

"No that's not it. Why pretend to be someone else? And why Satan? What kind of relationship do you think we have?" You ask. He turns back into himself.

"Well I know you love someone." He said matter of factly. "And that someone is here. You also happen to love cats and books and mysterious people with lots of knowledge to give - you told me that the first night you got drunk. So naturally it's Satan."

You burst out laughing. "Look at Sherlock over here! You couldn't be more wrong!"

The usually confident Solomon, looks puzzled at this point. "Not him? The only other cat loving people I think of are Mammon and Diavolo. And none of them really scream 'mysterious' to me."

"That's because I don't like them either tsk tsk." You say, shaking your head. Oh this dumb wizard.

"Well who is it then?" He asks, impatiently.

"I won't say. Can you seriously not think of anyone else?" You were having fun at this point. Looking at that frazzled expression on his face, you wished you brought your camera.

"Well it will hardly take any time to find out using the new potion I learnt." He reached out for what looked like a light blue perfume and sprinkled it on itself.

"Color changing blueberries, lustful violets and truth serum." He said inching closer again, taking your hand. "One touch from you will turn me into the person you like most."

You both stare each other for the next five seconds waiting for something to happen.

"Why isnt it working now? I tried it on others. It worked just fine." Solomon said, squeezing your hand before placing it on his shoulder.

You shake your head. "Well maybe it worked and you're too dumb to know it. Jeez I thought you were smart." You mutter to yourself.

Solomon stared at you wide-eyed. "I- you meant me? Cats, books and- oh. Now I see it." He smirks and bumps his head against you, teasingly. "Is that why you waited till after the kiss to push me away?"

"Ugh. Come here. Let me the kiss real you first." You say, exasperated. You pull him towards you, cupping his face and threading your fingers through his silvery hair. This felt right.

His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you in place. You bite his lip playfully, he lets out a guttural growl and bites yours harder, pushing his knee between your legs.

"Now that's...much better." You say, pulling away panting for breath. "Also never do that again. Don't ever pretend to be anyone else for...kissing purposes or things like that. You deserve to be loved as who you are. Not because you look or sound like someone else."

"What's a wizard to do? When he finally falls in love after years with someone who loves somebody else?" He said, kissing your fingers that were on his cheek. "I got desperate. I just wanted to taste you once. Just.. one kiss."

"Just one kiss? All you needed to do was ask!" You huffed and pouted before pecking at his lips again.

"Well now you've gone and made me desperate for ...more." He whispered in your ear. You could hear him smirk. It sent shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

His hand snaked up your shirt, pressing against your waist and chest. You let out an involuntary moan. You grab his shoulders and shake your head, horrified.

"We have LITERAL ANGELS next door! I'll be too loud! We can't do this here!" You say trying to get away, but he pulls you back and drags you to the bed instead.

"Oh I am hoping you'll be loud. Cause the angels are going to be with Diavolo the next six hours." He said, pulling his shirt off, and trapping you within his arms.

"You planned this whole thing? What did you even have in mind?!" You ask in disbelief, holding him close.

"Well I thought maybe.. if I can make you get carried away as Satan then maybe..." Solomon said sheepishly, pressing kisses onto your shoulders as he stripped you off your top.

"I love you as just you, Solomon." You nip into his neck as a punishment. He only smiles and almost purrs in reply, his hands exploring your body eagerly.

"And for that... I shall do my best to you show you my gratitude." He said, unbuttoning your pants and slipping his hands inside. You let out another moan. "Yes MC, I love you too."

#obey me smut #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon smut #obey me satan #obey me fluff smut #obey me angst smut

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siverwrites · 3 years

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Fictober Day 3: Partings and Complications

Fictober Day 3. No prompt today.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34258309

GT FFVI AU. A small scene in Mobliz in which Jowd bears witness to a conversation that only seems to further complicate matters

Jowd didn’t intend to watch or eavesdrop, but the usable portion of the building they stayed in was hardly big and his gaze kept sliding over to Cabanela standing in front of the ramshackle table. The table was a small round thing; it probably once held something decorative. It looked the sort they had in some rooms of Figaro, and he startled at that odd nearly forgotten familiarity. Well, like Figaro there was no place for such niceties anymore. Only Sissel and a bunch of kittens and young cats roamed the ruined village of Mobliz now.

He absent-mindedly stroked one of those kittens that had taken up residence on his lap. Now that table held two magicite, together at last and the cats would be joined by two Espers.

“You’ll look after these kiddos, won’t you?” Cabanela said.

Seraph’s voice was gentle and laced with fondness. “Of course. To help our young kin has been my only purpose since the world cracked. I cannot leave him now. And now that we’re together again…” Jowd winced at the sheer amount of feeling put into the word. ‘Together’… “…maybe good things can still happen here,” Seraph continued.

“Can and wiiill,” Cabanela said. “The world’s not ended yet, baby.”

“Some might say it has,” Phantom said dryly. “Nevertheless we owe you a great gratitude.”

“Think nothin’ of it. I told you we’d find her and that’s all there is to it, baby.”

“You’ve filled your promise.”

Jowd tried to focus on the black furball kneading happily at his knee, but couldn’t block out Cabanela’s suddenly soft tones.

“Thanks for that.”

“Cabanela?” said Seraph. “May I ask you to lift my stone?”

“Sure thiiing. Somethin’ I can do for you?”

“Only permit my curiosity.”

Jowd’s fist clenched as a different image arose. Cabanela—no, the Jester—surrounded by a ring of magicite. The greed and hunger twisting that face. Jowd resisted the urge to knock Cabanela aside, and yet here… There was only tenderness as he lifted the magicite.

It glowed and there was silence and stillness until Seraph spoke.

“I’m sorry. I only wished to confirm something I thought I felt in that dark place last we met.”

“You felt it, too?” Phantom asked.

“I’m…not certain. I don’t understand you. I feel Ramuh’s magic and she, kin of Shiva, left her mark upon you and yet…I can almost feel the touch of another, warm and familiar.”

“I thought I felt it too,” Phantom said, “as we rested together. But it’s like a whisper outside the range of hearing.”

“I am what I am,” Cabanela said with a careless shrug. “And whatever the doc saw fit to do,” he added in a tone that was too brittle for the lightness he clearly intended.

“One of many…” Phantom said distantly.

“It may be of comfort to you to know this does not have the feel of that vile creature’s work.”

“It is.” Cabanela gently lay Seraph’s magicite beside Phantom’s. “There’s a lot of mystery in the past few years of my life. One mooore doesn’t make much difference now.”

Jowd stared at the floor. What had that been about? Who was Cabanela anymore? And what right did he have to ask such questions now?

“We’ll see each other again,” Cabanela said.

“We wish you success and the joy you’ve helped to bring us,” Seraph said.

“Some dreams are only that,” said Phantom, “and some, for good or ill may be more, remember that.”

Jowd glanced up to catch Cabanela sweeping them a bow. He immediately averted his gaze as Cabanela spun round and he caught sight of his expression, distant and longing. He couldn’t avoid Cabanela entirely, however. He sauntered over and as Jowd dragged his gaze back there was no trace of that expression, only a flash of a grin as Cabanela stopped just close enough to be in speaking range.

“Sissel tells me there’s a chocobo stable not far from here. We can see about gettin’ ourselves some birds and the trip to Nikeah will be a breeeeze, baby.”

“Right,” Jowd said and before he could think of anything else worth adding Cabanela had already moved on to check over their supplies.

Jowd sighed and stared at the kitten who had finally made himself comfortable and now slept in his lap. What was it like to hold such simplicity?

#ghost trick #gtau #GTxFFVI fic #gtxffvi #fictober 2021 #fictober #jowd #cabanela #phantom (FFVI)#seraph (FFVI)#ghost trick fic

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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I'm not immune to the fluff 💖

Hand-holding 32. not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands Touching 22. falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

AWWW YES! My fluff trap has worked! >:D

Some drabbles! Just for you, friend! <3

Their relationship was confusing for some. Well, most, if Fane was being honest, but he didn't really care what anyone else thought. Not many relationships in this day and age held a candle to what he and Solas had fostered, and that wasn't the fault of those who didn't understand. It was how the world was, and their relationship was complexity incarnate, so confusion was a typical reaction.

And many, many people didn't understand the concept of intimacy in sheer presence. Not all love was shown through acts of intercourse or raw carnal desire. Sometimes, it was as simple as an open palm and a small smile as two hands became as interlocked as a masterwork lock. Even better was when neither party thought of combining tumblers, the act instinctual, the purpose wanted in thought.

And that was very much what depicted their acts of intimacy.

"If I get one more letter from Halamshiral talking about my eyes, I will seriously gouge them out.", Fane growled as said eyes flitted across a piece of parchment; a letter in the most refined and disgusting filigree he had ever seen. He didn't get paid enough for this job.

"I would advise against self mutilation, vhenan.", Solas quipped from beside him, the two of them situated side by side as the mage's desk in the rotunda. His sky was currently reading his own text, but from the view of a small smirk and lax expression, it was far more calming than what Fane was currently having to deal with.

"Just try and stop me.", Fane said with a sneer before flicking the letter away unceremoniously, sighing. "What time is it, anyhow?" It felt late and he knew that because of how his marked hand felt numb and heavier than a dead weight, but also...warm?

"I am unsure.", Solas responded, throwing off his confusion from gentle heat. "The candle is worn down to about half, so I would hazard a guess and say close to midnight." The assessment even, concise, even as the voice that sounded them held the desire to sleep in its lilt.

Fane blinked. "Midnight?", he balked, the mage only letting out a hum in affirmation. "By anything that's holy, Solas, why didn't you--", he went to raise his left hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but found that it was...heavy? And again, warm? "What the..? Why are we holding hands?", the question slow as his gaze shot straight down to their loosely joined hands and then back up and then back down.

When had they interlocked?

Solas let out an airy chuckle, his head lulling to the side, eyes picking up from his book to give him a look that said, 'Truly?' before the hand adjoined to his own gave a light squeeze.

"Truthfully, I don't know the answer to that question.", Solas admitted, looking down at their joined hands, too with a small smile. "Perhaps it was merely instinctive. I find myself reaching for you without thinking.", more admittance falling like the freshest rain upon a warm brick.

"Do you now?", Fane teased as he looked back up to gaze into the only sky he would ever know from now until the end. Solas hummed, lifting his head back up, the same small smile still in place.

"I do.", he said without hesitation before something akin to shame flashed into blue and grey, blessed warmth beginning to unravel with his slightly larger appendage. "But I can stop if you--"

Fane shook his head, cutting Solas off. "Don't start with that.", he admonished, pulling the retreating hand back to entwine them tighter together before picking up the next letter in his small pile. "You can hold it for as long as you want, my sky.", he said before shifting his gaze away from slightly wide orbs. "...And you're not the only one who finds themselves reaching out. You beckon for the dragon above to land, and I yearn to draw the sky near. So, don't worry about making me uncomfortable because I'm anything but that."

Heat blazed across his cheeks as the words left his mouth, intensely screwing his eyes on the letter in his free hand, but not retaining any of the words. Damn it all! Why did he always get so flustered?! He was just saying the normal shit he always did! So, why did it--!

"Thank you, my dragon.", the words of gratitude sounding like a literal prayer as the voice that uttered them dropped to a reverent whisper, the hand around his reinforcing its grip around his own like molten silverite. "Thank you.."

Fane huffed out an amused breath of air, giving his molten encasing a reciprocating squeeze, further solidifying the bond between them.

"No, thank you. For everything."

****

The Emprise du Lion was cold, that much was a given, but wasn't so bad for Fane. Two layers of fur was more than enough to keep him comfortably warm. Anymore than that and he would melt, his inner core still inherently the same as the one he had possessed as a dragon.

However, others were far less fortunate. Namely, a creature, that for all intents and purposes, should have insulated fur of their own.

"Cold?", Fane asked plainly as he meandered his way over to where Solas was sitting on the log by the fire of the Inquisition's latest reclaimed camp, face calm, but a light shudder through strong, but slender shoulders betrayed the true state of his sky.

"Not terribly.", Solas responded easily, but subtly tried to shift his furs around so as not to make Fane aware. Sadly, keen observational skills and a pinpointing nature were his aces in this particular deck of veiled strength.

"You're cold.", Fane stated matter of fact, stretching one long leg over the log to plop down next to his sky, chuckling a bit when a lightly shivering form instinctively leaned into his own, seeking warmth. "How you think you can hide shit from me is a mystery."

Solas chuckled, actively resting his head against one of his fur pauldrons with a quiet, but content sigh. Fane only rolled his eyes, smirking. For an elf that prided himself on keeping a poised and reserved demeanor, he sure did crumble when around him. Though, that was exactly what Fane sought every time he and Solas managed to get some time alone.

"Old habits are hard to kill, ma'isenatha. Ir abelas.", Solas murmured from where he was nestled on his shoulder, the sun setting in sky-like orbs as they shut, blocking out the orange glow from the fire before them. "It is simply more frigid than I expected."

"I imagine for you, it is.", Fane murmured back, rolling his head to the side to rest it against the top of Solas', who let out another, more tired sigh in response. "Tired, too?" It was a foolish question, he knew, but he was trying to use his voice more. Even if to state the obvious.

Solas nodded a bit. "The red lyrium is especially potent here. It makes it hard to concentrate, thus I expend more energy pulling magic through the Veil.", he explained, no longer shivering form coming closer to where their knees were touching. Fane didn't even flinch, the layers of his armor and cloak making his scars blessedly numb.

"Then sleep.", Fane ordered softly, lightly nuzzling his cheek against the mage's head. "I've been asking a lot of you these last two months, so rest. I'll take first watch." He wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon, anyways. The red lyrium was causing him issues as well. Murmurs in the back of his mind, and echoes of blackness with crimson lights in the distance making it hard to keep his rage in check.

"No, that is unfair on--", Solas began to protest, as per usual, but Fane silenced him with a growl and with a jerk of his arm, fluttering out his cloak to wrap it around his stubborn wolf. The reaction was instantaneous as the mage practically melted into his side with a truly exhausted sigh.

"Go to sleep, you old fool.", Fane said, leaning down a bit to lay a light kiss to a lax temple. "I'm fine. The cold doesn't bother me, and neither does less than two hours of sleep. So, relax and dream." Solas needed the rest more than he did, and he would grant him that.

The mage sighed. "I do wish you would stop calling me that.", the words slurred with approaching sleep, but still held gentle teasing in silk.

Fane shrugged, lightly so as not to jostle Solas too much. "I state what I know.", he said. "And you're old."

"You are older than I.", his sky replied, inching closer and closer to the Fade as his form leaned into him more, the cheek buried in his fur going lax as usually calm breathing slowed even more. Fane smiled a bit at that, bringing his emerald cloak in more to shield his wolf from soft gusts of chilly air.

"Only by about two thousand years. Give or take.", he quipped quietly before laying another soft kiss to Solas' temple. "Now, shut up for once, and sleep. You can glare and raise your eyebrow at me later." Solas only let out a noncommittal hum at his words before Fane saw his face go completely lax, sleep wrapping around a tenacious mind like how his cloak was his physical body.

Fane smile a bit more. "Sleep well, my sky.", he whispered in a voice he only reserved for the one of utmost devotion. "Ar lath ma.", unusual Elvhen rolling from his tongue as he repositioned his head to lightly rest it against the top of Solas' again.

And sadly, he missed the tender smile that rarely graced a stoic face, his words reaching far past the boundaries of the Veil, the Fade, and perhaps, even the Void. The sky would rest in the wings of a dragon. No matter where their mind would take them for their heart, their soul, knew what the mind sometimes did not.

#drabbles!#why do i write so easily like this?!#it comes so easily when i do it through asks! AHH!#i give you two because i had two ideas! X3 #thank you so much! this was a ton of fun! <3 #solavellan #solas #oc: fane lavellan #dragon age #these two give me so much life #take that canon! >:D #my writing #writing #asks

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warlock-enthusiast · 3 years

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#3 smiling into a kiss for whoever you’d like!

<3 thanks!!

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls Online

Characters: Sorsastael Elsinor x Sanguine

Rating: M (sexual themes)

prompts

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

Her steps didn’t make a sound. Soft undergrowth and earth swallowed it.

Sorsastael found herself surrounded by darkness and a strange silence that she’d witnessed more than once. She’d been here before, in this realm beyond the isle of Summerset, with all its trees and black skies.

Here, she wore a strange garment, leaving too much golden skin exposed.

She tried to remember falling asleep and couldn’t. Her father has scolded her for not answering the letter of another suitor. Another perfectly fine Altmer from an old family, boring, into books and magic. At times, Sorsastael believed that every family was related in one way or another. Probably a not well-hidden legacy among her people.

Who actually wanted to marry their cousin though?

Following the sound of music and voices, she’d soon find herself a lavish feast and far away from thoughts of a wedding.

“Join us.” Sorsastael turned around.

A group of naked bodies writhed on the ground, seemingly without shame, and their moans held a melodic tune. Men, women, were joined in a passionate embrace. Mostly human, Sorsastael ignored their calls, because she had to see him.

But goosebumps covered her skin and warmth spread through her stomach. Against her will, her cheeks reddened and she clenched her fists.

No! Not again. She needed to be stronger than this. To not give in so quickly.

She found a path that led deeper into the forest. Fires and torches cast shadows on the ground as Sorsastael found herself in a clearing. Tables laden with food and drink, laughter and dancing people atop of them caught her gaze. Every delicacy she could ever imagine lured her into stepping closer, but no one seemed to notice her approaching them.

The whole scenery appeared frightening. These people with their hollow eyes and voices, trapped in a nightmare.

“Welcome, Sorsastael of the Elsinor family.”

There he was, tall, imposing with his dark skin and red markings. Tonight, his horns seemed to be colored with gold. Unusually glittery and Sorsastael suppressed a laugh as she imagined him painting them with his fingers.

Seated on a throne at the end of the table, the Daedric Prince oozed confidence and arrogance and a deep lust for life. She imagined that as the ruler of this realm, he’d every right to do so.

Sanguine smiled and filled a goblet for her. “You’ve found me again, little one.”

“I don’t think that I had a choice?”

“You’re too clever, but you always have a choice. You could’ve stayed away, asked someone for help.” His red eyes mocked her. “But to imagine your parents knowing about their daughter’s forbidden dreams and longings. Her descent into my realm.”

“They’d kill me, without a doubt.”

Another smile, which barely hid his sharp teeth. “Yes, they would.”

Sanguine pushed a chair into her direction. “Sit down, talk to me.”

Sorsastael knew that he chose to appear in that form to tempt her. Attractive, mysterious and strong, she often thought about giving in and feeling his touch. His fangs on her skin, claws digging into her flesh.

Sanguine laughed and touched her cheek. Oh, he also knew her every thought.

„So, do you want to follow me? Everlasting debauchery and fun. Long nights, short days.” He forced her to meet his gaze. “How does that sound, little one?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Sanguine smiled and reached for a cup, bringing it close to her mouth.

“Drink this and serve me.”

Sorsastael smelled blood and wine. She wanted to. Follow him into the darkness and leave her home behind. She’d never felt at home in Summerset. Nothing there held her interest for long. Its beauty just didn’t touch her and its politics brought her to the brink of desperation.

The alternative offered freedom.

And bloodlust.

“I’ll be cast out. Forced to stay away from my family and home forever.”

Shrugging, he offered her a plate with grape and cheese. “But do you care about them? Do they care about you?”

And how to answer that? She knew that her two sisters fit perfectly into the mold of a noble Altmer family, they enjoyed their lifestyle.

She didn’t.

Sanguine leaned closer. “Don’t make me wait for too long. It’d be nothing more than a whisper to get you to serve my every whim and wish. You’d be on your knees thanking me for even noticing you.”

“I’m sure your powers are strong enough to do just that, but I’m inclined to believe you’re also bored and like to talk to me.”

“Here I thought that I lie so well.”

“You do.”

“Then I offer my gratitude.”

“For… what?”

“Stroking my ego.”

Sorsastael tried to stifle her laughter and shook her head. Serving him sounded alluring, even if it meant to leave everything behind. Even if this whole scenery was nothing more than a collection of pretty lies.

She took the goblet, fingers slightly shaking. “Make me yours.”

“Good.” Sanguine leaned forwards and she smelled something dark on his lips. “You won’t regret it.” She took a single sip, before Sanguine took the drink away from her. Suddenly he seemed so very close, so very real.

His mouth found hers.

Sorsastael opened her lips. She felt the Prince smile against her mouth and drawing blood with his kiss.

“Welcome to my Court, little one.”

#the elder scrolls online #teso #eso #sanguine #teso fic #sorsastael elsinor #headcanons #commander-krios

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trashystar420 · 4 years

Text

Babysitter Maribat AU AGE Reversed Chapter 2!

“I am very sorry for the delay, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, it is a pleasure to meet you” Bruce Wayne spoke. Marinette had to resist the urge to gap like a fish, because god damn, he hot. Selina definitely knows how to pick em. But due to her years of masking her own emotions with a smile, she responds back in kind.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir” and giving a knowing look to Selina, who rolled her eyes and gave one back.

“Just be sure to treat her right.” She warned playfully, but the venom was there. Selina had to cover herself, lest she burst into a fit of giggles, while the man she wrapped her arms around had to do a double take. Giving a dutiful nod, he starts to introduce his boys.

“This is my youngest son, Dick Grayson.” Mari had to refrain herself from cooing at the adorable kid before her. But the sparkle in her eyes was fully noted by everyone else, and they felt pity for her. ‘She won’t be thinking that for long.’ Bruce thought bitterly.

“My second youngest, Jason Todd.” Jason merely rolls his eyes at her, and Mari can’t help but give a knowing smile.

“My second oldest, Tim Drake.” Said boy was too busy on his phone, and barely acknowledges her. Giving a meek wave. Bruce and Alfred both gave dejected sighs at the rude behavior of the young teen. Damien rolled his eyes, and shakes the hand of his replacement.

“Damien, Damien Wayne” he answers, the Bluenette returns the handshake politely. And with some serious warnings from Bruce, and some recommendations on what to do and what NOT to do, and a lot of pulling on Selina’s part, Bruce reluctantly went. Once the mansion door closed chaos ensued.

“Think you can manage?” Damien asked haughtily. Mari simply rolled her eyes at him and walked towards the two troublemakers. Dick noticed first, and hid behind Jason. Jason made an intimidating face to the Bluenette. Mari gave a nod, knowing that the warning was received. After staring into the young boy’s blue eyes, the babysitter gave a warm smile. One that threw off the the troubled child.

“I know this might seem tedious, but how about we introduce ourselves again? I didn’t get to hear your voices.” She offered. Jason gave a guarded expression, while Dick reluctantly looked up at the Bluenette, still clutching his older brother. Damien could only watch the scene, completely confused as to what was going on, even Tim looked slightly apprehensive.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’ll be your babysitter” she outstretched her hand, offering a handshake to the two.” Jason looked at it wearily, but Dick took it first. ‘So cute’ she thought

“D-Dick Grayson” said boy answered timidly. That had Tim and Damien gap. It took Tim a week for Dick to even speak to him. For Damien it took a good year for Dick to gain the courage to look at him. A pang of jealousy went through the older boys. Alfred was shocked again, for the second time.

Giving a warm smile, she spoke.

“I really love your voice, Mr. Grayson, I hope to hear it more.” Dick blushed , but remained eye contact. Jason was smirking.

“And hello to you-“ Mari purposely pauses for Jason to say his name. Jason sighs, and playfully rolls his eyes at his new babysitter. However, that did not deter the young woman’s hand away. The boy reluctantly returned the handshake. Muttering his name, his eyes casted down.

“Jason Todd.” He meekly gave. Marinette has to RESIST the urge to hug out the two precious beans before her. It gets harder by the minute. Jason then pointed out the box she placed on a nearby table.

“What’s that?” He asked hopefully knowing the answer. Dick also noticed the box and was curious as well. Marinette gave another warm smile as she got up from her crouched position.

“How about I show you instead?” As she retrieve the box and opened it. The mansion was flooded with the sweet aromas of the mysterious French pastries. Strawberry, blueberry, chocolate, vanilla, and many more. It was a colorful batch of delicious looking goods. The boys all stared hungrily at the baked goods, wanting them soo badly, but refrained from taking them. Tim also looked hungry, while Damien scowled at the scene before him.

“What are those?” Dick meekly asked, while Jason nodded. She giggles again and responds in kind.

“These are called Macaroons. They are a dessert back in France. I didn’t know what kind of flavors you two liked, so I just made a bunch and hoped for the best.”

“T-t-those are f-f-for us!?!?” Jason pointed to himself and his baby bro. Marinette couldn’t help herself, she was laughing at their stunned faces. It was just soo fricken CUTE.

“Yes. Think of this as a bribe for you two to behave. And if it goes well, then I can come back again with even more treats.” Dick was clutching Jason’s jacket even tighter, while Jason was drooling like a dog. Afred sighed at their rude behavior. Tim was trying so hard not to laugh, while Damien was seething. Whoever this harlot was, is obviously using magic.

“Hey Alfred, is it ok if I can give them their treats now?” She asked, Alfred gave the nod.

“Thank you Alfred!!”

“You da best!!!”

...

“Do you think the mansion will stay in one place Selina?” The apprehensive bat asked, poking his medium done stake with a fancy fork. Selina rolled her eyes.

“Relax Bruce dear, my girl’s got this. If there is anything you need to know, it’s that Marinette Dupain-Cheng is not a quitter. Trust me, she’s even more stubborn than me.” Bruce still eyes her warily, but let’s out another sign. Selina felt bad for her lover, and put a reassuring hand on his.

“You need to destress a little dear. Say, how about we stay at my place for tonight?” Bruce perked up at the offer, and off the two went to do god knows what (ya I know what they do but do you?!).

...

“Wow Pixie-Bob you’re really good at this.” Jason complimented as he was beat yet again in ultimate Mecha strike three. Dick wanted to fight Mari next so the older bro gave the controller to him.

Damien had already left to the bat cave to let off some steam after the events that went on in the house. It was a miracle the house didn’t even burn down yet. Tim was also down there doing a real quick scan over the ungodly stack of papers,on another case in Killer Frost. The atmosphere was tense, until Tim spoke up first.

“What do you think of the babysitter, Demon Spawn” Demon spawn growled at the nickname, but gave his answer.

“A witch.”

“I am genuinely surprised she hasn’t been killed yet. And all those two are doing are playing video games!?!? Like NOrMAL kids!!!! How did she do that?”

Damien also wished to know how a stranger such as her, could lower the guards of his brothers when he’s spent years with them, and never seemed to get along with them.

He proceeds to cut another dummy into sixteen pieces with deathly accurate precision. Sheathing the blade, the older boy made his way to the costume racks.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked, already knowing the answer.

“ patrol” he answered. Tim sighed.

“Well try not to kill anyone demon spawn” he chided. Damien ignored him as he went off into the night as Robin.

...

“But Mari I wanna stay up longer!” Jason protested to the stern babysitter, already holding a sleepy Dick.

“No means no mister, what did we talk about with behaving?” Mari reminded him. Jason widened his eyes and pouted to the floor. The Bluenette made a sympathetic smile, and gingerly places a delicate finger on the chin of the child.

“How about a bed time story?” Jason practically jumped.

...

“I am terribly sorry if any of the boys gave you a difficult time” Alfred began, only to falter when the Bluenette giggles again.

“Don’t worry about it Alfred, the boys were absolute angels.” Now Alfred couldn’t help himself, try as he might, as he started to laugh at that. Marinette gave her farewells and went off into the night. Bruce returned the following morning.

A nervous knock, and Alfred answers the door.

“H-how much damage did they do, oh god I can’t look!” Bruce covered his eyes, wanting to deny the harsh reality that would come to him. However Alfred simply patted the man out of his breakdown.

“I assure you Master Bruce, the mansion is still in one piece, all thanks to Marinette.” Bruce gatherer the remaining courage he had and scanned the entire mansion. Not taking off his coat he ran to every nook and cranny. He checked every closet, only to find them all clean. He checked the bathrooms, bedrooms, hallways and dining halls. Going so far as to check under the rug to see if there were any hidden messes.

Nothing. The mansion stayed in one piece.

“The BATCAVE!!!!” He practically screeched as he bolted towards the supposed secret lair of his ‘secret’ vigilantie work. Only to find that it was neat. Everything was were it was supposed to be.

Feeling his knees go weak, he collapsed to the floor, not caring how he looked and laughed. He fricken laughs. As tears stream down his face. Tears of unbridled joy. The family butler offers him a handkerchief, the bat gladly accepting it.

“I believe a thank you card should be addressed to one Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Along with a rather generous tip, don’t you think?” Bruce was still crying, and only gave a nod. As if out of habit, the man summoned a blank check , signed his name and wrote $10,000 on it.

“Be sure to deliver this to Ms.Dupain Cheng for me Alfred. Make sure to include a gift along with a card as a part of my gratitude. If you will excuse me I need to make a phone call.” Bruce left to recollect his thoughts, while Alfred left with the check already on the task at hand.

Holy shit you guys chapter one was well recieved and I thank you all for reading, liking, and reblogging the shit out of it. I couldn’t wait I had to write chapter two to get it out of my system. You all really mean so much to me ahhhhh

@BlueRosette23

@novicevoice

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@theatrendcomicfreak

@Caffeinetheory

@liawinchester67

#marinette dupen chang #miraculous ladybug #maridami #maribat #older damian wayne #damien #bruce wayne #bruce x selina #selina kyle #batfam #batman #damien x marinette

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wide-eyedscottishlass · 3 years

Text

Scarlett and the Professor

moodboard by @strangelock221b

[continued from]

Following her watery lesson in the bathtub—in which her insatiable lover had proven his endurance matched perfectly with his dedication to their mutual pleasure—the rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of quiet happiness for Scarlett. Once dried and dressed, he had headed back to his study to grade the last of his papers, having instructed her to get herself dressed and promising he would come back to collect her in no longer than twenty minutes. “I think a tour of the manse is in order once I return,” he’d promised, pressing a few lighthearted kisses to the back of her neck as she stood before the bathroom mirror, towel-clad and about to brush out her hair. “And then perhaps we’ll take a little drive to see what other adventures we can get up to.”

And as good as his word, Hennessy had squired her about his home both inside and out, quietly delighting Scarlett with his apparent need to maintain at least some small physical contact with her most of the time. Splaying one hand on the small of her back or draping an arm across her shoulders, and even stealing occasional kisses from her when she least expected it. How heavenly it felt to know by these simple gestures how thoroughly he now considered her to be his own! His surprisingly tender affections proved distracting enough that if asked, Scarlett would not have been rightly able to answer questions about the layout of his home.

Beneath a cloudless, cerulean sky, they strolled through the wild-grown garden that bordered the pool and jacuzzi behind Hennessy’s house. A riot of indigenous plants and flowers grew thick around them; despite her several months on the island, they still struck Scarlett as breathtakingly exotic. Bougainville and anthurium flourished unchecked, along with several species of lily, banana flowers, and hibiscus; the vibrant reds and pinks, golds and oranges, vied for dominance amidst the deep green of the leaves and vines, with splashes of light and dark blues throughout. The center of the garden held an old, marble bench beside a small ornamental pool filled with lotus blossoms. Beyond this private little piece of Eden lay a wide, grassy slope that ended at a hedgerow which ran the length of the property. But for all its tranquil charm, it was clear from his commentary that Hennessy preferred the shingle of white sand beach which she had viewed from his balcony. Scarlett hoped that in time he’d take her there as well.

“Feeling peckish yet?” They were sitting beneath the umbrella of a wrought iron table on the patio near the pool. “I’m famished…how about we grab a bite to eat?”

“I’d like that,” she agreed, game for whatever he had in mind. Hennessy held out his hand to her as she stood up and whisked her along with him to his garage. He continued to play the gentleman, seating her in his sleek, midnight blue convertible and advising her well. “Buckle up, little lamb—I’m feeling the need for speed,” he grinned, slamming shut her door and then taking his place behind the wheel.

Scarlett was shocked to discover that despite being a man who held nearly absolute and steadfast control over every aspect of his life (that she’d observed thus far, anyway), Hennessy drove like a maniac. Though he must’ve known well the curves and dips and swells of the two-lane road from his home and beyond, he took them with an incautious speed and virtual abandon that were quite harrowing. She did her best to keep her eyes set on the road in front of them, making involuntary sounds of distress at his most egregious transgressions, and feeling him sneak peeks her way while chortling at her obvious distress. “Almost there, m’dear,” he laughed as the tires squealed through yet another reckless curve and played havoc with her loose, fishtail braid—so that once they’d reached the little roadside, seafood shack that was their destination, Scarlett had to loose it from it’s binding and run her shaky hands through her hair to set it right.

Once her nerves and stomach had settled, she discovered she was hungry enough to put that harrowing experience behind her–for the time being–and indulge in the bounty which Hennessy has ordered for them, and then laid out on one of the weathered picnic tables behind the small, brightly shingled building. “The best and freshest catches on the island,” he bragged, “Prepared with all the culinary magic only a native chef could provide!” Scarlett found greater pleasure than she might ever have imagined in watching him indulge his ravenous appetite. They feasted upon cornmeal battered shrimp, a crab and curry stew, conch fritters served with a spicy brown rice, pickled mackerel in a thick coconut milk sauce beside fried plantains. At Hennessy’s insistence, she even tried the Bake and Shark with Citrus Chutney, surprising herself that she actually enjoyed it. He was larger than life in everything he did, and she felt a swell of simple affection for him fill her heart, and unabashed gratitude that she was along for this glorious, albeit unpredictable, ride with him.

Afterwards, he surprised her yet again, offering to drive to her flat so she could grab a bathing suit and another change of clothes—indicating that he expected her to stay with him a second night. Even another nerve-wracking drive back to his estate couldn’t dampen her joy at that.

____________________________________________________

The sun glinted off the ripples and waves lapping at the warm, white sand of Hennessy’s beach as he spread out a thick blanket for them to recline upon. Curious gulls flew low, checking for food scraps that so often accompanied the presence of humans in their domain. Scarlett stood where the water just kissed her toes, breathing deep the salty tang of the Atlantic, a scent that often awoke a quiet longing in her heart for home---though she wouldn’t dream of being anywhere in the world right now but at her lover’s side.

A sudden updraft swept through her hair, and the squawks of protest from the sea gulls caught in the rising air current drew her attention away from the ocean and back behind her. Hennessy had one arm crooked and was drawing swirls in the air, that same determined focus on his face as when he’d worked that mysterious water magic as she bathed. He’s clearing the birds away, was her immediate thought; he’s literally stirring the air to send them away! How in hell is this possible? Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet didn’t feel as solid as it should.

He flashed her his ever-charming sideways smile, and held out his free arm to her and he lowered the other and the ‘breeze’ died away. “Come sit with me, Scarlett.” Hennessy’s tone of command was undeniable, and her knees went weak with her need to obey. She took his proffered hand and then settled onto the blanket, not allowing the certainty that she wasn’t the first woman to share it with him here, to dull the pleasant anticipation that he would inevitably be taking here soon in whatever way pleased him best.

Hennessy made their small talk easy for a time, skirting the edges of the questions which he had to know were weighing on her mind, while drawing from her the details of what he certainly must think of as her quaint, little life. He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow while Scarlett sat cross-legged and continued to watch the waves lap at the warm sand. As relaxed as she was feeling, she could also feel him watching her as though everything she told him was of great interest---and as if he was in no rush to pursue his pleasure just yet.

The blazing orange disk of the sun had sunk lower on the horizon by the time that conversation lapsed, and he finally saw fit to broach the topic that remained foremost in her thoughts. “You’re quite a patient woman, Scarlett. Especially for one so green.” The husk of his voice was as soothing as the rhythm of the waves, and drew her eyes his way. “I’m impressed. You’ve held your tongue all these hours about something I know you must be bursting to ask about.”

Scarlett shrugged and gave a wee smile. “My Mam always taught me that patience was a virtue—but before he lit out into the wider world to make his fortune, my Da taught me a simpler wisdom…”

“Which was?”

“That I should take a lesson from the Sea, whose patience endures forever. And who always gets want she wants, in the end.”

“Hmmm…wise man, your Da,” Hennessy reflected, “Though he’d have done better by you not to father you in absentia.”

“I suppose so,” she sighed, resolving to keep that quiet pain from tainting this precious time with her teacher, “Though it’s all water under the bridge now, isn’t it?”

He smiled at her winningly, “You have an apt way of looking at things, m’dear.” He took to his feet as he told her, “And your patience has earned you the answer to the mystery of the afternoon.” Hennessy held out his hand to help her rise up, guided her forward to stand with her toes tucked just beneath the edge of the water again, and then stood behind her, “But first a little demonstration more.”

The sun had dipped almost completely beneath the waves; the air was warm and soft, rife with the night’s possibilities. Scarlet felt, as much as heard, Hennessy draw a deep breath, and in moments saw the seafoam suddenly part around her feet, wetting the sand in a widening circle that left her skin untouched. The circle soon grew to encompass them both, closing behind him.

Scarlett licked her lips, barely able to speak. “It’s real…it really happened. Part of me kept insisting that I dreamed the whole thing, but…but it’s real…”

Hennessy stepped into her and spoke against he ear, making her shiver with his truth, “Very, very real, my sweet. As real as the Sun at it’s zenith. As real as the pull of the Moon upon the tides.”

Though her mouth had gone dry, Scarlett remained undaunted in her need for the full truth. She turned to face him, clear-eyed and ready for whatever he might reveal. “Then how, my jo…tell me how it’s even possible. Please.”

“Oh my dear,” he tutted, “My sweet, innocent girl. Hennessy’s eyes gleamed softly in the dying light. “There is so very much you have left to learn.”

(to be continued)

tagging: @strangelock221b @ravencatart @doctor-stephenstrange @splunge4me2art @ben-locked @ben-c-group-therapy @letterstosherlock @humanbornarchangel @aeterna-auroral-avenger @frowerssx-world @tsukuyomi011 @emilyinnj4real @losille2000 @macgyvershe (as I have a hunch this is just up your alley!)

#my writing #Scarlett and the Professor #romance #magic #Scarlett Campbell.#OFC #OMC #not my OMC and used with permission #Scarlett's Professor #Professor Hennessy #Hennessy

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Remoras Full Intermission I: Keeping Up With the Olympians

We met up at a coffee shop in a little known place where few have entered: Idaho. I had arrived via one of my private helicopters. Angelos, one of my private chauffeurs landed the helicopter in the parking lot of a hardware store. According to my calculations, which I had made none, I was right across the street from the coffee shop.

“Most appreciated, my dear daughter,” I thanked Angelos, as I made it a habit to show gratitude to anyone I associated with.

“Not your daughter, but not a problem,” Angelos smiled and I could tell she gave me a wink even through her pitch-dark sunglasses. Her short, brown hair was slicked back, and she always made sure to wear a tuxedo when flying me first-class anywhere I wanted to go. I leaned over and kissed her hand.

“Please wait for me while I pick up my other daughter,” I beseeched her, then strolled off to the coffee shop. Traffic be damned, I strutted my stuff and caused a pile-up. Just as a refined lady should, of course. If beauty didn’t cause a calamity, what use was there for it?

Our meeting place was but a humble coffee shop, some kitsch place called Espresso Self.

I gave a fanciful chuckle as I wiped my shoes against the mat outside the entrance, then I stepped inside to the arid atmosphere of such a chic location: everyone looked to be in disco outfits, some clown costumes, others wore scuba gear. However, one person who stood out among them all was one seated at a table in the far back: a young woman in a violet hoodie with the hood up. She had short, blonde hair and...wait, blonde?

I must bring this up at once.

As I approached her, I slammed my hands down at the table and leaned over.

“What happened to your precious green?!” I demanded, the ferocity in full force.

Rather than shocked or scared out of her seat, she gave me a dull expression, then took a sip from her cup of coffee.

“I washed out the dye,” she stated, deadpan.

“I don’t approve,” I gave a disgusted look.

“Bite me.”

At first, I was shocked by such a disrespectful remark. But then I looked deep within her eyes and saw a raging fire which I hadn’t seen before. Well, it might not have been a literal raging fire, it may have been a reflection of something behind me that was orange. Always hard to tell with those things.

“You’ve taken a life, haven’t you?” I implored, no longer a voice of disgust, but instead discovery.

“Yes, and I hated it.”

“Eh. It’s an acquired taste. But never mind that, what are you drinking?” I pointed to her cup.

“Triple-shot espresso, I reckon. Also an acquired taste, and one which I have not acquired.”

“So why are you drinking it, then?”

She shrugged.

“I told the barista: ‘just fuck me up’, so she did.”

Ah, easy mistake to make. I’ve been there once or twice.

“Will you be all right?” I asked, just to make sure.

“Probably. Just gonna be a little jittery, is all,” she spied the room and shifted her gaze from side to side, “can we get this show on the road, or what?”

“Eager to put your detective hat on?” I pondered and turned to a toothy grin, the excitement of seeing her in a deerstalker was quite the fantasy.

“More or less. I’m going to want the details so I know what I’m working with. Once this is all settled, you’ll hold up your end, yes?”

Ugh, that was the problem with the younger folks: they didn’t know that in order to have a good mystery, you needed to drag things out as long as possible.

“Of course, of course, dear! But once we’re at my place, yes?” I clapped my hands.

She let out a dramatic sigh, then got up and tossed her drink in the trash.

“I just know I’m going to have a heart attack later,” she grumbled, then headed out the door.

“Wait up! So impatient!” I chased after her. Such a shame, too: I never got the chance to order anything.

She was much more cheery over the phone. What gives? Hell, I’d say we were on opposite ends of the mood axis: I was in a slump and she seemed cheerful as a beaver in a lumberyard. Of course, once she knew the details of my predicament, she too would be in a foul mood. Well...if she wasn’t already. No, I didn’t want to make her mood foul!

I remember calling her, distraught and in tatters.

“Demetria! I need your help!” I bawled into the phone.

“Would you look at that? Perfect timing. Been a while, hasn’t it, Hera?” She rasped but I could feel the joy foam out from her mouth.

“Yes it has, and I do apologize! I’m sure you’ve had countless sleepless nights just thinking about me! But fret no more, I am here now and I need you to come over! It’s an urgent matter!”

“Oh my. You want me to come over? Gee, I’d love to do that but I don’t have any way to get there. I don’t have...how do I put it...the coin,” she spoke with a sly rascal voice which would have made the sly rascal in me proud. However, money should not have been an issue for someone of her caliber. Well...any old fool would have thought it was about money, but not me, no: I knew better.

“Never mind the ferryman! I’ll come get you, myself! Just tell me the place and I’ll be over in a heartbeat! Maybe two heartbeats, depending on traffic!”

“Wait. You’ll come get me? Well this changes everything. Okay. Hold on. Slow down. I’ll meet you in Caldwell, Idaho. You can probably find me at a coffee shop. Thanks so much,. Bye.”

I knew of no such place (Idaho. Or Caldwell, Idaho. Coffee shops, I have heard of), but that didn’t matter in the name of familial love. I’d do anything for a daughter of mine.

It didn’t take long for Angelos to drop us off at my place. As soon as we landed, Demetria and I began to walk up to the musical steps which lead to the paradise of Olympia: my house.

“You sounded much more cheerful on the phone,” I remarked, glancing off to the side so she could get my good side. Of course, all of my sides were good, even the sides of me that weren’t good.

“Well yeah. Over the phone I was all eager to get back to Olympia, but then once I sat at the coffee shop, I got to thinking about the ordeal I had to go through last time with you and then I was like ‘just endure it, Demetria. Remember your goal.’ But I just know I ought to prepare for trouble, and hell, make it double.”

“Yes, my dear, these are troubled times indeed,” I grabbed a handful of skittles from out of my pocket and shoved them into my mouth. “Troubled times.”

Once inside, I lit a few candles, as in my misery, I had trouble flicking light switches.

“Just as gloomy as I remembered it,” Demetria commented as she looked around.

“I know, right? Absolute beauty, right here!” I showed off my collection of vintage plates, but in her straightforward fiery eyes, she paid no mind.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Okay, but once you hear me out, you might shed a few tears, so get ready,” I drew in a deep breath, “Zeus has gone missing!”

Rather than weep, Demetria just let out a yawn.

“So you want me to find him?”

“Yes! I’m willing to pay you anything as a reward! Money is no object!”

She nodded, then let her eyes wander to the ceiling.

“Indeed, but objects are objects.”

I put my finger on my chin and pondered that one.

“I suppose...I haven’t considered that one before…”

“You know what I mean, surely,” Demetria slammed her fist into her other palm. “I want a weapon constructed, and I know that will cost me a great deal.”

Ah, just like before. When she rejected that million dollars in favor of a pretty looking knife and some throwing knives. Their value wasn’t even equal, but...I mustn't question the logic of a brilliant detective like my soon to be daughter.

“Why certainly, deary! If that is what you desire, so be it.”

“Sweet. I’ll get on this case right away!” She just about jumped for joy. Now there was my precious daughter I (barely) knew and loved.

“Great, but before we get started on the details, I must say,” I shook my head in lament, “I miss the green.”

“You know what? So do I.”

I was filled with a gross sensation of elation. My eyes widened and so too did my smile and I ran up to her, got down on my knees, and begged.

“You must let me dye your hair!” I took her hands and pressed my forehead against them.

“Oh? You’d do that?” “I would be delighted to! Now tell me, what shade would you like?”

“I was thinking of a darker shade of green, actually. Like, maybe seaweed green.”

“Say no more! Come with me, to the grand bathroom, also known as my personal salon!” I dragged her away as I ran through my halls and down a flight of stairs, then a little off to the right, and bam! A shiny silver room with many sinks and a golden, leather adjustable seat.

“Sit! Please!” She plopped down into the chair and spun it around.

“Don’t get too giddy. You’ll need to lean back into the sink, okay?”

She gave a single nod, and then I spun her around a bit until her back faced the sink. Yes, the marvelous sink made of marble and copper, not just porcelain, but the finest of fine materials.

I let the sink run and I opened up the cabinet above her where a mirror rest. Within the cabinet contained many dyes, bleaches, shampoos, and conditioners. You know, for when you’re having one of those days. Her head leaned back and soaked up the shimmering sink water. After she was thoroughly soaked, I turned the water off and lathered in the dye while massaging her scalp.

“Ah, this feels so nice,” she let out a sigh of pleasure, “I could get used to this. It’s like all the negative energy I’ve had is being released.”

“We are our worst critics, dear,” I comforted her, both with my words and the magic of my massaging hands.

“Ugh, yeah, I hate that critic. I hate myself. Oh, there’s that negative energy again, welcome back,” she turned glum just as fast and she lost her glum.

“No, no, no. Love your critic. She’s there for you when you need her, always looking for the best in you.”

“Huh, I never looked at it that way.”

“Yes. My inner critic tells me that Zeus is always cheating on me, and she always turns out to be right.”

“Ugh. Why do I listen to you?”

“Because half of the things I say have a kernel of wisdom to them,” I answered her as I continued to massage her scalp. “Also because it’s okay that he’s always cheating because I’ve slept around too and I don’t need him, I can have any man I want. Woman, too. I don’t see why I need to be picky.”

“Aah – this is nice. So, what’s the deets with the mish?”

‘Mish’. In all my years, that was a word I’ve never heard before. Perhaps it meant, like, mish-mash, or Misha, if she knew of any Mishas. For the record, I did not, and I didn’t see how a ‘mish’ could be related to the task at hand, but no matter, I’d tell her all I knew.

Oh dear. Am I really prepared to be so intimate with the details?

“Well, you see, dear, there’s been…” I felt a lump in my throat. Perhaps the other day I swallowed an Adam’s apple and had forgotten about it. Whatever the case, I knew I had to continue.

“You must know that both Zeus and I are something of ‘swingers’. ‘Libertines’, if you will. ‘Sluts’, if you’re feeling fancy. There is no shame in enjoying life’s greater pleasures, so I feel no need to mince words.”

“Fair enough, but it sure sounds funny the way you put it,” she remarked. “Also, I think I already knew all that.”

“Okay, well, lately I’ve been thinking, this whole sleeping around hobby, it was great and all, and I don’t regret anything, but at the same time, it just hasn’t brought me the same enjoyment as it used to. Throughout our escapades, I always considered Zeus to be my number one, and he always said the same about me. But now I think I want him to be my only one, you know? Monogamy, as the stuffy ones call it. Yes, I can imagine you find the word boring just by hearing it.”

“Not really. One person, many people, whatever. You do you.”

Wow, I have such a supportive daughter. That settles it. I am going to spoil the hell out of her.

“Well, it’s always been monogamy, I suppose, but there’s always been side dishes, even when Zeus was the main course. Now, I think I just want the main course and nothing on the side. A full platter of man, if you will. Besides, what with us both growing older, I figured he’d want to settle down, too, and when I spoke to him about it, he agreed, and he told me it would be just the two of us from here on out.”

“Oh, okay. So he’s cheating on you,” she concluded without so much as a second thought. No evaluation whatsoever.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s not jump to conclusions!” I cautioned her. “Yes, he probably is, but he might not be, and I’d like to leave room for doubt. Besides, he agreed. I’m tired of sleeping around and I’m sure he feels the same.”

“Yeah, but if I find him and he’s off with another woman…”

Really? A whole other woman when I’m right here? No, unfathomable. Yes, he would do such a thing, but what woman could be as great as me, Hera? If that happens to be the case, there can be no other conclusion than that he was tricked somehow…

“Then I’ll kill her,” I had my answer ready in my arsenal.

“I get why you’d be mad, but don’t you think you’d be directing your anger at the wrong person when he’d be the one cheating?”

She raised a fair point, but he promised. That should be worth something, right?

“What makes you think it’s his fault? Are you in league with her?” I went on the defensive.

“No? I don’t even know who ‘her’ is, if it even is a her. I’m on your side, remember? I’m just saying, him cheating is a possibility, and not even all that unlikely.”

“Yeah...you’re right…” I conceded. “I just don’t want to accept it as a possibility, is all.”

Just the idea made me want to weep.

“I get that, I do. You’re a little kooky, I admit, and I don’t always get what you say or do, but I imagine how I’d feel in your position, and if it comes true that that’s what he’s up to, just know that it’s not any fault of yours, and you’re plenty great on your own. You two talked about it and had a deal, and if he can’t respect that, then he should’ve just left.”

“No! No way!” I stamped my foot.

She looked up.

“Or you should just leave, too,” she suggested an alternative. Now that was much better.

“Yes,” I sniffled. I wasn’t crying or anything, I was just really congested due to living near the sea. “Thank you, deary.”

“No prob. For the record, I’m not about to be a relationship counselor or anything. Just common sense, really,” she sounded like she was trying to backpedal, something I found both cute and endearing of a little daughter of mine.

“We’re almost done. You’ll have to let it sit for a bit, but then I’d love to see the amazing seaweed girl that you are,” I informed her.

“Why do I have to be a seaweed girl?”

I let out a grand chuckle and continued working on her scalp. Once we were all done, and I rinsed it all out, I wrapped a down feathered towel around her head and headed out.

“Come see me in an hour, dear, or whenever it’s dried! I’ll be waiting,” I waved and winked as I headed to who knows where. I first thought to enter my bedroom and slip into a nightgown, but then I decided it wasn’t late enough in the night for that, so then I thought to enter the other bathroom and do some light contemplation, but I didn’t even know what that meant, so at last, I decided to do the reasonable thing and lay off to the side on my armchair, my legs dangling off of one end and my head rested against the arm of the chair. Now if only I had a glass of wine or a bottle of perfume, I’d be the definition of exquisite.

My eyelids began to grow heavy and I thought I would take a little nap or nod off, but before I managed to do that, out walked my precious daughter, Demetria, with the towel over her head, and as soon as I looked up, she released the towel and let down her shoulder-length, wavy dark green hair.

“So? What do you think?”

I clapped like an elephant seal.

“Amazing! Ten out of ten! Your hair looks like a fresh bag of spoiled lettuce!”

She slumped over and gave a disgusted look.

“Did you have to make that comparison?”

I failed to see the problem with that, but at her behest, I tried a different one.

“I could put rice on your head and a cut piece of salmon and roll your hair, then eat it all up!”

“Please don’t eat my hair.”

“I’m not saying I would, dear, just that I could.”

“Well, could you not?”

I closed my eyes and smiled.

“Very well, dear.”

Our night was still young, ripe time for the two of us to hit the streets – which meant that she had requested me follow her to Hephaestus’ forge. Ah, my estranged son. He was a bit on the reserved side, but I knew our love for each other was unparalleled.

“It’s so strange stepping in…” I muttered as I opened the wooden door to his weapons shop.

“Why’s that?”

I scratched my cheek and gave an awkward smile.

“Well, you see...he generally doesn’t like it when I visit. He says he doesn’t like to see me.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” She gasped.

“Honey, as the self-proclaimed matriarch of Olympia, I’d say I know my fair share of everyone.”

“Oh. Huh. For some reason, I’m not all that surprised,” she remarked. At that, I gave the door a gentle push with my palm, and the two of us entered.

“Hephaestus!” I bellowed. “My beloved not-yet daughter wishes to have a weapon forged for her!”

“Excuse me?” Demetria looked up. “Not-yet daughter?”

“All in due time, my dear.”

In the beginning, there was nothing. Then thunderous footsteps made shockwaves and little weapons hung on the wall moved in place, some danced along, and a few looked like they were about to fall. On the third footstep entered the bulky frame of Hephaestus, equal measure dispassionate as he was passionate about his craft.

“What are you going on about now, Hera?” He demanded in his bored tone. I knew deep down, he cared with a deep aching. Even if that care had to do with the weapons he forged, and nothing to do with me.

“Hey, remember me?” Demetria stepped up.

Hephaestus squinted, then leaned in. Once he stood back up, he clutched his belly and let out a hearty laugh.

“It’s the friend of the troublemaker, Sunny! Oho, what a surprise! How’s your yakutian knife working out for you? I hope you’ve been treating her well.”

“I have, but I think I’m ready for something new,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I’ve written up the schematics for a brand new weapon. Think you’re up to the task.”

His eyes darted around the page of the sheet of paper and I couldn’t get a single view of what was on it.

“Hmm...Hmm…” he mumbled while looking it over, then at last declared, “your drawings leave a lot to be desired.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not exactly meant to be an artist. But you are, yes?”

“How would I go about making this?” He asked in response, something which baffled me. Wasn’t he the one who could craft any weapon he wanted, and there he was asking such a ridiculous thing?

Demetria set down her backpack and pulled out a bunch of shiny rocks which seemed to move in place. Except they didn’t. I wasn’t really sure, I might have been on acid.

“I’d like you to forge it with this, along with the finest steel you have.”

“What kind of material is this? Is it corrosive, because let me tell you, I will not deal with such toxic metals.��

Demetria shrugged.

“Dunno, but should be fine if you’re wearing gloves. So, what do you say?”

“Girl, even if I am able to make this to your liking, it will cost you dear –”

I interrupted.

“I’ll be paying for all of it,” I informed Hephaestus and I could see sparks fly in Demetria’s eyes, “so the cost won’t even be an issue. Just make this for my soon-to-be-daughter, will you?”

“Hera…” He growled. Not one more word directed my way. Such a shame, but such is life. He instead turned back to Demetria. “I’ll make your weapon. It may take me a while. I can’t give you an estimate as I’ve never worked with such material. Just know that when all is said and done, I’ll be wringing Hera dry.”

“Fine by me,” Demetria replied with a shrug. “By the way, what’s with this ‘daughter’ crap?”

“It’s a Hera thing,” he stated.

“But she’s not my mom,” Demetria argued. It broke my poor little heart to hear such words.

“Not yet. Trust me, girl, she’ll find a way,” he grumbled.

“Well...I’m just not going to pay it any mind and get to work on the task at hand! See you two later!” Demetria ran off out of the store, leaving Hephaestus and I to stare into each other’s eyes with a pronounced longing. Well, his was a longing which said, ‘get out of my sight right now’ as well as a longing to return to his work. Mine was a longing for longing’s sake.

“Why do you insist on trying to adopt every person you deem adorable like they’re a lost puppy?” He spoke at last, breaking the familial tension. Or adding new tension. Either way, they were words.

“It worked out for you, didn’t it?”

“Only because I was already an adult and was living on my own by the time it was revealed I was your son!”

“You have to understand, dear, that mommy was very young and reckless and I employed the surefire method of dropping you off on someone else’s doorstep. Also, for your information, technically speaking, Demetria and I are already related.”

“Oh? Do tell. Wait, never mind. Don’t.”

Too late. He shouldn’t have indulged me.

“You remember Aphrodite, don’t you?” I asked with a Cheshire cat grin spreading across my face.

“Don’t remind me. I’m glad I finally have some space. I was never really into her anyway.”

“Yes, but you did marry her for a short time.”

“Only to shut her up. She kept trying to interrupt my craft.”

“Yes, but you did marry her.”

“Okay, okay! What’s your point?”

“Well,” I leaned up to the glass casing of the counter and folded my hands together, “she was my daughter-in-law, due to you two being married, and now she’s in a relationship with Demetria’s older sister. Check-mate, dear son.”

“I think you’re stretching the definition of being related. And how do you know that?”

If my smile grew any wider, my face would split in two, but I couldn’t help myself.

“See, a while back ago when she first visited, Zeus and I decided to do some sleuthing into Demetria’s family.”

“So in other words, stalking.”

“Oh, but stalking has such a negative connotation. I prefer sleuthing. Anyway, we found out that her eldest sibling, Hestia, was quite beautiful, and single. Which meant she was fair game for either one of us to try to pursue. However, Aphrodite overheard our plans and intercepted us, and somehow managed to woo her.”

“You really are horrible, you know that?”

I waved him off. Children could be so disrespectful.

“Anyway, Hestia is old enough to be one of my daughters, so I think I found a better prize.”

“You don’t mean –”

“Yes. I’m going to pursue Demetria’s mom.”

“What about Zeus?”

Oh shit. I totally forgot about him. He was missing and could be in danger and there I was thinking about romantic conquests. We were still married, after all.

“Never mind that, then. Maybe I’ll keep that plot in the back of my mind in case Zeus is cheating on me.”

“Good news, then: he probably is. That’s his thing.”

“No! He wouldn’t! He’s probably scared and hurt somewhere!”

“Yeah, he probably hurt his penis in a tragic fucking accident,” my vulgar son shot back.

“Enough! Demetria’s looking for him and when she finds him, then you’ll see!”

“No I won’t. I’m going back to my forge. I’m not dealing with this crap.”

“Fine, but you better make the perfect weapon for my precious daughter!” I yelled to him as he walked away.

“She’s not your daughter,” he called back, his voice boomed with a lack of interest in continuing the conversation.

“Not yet!” I yelled, then stormed out.

Nobody was on my side, especially not my son who didn’t like me, but I would show them.

Back at my house, I decided to take matters into my own hands and grabbed my pistol. Before the night was over, I would find my husband if it was the last thing I did. With any luck, Demetria was already close to finding him, so if I found Demetria, I’d find my husband. Win-win.

But in the dead of the night, there were no guarantees. Silent were the streets, and silenter still were the confines of others’ homes. Even with my due diligence and my keen senses, I picked up nothing. Hell, I even tried to use echolocation, and that too failed.

All through the town I crept along and listened for even the slightest of discrepancies. At one point, I thought I heard someone shuffling behind a dumpster, but when I walked into the alleyway, it turned out to just be a rat.

However, when I was willing to give up my search, I heard the sound of someone running by just one street over. Then, a high-pitched shriek pierced through my eardrums. I ran toward the sound at once, and what I saw left me trembling.

Out from an open apartment door ran a screaming, mahogany colored haired woman in a bath towel. Following her was none other than my missing husband, arms stretched out, Zeus.

“Hey! Wait up! I can still go one more round! I may be getting old, but I’ve got the stamina of a donkey!” He called after her.

“Get away! I didn’t know you were married!” She shouted back.

So that’s the seducer! I didn’t even know her name, but that didn’t matter. What was it about her? Younger? Slimmer? Darker hair, maybe? Whatever it was, it had led Zeus astray.

Beside the temptress was Demetria.

No. No way. We had a deal. She was supposed to help me.

“Stop!” I shouted with a firmness that halted everyone in their place. My pistol was aimed at the other woman, then I shifted my aim over to Demetria, then Zeus. Finally, back at the other woman, the true target.

“You. You were the one who took my husband from me!” I declared and my arms shook as I held the pistol. In a panic, the woman pleaded and her lips quivered.

“You’ve got the wrong idea! He came onto me, he said he was just a down on his luck old man!”

“Lies!” My voice grew shrill and I shot at the ground next to her feet. She jumped back and squealed in fear.

“Hera, listen to me, you have the wrong idea!” Demetria jumped to the woman’s defense.

“You’d take her side as well?” I felt a sour taste fill my mouth and I was about ready to vomit.

“I’m not taking her side, I’m trying to explain to you the situation!”

“Enough!” I fired the pistol, a deafening howl which caused me to shake further when I was already shaken.

Dust filled where I had aimed, and when the dust settled, I was in shock over what I saw: there Demetria stood, her arm reached out as well, as a barrier had been erected from a strange device. She was in front of the other woman, and stood tall and proud.

That time, my lips quivered as well, as did my eyelids.

“Why? Why would you deny me my justice?”

“This isn’t justice, Hera,” Demetria replied, her tone flat, yet just as firm, “Maybe if she knew and was willing to go along with it anyway, she’d be culpable as well, but that is not the case.”

“But...but…” tears flooded out from my eyelids and sullied my face. “It hurts so much. Why? What did I do wrong?”

“In this case, nothing. You didn’t have to do anything wrong. The one at fault isn’t you, and it isn’t this woman, it’s Zeus.”

I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it. There was no way…

“And you can continue to hate the ones he sleeps with, but the fact remains that the one sleeping around is the one who’s getting away,” Demetria continued with conviction. Then my eyes darted toward Zeus and...damn it! He really was getting away. He started to turn tail and ran.

“Just so you know, it’s not my fault either! Can’t help myself!” He yelled behind him. I pivoted my aim and shot the back of his knee. His head lurched up as he cried out in pain, blood splashed out from the wound in his knee and landed on the concrete beside him.

I walked over to him, slow and deliberate in my motions.

“Geez, woman! Was that really necessary?!” His face was red and it contorted to an upset scowl as he spat out.

“If it’s the only way to get us to talk, then yes,” I informed him.

“Fine. Let’s talk. What is it? What do you want?”

In his enraged state, he looked truly pathetic. But I sure would miss seeing him on his knees. Alas, this wasn’t the type of thing a collar and leash would fix.

“I want you to know that we’re through.”

His faced relaxed, and then turned to a pout.

“But why?” He whined.

“I’m just tired of sleeping around. It used to be fun in the beginning, but now I want someone who only wants me, and you told me that you would stop and be that someone, yet you continue to sleep around.”

“But who will I cheat on now?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“Sleeping around just won’t be the same without you.”

“You’ll manage. Goodbye, lecherous hairy man.”

I walked off and left him where he was. Next was Demetria.

“Come, daughter-to-be. Let’s head back to my humble abode.”

“Enough with the daughter thing, sheesh!” She complained, but followed anyway. As for that unfortunate woman…

“You in the towel,” I glanced behind me. “As an apology for tonight, I’ll send you a gift basket in the mail.”

“Uh...okay...what?”

Back at my home, I sat and wept, head in my hands.

“What will I do now? I’ve gone most of my life without being single!”

Demetria sat on a small kitchen table with her legs folded.

“Hey, where’s the stupid confident Hera at? The one who says she could have any man, or woman?”

I knew what she was doing: the legendary pep talk.

“Yeah,” I looked up, tears still streaming down my face, “I could have anyone! I may be getting into my sixties, but I’ve still got it! Meryl Streep’s got nothing on me!”

“I don’t know who that is, but that’s the spirit!”

“Anyone would be lucky to be with me, including your mom!”

Demetria blinked, then gave a blank stare.

“Wait, what?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having two moms, hun,” I smiled a crooked smile.

“Yeah, that’s true, but I don’t even know if my mom swings that way, and even if she does, I’m not sure I like the idea of you and my mom dating.”

“Don’t be surprised if it happens. I’m hot stuff,” I snapped my fingers and pretended a flicker of flame was above my hand. There wasn’t any flame, but the imagery was nice.

She slept over that night, and several more nights after until Hephaestus was done with the weapon. I didn’t get a chance to see it, but from what she told me, it was perfect. When I went to ask Hephaestus, he just said:

“Eh. It was a knife,” without any more specifics. I couldn’t believe he’d keep a secret from his own mother, especially since it was regarding his craft.

“I think I’m ready now,” Demetria told me, nearly a month since she first arrived.

“Ready?” I asked, unsure what she meant.

“I’m going to head to the diner in the arctic, where my other family is,” she explained, which I then felt a tinge of jealousy over. But I let it pass.

“Mm...I think I’ve heard about that place. There’s a fog in the area right now. The ferryman won’t operate in such a fog,” I informed her, “if you’re adamant about going, I can give you the coin to a ferryman, but they’ll drop you off somewhere outside of the fog, which means you’ll have to walk the rest of the way through it.”

“So be it. If that’s what I gotta do, then I’ll brave it.”

I admired the courage she had, even if I didn’t see why she would go through such trouble in the first place. From out of a drawer under the coffee table, I fished out a ferryman coin and tossed it to her.

“Thanks! I just realized that before I go, I should dress for the cold. Are there any clothing stores around?”

“Indeed there is. Shall we go shopping?”

“Yes! I think I could use your judgment when it comes to attire.”

I wondered why she thought that, but I appreciated the compliment. Of course, once we went shopping around the streets of Olympia, I began to understand and after she covered herself up, I saw her off.

We’ll meet again, I thought. And maybe by the time we do, I’ll be in the arms of your mother.

#remoras full #intermission #a quick side story before chapter 39 #family #drama #hera #hephaestus #zeus #cheating

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dragonswithjetpacks · 3 years

Text

Campfire Conversations

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Astarion is bored at camp. And his target for the night... is Ferelith. Through persistence and bribery, she indulges him in casual conversation.

Read here on Ao3.

Despite the three bedrolls she had placed next to the fire, Ferelith still found it difficult to gain any comfort. She rolled up one side, placed her pillows against, and even placed a rock behind them to prop them well enough to use as a backing. She sat upright, flipping through her book, sketching in magic symbols and making small notes. At her side was another set of smaller books, one she would thumb through on occasion to double check her accuracy. All was quiet other than the whispers from the fire, which was precisely what she had asked for. But then again, there was always one who was never too keen to listen to what she wanted.

"What are you doing?" he announced his presence, bending over her shoulder as he peered into her book.

Ferelith blinked disapprovingly, giving him a side glance from the corner of her eye.

"Ah, yes, you're quite right," he sighed. "I don't care... I'm bored."

Again, she said nothing, but he took her silence as an invitation. He stepped over the log onto her blanket, with his boots still on, making her cringe as the dirt made a subtle foot print. He sat next to her, propping himself on one of her pillows. It appeared it was not good enough. And he removed it, fluffing it to perfection before placing it behind him once more.

"That was accident," he winced at the wrinkled and dirtied mess he left in his wake.

Kicking his feet to the side, he straightened his corner and brushed the dirt off lightly. It mattered little, as she had already to planned to wash it the moment he placed his boots onto her finely stitched threads. Her annoyance was made quite clear with a loud sigh, her book slowly lowering to her lap.

"I suppose I'm the one lucky enough to oblige you tonight," her face was calm but he could feel the irritation burning into him. "What would you ask of me?"

"You could light someone on fire," he shrugged with his bottom lip sticking out.

Her eyes shifted upward in thought of the idea. "I could. But I'm afraid I'm not so amused by your form of entertainment."

"You would be if you'd let me show you," he raised a brow.

Much to his disappointment, the only reply she gave was yet another one of her famous blank stares. He wondered where she went sometimes when she looked at him like that. Any normal person would have thoughts filled with disgust, though that was only humorous and much to his liking. But Ferelith was different than most. The look was usually empty. It was only until recently he noticed her eyes would often widen and her lip would curl upward at one corner. At least he knew he got some kind of rise from her.

"Where did you get those books?" he asked when he noticed he was losing her attention.

Ferelith was not easily distracted. When she was focused, there was nothing that could tear her eyes away. He had discovered this, unfortunately, through a series of trial and error in an attempt to know her true nature. Most things ended in eye rolls, rarely out of annoyance, but mostly with sarcasm. There were also multiple occasions where he was completely ignored. Which he found rude, but reasonable. It was actually a bit of a surprise she was speaking to him, now.

"A bookshop," she replied, tilting the book back up.

"Not an ordinary bookshop."

Her eyes flicked in his direction.

"Let's see," he picked a few of them up, many no bigger than a pocket book. "Arcane, Illusion, Mystic Runes... my, my... these look handwritten for personal use."

"Put those back where you found them, please," she commanded without so much as a glance.

"These look like spell books," he began to flip through the pages of one. "If I had to guess, anyway. I'm usually decent at guessing, though."

"You know if you look through the grimoire of another without permission, you'll gain the hex of that grimoire."

He suddenly dropped all three. Ferelith smiled wildly, her eyes still scanning the runes in her larger book. He hadn't noticed before, but while she was writing with one hand, the other held a book in place, often darting to another to scour through it's pages. It was like they had to separate minds of their own. The hand writing or sketching was moving very fast, but her penmanship was impeccable. He leaned over - careful not to disturb her- and saw she was copying whatever she was scanning from the other, smaller books.

"These are your grimoires?"

"No," she replied.

"So how is it you are able to look at them?"

"I have permission."

"I don't understand how someone so straightforward can have so much mystery about them," he shrugged. "It's somehow both annoying and attractive."

"That's precisely the impression I aim for," she smiled again, smaller and sweeter this time.

The sigh that came from him was intentionally loud enough for Ferelith to look up from her work. She observed her companion pull himself onto his feet, placing his hands on his hips next to her bedrolls. He looked about the camp when suddenly, he had a reasonably good idea. She had hoped his walking away would mean he had given up. On the contrary, however, she watched him walk over to Gale's things and begin to rummage through them. Suddenly, Ferelith was intrigued with the rogue. More than likely, she was interested to see if he got caught. Unfortunately, he did not. Instead, he came waltzing back across the camp with a rather large pep to his step, a large bottle in one hand and a goblet in the other.

Careful not to defile her blankets a second time, he seated himself next to her, closer than before. He fought with the cork inside the bottle for a moment, but sent it sailing into the air with a loud pop with the edge of his knife. He poured himself a glass, brought it to his nose, and inhaled it deeply followed by a satisfying exhale. He looked to Ferelith, who had regretfully not been able to look away. He had to admit, he won half the battle. But as he held up the wine as an offering, he felt there was more of a fight to be had. Ferelith rolled her eyes. Reached over to a flat stone next to her blankets. And grabbed her empty goblet. She reluctantly held it out as he poured the contents into her cup. There was no hesitance as she brought it to her lips, her eyes dropping back down into the book without any further acknowledgement to Astarion.

"I don't even get a thank you," he complained.

"Thank you," she said before looking into the goblet a second time. "This is actually... quite nice."

"I hear the words, but I don't really feel the gratitude."

Ferelith looked up, finally giving him the contact he craved. There was always something unsettling he found looking into her eyes. They were yellow. But not like fire or the sun... no. Her eyes were pale. Like that of a once green plant craving attention; something to hydrate it, nutrients from the soil, or even just love.

"Fine," she said, tapping the ink to make sure it was dry before snapping the book shut. "I will indulge you."

"Words I've been waiting for all night," he shook his head and leaned forward.

Ferelith sat her work beside her, pulling her knees up and turning to her side. Her robe was of black lace and didn't do anything to add to comfort or practicality. But if there was one thing the traveling band of misfits learned about the warlock, it was that she wasn't always about the practical use of an item. She was very fond of beautiful things. And as she considered Astarion, she was inclined to admit the she was fond of his beauty as well. He knew this, using it to his advantage and tempted her at every chance he received. Ferelith was fully aware of the predicament she had somehow placed herself into. Which gave her more reason to ignore him. And as obvious as she made it, that did not prevent him from trying. Relentlessly.

"Tell me about the books," he said, propping his arm onto the rock they were leaning on.

"They were the last of a collection I was working on in the city."

"Anything interesting?"

"Just old spells and runes. Nothing anyone uses anymore. I've been transcribing them. They're spell books of old witches: long forgotten, tossed aside, half rotten old books."

"Witches you say?" he recoiled.

"Oh, yes. I believe there are a few useful things in here for banishments of the undead. If you're interested."

"Gods, no," he laughed, taking a sip of his wine. "But tell me more."

"I have one necromancy tome," she rolled over onto her knees. "And it's interesting. Not what I'm looking for, but interesting," she began to fan out her collection on the blankets.

Astarion leaned forward to examine them further.

"My job at the bookshop was to take these old grimoires and write them down into the bigger blank tomes. The ones that I found useful, I kept for myself. This is what is left of my findings. And the remains of my last project."

"What did you mean by 'what you were looking for'? Is there a certain spell you're seeking?"

"Not necessarily a spell. Just a translation."

"Have you had any luck?"

"A few words here and there."

"May I see the book you're translating?"

"Absolutely not," her eyes felt as cold as her reply.

"Ah, I see I'm reaching my limit for the night," he said with a tone of disappointment.

Astarion had grown accustomed to his interactions with his warlock companion being cut short. Rather it was her own doing or the work of another, he found their conversations always disrupted. It was a shame, truly, as he assumed Ferelith was the type to hold secrets. Even some that did not belong to her. The woman had been alive for quite sometime, though not nearly as long as he had. But he imagine there was something worth telling within the few lifetimes she had lived.

"Not necessarily," she replied lightheartedly. "After all, you've found this lovely bottle of wine."

"Humoring me for the sake of the wine, then?" a brow went up in confidence.

"I doubt I'd humor you for little else," her smirk was mocking his excitement.

"Remind to thank Gale in the morning, then," his mood went undisturbed. "I'd like to know how it is you intend to humor me now that books are off the table."

"Is that all you think I talk about?"

"I don't know," he shook his head, knowing she took the bait. "I've never heard you have a full conversation. With anyone."

"I converse very well, thank you," she took a sip of her wine. "I've just been lacking good company."

"You wound me," he lowered his gaze, but the tone was of sarcasm and he watched the corner of Ferelith's mouth turn upward.

Success.

"What is it you wish to discuss?"

"Discuss? I've no taste for lectures, my darling. I require something a bit more refined, something provocative. Tell me something interesting."

"Something interesting?" she appeared to be offended, her voice raising in pitch. "Well for one, when you strike a conversation with a person of interest, it's usually polite not to demand it from them."

"Very well," he rolled his eyes. "Tell me something interesting, please. I know you've got something just waiting to be told."

"If you're looking for exciting tales, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong colleague."

"No? Nothing, say, of your youth?"

"I assure my you, my early years are beyond dull."

"Surely not," he tilted his head down. "You have nothing? Dangerous spells? A jilted lover? A need for vengeance? Everyone has a decent vengeance story."

This time Ferelith laughed, tilting her head to the side away from him. But the sight of the smile caused him to straighten where he sat, leaning forward to see it fully. She rose a hand a to cover her mouth, but it was not enough for him to go without noticing... she was embarrassed.

"No vengeance here, I'm afraid," she looked back to him, her eyes meeting his. "But I suppose if you're interested in a horrible love story, I could tell you of my stay in Neverwinter..."

"Horrible as in tragic... or horrible as in just bad."

"Both," she nodded a finger to him.

"Even better!" he seemed overjoyed.

"Fine, fine. But I'll need a refill," she said passing her goblet to him.

Like the gentleman he was, he poured it for her. A bit too close to the edge, but he was eager for her to start the story to notice. She took a long drink, letting the contents give her the courage she needed. This was a bit of a defeat for her, but she was willing to let it go for the sake of his amusement. It was something to catch her attention, but to make her laugh was a feat of it's own. There was a sliver of a thought that perhaps she had misjudged him.

"This story is so humiliating. I can't believe I'm telling you," she shifted in her seat.

"Get on with it, then," he urged her to continue.

"Mind you, I had never been to a city before. Not even close to one. And I had just gotten a taste of what it felt like to wield magic. I found myself in the streets of Neverwinter in search for more knowledge. But I had no idea how to survive. There were so many others like me, just a crowd of beggers looking for work."

"Yes, I am aware. There are plenty of people swimming the streets looking for a better life in the city. A plague on society. Honestly."

"Indeed," Ferelith sighed, recalling the annoyance of the people who tormented her for those years of her life. "I offered my services. But found little coin in it. No one took my work seriously and no one was willing to give me the chance. I found myself resorting to other means of earning an income. Means that required a certain charisma."

"The vagueness of your statements is dramatic, but do go on."

"I acted as a smuggler," the bluntness returned. "It gave me good coin and the jobs I was hired to perform often involved a change of wardrobe. I was no good with the actual act of stealing or sneaking. A sleight of hand on occasion, but never anything that tactful. I was only a cover for whatever it was that I was charged with moving. It eventually earned me enough to rent a loft where I proceeded with my studies and transcribing work."

"Just a moment," he held out a hand to pause her. "The coin from working jobs like that... I don't believe that's enough for what had acquired."

"You are aware there are other ways of obtaining what is needed," the complacency in her tone was met with a guiltless stare. "Seduction."

"I'm starting to believe this woman you speak of is no longer with us," he teased with an exaggerated smile. "This talk of charisma and seduction, I've yet to see it."

"It's not for you to see," the wrinkle of frustration set on her brow and she turned her head, taking another long drink of wine. "I was young. And equally ignorant."

A long pause fell across Ferelith as she looked down into her cup. She could feel the affects and wished it would make the rest of the story a bit easier to tell. It was only a reminder of her failures. She wondered why she chose this to tell of all things. A jilted lover was not worth what she lost. With a deep breath holding back her hesitancy, she pressed on.

"There was a man who requested my services. He was a young human noble from a prosperous family of wizards. Nothing to himself, really, but he had access to the city. The fool that I was decided he was an easy way out of the slums. I charmed him, convincing him he was infatuated with me. And when it wore off, he was too polite to deny that he had invited me out for dinner."

"Commendable, if not a questionable choice," Astarion hid his surprise.

"The idea was to charm him at least in the beginning. And it worked," she shrugged. "I had charmed him enough times that he had fallen in love with me. Not entirely on his own, but still... it was his decision to place a ring on my hand."

"A ring?" he nearly choked on his wine. "You were betrothed?"

Ferelith slowly shook her head.

"You were married?"

"I was," her reply was far too calm for his liking.

An image flashed into his head. A memory he had once borrowed from her. He recalled the face of a young elven. Handsome. Proper. Filled with joy. But the way she spoke of him did not reflect the feeling he had felt when she looked at him that night. Then again, it was a human she had wed.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "I've dealt with this sort of thing in the past, but I don't think I've-"

"Astarion," she cut him off, causing him to look at her. "He's dead."

"He won't be a threat, then. Good," his face lightened. "Not that I was worried. But his death makes things much easier."

The sweet smile of hers came back onto resisting lips. The flirtatious advancements were completely unnecessary, as she was already glowing with a buzz from the wine. She blamed that rather than admitting she was getting any sort of feelings from Astarion at all. His confidence told him otherwise and he refused to be wrong. The more straightforward he was about it, the further it would take him.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

A laugh burst from her, nearly causing her to spill her wine. "By the Hells, no. It's been nearly twenty years since his death, Astarion."

"I'm only making sure," he shrugged, a victorious grin spreading. "One can never be too careful."

"I take it your life has been threatened by other lovers of your past?"

"Other lovers?" he snapped his head, his brow lowering and his eyes watching her reaction deviously. "Are you considering yourself as a lover?"

Ferelith opened up her mouth to object. But her thoughts had halted her from answering. She did, in fact, word her previous sentence to include herself. Deciding there was no way around, she stared at him blinking unapologetically.

"I'm going to take that as a yes."

"No," she found herself unable to hold back.

"It's too late, I've already taken the first answer into consideration. And I'm very pleased to accept. You can't take it back, darling."

He took a sip of his wine, quite satisfied with the outcome and himself. Ferelith was not finished. However, the night had seemed rather pleasant and she felt genuine joy from their conversation. She allowed him to have his victory, if for anything, for making her laugh. It would be nice to have at least one good thing to remember him by if there ever came another time she considering slitting his throat.

"You'll have to tell me about them," she swirled her goblet.

"They're not important," he waved a hand casually. "Besides, you still haven't finished your tale."

"It's nothing, really," she looked down, not wanting to go into further detail."I lived the luxurious life of a noble for sometime. But it wasn't enough for me. I was greedy, stealing from the hands that were already willing to give."

"Naughty girl," his eyes widened.

Again, Ferelith smiled. "I was eventually discovered with nothing to blame but my own pride. I left behind everything. All my work, gone. Everything I cherished, gone. All my beautiful things... gone."

"Do I sense a bit of regret?"

The smile faded into a disgusted frown, a crease forming at the bridge of her nose. "The only thing I regret is allowing another man to become involved. If it wasn't for him, I would have likely inherited my own estate."

"And so the plot is revealed," Astarion tilted his goblet. "Alas, the husband was not the jilted lover after all."

"No. Just an impatient fool."

"So... you did intend to kill the husband."

"For purposes I'd like to remain unknown, I refuse to acknowledge you," Ferelith sat down her empty goblet. "But I feel no guilt for him. Either of them. I am only convicted with my own stupidity for allowing myself to lose everything that I had worked so hard for."

"It's a shame to lose such status... but still, there's nothing wrong with a fresh start," he replied flatly.

"Sometimes," she said with a sigh, "you must be stripped of everything before you can know true power."

Astarion looked at her with a cause for concern, noting the kindness in her voice. He seemed surprised and even somewhat shaken, lacking a voice for a response. But he quickly recovered and the usual smirk crept onto his face.

"If that's a way to say you'd like to remove my clothes, then I'd love to know your true power."

"Alright," Ferelith placed her hands across her lap. "I believe I've had enough for one evening."

"Already?" he whined. "We haven't finished the bottle."

"You are more than welcome to finish it... alone."

"No, no," he sat it down beside her. "You'll be up all night working. Take the bottle and relax. You've earned it."

"I'm flattered," she took the bottle by the neck. "Good night, Astarion."

The elf rose to his feet, dusting off his knees, leaving behind the empty goblet he brought with him. He gave one final bow to his companion.

"Good night, my darling."

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion fluff #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #oc origin #dwjp writing tag #ferelith writing tag

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

Text

chapter 22 of love is the only thing we can carry with us (kristanna slowburn/angsty but cute/no magic au, rated t) is up!

next chapter // all chapters

"Hello,” Anna whispered.

“Hello.”

chapter 22: a future

She dreamed for a long, long time.

She dreamed about locked doors and barred windows, about all the ways she might try to escape from them-- ropes, saws, picked locks, bribed guards, once even going so long without food she slipped right through the crack in the door only to faint once she was past. She dreamed of seeing other people trapped, too, a little boy with blond hair looking at her from a window and a queen tied to her throne who cried snowflakes so beautiful the world stopped and watched. Sometimes she dreamed she made it out only to be caught by a fox with clacking teeth and wicked eyes and that he took his arm in his cruel jaws and shook her about until she screamed herself hoarse.

Those were the bad dreams; the good ones were the ones that came in between, the dreams of large, rough hands cradling her face and helping her to gulp down cool water, of quick, gentle fingers that worked their way through the snarls in her hair, of a warm, deep voice singing her lullabies after she woke up and was still hurting. She liked those dreams very much; she wanted to stay in them as long as she could, but always the nasty ones seemed to come back, dragging her back into their depths until she forgot what was awake and what was not.

And then, all at once, there was sunlight in the window and she was blinking awake and her mouth was dry and her head still sort of hurt and her arm was achey and strangest of all there was a face she was very fond of lying on the bed right next to her hand, fast asleep.

She smiled, stretching stiff fingers forward to comb through the piles of golden hair that fell over his eyebrows; it was softer than she had expected. The sweet slope of his nose that she had kissed so many times was next; she trailed her finger down it slowly, the way she remembered her mother had done when she was very small. Her hand found his jaw next, marveling at the way the newly sprouted brown stubble pricked at her fingertips.

She looked back up at his eyes then and found them wide and wondering. “Hello,” Anna whispered.

“Hello.”

“You’ve got quite the beard coming in.”

Kristoff sat up from where he had been slumped forward onto the bed, stretching with a wince. “Do you like it?”

“Very much,” she whispered, and he leaned down again to kiss her once, chastely, his lips soft and warm as the brush of sun-soaked petals. She smiled against him, reaching up with her good hand to cradle his cheek.

“How do you feel?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to lean his forehead against hers.

“Like I just slept for...how long was I…” She waved her hand. “You know.”

“A week.”

“A week?”

“Well, six days,” he amended. “Today would have been seven.”

“Jesus,” Anna muttered, falling back against her pillows.

Kristoff smiled softly. “You needed to rest.”

“I’m sorry to have worried you.”

He took her hand, squeezing it slightly. A broad smile spread over his features when she squeezed back. “It’s ok. I’m glad you’re still here for me to worry about.”

There would be time later to hear it all, to sift through the weeks of pain and listen to each little wound, honor it, and she knew he would gladly do the same for her until they both could rest easy again. But there was a lifetime for all of that; for now, she was content to hold and be held by him in the light of the morning sun.

---

Her heart was thundering in her chest. She hoped that didn’t affect what the doctor was doing. Elsa was nervous, too; her fingers, intertwined with Anna’s, were trembling. Kristoff, always the calm in the storm, was sitting in an armchair across the room to give the doctor the room he needed to maneuver, but he never tore his gaze from Anna; she knew it was as much to center himself as to calm her. She winked at him, and he managed a faint smile.

“Well, then,” the doctor said, pulling away with his stethoscope in hand, “I do believe that you’re going to be just fine.”

“I— really?”

“Well, you’ll still have to be careful, but the fever doesn’t seem to have caused any new damage. If you had waited any longer before letting me treat you, it might have been too late.”

She flung her arms around the little man’s neck, not caring when it sent a jolt of pain through her broken wrist. “Thank you!”

He patted her kindly on the back. “You still need to get your rest. No more running into snowstorms.”

“Not even if—“

“No,” Kristoff and Elsa said in unison.

---

“Anna? What are you doing in here?”

“You kept rubbing your neck today.”

“What does that have to do with you being in my bed?”

“It’s not really your bed, though, is it? If you never actually use it.”

Kristoff crossed his arms. Anna smirked. She knew she would be winning this one.

“I just...I like sleeping in the chair in your room. I like knowing I can wake up and see you’re there.”

He wasn’t going to make it easy on her, though.

“Well, I like knowing you’re getting a good night’s sleep.”

“I sleep better in there.”

“Well, I’m in here now,” she said sweetly, patting the space next to her on the bed. “Shall we call it a compromise?”

He scowled, though she could see the familiar twinkle on his eye. “You still have a broken arm.”

“So try not to roll over and squish me.”

She reached out for him, and he came willingly, standing between her knees and cradling her face in his palms. “Only sleeping, though,” he said half-heartedly.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, already sliding her fingers up under the hem of his shirt, smiling when he shivered and leaned down to kiss her.

Really, it was the only responsible thing to do; afterward, they both slept better than they had in-- well, ever.

---

Before, she had never been overly fond of long meetings; now, while they weren’t exactly fun, she almost looked forward to them. With Elsa’s encouragement-- and gratitude-- she’d started taking a more active role in the diplomatic affairs of the kingdom once she’d been well enough to. It had always come naturally to her, figuring out how to work with people and find common ground, and each little victory left a spring in her step.

They were a nice break in the monotony of winter, too, especially on days when Kristoff was out and about. She had been worried about him, knowing that he felt uncomfortable in the city, but he was quickly adapting, though they both longed for the mountain. He was able to visit now and again on clear days using one of the castle’s sleds, and he always returned with warm greetings from their friends there and long lists of questions from Olaf. Other days, he found odd jobs around the city, doing carpentry work or helping load cargo ships. Anna had told him he didn’t have to work, that they were happy to give him all he needed, but he’d just shaken his head and given her a mysterious smile. “I’m saving up for something,” he’d explained.

Some days, like today, he’d have to leave at the crack of dawn, but he never failed to leave a letter on Anna’s bed for her to wake up to. She treasured them all, but the one in her pocket right now felt like a good-luck charm as she stepped into what promised to be a particularly long and tense meeting with the Southern Isles about the future of the alliance; Hans had been summarily banished from Arendelle and had apparently at last made it home.

She pulled the letter out one last time and snuck a peek.

Anna,

Wish I could be there with you for this one. They’ve got a lot to answer for, but I think the most important question is “how crooked did his nose heal?” I’m betting it’s completely flat, knowing how hard-headed you are.

(You laughed at that, didn’t you? I know that later you’ll tell me that you didn’t, but I know you secretly love my terrible jokes.)

I’ll be back tonight around 8. I want to hear a full play-by-play so I can cheer at all the good parts. I’m building some new counters at the candy shop, so it’s too bad you hate chocolate, otherwise I’d bring you a huge bag of it home.

(I know you didn’t laugh at that part, but I am as I picture the face you're making right now. I’ll make it up to you by bringing those caramel things you really like.)

Anyway, I just wanted you to know I’m rooting for you, like always. Love you more than anything.

Yours,

Kristoff

—

“Look, those giant icicles that you said looked like a snowman’s you-know-what are finally melting!”

Kristoff snorted. “Anna, you were the one who said that.”

“Oh, that’s right, I am the funny one, aren’t I?”

He rolled his eyes at that, but when she laughed and kissed his cheek she pulled away to see that he was blushing.

“So the snow on the mountain is probably getting close to melting, right?” she asked hopefully.

He nodded, something deep and serious in his expression, and she had to look away, feeling suddenly nervous. She laid her head back down against his chest, focusing instead on the steady sound of his heartbeat. He resumed tracing absentminded little shapes on her back, his fingers warm through the fabric of her nightgown.

“So,” she said, her voice shy. “I was thinking green at first.”

“Green what?”

“Curtains. For our house, like you said. You told me I could pick which color.”

His hand froze, and she dared to look up at him again. His eyes were wide. “I-- I mean,” she said quickly, “if you haven’t changed your mind. About your happy ever after. Because I’d like it to be mine, too, if that’s okay. And, well-- green’s still your favorite color, isn’t it?”

She bit her lip; he still wasn’t responding. “Or, um, if you don’t--”

He kissed her then, so warmly she thought she might just melt away then and there right on the sofa. “Green,” he reassured her, moving to press tiny kisses all over her cheeks, “will be perfect.”

---

“It’s even better than I remembered!” she enthused, darting between the two trees that marked the entrance to the glade. Their glade, as she liked to think of it, where they’d spent so many happy hours lounging by the banks of the sky-blue pond and kissing in the midst of a sea of primroses. The season’s first daffodils were just beginning to bloom, and she knelt to examine them, ecstatic at the first signs of spring after a long and terrible winter.

“You know, this is the first place I realized I was in love with you.”

She blushed furiously, her eyes still on the daffodils so he wouldn’t see. “When?”

“The first time I brought you here, when you jumped off the rock and said you did it because you knew I would be there to catch you. And then I realized that, well, I would. As long as you would let me.”

She dared to peek over her shoulder. To her surprise, Kristoff was kneeling, too.

“Kristoff?”

“So-- will you? Let me stick around and catch you, I mean. And, well, marry you, if that’s alright, too.”

He was holding a ring, a little gold one with a diamond that sparkled almost as bright as his eyes, but even if he hadn’t been, she would have said--

“Yes.”

#SO CLOSE to done #the epilogue is 60% written so it might go up tonight #i hope this makes up for all the pain :)#my fics #litotwccwu #cw: chronic illness

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quintlilian · 4 years

Text

meeting Damon

intro (cont.) || meeting Damon || hospital rides || the price of loyalty || answers || kantharis || the next step || whispers || fugitives of the law || escape

His name was Damon. Scarlett met him a year ago, in circumstances Scarlett would prefer to forget. He looked about the same as she remembered. She wondered briefly if she looked the same to him, or better. Maybe even worse. Damon definitely looked worse. He kept trying to rise to his feet, but every time his knees shook violently, and he struggled to find handholds on the smooth walls. They were slippery, too, with a mixture of his own sweat and blood. He fell to his knees, grunting and groaning as he went down.

“You going to help me or something?” Damon panted, shooting her a glance. Scarlett hesitated until Damon started trying again anyway.

“Wait a second, stop,” she tried to command with no success. Even small movements were a struggle for him. Loud sounds of frustration and pain escaped through his gritted teeth. Stop, Scarlett wanted to say. You’ll wake the whole neighbourhood. But she opted for soft pleas, trying to project gentle ignorance. Gentle ignorance that wanted to believe this was all simply fine, that Scarlett’s heart wasn’t beating out of her chest, that she actually wanted to help him and not push him right out of the window he fell through. “You’re hurt. Come on. Please.”

Damon seemed to believe her tone. Or he’d heard the same tone before passing through his own lips and didn’t trust an inch of her breath, but knew he wasn’t in a position to refuse. He took Scarlett’s extended hand and allowed her to finally raise him to his feet. It was shaking like most of his body. Damon nearly fell into Scarlett as he tried to step over the lip of the shower. The strong smell of blood made Scarlett wrinkle her nose. Step by step they edged out of the bathroom and down the corridor. The window was still open, and through it Scarlett heard the sirens getting closer.

“Honestly, have you ever heard of knocking on the front door?” Scarlett asked, grunting with difficulty as Damon leaned his weight on her.

“I was in the area,” Damon said. “I thought this place looked familiar. Even from the outside. I thought I was going crazy, mate. Good thing the window was open. You should probably keep that shut, though. Who knows what could come in.” He kept babbling on, pointing out this and that with a grin even though he was clearly in a lot of pain. Wrong steps or Scarlett drowned most of it out and continued to try guide him to her small living room. The cat was awake now, but regarded the pair with less interest than the dirt under his paw.

Damon grinned and gestured towards Freeloader, “You still have the cat.”

“I still have the cat.”

Damon stretched his fingers towards Freeloader as Scarlett helped lower him onto the couch. Scarlett left him to make dumb noises at the car and hurried into the kitchen, starting to rummage through her cupboards for anything that looked like first aid. Bloodied men didn’t oft fall through her bathroom window. Medical supplies were lacking. Scarlett gathered what she could: antiseptic, paper towels, bandaids - damn, no big ones left. And the others had smiley faces.

“This is all I’ve got, sorry,” Scarlett said, going back into the front room. Damon took the items with gratitude. With him sitting down now Scarlett could actually see what bad shape he was in. His skin was covered with cuts and bruises, tearing his shirt and pants almost to ruin. There were holes that looked just about the right size for a bullet. And even resting in a chair he was still panting heavily with little movements. Damon was doing the best he could with the best Scarlett could offer, but the bleeding was only slowing. Scarlett didn’t know a lot about medical care apart from what programs on the perivox took liberties with, but even she was sure that these kinds of injuries were serious. The words ‘nausea,’ ‘unconsciousness,’ ‘shock,’ ‘death,’ floated around in her head. Dead? Then what? Scarlett had no idea how to hide a dead body. What would happen to her? Her job? Her life? The sirens, again, felt closer. Scarlett realised that her own breath was quickening to match Damon’s and her palms felt sweaty.

“You’ll… uh, you’ll need to get rid of those pants,” Scarlett breathed. She needed to get out of that room.

“Buy me a drink first,” Damon said.

“I’ll see if I can find some.” Scarlett was already half out of the room by this point. Her bedroom was the biggest room in the house, which wasn’t saying much. Bits of clothes, a lot of which were job uniforms, had failed to find their way into their proper places in the drawers. The bed was doomed to be unmade no matter how many times Scarlett promised herself she’d set it right. She felt a pang of embarrassment staring at her surroundings. This was no state to receive visitors in. Well, legitimate visitors. It was illogical train of thought, but her brain was grappling for the first familiar feeling to come by, and latched on that like a betting man’s money at a casino. But Scarlett needed the smell of the musty curtains and clothes, and the lingering scents of candles. She needed how the wooden chair in front of her small mirror, with all its bumps and splinters, felt in her hands. Anything to block out the very real man not ten metres away from her, covered in very real blood. If just for a moment. Scarlett hurried to the mirror and watched her reflection panic. She gripped the chair in front of her until her knuckles were white. Her hair, an unnatural red, was starting to frizz with the sweat running down her face. Scarlett ran her hands through it, trying to pat it down. Her fingers just got caught in knots.

“Come on, Scarlett,” She hissed to her reflection. “He can’t die in your living room. He needs to get to a hospital.” The reflection’s panicked expression didn’t change. Scarlett forced herself to breathe out. “You’re going to help him. It’s going to be okay.” The reflection nodded gratefully, convinced by Scarlett’s words. She tied her hair back, and went to look in the cupboard for some pants. She knew she had a pair of male tracksuit pants in the back somewhere. Their origin was a mystery. When Scarlett found them she chalked it up to being left over by the previous renters.

Damon had covered his body in smiley-face bandaids. He looked up when Scarlett came back and gave her a sheepish smile. A lot of paper towels, now red, lay beside him. “I didn’t know you’d kept my pants.”

Scarlett stopped dead in her tracks. “What do you mean?”

“Those are mine. I left them here when I had to get up of town quick. Thanks for keeping them.”

Scarlett pursed her lips. “You’re welcome.” She threw, well, hurled, the pants at him and rubbed her temples. Damon tried to gingerly remove his shirt. Everything was stiff. Everything was painful. “I really think you need to go to a hospital.”

Damon stayed silent, concentrating the rest of his conscious state on bringing the shirt over his head. Scarlett got the feeling he didn’t disagree, but something was stopping him from consenting. "I'll be fine.” No one was convinced, even the cat. “I just need to get these working.” He worked the last bit of ruined fabric off. Scarlett gave him no help, but watched as dark shapes became visible through the bruises and dried blood, and audibly gasped. Etched multiple places into his skin lay dark runic patterns. There were a few dotted on his lower torso, one covering an area just a bit below his heart, and she just caught a glimpse of one snaking down his ribs and wrapping around to his back. Runes started as blessings, coveted by the magic peoples over a thousand years ago. The blessings were rare and had to be earned, but once put upon your body would enhance physical and mental attributes. And as follows in the manner of most things humans found out about runes they took them for their own use. Anyone with a stick and some ink could etch crude copies of the patterns into their skin and reap the benefits they did not earn. Runes were illegal now. They were the mark of dangerous people who risked dangerous rewards, or in Scarlett’s case, the wheezing, bleeding man sitting on her floor reaching for the mark on his left set of ribs. His fingers crawled their way to the pattern and started to trace it – down, right, up, far to the left, and so on. The rune started to softly glow, increasing in brightness until the tracing had ended and a small area of light reflected off the floor. Damon gave a short sigh of relief, leaning back into the edge of the couch.

“I think those sirens are for you,” Scarlett said.

“So are you going to turn me in?” Damon’s eyes were closed.

Scarlett was tempted, if it would have been the easiest route to make him go away. But no, police would just invite more questions. More consequences. “No,” she decided, only half-believing it. Damon was hardly ‘fine’. Scarlett didn’t know what to do, so she removed herself from the situation. She went back to rummage through her cupboards for any more painkillers. No dice. It was on her shopping list. Damon was awfully quiet in the other room. Scarlett gave in to paranoid instinct, darting back. Damon’s head was slumped forward, breaths shallow, arms limp over the sides of the couch.

“Damon?” Scarlett bent down. “Hey, wake up.”

His lips parted to emit a small groan but nothing more. She slapped him lightly. More groans. Scarlett wrung her hands. This was exactly what she was afraid of. And now she had no idea what to do. Regardless of what she chose questions would come, but a manslaughter charge was worse. Scarlett picked up the corded phone hanging against the wall and dialled the three digit number for an ambulance. As it dialled Scarlett looked back over her shoulder to the unconscious figure on her couch, wondering just how bad this thing was that she’d gotten herself into.

#marsel and jones #i could just be screaming into the void but if anyone has any thoughts plz let me know!!!#good and bad #if u hate it lemme fuel ur angst #if u love it great amazing ur a gem #mine

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asterisquebloomed · 5 years

Note

You find yourself lost amidst a blizzard, stranded in the snow. In your travels you had heard rumors that spurred you on this course. Legends tell of a crystalline palace in the snowy peaks of Astial. A place where a goddess resides. Intrigued by the tales, you made your way to the northern continent, in hopes of finding this arctic palace.

The bitter cold was starting to nip at you. You had come prepared for arctic weather, but an unexpected blizzard had enveloped the mountains. Tired from the climb and cold from the howling northern winds, Dread began to set in. Fear that this storm would make these mountains your icy grave. You had yet to finish what you had set out to accomplish. You still hadn’t uncovered the truth of what had happened to you.

Since you began this journey, you have learned things known to no man, that we humans, were not alone. There was another sentient life-form that inhabited this planet. A strange and mysterious being that has existed alongside mankind, hidden in the shadows. You had learned that magic, a thing of fairy tales and myths, was in fact real. It existed, right here in the physical world. If you had been told this by another, and not witnessed it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it yourself.

But here you were, chasing ghosts in an arctic wasteland. Risking your life on matters one would disregard as mere children’s stories. It was absurd, surreal even. You never would have imagined a life like this. You never wanted a life like things. But even so you pressed onward.

With the last reservoirs of your strength depleting fast, you needed to seek out shelter from the storm. Waiting out the worst of the blizzard in a cave would be much preferable to dying out in the cold, you thought.

After a few more minutes of trudging through the knee high snowfields, your hopes had been answered.

As if by chance, ahead of you was a divide in the cliff side. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be a cave tunneling deep into the mountain. Whispering a soft expression of gratitude, you hurried inside, eager to escape the frigid temperatures of the Land of Eternal Winter.

Retrieving a torch from your pack, you lit it, illuminating the obscuring darkness that filled the cave, Slowly you began to make your way further into the mountain.

As you walked through the cavern, you began to notice it was getting warmer the further you went. While it was normal for hidden caves like this to be a different temperature than the region outside it’s mouth, something was a little strange about it. It was too warm for a supposed extinct volcano. As you considered the possibilities, each on worse than the last, you noticed a faint glow further up ahead. Had you crossed straight through the mountain, you wondered. Biting your lip nervously, you edged closer to the pale blue light.

What you were met with was not something you expected.

A cavern of white crystals greeted you.They glowed faintly with a pale blue light. It wasn’t the blinding white of the blizzard outside, but it rendered the use of your torch wasteful. Snuffing out the flame, your surroundings were tinted with an icy blue light.

As you wandered farther in, you came upon exactly what you had come her to find. Before you was a place, entirely made of ice—or rather, crystal—you found as you placed your hand on one of the smooth surfaces of the walls. They weren’t cold to the touch—actually they were the opposite—they gave off a gentle warmth, contrasting the cold blue and while light that illuminated the palace as if it were day. Intricate details were etched and carved into the walls and floors of the palace, even the ceiling above was ornate, much like one would expect from the homes of nobility and royalty. The sight was magnificent, otherworldly even. Once again, if you hadn’t witnessed the immaculate beauty hidden away in these mountains, you would have been hard pressed to believe such a place existed here.

Making your way through the vast halls and corridors of this ethereal palace, you eventually came to an altar of sorts. A large room with a massive crystalline monolith at it’s center. Surrounding the base of the crystal was a pool of clear liquid. Water perhaps, you thought as you approached the altar to get a closer look.

Suddenly the atmosphere of the room became tense, as if you were not alone here. Turning to look though, you saw no one. Glancing back the way you came, you peered into the eerily glowing caverns to see if anyone had come in after you. Finding no one there either, you let out a sigh. Your nerves must be getting to you, you thought. Relaxing yourself with deep breath, you turned your gaze back towards the altar.

Your heart skipped a beat. There, standing in front of the altar was a woman. Where had she come from? There was no place in the room where she could have hidden herself. Even more unsettling was that you hadn’t heard anything. Not a single sound had echoed through the palace walls, save for your sighs and breathing. You could feel your heart pound in your chest as you stared at her, and she at you.

Her features were delicate, like that of a porcelain doll. Her snow white hair was wavy, reaching to her shoulders. Her eyes, which stared into you without ever wavering, were a soft lavender. She wore a light dress with diamond and snowflake like detailing on the petals of her skirt. White stocking adorned her legs, the left of which had an intricate swirling pattern running up her leg. Her figure was petite, but her presence was overwhelming. It was no wonder Astiel’s myths described her as a goddess. You stood in awe of her beauty, as if time itself had ceased to move. Everything was silent.

She blinked, and as if by her command, time begin to flow. Without shifting her icy gaze from you, she began to walk towards you. As she stepped closer you noticed something strange. There were no footsteps. Turning your attention to her stride, you watched as one foot came forward, then the next. Indeed, she had no footsteps, as if she was merely a ghost. Once she was within five feet of you, she stopped. For a moment she silently gazed at you, eyes moving for the first time to take you in. When she had finished looking you over, her cold stare returned to your face.

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice was soft. Her words might have been soothing had her tone not been so monotonous.

You were speechless for a moment, unable to reply to her swiftly. Inhaling deeply, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat.

You explained to her you journey up until this point. You told her of the others you had met, These mystical beings, they were like souls without bodies,they were like the pure essence of a person. Essence. Such a fitting word for these creatures. A pure soul in it’s entirety. That’s what they were. The Essence.

“So you have come here seeking out my kin…” She said, her face still devoid of emotion. Her eyes wander over to the burns hidden underneath your clothes, as if she could see through them. “Those wounds…” She paused, taking a good look at the flesh you could not hide from her eyes. “They were caused by one of us…by her…”

Once more your heart skipped a beat. Of all the ‘Essence’ that you had met thus far, none had any inkling as to the identity of the one who had burned you. This was the first lead that you had found, the first clue,, the first trace of them. Eagerly you pleaded with the girl to tell you more. Who are they? Where can I find them? Your sudden fervor had garnered a response from her as she leaned back a bit in faint surprise.

“Her name I do not know, and I know not where she rests…However she is a very foul girl. I would not be surprised if she had done this to you not out of necessity, but out of vanity.” She exhaled softly as she recalled the woman in question. Her brow furrowed slightly, lips creasing into a frown. Her memories of her had not been fond.

“She is not to be trifled with. Pursuing her is to gamble your life. Despite this, will you still search for her?” She asked, to which you nodded. She closed her eyes slowly. “…I see.”

“Long ago, she stumbled into this place. She too, like you, was a traveler. She was running from something, and sought refuge in my home. She didn’t much like the cold…so I have reason to believe she hailed from the south. Perhaps you should begin your search there…”

With a new light of hope now lit within your heart, you thanked her. “I would go with you, to aid you on your quest, but alas…” She said solemnly, gaze cast downward. “The damage to your soul is too great…”

Your heart sank. Your soul had been…damaged…? A sense of dread filled your being. Not only had this creature which you sought out violated your flesh with her flames, but even your soul itself, your essence, had been tarnished by this woman. It was unforgivable…absolutely unforgivable! You clenched your fists in anger. Seeing your rage, the woman let out a sorrowful sigh.

“You see, we….’Essence’ as you call us, we bond with the souls of humans.in order to leave this place. We are trapped here, endlessly. Without a human vessel, we cannot be free…but that doesn’t justify her methods…” Ire rising in the Essence. “She does not care who she hurts. She destroys human souls for her own gain. Malicious behavior like that…I cannot forgive.” Her voice was stern, breaking from her usual monotone. She hated this woman just as much as you did.

After a moment of silence, she let out a sigh. “I may find her reprehensible, but I refuse to sink to her level. I will not disregard human life solely on the basis of not being one of you. I treasure human life, likely more than any of my kin.” She said, turning her gaze back to you. “I am sorry, but you must make this journey alone. Know that I sincerely hope you will find the truth you seek. And I shall pray for your safety and success in your endeavors.”

After ensuring that the blizzard had passed, You prepared to leave this ‘Arctic Palace’ of hers. You thanked her graciously for her tremendous help. She wished you well and said that she will pray for you in the coming months. As you were about to embark once more on your journey, you realized you had forgot to ask her her name.

“My name?” She said with a slight tilt, before giving an—albeit small—smile.

“I kept my original name, from when I first lived. That name is Aliah Meshia. It was an honor to meet you, child.” Spoken with the wisdom of ten thousand years, this woman. Aliah Meshia, the Essence of Light and Order, bid you a fond farewell, as you departed from her crystalline altar.

With renewed vigor and a clear goal finally within your sights, you made your way out of the cave, stepping proudly out into the sunlight with purpose in each step.

#Response #Ask #Lore #World Building #Original Story #Narrative #Fiction #Notes from a Mysterious Researcher #Long Post #O O P S #My hand slipped #A lot #Thank you for sending this in #I had a great time writing this!#It also helped me to figure out more about the characters involved #This was a great experinece #Thank you!#fxtelism

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renwyck · 6 years

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Gratitude

Plodding footfalls could be heard reverberating from the small tunnel leading from the harbor to the Stormwind cemetery. Muscles aching from a long morning hauling cargo, Renwyck retreated to the peace of the area, eager to find sanctuary from the tumult of life. The worn human exhaled a deep breath that emphasized the droop of his shoulders as he continued further along the stone path leading through the gravestones.

He typically never preferred to sit amidst a constant reminder of the dead, yet the sun high overhead filtered through the canopy of trees, giving the pathway an otherworldly beauty. His trudging footsteps lightened, as if the slightest of noise would disturb the slumbering denizens.

Renwyck was not the only one there, strolling through the cemetery as if it were a lovely park, few actually paying their respects in a traditional sense. It was a more uplifting place, where people respected those that had passed on by living, breathing in the fresh air, engaging in soft chatter, planted new growth, and brought younger generations down the 'garden path' to show them who had come before, and helped to make Stormwind city the wonder it was.

The woman that sat on the bench lining his path was near unrecognizable, as she'd first met him in the elaborate beauty of ceremonial robes, very obviously a priestess. Now she was dressed in a smooth gray suit complete with tie, a bit of feminine lace lining the trim to add a simple, but classically styled elegance to her slender form. Her ebon hair was styled much the same, pinned to its swirled bun, with spiraling curls draping down to fringe her gentle face.

She'd just bitten into her Elywnn apple when her artful eyes turned down the path he was coming up. Immediately recognizing him, she nearly blurted her greeting with her mouthful, thought better of it with a snicker at how silly she'd look spittling apple everywhere, and waved instead.

Renwyck caught the woman's eye, chuckling to himself as he returned the wave. While he originally had no intentions of interrupting her, the warm greeting was enough to cause him to approach. "Afternoon," he said with a smile once he was in earshot.

"Good afternoon!" spoken with a natural musicality to her tones, lilting with warmth.

The priestess stood up - well, after pausing to lean back down to put her apple down next to her sack lunch on the bench, sporting the same easy, gentle smile that she wore for him when they'd first met. She seemed eager for company.

"We had met on the dock, do you remember?" Her smile went wry, the expressive face now written with some apology. "I am sorry, that is rude to assume that you would." The Priestess' grey eyes were focused on his own eyes, hoping to see that little light of life there that her song seemed to inspire in him before.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "No need to apologize. Yeah, I remember." There seemed to be a warmth to his tone, his posture relaxed as if in the company of an old friend. "I was hoping I'd catch you again."

Renwyck motioned to the spot next to her on the bench. "Would I be interrupting?"

Like one of the rays of light dappling through the canopy above them, Echo beamed, lips parting to display delicate, pearly whites with some reserved delight. "Not at all! You are so very welcome to sit."

The official welcome commenced as the priestess clutched Renwyck's hand as if to shake it, but simply rested her other fingers on his own with a comforting squeeze, like one warmly inviting a newcomer to mass, or to confession. "Please, sit. I have food, if you are hungry?"

Renwyck returned the gentle squeeze before taking a seat. The priestess's smile was positively infectious, Renwyck's own brightening. "Oh, no thank you," he politely declined. He couldn't help but feel uplifted, the same he had felt when she had offered her blessing a few days before.

"I know I thanked you already, but I just wanted you to know how much it meant to me. I've been--" he hesitated, his smile softening. Yet, the woman's demeanor soothed his mind, allowing him to speak more freely. "Lost. And for the first time in a long time, I felt... hope."

The small lunch sack and apple remained untouched, the priestess giving her full attention to Renwyck, listening intently. With every word he spoke, even as he struggled, her smile and eyes joined in a dance of emotive response, sincerely following the conflict of hope and hesitation within him.

"I am glad I can help, again," Echo replied with all graciousness, setting a gentle touch against his shoulder. "There are times even when I grow lost. But you should know, that even in those moments where you think there is only darkness, there is always hope. It never gives up on you. All I did was call the Light to help you see the worth in the world again. It has been inside you, all along."

The graceful sincerity by which the priestess spoke slackened as she laughed at herself, suddenly cupping her hands to her mouth as if suddenly embarrassed.

"Here I am lecturing you like you've come to Sunday mass and I don't even know your name!" She set her clasped fingers to her cheek now as she looked his face over, asking silent permissions before the question ever left her lips. "May I have that pleasure?"

He chuckled softly, the woman's demeanor a breath of fresh air for the weary warrior. "Renwyck Darrow," he bowed his head politely before glancing back to her face. A slight grin spread across his lips. "And the name of my mysterious savior would be...?"

The smile dulled on the priestess' face as Renwyck revealed his name, going very blank for a long moment, eyes darting downward. "Oh." She spoke the barely there sound too softly, hands placed together on her knees. "It's a very nice name~" she tried with her note of melodic cheer, but it was clear for the moment she was very far away, suddenly, in her mind.

The sudden change took Renwyck by surprise, causing him to swallow thickly around the lump forming in his throat. His entire demeanor shifted with hers, the man seeming to retreat back to the distant and lost soul she had seen when they first met. "Apologies," he spoke, not entirely sure of his offense, but certain is was his. He abruptly rose from the bench, intent on taking his leave before committing any other wrongs.

Apologies. So soft, distant a sound. It is likely the way she would have said. Guilt saturated the word, pulling her away from ugly memories, and back toward the dimming soul that was receding from the bench.

"Mister....Mister D-darr..." the word was suddenly hard to articulate, as if her tongue went useless around it's syllables. She rose and gathered her confidence again, voice now a delicate vibrato of his name. "Renwyck, yes? It's...it is okay. Let me try again.."

The priestess took his hand if he would allow with a smile, placed it in her smaller one and shook it slowly. "I am Holy Cantor Echo Adamant of the Argent Crusade, and...I..." She chuckled in a pained manner, hoping she would be forgiven for what guilt she suddenly made the man feel. "...it's Okay. Sometimes even I get lost too.."

As she took his hand, Renwyck halted his retreat, though his grasp was loose and slipped from hers the moment she showed the slightest bit of release. He held her gaze long enough to utter, "Holy Cantor." It was a formal greeting, much unlike himself... or at least his old self.

'Lost...' the word crossed his mind with a bitter humor that caused a wry smile to form on his lips. He shook his head, forcing the thought from his head.

"I won't interrupt you any longer," he said, casting his attention to the ground at her feet.

"You are not interrupting. I invited you, remember?" Where the priestess had her solemn moment, lost for a name, it did not seem to weigh on her for long, spirit finding her once more so easily.

"Lost sometimes, yes, but we eventually find our way. Sometimes....we even need to get a little lost to find a new way we never understood before. But most of all, you travel with hope, yes?"

Echo cupped both her hands around one of his own now, "Here, if you must go, though, go with my blessing, friend." Her soothing hum stirred the shimmer of Light magic around him, fortifying him at the body and soul, and bidding him to be at peace.

His hand trembled while she held it, Renwyck pulling back slightly as if in fear of the powers that he was so eager to receive before. If she took away the pain once more, how would he be able to atone for all the sins he had committed? His suffering was all he had left. The only thing he could call his own.

His eyes closed as he took a stumbling step backwards. Relinquishing his hand, he opened his eyes to look only briefly at the Holy Cantor's face. "Thank you," he murmured softly, bowing his head with a forced smile.

The priestess' wave of Light was cut short as Renwyck broke contact with her touch, and though at first an innocent, helpless question of 'why? most took the expression of her sweet face in reply, her grey eyes simply found the answer in the quick glance, the forced nature of his smile. This was not what was wanted, and with the rest of her hands at her side, and a gentle cant of her own head, she respected the wish.

Still, her fingers came together to fidget with one another, ill at ease with the fact that she could not help, did not know how. She could only feel increments of his hesitance, not know the reason for it. It was the realm of Shadow, that seeped in to another's thought and memory unbidden, and the dark magic was a often a cruelty the priestess did not commit to. Not anymore...

Her eyes swept away to try to pull from the teachings of her betters, and it was there she found the Confessor's voice as she sought his eyes sincerely. "If you ever need anyone to speak to, Mister Darrow, I will always listen." The name now left her lips with the comfort of someone that had used it a dozen times before. He was certainly not the source of the evils long ago done to her. No, he was an ailing soul that needed a friend. "I will be here."

[ RP between myself and @safrona-shadowsun‘s priestess @echoesofthelight ]

#Echo Adamant #Renwyck Darrow #RP #Look at these adorable cinnamon rolls

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fullmetalirin · 6 years

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Fullmetal Alchemist OG: Episodes 11-12

A filler two-parter. Hooray?

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 11: "The Other Brothers Elric: Part 1"

The Elrics arrive in Xenotime to look for the philosopher's stone. After they save a young girl, named Elisa, from under a fallen mine cart, she brings them to the tavern out of gratitude. During the feast in their honor, the brothers hear that a philosopher's stone is near completion, researched by a man named Mugear. When the town learns they're the Elric brothers, they get upset, claiming they're frauds. That's when Ed learns there are impostors in town pretending to be Ed and Al. They sneak into Mugear's mansion and find the imposters but are fended off by the older brother impostor. Elisa's uncle, Belsio, takes in Ed and Al, then later sends Al to get some medicine for Elisa. That's where Al meets his imposter counterpart. The younger brother impostor apologizes for taking the Elrics' names and Al urges him to tell his older brother to stop. Meanwhile, Mugear meets underground with Lust, who is apparently behind the plan to make the Philosophers Stone. The following night, Ed and Al sneak into the mansion a second time via underground tunnels but get exposed to toxic, red water. The younger brother impostor helps them get to safety but the older brother impostor wants to continue his father's unfinished work even though the byproducts is making the town sick. Al reveals that the red stone they've made is a poor copy of the Philosopher Stone and the older brother impostor (an alchemist named Russell Tringham) attacks Ed using crimson water. However, the younger impostor (Russell's younger brother Fletcher) dives in the way and gets soaked in the toxic water.

We open by establishing Xenotime is a backwater. Ed suspects they want the Philosopher's Stone so they can make gold, outright saying they can only do so with a Stone. Ed acted like he could make gold without it back in Youswell, but he did still need to use the gold coins as starting materials. So maybe I'm right that spontaneously creating gold has only been theorized.

Ed condenses the mine cart into a smaller metal block to get it off of Elisa.

We get cartoon shifts when the townspeople give the obligatory gag of calling Ed short. I find it appropriate. I think what's notable is that it's more restrained than when Brotherhood usually does it – the whole world doesn't change, only one character. There's even additional humor to be had by having everything else proceed as normal while Ed becomes a caricature, I think.

Elisa starts coughing when she raises her voice. That's dark.

They throw the Elric brothers out in what feels like a parallel of the Youswell episode.

Ed doesn't bother making a fancy door when he alchemizes his way in, just a stone panel.

Ed tells the impostor to get on his knees to beg. The impostor starts going on an elaborate bit about how he must be used to people looking down on him. I approve, that's more clever than what we usually get, and it's extra funny to see character trolling on purpose instead of just being ignorant.

Impostor can transmute without a circle. My initial thought was "wait, so he did human transmutation?" but Ed correctly surmises he has a Philosopher's Stone. Yes, that does make more sense. There's even the red lighting motif to make it clear.

Ed is still injured in the scene after.

We cut to the impostors. Little Bro thinks they should split before things get worse, Big Bro insists he has it all under control, but he'll protect Little Bro if it goes south. That's a nice echo of the Elrics' relationship, and also gives them some sympathy points.

Lust is here! First time we've seen her in a while. She says the Elrics are "frustratingly resourceful" – I guess she's basing that on Liore? It seems a little odd to be giving such glowing praise when she's only seen one performance that could have been a fluke. Unless she's been stalking them in other episodes, but the show has been good about making clear when she's doing that.

Ed is using Al's armor as an icepack for his bruise. Aw, that's cute.

Belsio doesn't believe they're the real Elrics.

Belsio says he couldn't just leave two kids out in the cold. So we're still getting acknowledgement of how absurdly young they are, even now that they're a little older.

Ed still has his bruise the next day.

Ed specifically says it's a crime to use the Philosopher's Stone to make gold.

Al is very forgiving of the impostors, saying they must have their reasons.

The only way Russel could claim he was a State Alchemist as a teenager was to impersonate Ed. Ah, it's good to see reinforcement of how very weird that is.

Their dad was an alchemist, but abruptly disappeared one day. Ah, parallels.

Al tells Fletcher to do the right thing and stop his brother if he knows he's doing the wrong thing. Poor Al, trying to live vicariously through a kid whose older brother actually listens to him.

Al lies to Ed and says he hasn't seen the impostors.

Ed says Russel has been fixing tools to gain goodwill. Our Youswell parallels continue.

Russel uses the red stone to turn a lamp into a… very tiny sword that seems the same size. The sword even cracks under Ed's automail, so he didn't even change it into good metal.

Russel creates a hose to the red water tank, in a parallel to Ed's technique on the train.

Ed turns his automail into an umbrella, because he's too extra to just make a regular shield. I would be concerned that there might be acid in there, but Ed seems to know the makeup of the red water.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 12: "The Other Brothers Elric: Part 2"

Ed and Al reluctantly flee the mansion (at the behest of Fletcher) and though Fletcher is not too harmed by the red water, he and his older brother are imprisoned by Mugear when they refuse to use an alternate method to create the crimson stone at a faster rate. Mugear reveals that he knew they were impostors. Back at Belsio's house, the Elrics learn that Nash Tringham, the father of Russell and Fletcher, was the original discoverer/researcher of the Red stone. After the mining town ran out of gold, Mugear convinced Nash that a Red stone would turn lead into gold and make the town prosperous again but the side affects were toxic red water and sick, dying babies. Elisa was one of those babies until a traveling alchemist doctor, Tim Marcoh, healed Elisa with a mysterious method. Mugiar invites the Elrics to help with the Red stone research and Ed tricks him into taking him down to see the imprisoned Tringham brothers. Ed talks to the older Russell and convinces him that his father abandoned the research when he saw the damage and the Tringham brothers need to find their own path. Ed frees them and faces off against Mugear who tries to attack them with a machine powered by Red stones. With Russell's help, Ed injures Mugear and chases him underground. Mugear is ultimately disposed of and the underground mine shaft collapses, causing the crimson water to flood out of the spring. Fletcher uses alchemy to make the trees absorb the water, neutralizing the threat. Edward and Alphonse say farewell to Russell and Fletcher, boarding a train for East City.

Fletcher uses alchemy to make a tree to bar the door. It's not clear where he got the wood from; the floor doesn't deform.

Russel uses the red stone to absorb the red water off of Fletcher, it looks like.

So Fletcher is fine, apparently…? Pretty disappointing after all that buildup about the toxicity. I guess it's ingestion that's the real problem, so he might be okay if he only got it on his skin.

Mugear has a machine that lets non-alchemists use alchemy. That seems unnecessary? Alchemy isn't bloodline magic, anyone can learn it. He uses it to turn the floorboards into rope-like structures and bind the brothers.

Mugear says he knows the real Ed has an automail arm. Yeah, that seems pretty well-known. Russel should have at least tried to fake that.

Marcoh gets an early cameo in the flashback! The Elrics suspect he used a real Stone, so that's an advancement of the main mystery.

Al tries to get Ed to empathize with the Tringhams by pointing out their motivations are similar. Eh, that's not really true, the Elrics don't really care about their dad.

Apparently the red water can be biologically concentrated by feeding it to pregnant women and extracting the fetus. I wonder if it does have some connection to the real ingredient for the Philosopher's Stone?

Ed successfully freaks Mugear out enough to convince him to see the Tringhams alone. Good quick thinking.

Mugear's alchemic guns run out of ammo. It looks like he tries to add more red stone to reload them, so presumably he is creating matter.

Mugear puts a wall in the passage to block them. Ed points out how dumb that is when they have alchemy, but Mugear was actually waiting on the other side with a loaded gun. Clever!

Ed reseals the wall right as Mugear shoots them, so the shockwave explodes on his side and knocks him down. Also clever!

Mugear is crushed by a falling rock. Kinda disappointing, I was hoping we'd see what death by red water looked like.

Ed raises a massive dam around the estate, which is even more ridiculous than Isaac's glacier. Are there energy limits or not, show?

The trees not only absorb all the water, they grow bigger in the process. I guess that's explaining where all the mass goes, but again, what are energy limits.

And then they DESTROY the trees.

The Trighams plan to use their plant alchemy to help on the farm.

Hah, Russel is taller than Ed despite actually being YOUNGER than him! They're really pounding in the stunted growth.

Conclusion

I think there are a lot of comparisons to be drawn here to the Youswell episode. Once again, this is a mining town; the Elrics face persecution; there is an emphasis on money; the villain is a corrupt official. But this version is much more definitively in OG's style. The plot is complex and twisting, with more grounded and sympathetic antagonists, and the problem has less of the way in human causes: Yoki was causing the town's destitution, but Mugear was genuinely trying to save the economy. It's a much darker and more nuanced depiction of the problems that befall mining towns: the problem goes deeper than just a convenient bad actor you can punch in the face. Even when the military isn't around to make a mess of things, resources still dry up, with all the pressures that implies.

But as a story, it's… eh. I like the first episode, but the conclusion is really blah. A lot better than the Psiren episode, but still a bit too messy and meandering, and it once again has a lot of things that don't quite mesh with other alchemic mechanics. Mugear's weapon is really random and nothing like it will ever come up again; the writers really did seem to be leaning on the trope of bloodline magic and normies needing a crutch to do the same things as the protagonist, when that's pretty much the exact opposite of how magic works in this. Possibly we could take it to mean Mugear didn't want to put in the work of actually studying alchemy, but most of the work seems to be the physical and scientific knowledge you need to effectively manipulate materials in the first place.

Similarly, the alchemy at the end is way too high-power. I am willing to suspend my disbelief a little, since it is a clever solution – basically the puzzle equivalent of the ridiculous action powers displayed in Brotherhood, cool if you don't think about it. But I'm not willing to cut OG as much slack, because the main plot is very much going to be about the mechanics of alchemy, and it is absolutely vital that those mechanics – especially the energy requirements – stay consistent. We can't even use the excuse that the anime is just doing its own thing, because the anime-only alchemy exam episode shows very explicitly that doing something far less impressive than what we see here makes alchemists too weak to even stand. It's possible this represents the writers committing to their theory on where the energy comes from, but it still galls me that no one thought to say, "Hey, shouldn't we add a line to mesh this with what we established only 6 episodes ago?"

You can clearly see how the alchemy's… flavor, for lack of a better term, is different from Brotherhood's, though. We don't see everyone having their own special unique alchemy; the Tringhams use varied alchemy just like the Elrics, and even their specialty of plant alchemy is something we've seen before. There is also a much bigger emphasis on non-combat applications.

The attempts to draw parallels between the Elrics and the Tringhams are… off. They get the feel of it right; their personalities and dynamic are similar. But the actual details are so awkward – their motivations are totally dissimilar, despite the attempts to beat the Elrics into the cliché of caring deeply about their missing dad. The writers are still figuring these characters out, and making a lot of missteps along the way.

And… seriously, he couldn't figure out that the Fullmetal Alchemist had something to do with metal? What did he say when he was asked "so why are you called Fullmetal", likely the first question anyone would ask?

Mugear is also a pretty bland and disappointing villain, though at least he's someone I can actually take seriously and not some absurd fop like Yoki.

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma 2003 #liveblog

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pendragonsandbuckleys · 3 years

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Dark waters caving in

Summary: Merlin rubbed his forehead as he tried to focus on the words on the page instead of his steadily worsening headache. He was no help to Gaius while he felt like this so the sooner he cured himself, the sooner he could save everyone else.

Set in s01e03. Merlin gets sick after drinking the infected water.

Word Count: 1,677

[Also on AO3]

It started out with a cough. Though to be completely honest, Gaius wasn’t sure if the coughing was actually due to the overwhelming smell of his latest potion concoction that had been brewing at his desk for hours. It was a chest-tightening, tickly kind of cough that likes to sit in the back of your throat, threatening to suffocate you completely. Then came the headache and the chills running through his entire body and the bone-deep tiredness that would never normally be felt after a fairly restful night’s sleep.

Ever since he and Merlin had discovered the source of the disease, they had been hoping that the water wasn’t an immediate death sentence for everyone who drank from it. The town’s water supply was used by hundreds of people every day and considering the entire townsfolk hadn’t been killed yet, it surely wasn’t affecting every person who drank from it.

But now, hours later, they were no closer to finding out why the water was causing this disease - let alone any kind of cure - and Merlin looked terrible. All he’d had was a few mouthfuls from the pump whilst he and Gaius had visited the lower town and it seems that was all it took.

Gaius could barely contain the frustration he felt as he watched Merlin from across the room. It was the physician’s very nature to help those who needed it and here he was being forced to watch Merlin suffer through this with no way to remedy the sickness. Merlin’s complexion was concerning. Not yet the ghostly white of the deceased victims they had seen to, but his paler than normal skin was shining with sweat and the grey-blue of his veins was beginning to creep to the surface.

Merlin had been sitting on the concrete steps with the magic spell book for a while now, trying to find anything that would help. The sunlight streaming through the window was accentuating his pallor and the thin blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders was doing little to combat the cold he felt within. Gaius had suggested that he try to rest in bed for an hour or two, but predictable as ever, Merlin had refused to leave Gaius in the lurch to figure it all out on his own.

“Ge hailige.” Merlin muttered under his breath before tutting to himself and turning the page. He had attempted that one several times now and it clearly wasn’t working. There were hundreds of healing spells he could try, all notoriously difficult to master, but there was no proof that any of them would be effective against this mysterious illness.

Merlin rubbed his forehead as he tried to focus on the words on the page instead of his steadily worsening headache. He was no help to Gaius while he felt like this so the sooner he cured himself, the sooner he could save everyone else.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on the magic he could feel thrumming under his skin and slowly read the incantation. “Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare.”

He barely got the full spell out before he felt it drain all that was left of his energy and Gaius watched as the gold of Merlin’s irises barely flickered before his eyelids were fluttering and he was tilting to one side. Gaius wasn’t exactly a man known for his speed but he barely took a second to rush over to Merlin just in time to stop him from falling off the step completely. Merlin’s head lolled against his chest for a moment before righting itself.

“Woah.” He mumbled softly between shallow breaths, his half-lidded eyes glancing down to where Gaius was still holding him upright. He knew he felt terrible, but maybe he was more sick than he thought. He couldn’t give up now though, if it was spreading this fast within him, he wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.” Gaius gave him a stern look, eyebrow raised in disbelief. It was a wonder the boy had lasted this long if this is what his survival instincts looked like. He longed for something he could do to aid him. “You’re in no state to be doing this much magic. I wish I could help but I’ve never been very good at healing spells.”

“Me neither.” Merlin smirked up at him, still leaning heavily against Gaius’ arm. He swallowed a few times against the dryness of his throat before pushing himself upright. The blanket had fallen off one shoulder and Gaius wordlessly wrapped it around him once more, watching him warily for any further signs of deterioration.

“I think I’ve only managed to heal myself three or four times growing up.” Merlin continued, delicately running his forefinger across the words of the spell written on the page. “Small wounds are fine, but actual sickness was practically impossible to heal. It used to annoy me so much when it wouldn’t work. My mother would always scold me for trying, she thought I’d just make myself worse. But every time, when it was clear that I wasn’t giving up, she would sit down with me and tell me to just take a breath and try again.”

“Did that work?” Gaius asked gently, not missing the way Merlin’s hands had gained a slight tremor.

Merlin chuckled lightly at the question and rubbed at his forehead once again. “No. I never exactly had the patience for taking it slowly. I thought maybe it didn’t work because I wasn’t using any actual spells, but clearly that wasn’t the problem at all.”

He gestured to the book with a huff before closing it forcefully and placing it beside him on the step. Evidently healing himself was no longer an option, so maybe he should return his focus to eradicating the disease from the water. He hadn’t come across anything in the spell book that could help them, but then again he didn’t fully know what he was supposed to be looking for.

There was someone who would probably have the answers he needed, but he was still debating whether it was worth visiting the dragon or not. Getting a straight answer from him would be a miracle and Merlin really didn’t have time for the riddles right now.

Without thinking, he stood up suddenly, gasping as his knees buckled and his vision went black for a second. If Gaius hadn’t have been there to support him he definitely would have fallen down. He could feel the coldness inside practically wrapping itself around his magic and as he looked down it was hard to miss the veins on his hands growing darker. He was running out of time.

As soon his legs felt steady enough to carry him he patted Gaius’ hand as a signal that the man could let go. Maybe he didn’t have a choice. Every other victim had died within twenty-four hours and he could feel in his heart that he wasn’t going to last much longer. If the great dragon could provide the help they so desperately needed, he was just going to have to suffer the long-winded, cryptic clues.

“I need to go out. I think I know something that could help us.” Merlin tried not to cough as he spoke confidently, walking towards the door. If he didn’t make eye contact with Gaius then he could just pretend that the inevitable scowl wasn’t being directed towards him.

Gaius took a moment to process the stupidity of his words before he came rushing up behind him. Merlin could barely stand up a moment ago, there was no way he was letting him go anywhere Gaius’ couldn’t keep an eye on him.

“Not a chance.” The physician remarked as he blocked Merlin’s exit. “You are in no fit state to be wandering around the castle not to mention the sight of you will undoubtedly raise a few suspicions. Whatever it is you need, I’ll go and get it.”

Merlin could see the concern shining bright in Gaius’ eyes and he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. Despite the trouble he often caused, Gaius truly cared for him, more than anyone else ever had besides his mother, and it was heartwarming to know that he had that support. But under all that gratefulness there was a slight pang of guilt at the worry he had caused. Gaius wasn’t wrong. The longer Merlin was on his feet, the more he felt like he was going to pass out at any minute, but he needed to do this and he needed to do it alone. With a little difficulty, he swapped his blanket for one of the cloaks draped near the door. “I’ll be okay, just keep looking for some way to decontaminate the water. I won’t be long.”

Gaius let out an exasperated sigh as Merlin lifted the hood to shadow his face. If he had learnt anything since Merlin’s arrival it was that once his mind was set on something, there was no stopping the boy. He was more than aware of how strong-willed Merlin was and if he said he needed to do this, then Gaius was just going to have to trust him. As much as every fibre of his being was telling him not to.

It was bad enough that Merlin had become gravely ill under his watch, if something were to happen because Gaius had let him leave he would never forgive himself. But still, he moved out of the way and watched as Merlin closed the door behind him. A powerful sorcerer with such a great destiny didn’t need Gaius watching his every move, protecting every step of his journey. He was going to be fine.

In the meantime Merlin was right about one thing, he could either spend his time worrying or he could be productive and continue looking for a cure. And if he kept glancing at the door every few minutes, hoping for Merlin’s safe return, well, no-one needed to know.

#bbc merlin #merlin fic #my fic

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stained-carmine · 5 years

Text

The bitter cold was starting to nip at you. You had come prepared for arctic weather, but an unexpected blizzard had enveloped the mountains. Tired from the climb and cold from the howling northern winds, dread began to set in, fear that this storm would make these mountains your icy grave. You had yet to finish what you had set out to accomplish. You still hadn’t uncovered the truth of what had happened to you.

Since you began this journey, you have learned things known to no man, that we humans, were not alone. There was another sentient life-form that inhabited this planet. A strange and mysterious being that has existed alongside mankind, hidden in the shadows. You had learned that magic, a thing of fairy tales and myths, was in fact, real. It existed, right here in the physical world. If you had been told this by another, and not witnessed it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it yourself.

After a few more minutes of trudging through the knee high snowfields, your hopes had been answered.

Retrieving a torch from your pack, you lit it, illuminating the obscuring darkness that filled the cave, Slowly, you began to make your way further into the mountain.

As you walked through the cavern, you began to notice it was getting warmer the further you went. While it was normal for hidden caves like this to be a different temperature than the region outside its mouth, something was a little strange about it. It was too warm for a supposedly extinct volcano. As you considered the possibilities, each one worse than the last, you noticed a faint glow further up ahead. Had you crossed straight through the mountain, you wondered. Biting your lip nervously, you edged closer to the pale blue light.

What you were met with was not something you expected.

A cavern of white crystals greeted you. They glowed faintly with a pale blue light. It wasn’t the blinding white of the blizzard outside, but it rendered the use of your torch wasteful. Snuffing out the flame, your surroundings were tinted with an icy blue light.

As you wandered further in, you came upon exactly what you had come here to find. Before you was a palace, entirely made of ice—or rather, crystal—you found as you placed your hand on one of the smooth surfaces of the walls. They weren’t cold to the touch—actually they were the opposite—they gave off a gentle warmth, contrasting the cold blue and while light that illuminated the palace as if it were day. Intricate details were etched and carved into the walls and floors of the palace, even the ceiling above was ornate, much like one would expect from the homes of nobility and royalty. The sight was magnificent, otherworldly even. Once again, if you hadn’t witnessed the immaculate beauty hidden away in these mountains, you would have been hard pressed to believe such a place existed here.

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the room became tense, as if you were not alone. Turning to look though, you saw no one. Glancing back the way you came, you peered into the eerily glowing caverns to see if anyone had come in after you. Finding no one there either, you let out a sigh. Your nerves must be getting to you, you thought. Relaxing yourself with deep breath, you turned your gaze back towards the altar.

Your heart skipped a beat. There, standing in front of the altar, was a woman. Where had she come from? There was no place in the room where she could have hidden herself. Even more unsettling was that you hadn’t heard anything. Not a single sound had echoed throughout the halls of the palace, save for your sighs and breathing. You could feel your heart pound in your chest as you stared at her, and she at you.

Her features were delicate, like that of a porcelain doll. Her snow white hair was wavy, reaching to her shoulders. Her eyes, which stared into you without ever wavering, were a soft lavender. She wore a light dress with diamond and snowflake like detailing on the petals of her skirt. White stocking adorned her legs, the left of which had an intricate swirling pattern running up her leg. Her figure was petite, but her presence was overwhelming. It was no wonder Astial’s myths described her as a goddess. You stood in awe of her beauty, as if time itself had ceased to move. Everything was silent.

She blinked, and as if by her command, time began to flow. Without shifting her icy gaze from you, she began to walk towards you. As she stepped closer, you noticed something strange. There were no footsteps. Turning your attention to her stride, you watched as one foot came forward, then the next. Indeed, she had no footsteps, as if she was merely a ghost. Once she was within five feet of you, she stopped. For a moment she silently gazed at you, eyes moving for the first time to take you in. When she had finished looking you over, her cold stare returned to your face.

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice soft. Her words might have been soothing had her tone not been so monotonous.

You were speechless for a moment, unable to reply to her swiftly. Inhaling deeply, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat.

You explained to her your journey up until this point. You told her of the others you had met, These mystical beings, they were like souls without bodies, they were like the pure essence of a person. Essence. Such a fitting word for these creatures. A pure soul in it’s entirety. That’s what they were. The Essence.

“So, you have come here seeking out my kin…” She said, her face still devoid of emotion. Her eyes wandered over to the burns hidden underneath your clothes, as if she could see through them. “Those wounds…” She paused, taking a good look at the flesh you could not hide from her eyes. “They were caused by one of us…by her…”

Once more your heart skipped a beat. Of all the ‘Essence’ that you had met thus far, none had any inkling as to the identity of the one who had burned you. This was the first lead that you had found, the first clue, the first trace of them. Eagerly you pleaded with the girl to tell you more. Who are they? Where can you find them? Your sudden fervor had garnered a response from her as she leaned back a bit in faint surprise.

“...Her name I do not know, and I know not where she rests…However she is a very foul girl. I would not be surprised if she had done this to you not out of necessity, but out of vanity.” She exhaled softly as she recalled the woman in question. Her brow furrowed slightly, lips creasing into a frown. Her memories of her had not been fond.

“She is not to be trifled with. Pursuing her is to gamble your life. Despite this, will you still search for her?” She asked, to which you nodded. She closed her eyes slowly. “…I see.”

“You see, we….’Essence’ as you call us, we bond with the souls of humans, in order to leave this place. We are trapped here, endlessly. Without a human vessel, we cannot be free…but that doesn’t justify her methods…” Ire rising in the Essence. “She does not care who she hurts. She destroys human souls for her own gain. Malicious behavior like that…I cannot forgive.” Her voice was stern, breaking from her usual monotone. She hated this woman just as much as you did.

“My name?” She said with a slight tilt, before giving an—albeit small—smile.

“I kept my original name, from when I first lived. That name is Aliah Y’sha’val, though your people often called me Aliah Meshia. It was an honor to meet you, child.” Spoken with the wisdom of ten thousand years, this woman. Aliah “Meshia” Y’sha’val, the Essence of Light and Order, bid you a fond farewell, as you departed from her crystalline altar.

With renewed vigor and a clear goal finally within your sights, you made your way out of the cave, stepping proudly out into the sunlight with purpose in each step.

#Drabble #Notes of a Mysterious Researcher #Aliah #Lore #World Building #Narrative #1100th Post #Updated Revision of an ask received on the personal #A little introduction for a muse to come as well #With this Aliah is officially added as a full time muse #Though I'll need to feel her out so I can write her profile accurately #The Phoenix

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