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firealder2005 · 1 year

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AMOW: Winter Wumperland 2022 Day. 12 Forced to Perform~Animal Attack~Forced Transformation

Featuring............COUSIN BONDING TIME!!!

What cousins, you ask? Why, it’s Luke Skywalker, Ryoo Naberrie, & Pooja Naberrie all on a mission to an old Sith planet to look for a base.

Easy peasy right? WRONG!

This is going to be a multichap since I realized I’m just having way too much fun writing the cousins and I was already 5 pages in before they even stepped foot on plant lol.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43545942/chapters/109486980

Enjoy!

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Ryoo Naberrie, when she was younger, had dreamed of being an artist, or a historian. She had loved creating art and learning about it - and over time, had formed the desire to preserve as much of it as possible.

Maybe back when she was a small child, it wouldn’t have been such a hard job. After all, Naboo was famous for its love of art, beauty, and charm.

However, everything changed with the formation of the Empire, and their accompanying censorships.

It cracked down on any and all information about the Jedi Naboo held. Confiscated parts of their history involving revolts, unfair taxation, and even locked up the majority of information on Ryoo’s own aunt - the kind, beautiful, passionate Padme Amidala.

That had been the final straw for Ryoo Naberrie.

So she called one of her aunt’s old handmaidens, Sabe, and she was able to get her in contact with Leia Organa, Senator of Alderaan - a longtime ally of Naboo.

The two of them had worked out a way to allow Ryoo to get the Rebellion inside information in the Imperial network that they had hidden - and that had required Ryoo learning how to hack, code, and cover her tracks in the holonet.

She had to say, she rather enjoyed the work.

Plus, she got to dig around in the censored part of the holonet. Even if she couldn’t bring all that she had learned into the open (yet), it was still an exhilarating learning experience.

Until she got caught.

Thankfully, Ryoo’s defection hadn’t been detected until after the Imperial Senate had been dissolved, so Pooja, her sister, hadn’t suffered any backlash from the uppity upper class of the Empire.

But unfortunately, Ryoo’s attempted arrest and bounty had put a target on her whole family’s backs, and Pooja had been forced to go on the run with her while their mother, father, and grandparents were all put under house arrest.

It had been just her and Pooja, until Leia, now a wanted Rebel, extended a formal invitation to join the Rebellion - physically.

And, well, they had nothing else going for them at the moment.

Plus, it would be nice to be able to take a shot at the Empire.

And she could provide the Rebellion propaganda team with the many secret Imperial gossip she had found…

And that’s how Ryoo found herself where she was now. On a mission with Pooja, and Luke Skywalker, Death Star pilot, Jedi-in-training, former commander of Rogue (now Red) Squadron.

And son of Uncle Anakin.

When Ryoo had first heard of Luke, she had immediately gotten whiplash. And then anger set in.

The less said about what she did afterwards, the better. Not her finest moment, to say the least.

But Ryoo also knew Luke as the son of her aunt.

Of Padme.

He was her cousin, and he probably didn’t know, but she had no clue on how to break it to him.

It was maddening, really.

“High Command wants us to check out this planet,” Luke said, pointing to the holoprojection of a system. “It’s in the Korriban system, so we’ll have to be careful with our hyperspace jumps, but there should be an easy route right here,” he minimized the system projection and zoomed out further, before motioning between their current position near Bothawui and a planet Ryoo had never heard of - Athiss.

“Athiss is a hard planet to get to,” Luke explained as Ryoo closely studied the star map. “Hyperspace lanes have been unpredictable in the Korriban system for some time, and there’s only one way to get to Athiss.” he brought the hyperspace lanes up onto the star map. “We’ll need to jump to Korriban, then Ziost, and then we’ll have a straight-shot for Athiss.”

“Recalculating along the way, I’m guessing right?” Pooja added. Luke nodded, a light smile on his face.

“Right, after every jump we’ll have to recalculate. High Command doesn’t want to take any risks,”

“Any more than usual,” Ryoo shrugged.

“And recalculating our path after each jump should maximize our chances of not being pulled off-course.”

“Sounds good,” Pooja said, nudging her older sister’s shoulder playfully.

“When do we leave?” Ryoo asked.

Luke turned the holoprojector off, that smile still on his face. “30 minutes.”

LINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAKLINE BREAK

A few evasion of Imperial forces and a tight escape from a bounty hunter later found Luke and his companions emerging from hyperspace above the dark red planet of Korriban.

Instantly, Luke tightened his grip on the ship’s controls, shuddering a bit at the dark, malevolent forces coming from the planet. He felt so much anger, hatred, even tendrils of fear…

And whatever was down there could sense him.

Jedi…something hissed in his mind, almost making him jump.

“You good Luke?” one of his companions, Ryoo, asked. He recalled she was the older sister between her and Pooja, and had come from Naboo after Ryoo herself had been found out as an Rebel spy.

“Yeah,” he called back as Ryoo entered the cockpit. “I’m good. Just got a nasty feeling from that planet.” he nodded towards the red clouds storming across Korriban’s skies.

“Well, good news,” Ryoo grinned. “We will not have to go there.”

Luke snorted. “Don’t jinx it for me.”

Laughing, Ryoo plopped down into the co-pilot's seat as Luke began their recalculations to the planet Ziost.

“You know, I’ve done a little research on our way here,” Ryoo began conversationally.

“Yeah?” Luke replied, fiddling with the hyperspace controls. “I’ve heard you’ve got quite the talent for it.”

“Thank you,” Ryoo spun the chair around to face him, hands on her Rebellion-issued pants. “Good to know my reputation proceeds me!” Luke shot her a smile as the recalculatiosn started.

“Korriban, also known as Morraband, was apparently homeworld to the Sith,” Ryoo explained as their ship powered up its hyperdrive and shot into hyperspace. “Lots of creepy artifacts and - allegedly - some spirits of ancient Sith still reside there.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t make me want to go there.”

Ryoo punched him in the shoulder after he let go of the controls. “Wasn’t trying to convince you,” she said. “I think we’re in a system that used to belong to the Sith,” she explained at Luke’s questioning look. “And Athiss is in it.”

Luke’s mouth opened slightly as he slowly turned his chair around to face her. “So we should be very careful,” he slowly concluded.

Ryoo nodded. “Exactly.”

Luke leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Why are my missions never normal?” he grumbled slightly. Ryoo gave a cheeky grin.

“Maybe because of the Force?”

“If the Force is the problem, then I’d like to file a complaint.” Luke let his own grin form.

“I bet it’ll say to give it to the complaint department,” Ryoo continued, her grin widening as she pointed to the mini trash compactor.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Luke dryly replied. “Very funny.”

That was when Pooja poked her head in. “My “Ryoo is being impertinent” senses were tingling,” she reported, fixing her sister with a look. “What’s going on here?”

Ryoo gave an exaggerated eye roll to Luke, making him smile even more. “Oh, nothing baby sister,” she teased. “Just discussing what the Force would say about Luke’s complaints.”

Pooja shook her head with a sigh, but a smile was on her face. “Well, don’t get too into it, okay?” she said. “You never know if the Force may take it the wrong way!”

“I’ll be sure to put a word in.” Luke offered with a deadpan stare.

“For or against me?” Ryoo asked.

Luke cracked a grin. “Against.”

Ryoo gasped, slapping her hand to her chest. “Treachery!” she dramatically exclaimed. “Betrayal!”

“It’ll serve you right!” Pooja teased, coming to sit down on one of the spare passenger seats. “Think the Force could handle her?” she asked Luke, who shrugged.

“Don’t know, maybe it’ll immediately drop her back on us.” he responded. He laughed as Ryoo shoved his shoulder and did the same to her sister.

“Oh, shut it you two!” the older of the group grinned. “Or I may lock you in a storage closet when we get back!”

“You’ll have to deal with Leia’s wrath then,” Luke innocently said.

“Damn!” Ryoo threw her hands into the air. “There’s no winning with you!”

Luke simply threw his head back and laughed.

Pooja couldn’t believe it.

She had actually managed to find her cousin! Luke Skywalker!

And not only that, but she’s on a mission with both him and her sister!

The only thing that would make it better is if…if the rest of their family was with them.

Her heart twisted at the thought of her parents and beloved grandparents on the scrutiny of the Empire. She hoped they were okay, and would do what they needed to in order to survive.

Even if it meant denouncing Pooja and Ryoo.

She would want them to suffer because of their true allegiance.

“So, Luke, what vibes did you get from Ziost?”

“Death. Betrayal. Darkness.”

“Ooookay. Yeah we’re not going there either.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Pooja smiled at the banter Ryoo had easily entered with their cousin. Luke was fun to talk to - funny, kind, and clever.

It reminded her of Uncle Ani.

“You know Luke,” Pooja butted into the conversation, flinging her arms around the headrest of Luke’s seat. “Would you be interested in any help with Jedi artifact finding? Ryoo would be an excellent help.”

Luke looked mildly surprised, like he hadn’t thought about actively finding Jedi artifacts.

Ryoo raised an eyebrow, but looked pleased at the idea.

“Eventually,” Luke said. “I think I would, and if she’s interested…” he raised his own brow in Ryoo’s direction, and she instantly nodded her agreement.

“It’s a plan!” Pooja’s sister announced as they came out of hyperspace.

“Welcome to Athiss,” Luke said as they came to hover over the planet. Looking out the viewport, Pooja saw the brown and blue landscape flecked with parts of dark green. White clouds curled throughout the planet’s sky.

“Vibe check?” Ryoo leaned over and staged-whispered to Luke. Pooja gave her a chiding look. Honestly, it felt like Pooja was the older sister sometimes!

Luke was frowning. “There is life down there all right,” he said as they began their descent into the clouds. “It doesn’t seem to be as darkness-heavy as Korriban or Ziost, but I’m still getting a bad feeling about it.”

“Great,” Pooja sighed. “Who’s ready?”

“Not me.” Ryoo and Luke replied together.

“Neither am I,” Pooja agreed. “But here goes nothing.”

Their ship came in for a landing, Luke being very careful not to clip the sides on any of the vast mountain ranges.

“It’s curious,” Ryoo said as the ship powered down. “This isn’t anything like I had expected from a Sith world. It’s very…habitable. Not creepy.”

They all stared out of the viewport.

“I think that is exactly what makes it so creepy.” Pooja heard Luke murmur to himself.

He was right.

There was something off about Athiss.

Very off.

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #alderwrites #the last ones standing #animal attack #forced to perform #luke skywalker #ryoo naberrie #forced transformation #pooja naberrie #leia organa #sabé #athiss #moraband #ziost

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light-yaers · 3 years

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Fools in the Darkness: Chapter One

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: I caved. I am a wildly stupid individual who has no control over her actions. I know I might come to regret posting this so fast and thus forcing myself into my third ongoing x reader fic, but I also just generally don’t care. I’m still working on No Saints and Sweet Esacpe, just as a slower pace due to my mental health, but this baby here floated out of me like melted butter. I’ll be alternating between uploading this fic and my currently ongoing others! I just had to get this shit out of my system about Shadow and Bone, fr.

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 3.4k

Chapter One

Ketterdam covered up your secrets perfectly. It’d only been a matter of weeks since you’d fled there, after travelling the exhausting journey across East Ravka until the Fold had stood before you; brooding, dangerous, a death-wish just to look at, let alone enter it.

Maybe you had to thank him for one thing, General Kirigan, because without him—

You never would have crossed the Fold on your own.

Maybe Ketterdam was made for a person such as yourself. Dark, danger around every corner, full to the brim with power-hungry men and women trapped behind silks. You’d never warmed to anyone yet, but that wasn’t a surprise—it was easy to hate people in the Barrel, but even easier to take their kruge and send them sailing upon the True Sea without another glance.

Kerch was a merchant port, stuffed with expensive clubs and those with no money troubles, armed and ready to open their pockets if they so wished. There were two sides of the docks—Fifth Harbour; the lavishly bright sector for the rich and wealthy—and the Barrel; a breeding ground for crime, killings and losing all of your kruge in one night.

You’d made acquaintances with the Barrel rats from the very beginning, hearing stories about the destruction they caused. You’d much rather not be on the side of the wealth, but the side of fear.

“I found her wandering the harbour, Kaz,” A petite lady in dark clothes spoke to her boss. She’d dragged you from the bustling harbour, flying you through the dark streets of Ketterdam. You tried to hear her footsteps across the cobblestones, but she left no footprints, like a Wraith in the night.

Kaz approached his desk then, stepping into the small lamp light of his office in the Slat. Kaz Brekker was a man that no one wanted to cross. With his clenched jaw and unforgiving stares, the Bastard of the Barrel was cut-throat in every sense of the description.

“She’s a rat, Inej. Not our responsibility—,”

“Do you see the clothes she’s wearing?” Inej cut over Kaz, stepping towards him abruptly. He stayed in place, looking at his Wraith in the eyes, unwaveringly. He regarded her for a moment, taking all of her in, before turning back to you.

His eyes skimmed you up and down, traversing the darkened and muddied fabrics on your body.

“A Kefta,” He whispered it, his eyes widening. “It doesn’t look like the usual Second Army attire,” He added. You perked up, trying to keep your expression as blunt as possible. After your journey, it wasn’t hard not to show anything—you’d been forced to endure a quiet and agonising journey for a month, while trying to stay in the shadows at the same time.

“Because it’s not,” You spoke up, for the first time since entering Brekker’s office. Kaz turned his attention to your face, stepping forward menacingly. His crow-headed cane slammed the wooden floorboards threateningly, but you weren’t scared—

You’d crossed the fucking Fold on your own. Nothing scared you anymore.

“Who are you?” He questioned, trying to keep his voice steady. Men like Kaz tried not to show off what they felt either, but the curiosity in his tone was undeniable. You cleared your throat.

“How much time have you got?”

Fjerda, 1 Year Ago

It was a risk to take, that was for sure. But choosing whether to go through the Fold or around it was a no brainer. Evidently, it had paid off so far, as you and your sister travelled through the barren coldness of Fjerda, headed for the Ravkan border.

“How much farther?” Your sister chided. She was older than you by a year, but on this mission, you’d taken charge. You shuffled into your pack, pulling out a tattered map and a compass. You set the point to North, calculating the miles you had left to trudge to safety.

Your sister wasn’t Grisha, no—you were. A Squaller; untrained, unenthusiastic about your power and utterly afraid of the Druskelle. But you’d had no choice in getting you and your sister safely around the Fold. There was no other way to go from where you’d first found asylum in Novyi Zem; going through Fjerda was the safest route to the Ravkan army.

You smiled at the map. “Five miles. Then we’ll be in Ravka,” An exhausted but relief filled scoff fell from your lips. You locked eyes with your sister, before the two of you embraced tightly. “We’ll be safe soon,” You whispered in her ear, enjoying the small warmth you got from her bare cheek pressing against your jaw.

“You’ll be safe soon,” She replied, bringing a hand to rest on the back of your neck. She pulled away then, as the tears began to well in her crystalline eyes. “You put yourself in this danger to keep me safe. I’m the older sister—I should be keeping you safe,”

“It was this, or through the Fold,” You spoke, furrowing your brows at her. “I’d rather take on twenty druskelle than step foot in that heaping mound of darkness,” Laughter trickled from both sisters, floating over the snow-covered trees and giving you hope.

You both continued forward tirelessly, mercilessly, trudging through inches of untouched snow and praying to whichever god out there who was listening. You prayed for your sister’s safety, for a safe life for her in the First Army. You prayed that you could stay with her—

A Squaller you were, yes, but over your dead body would you be taken to the Little Palace. You knew that’s where Grisha were trained for the King, you knew it was different. Your abilities didn’t define you; Saints, you barely even used them.

They were unpredictable. And you were scared of hurting those around you without meaning to. Ever since an incident when you were younger, you’d almost been afraid of your own power. You kept it hidden from those who you didn’t know closely.

Those who knew you were Grisha in Novyi Zem called you zowa—blessed, in Zemeni. It also meant Grisha, so you didn’t know if they were simply calling you what you were, or if they were commenting upon how strong your Squaller abilities were.

You’d never even met another Sqauller. You had nothing to compare yourself off of.

With a mile until you hit the Ravkan border, you stopped abruptly. Plumes of smoke rose high above the skies, coming from somewhere further on before you. You stuck your hand out, halting your sister from walking any further.

You were silent, listening for any signs of breakings twigs, compacted snow, or other indications of druskelle being near.

“Saints, you look like a fentomen,” Your sister scoffed beside you.

“Quiet,” You hit back with.

“What is it?” She spoke again, quieter this time, but not by much.

“Quiet,” You hissed.

You both waited another few minutes, silently standing like statues in the garden of the Grand Palace. You let out shaky breaths as you eventually straightened yourself once more, clutching onto your sister’s forearm for dear life.

“It’s okay. We just need to be wary,” You whispered. She nodded in response.

You both set off once more through countless trees and untouched snow. But you didn’t get far—until two druskelle spotted you. Neither of you could speak Fjerdan, and you were a fucking Grisha. This couldn’t have been any worse, when you were so close to being free.

“Hje marden,” One of them spoke. They were both tall, with broad shoulders and the white hair and blue eyes of Fjerda. Neither had beards—they were in training to being full druskelle. The trainees were always worse than their commanders, you thought. They would do anything to prove themselves to their superiors.

You tried not to shake as they circled you and your sister.

“I’m sorry, we don’t speak Fjerdan,” You said honestly. The druskelle immediately changed. Their hands rested upon their guns, ready to fire if need be. You raised your hands to the sky as your expression dropped. “Please! Please, we are just travellers—uh—we are perjenger—,”

“Perjenger? Travellers? To where?” The second druskelle spat.

You glanced at your sister quickly, knowing that if you answered Ravka, you’d both be shot immediately. Ravka was at war with Fjerda—Grisha were at war with Druskelle.

“Kerch,” You said strongly. “We have to go through Ravka and Shu Han. We can’t cross the Fold,”

For a moment, you thought it had worked. The druskelle looked at each other gruffly, muttering some words in Fjerdan. You clutched onto your sister’s arm tightly, not planning on letting her go now until you’d both crossed the border.

“Wait here,” One of the men said, as he began trudging back through the snow. He disappeared in the white landscape, leaving you with one druskelle.

You stayed quiet, feeling the warmth of your sister next to you. You glanced at her then, traversing your gaze over her side profile. Her nose, which was the same as yours; her eyes, brighter and more beautiful than your own, mimicking your mother; her hair, lighter and softer than yours. She was shorter than you, smaller than you, getting a lot of genetics from your mother, while you took from your father greatly. His height, his broad shoulders, his darker hair.

But she was your only family left, your only love and focus and everything.

And you were less than a mile from getting her to safety. You were less than a mile from being free of this Saint forsaken country, full of killers and fascists and men who only cared about power.

It was one druskelle against a Squaller. One against one. You could do that. You could beat him.

That’s what made you push your sister back, falling into the snow slowly as you brought your hands together. The druskelle yelled as he saw your movements, trying to aim his gun at you between your eyes, but it was too late—

In a flash, you summoned a storm that whipped him off of his feet. It circled him, gliding him backwards through the trees as you kept pushing and pushing, ignoring the raging winds as they whipped your hair from your face and agitated the snow on the trees.

“Come on!” You yelled behind you, as your sister scrambled up from the floor to stand beside you. She held your arm sturdily, watching fearfully as the druskelle struggled against the rapid winds that you wielded.

You thought that was it—you could both run with the time you’d bought—but that’s when the entire druskelle camp rocketed through the tree line. They yelled and boomed as they came to aid their brother, pushing back against the furious winds you were trying desperately to wield.

“Drüsje!” The commander yelled, storming through the group as he set up the largest of their guns—a machine gun, aimed and ready fire. You gasped, and for a second the winds wavered—they wavered long enough for the machine gun round to penetrate the small snow snuffed tornado that you’d created—

Until those bullets trickled over the blanketed ground, moving steadily closer and closer—

Until one landed straight through the heart of your sister.

All you remembered was that time slowed, then, as you saw the bullet exit her shoulder blade. She fell to the floor, unclasping her hands from your forearm and collapsing into a shocked heap on the floor. You remembered the way her blood dyed the snow. You remembered the way her eyes stayed open—

And then you remembered screaming.

It was a blur, as you tensed all of your limbs to the point where they yelled beneath your skin. You mustered all of your strength into this one storm; one that was merciless and unforgiving, circling all the druskelle in the clearing around you. You knew that soon all of the air would fade from within the eye of the storm that whipped devilishly around them.

You knew that soon they’d all begin to run out of oxygen and pass out, or better yet—maybe their hearts would stop. Cease to beat, drained of any energy to fire more rounds of bullets or kill Grisha for no fucking reason.

The storm was the largest you’d ever summoned, engulfing the entire druskelle camp and uprooting trees from their homes in the cold, hard Fjerdan ground. You saw them get sucked into your whirlwind, flying high, high, high until they eventually slipped out of the storms’ gusts; then they fell back down to earth, landing aggressively and dangerously on the ground below and being spat out at any random location.

You didn’t stop the storm, not even when you saw a tree fall atop a druskelle, crushing him where he’d stood moments before. The commander was the last one standing, rising above his suffocating men to look at you, face on, menacingly.

“Drüsje like you deserve to lose that which you love,” He boomed, using his remaining energy to cast you to Hell.

You wasted no time when you adjusted your stance, focusing the brunt force of the storm onto him—you decreased the eye of the storm until it flowed over him, and only him, grunting all of your strength into the circling winds that now surrounded him utterly and completely.

You collapsed at the same time that the commander did, falling into inches of snow and crawling exhaustedly to your sister. She was motionless, cold, her lips turning blue by the second as her blood continued to flow on Fjerdan soil. Dead. Gone.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks without any indication of stopping, but you couldn’t sob. It was impossible when you were already holding your breath, too afraid that if you were to breathe, only screams would pour from your coarse lungs.

The clearing was deserted, now, as druskelle bodies laid motionless on the snow-covered ground, their camp up ahead completely destroyed. Broken branches, twigs, tree trunks were dotted around, acting as just another indication of the destruction that you were truly capable of. Saints, you wanted to know if you were a normal Grisha, a normal Squaller, since those old women on Novyi Zem had looked at you like a weapon from the first day you could summon and control hurricanes and tornados at will.

Your fingers found your sister’s forehead then, swiping the hair off of her face. You cupped her cheek, laying your other hand upon her stomach. “Vaarwell,” You whispered shakily. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—,”

“Who’s there?” A voice spoke up from just beyond the clearing. You got up from the floor immediately, feeling a strange sense of power surrounding you. You waited silently, until First Army soldiers made their way to the clearing. A few stopped and checked the pulses of the druskelle upon the floor, before continuing forward until you were finally spotted.

A young man approached you slowly, holding his gun tightly, draped against his shoulder. “Was this... you?” He asked, looking you in the eye. His gaze dropped to the ground by your feet, seeing the blood-stained snow where your sister lay dead, before he looked back up to you.

He was joined by the rest of his crew. They slowly approached you, almost as if they were trapping you within a circle of their bodies. You stepped back once then, keeping your chin high and proud. The young man at the front was trying everything to keep you calm, you could see it in his eyes, but what he didn’t know was that you were seething—

And nothing would stop that.

Without your sister, you’d be taken to the Little Palace. Without knowing she was safe in the First Army, nothing would get you through the rest of your life—

You were dead. Inside and out. Nothing would change that.

Without a word, you brought your hands together, far too quickly for any of the soldiers to raise their weapons in defence. You ignored their begs and pleads as you circled them within in your storm, slowly suffocating the air out of their lungs and seeing the way their eyes bulged uncomfortably in their skulls.

“General!” The young man shouted, clutching at his throat as he tried desperately to suck air into his lungs. His voice echoed throughout the clearing, travelling through the trees slowly, until an eery type of silence settled into the air around you.

That’s when he arrived—his horse just as black at the Kefta on his frame, the stubble on his chin and the irises of his eyes. He dismounted, ignoring the cries from the soldiers within your raging storm as he began to approach you, step by step by step, crunching through the snow broodingly.

You knew who this man was; General Kirigan of the Second Army.

The Darkling.

He got ever closer, walking around the circular storm. The gap was beginning to bridge, and the more it did, the more you faltered. He took one more step, and you lost it.

“Stop!” You yelled. “Don’t come any closer, Darkling,” He stopped on command, keeping his arms by his sides, but the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile. “You find me amusing?” You spat.

“By the looks of this,” He gestured to the druskelle. “You were trying to get to Ravka. We’re here to help, yet you’re trying to suffocate my men,” You ignored his words, but you found your energy waning slightly—or maybe your heart was finally giving in. It didn’t really want to hurt anyone else, didn’t want to cause more damage than was already on your hands. “You’re a Squaller?” Kirigan asked, and that surprised you.

“Isn’t this how all Squaller’s are?” You asked in reply. Kirigin raised a brow at you.

“Not usually,” He said honestly. “You’ve never met another Grisha before?”

“I know what you’re doing,” You furrowed your brows at him. “You’re trying to distract me, to make me let my guard down and go with you willingly. I’d rather die than work for the King at the Little Palace,” Your breaths were getting more laborious the longer you held on to the storm. You were losing energy rapidly.

“Interesting,” The Darkling muttered.

There were a few moments then, where he was simply staring at you. Regarding you, analysing you, or perhaps— waiting for you to lose all of your energy. You were in a somewhat sticky situation, losing a grasp on your power with every passing second and feeling the intense gaze of Kirigan to your left.

“Let go,” He spoke softly. “I can see you’re tired, you don’t truly want to kill these men,”

“You don’t know anything about me,” You forced your eyelids to stay open as a wave of exhaustion flowed through you.

“And you know me?” He chided. You moved your gaze to him then, as your limbs finally lost momentum. Your hands dropped to your sides, your storm dissipating into the cold air at the Fjerdan border. Soldiers sucked in breaths noisily, gaining back their vision.

You stumbled back once, forcing yourself to stay standing despite the immense urge to pass the fuck out. Kirigan stayed still the entire time, a softness on his jaw that you hadn’t been expecting.

“Everyone knows you,” You mumbled. “I never wanted to meet you, though,”

Your heart jolted then, when the General let out a scoff. You forced yourself to move. Step by step through disturbed snow, until you were back where your sister lay on the floor. You collapsed to your knees unwillingly, as your body threatened to blackout at any moment.

You laid a shaky hand on her collarbone, curling your fingers up to her jaw. Kirigan moved slowly in your peripheral, turning towards you but staying at the distance he’d always been.

“Don’t take me to Os Alta,” You muttered. “Please, don’t take me,” You looked up at the General with pleading eyes.

“Why?” Kirigan whispered with furrowed brows, as if he was trying to work out why on earth you didn’t want a life within the royal Ravkan walls, living in luxury, fighting with other Grisha and honing your power.

Your vision began to blur then, as black spots dotted the white snow that surrounded you.

You never answered the General, your body gave up before you could—

And all you saw was black.

Tag list of those who were interested from my earlier post (tell me if you want off/on the list): @notawritergettingtherethough @rbg1993 @mayallyourbaconburn @luminous-99

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

The Gang find out about Merlin’s faith;

And proceed to be awkwardly, endearingly supportive about it.

Merlin is Pagan, not that anyone bar Gaius knew.

The fancy new religion (all about the One True God or whatever) hadn’t really reached the more rural parts of Albion yet, so the Old Religion and it’s offshoots were still a lot more mainstream in those areas; meaning that if the Gang had put more than two seconds of thought into it, they would’ve realised that Merlin was something other than… what was it? Christian? But they hadn’t. So they didn’t.

Merlin was private about his faith; it wasn’t anyone’s business what he believed in, what he prayed for, or who to. Even when Arthur repealed the ban on magic, and Merlin came clean about everything, his faith was left out of it. Why would it be included? It wasn’t relevant, and it was the one secret he was actually glad he kept.

Of course a lot changed when Merlin was promoted to Court Sorcerer, but his faith remained the one constant, the reassurance in the back of his mind. His worship and prayers remained consistent in Merlin’s routine, though they definitely took a more thankful route, as opposed to the begging for help it had been before.

At this point in Merlin’s now very good life, he would consider his faith being exposed as one of the worst things that could happen to him (bar... well, someone dying I suppose), so he’s surprised, when it actually makes his life a lot sweeter.

The Gang is on some sort of expedition. Who knows what for, they all sort of blur together nowadays.

Perhaps there’s a problem somewhere, perhaps a celebration, or perhaps King Arthur just fancied a vacation.

But for whatever reason, The King, his Court Sorcerer (and personal bodyguard, though Arthur would never admit it), and his five best knights are wondering purposefully through an area of woodland that they had never ventured into before. They had no maps and travelled by the sun, knowing only which direction they had to go in, and for roughly how long.

They weren’t worried about home, which was a definite relief from the early days; the Lady Morgana had been left with the crown, Guinevere and Gaius as her advisors, and Sir Mordred as her guard. Camelot was in good hands, leaving Arthur and the others only their journey to worry about.

It was late, the sun had fallen slowly at first, but seemed to drop all at once in the last half a candle-mark or so, and the group was desperately searching for an appropriate campsite.

It was the height of summer so shelter wasn’t too much of an issue, they were unlikely to get rained on, but protection from animals, enough space for the horses to spread out a little, and a safe area for a fire were also needed.

It was the ever observant Lancelot who called for everyone to stop all of a sudden, pointing through the thick foliage towards a large stone outcrop:

“Looks like a cave, it would be perfect to settle for the night Sire, as long as nothing else is already in residence.”

Arthur rides up next to his knight, clapping him on the back, before leading the way through a narrow path in the bushes:

“Nice spot, we almost walked straight passed it.”

After a few minutes of struggling to encourage the horses through the thick underbrush, the seven of them gather outside the entrance, Merlin and Arthur at the front.

Arthur looks to his Warlock with a raised eyebrow:

“Well? Is it safe, oh powerful Warlock?”

The knights snicker slightly behind them, but Merlin frowns, peering into the dark cave. He dismounts his horse, running a soft hand over the rock:

“I think we should move on.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, dismounting and standing next to him with crossed arms:

“And why’s that, Merlin? One of your funny feelings?”

Merlin scowls at him briefly before looking back into the darkness, hand still resting on the stone:

“Hmm. It... it feels odd. I don’t think you should be here.”

Arthur frowns slightly; as much as he mocks, he’s learned to listen to Merlin’s funny feelings in recent years. If the other man was adamant that it wasn’t safe, they would move on. It’s Elyan though, that pipes up before he can say anything:

“What, is it magic or something?”

Merlin shakes his head slowly, looking behind him briefly before meeting Arthur’s gaze for the first time, still frowning slightly:

“No, no, I just think we should move on is all, it doesn’t feel right, you being here.”

Merlin seems a little perplexed as to why he feels like this, and Gwaine interrupts anything Arthur would have said with:

“Well does it feel evil? Because I can deal with odd, just not evil.”

The other knights hum in agreement, but Merlin looks vaguely uncomfortable as he replies:

“Not evil. If anything, it feels... benevolent, but I still don’t think-”

He’s cut off by Elyan again:

“Isn’t that good? Surely stopping in a benevolent place is better than stopping in a... not-benevolent place?”

Arthur nods and hums in agreement, and the others take that as their cue to dismount, pulling their horses by the reins to be tied to trees by the entrance. Merlin shakes his head holding his hand out and moving back to his steed:

“No, I really think we should-”

Arthur claps him on the back, smiling:

“Come on, Merls, surely if it feels... benevolent or whatever, we should at least check it out. If it’s not right we’ll move on, but it’s getting late, so checking is better than not checking.”

Merlin huffs, shrugging Arthur’s hand off in annoyance before tying up his own horse and following the knights into the cave, bringing up the rear.

He’s so busy running his hand along the stone wall he walks beside and grumbling to himself, that he runs into Percival’s back with a gentle “oof” when the man stops suddenly in front of him.

He taps him on the shoulder, but gets no response. Merlin rolls his eyes before pushing round the larger man, walking into a large cavern.

The cavern is circular, centred around a large statue of a woman, at least twenty-feet high. Above her, there is a hole in the ceiling through which crystal clear water falls, splashing over her head and falling down her back and shoulders like long, flowing hair. There’s a sort of stone barrier around her, and the water gathers in a pond, draining off to Gods know where. On the outer edge of the barrier, sits a thick stone shelf, going around the whole circumference of the pond about two feet off the ground.

The stone shelf was covered in oddities: shining jewels, old coins, scraps of cloth, coloured pebbles, sketches, and shards of metal. The cavern itself was vibrant with life, moss and flowers and birds making their homes in every crack and crevice in the stone. The place was, all in all, beautiful.

Merlin’s wide eyes had not left the statue, and he momentarily forgot that he wasn’t alone, only to be reminded by Gwaine exclaiming:

“Bloody hell. The fuck is this?”

Merlin turns on him quickly, and the knight was taken aback by the anger on his face:

“Lower your voice Gwaine, and show some respect, please.”

Gwaine widened his eyes, before nodding in apology. Arthur rolled his eyes at the interaction, Merlin had always been stupid and sentimental when it came to things like this. The King walked towards the shelf, going to casually pick up a particularly shiny rock when he feels himself frozen, unmistakably by Merlin’s magic:

“Don’t. Don’t touch anything. Everyone out, right now. I told you, you shouldn’t be here, it’s sacred.”

Arthur finally feels himself be released, and turns to Merlin, annoyed. He stops the angry retort he had been preparing when he sees the look on Merlin’s face: a mix of absolute awe, and vast discomfort. He imagines the discomfort comes from everyone’s curious stares on him.

Leon is the first to speak, quietly asking:

“I thought you said this place wasn’t magical? And how can you know it’s sacred?”

Merlin only glances at him briefly, letting out an incredulous laugh as he gestures around the cavern vaguely:

“It’s not magic. But it is sacred, look at this place, how can you not tell? How can you not feel it?”

Arthur frowns slightly, looking around the cavern, paying more attention to the details:

“Hmm. My father would’ve called this heresy and ordered it burned.”

Merlin visibly tenses, and for the first time since he found out about Merlin’s magic, Arthur finds himself more frightened of the invisible tendrils tightening around his limbs than comforted. Merlin’s tone is low and cold, though he tries to push his words out casually:

“And you? Would you burn a place this sacred just because it didn’t conform to your fancy new religion?”

Merlin doesn’t look at him as he speaks, staring tensely at the statue and Her offerings as the knights wait with baited breath for Arthur’s answer. He speaks slowly, staring at Merlin with an intense curiosity:

“No. I don’t care what people believe, as long as it doesn’t harm anyone. The new religion never took with me much anyway. God, I believe in, all the rules that mankind made up about Him out of hubris? Not for me. If you really think we should leave Merlin, we’ll go.”

Merlin finally meets his gaze, relaxing slightly as he nods, and Arthur feels his magic turn warm again. The King takes a deep breath, unnerved for some reason, and returns the Warlock’s nod before walking out of the cavern, the knights wordlessly following his lead.

Merlin lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding, fully relaxing as he begins to smile at the statue again. He walks forward, kneeling in front of the shelf and bowing his head, his hands folded gently in his lap as he whispers a short prayer, knowing he hadn’t much time.

When he finishes, he stands again, removing one of his rings (a rough one that he had formed himself, using his magic, from a nice rock he had found a few months ago) and placing it lovingly on the shelf as he mutters:

“I offer this back to you, Erce, as a show that I never intend to take, just borrow, to strengthen my connection to yourself and your domain. I thank you for allowing me this beauty, and I am grateful for the time we shared, but now I offer it back to you to be renewed.”

He bows his head once again before turning to leave, feeling an odd mix of tired from his previous anger, and renewed at the opportunity to pray in such a place.

What he didn’t know, was that he’d had an audience of six confused knights, all of whom struggled to dampen their guilt at witnessing something they now know Merlin had intended to keep private.

It only takes them an hour or so to find a suitable campsite, and Merlin is too busy feeling oddly refreshed by the lack of weight on his finger to notice the knights’ silence, at least at first.

It’s when camp is finally set up and they all sit around the fire having eaten, that he raises an eyebrow at each of them in turn as they awkwardly avoid his gaze.

It’s Gwaine of course, that breaks the silence first, turning to Arthur with a clap of his hands and a grin on his face:

“So, Princess! The New Religion didn’t take with you? Bet daddy dearest didn’t like that.”

Arthur just rolled his eyes before answering:

“He didn’t really care to be honest. I’m not sure if he genuinely believed it himself, or if he was just desperate to stamp out the Old Religion. It was fine as long as we made a show of it in public.”

The knights nod as his answer, but Merlin just clenches his jaw, staring into the fire. Lancelot gives him a concerned look, but he doesn’t notice, resisting the urge to roll his eyes when he feels Elyan glance at him before looking around the circle:

“The New Religion has only really taken in the big cities. I discovered in my travels that most rural areas are still followers of the Old Religion, and it’s various offshoots.”

Percival and Gwaine hum in agreement, and it’s Leon, sat next to the Warlock, that shoots Merlin a concerned glance when he hears the man huff quietly. When the awkward silence stretches on for a few minutes too long, Merlin finally looks up to see everyone quickly look away from him, he clears his throat before rolling his eyes and speaking harshly:

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Just ask.”

They all look at him guiltily, and Gwaine is once again the one to break the silence:

“Are you religious, Merlin?”

He gives a single firm nod, back to staring into the fire as he grinds out:

“Pagan.”

Every one of them is taken aback at that, even Lancelot (which makes Arthur even more confused. He thought the man knew everything about Merlin. And no, he was NOT jealous over that, and no, he did NOT take great pleasure in finding something Lancelot was unaware of, even if he himself didn’t know either). Percival tilts his head curiously, asking:

“So who was she? The statue?”

Merlin allows himself a brief smile before remembering that he really didn’t want anyone knowing about this, and rubbing his eyes tiredly, sitting up straight as he answers stiffly:

“Erce, Goddess of the Earth.”

If he were with anyone else, Guinevere or Gaius or Morgana or even Mordred, he would probably have gone on to animatedly talk about Her importance and show them the prayers or the little shrines-in-jars he carries around, protected at the bottom of his saddlebag, but as he’s with the knights, he stops after the simple answer.

He’s not entirely sure why.

Perhaps it’s because, although he loves them all dearly, they’re knights. He’s reluctant to let their violence anywhere near his faith, especially when they tend to make jokes out of anything and everything, no matter how important or sacred it may seem.

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly at his answer, his voice just a tad petulant as he asks:

“And? What does she do?”

Merlin clenches his jaw, looking up sharply, and Leon finally decides he’s had enough:

“It’s late, we really should be getting some rest. I can take first watch, if everyone’s ok with that?”

Lancelot nods knowingly, standing up to retrieve his bedroll, followed shortly by Percival, but Gwaine and Elyan pout and Arthur simply raises an eyebrow:

“No, come now, Merlin, I’m curious.”

Merlin bristles in anger, but Leon beats him to it, looking to Arthur, clearly annoyed, and saying forcefully:

“With all due respect Sire, Merlin’s faith does not exist to satiate our curiosity, I’m sure Geoffrey has some books in the library, if you’re that eager to learn.”

Arthur looks at his First Knight in shock, Gwaine and Elyan shooting Merlin suitably guilty looks as they leave to fetch their own bedrolls. Merlin looks at the curly-haired knight in slight confusion as Arthur finally shakes himself from his stupor:

“I don’t mean to offend, I’m simply... interested.”

Leon sighs, glancing to Merlin, still staring at him, before looking back at The King:

“Just because you didn’t mean to offend, doesn’t mean you didn’t. Merlin’s beliefs are private, if he’d been happy to discuss them, he would have done so years ago, God knows the man likes to talk.”

Merlin quirks a smile at that as his gaze finally moves away from Leon, and to his lap. Arthur finally looks a little sheepish, glancing to Merlin as he stands up:

“Right... well... you’re right I suppose Sir Leon, I apologise, Merlin.”

Merlin looks up at him, nodding briefly at the flushed man. Arthur walks off stiffly, laying his bedroll somewhere out of earshot of the two men left sat at the fire.

Leon pulls his pack closer to him, rooting out the rough sketch of the terrain he had been keeping up with every night, not looking to Merlin at his side as he mutters:

“Cave, or no cave?”

Merlin looks to the map in the knight’s lap, making a mental note of where they are so he could come back one day, before muttering:

“No cave.” grateful for Leon’s gentle nod, and lack of further discussion.

The tense awkwardness only lasts for another half day, but the knights’ curiosity definitely continues to pique when Merlin stops bothering to hide his worship.

He still prays quietly and out of the way, but he no longer does it after everyone falls asleep, or before they wake up. He walks stiffly somewhere off to the side of camp, pretending not to notice everyone’s eyes on him as he carefully sets his jar down somewhere soft and kneels in front of it. He prefers to say his prayers aloud, the whole point of it is to convene with nature around him, but he does so as quietly as possible, to stop the others from overhearing. It’s not necessarily a secret, what he’s saying, but his faith is the one thing he wouldn’t allow them to make a mockery of, and he didn’t want to start an argument when he inevitably has to stand up for himself.

(Perhaps he should have a little more faith in his friends, but oh well.)

It’s Percival, who first approaches him after his evening prayer, gesturing to the jar clutched in Merlin’s hand, and timidly saying:

“Is... is that something we can ask about? Or is it private? I don’t want to pry.”

Merlin gives him a weak smile, surprised at his genuine tone, but hands the jar over easily before responding:

“You can ask whatever you like, Percy.-”

Arthur scoffs under his breath, quietly muttering:

“That’s not the impression I got.”

Leon thumps him on the arm and Lancelot scowls at him, but before anyone can say anything, Merlin turns his head to look at him, and calmly, though viciously, says:

“Yes, well, you do have a habit of taking the piss out of anything I find important, so perhaps it’s just you I don’t want asking questions about my faith, aka the one thing that stopped me abandoning you a week into this whole destiny shite.-”

Arthur looks taken aback and flushes, muttering a dumb “Oh” under his breath, but before he can say anything further, Merlin turns back to a slightly dumbfounded Percival, and resumes smiling at him:

“-You can open it if you like, just don’t lose anything.”

With that, the two men settle next to each other by the fire, the other knights trying to subtly crowd a little closer so they can overhear their conversation. Arthur, of course, stays awkwardly seated on the opposite side of the fire, looking as if he were studying Leon’s map, but very obviously trying to eavesdrop.

It irked Merlin, perhaps because he was so used to being desperate that Arthur not find out, but he pushes the feeling down. It was actually refreshing to be able to talk about it, especially when the knights were awkwardly forcing themselves to be as respectful as possible.

Merlin explained the importance of his little jar; told them that it was a few things he had taken from his permanent alter back home, so he could carry it with him wherever he went. The items inside weren’t particularly special themselves, individually, but they were representations of Merlin’s connections with his Gods, and the world around him.

They all seemed intrigued, and the more he spoke, the more questions he answered about what he believed in, what he prayed for, and to who, the happier he felt about them knowing; he always felt some sort of way about his own determination to keep his faith a secret, it wasn’t that he was ashamed, I suppose he was just scared he would have to defend himself.

But it’s a relief, that they were genuinely interested in Merlin’s thought process and beliefs, instead of being demeaning like he expected them to be. Which he honestly feels a little silly about now.

Gaius was more than a little surprised to overhear Merlin explaining the meaning behind Samhain to an attentive gaggle of knights as they first entered the courtyard, expedition having been successful, but he doesn’t question it, just raises an eyebrow at the wide grin on Merlin’s face, and the carefully concealed frown on Arthur’s.

Gwen, Morgana, and Mordred were slowly made aware of the faith that Merlin had apparently always had, and Mordred was thrilled that he could now relate to Emrys in matters of faith (Druid and Pagan cultures weren’t identical, but they had enough similarities) as well as magic.

Arthur never mentioned it again; awkwardly retreating from conversations in which any sort of religion was brought up, and generally struggling to look Merlin in the eyes, especially when the man had something Pagan on show (before, he often had pendants or bracelets or scraps of cloth hidden under his clothes. He wore them proudly now).

It was maybe a week after they got home, a week of Merlin feeling a little guilty of his harsh tone to Arthur, when The King asked for him to stay behind after a council meeting.

The room drained of all but the two of them, Lancelot shooting Merlin a concerned glance and Leon raising an eyebrow at Arthur’s nervous face as the two knights left, shutting the door behind them.

Arthur finally cleared his throat, but before he could say anything, Merlin burst:

“I’m sorry! For... for what I said, it was too harsh. I had just been dreading anyone finding out for over a decade and suddenly everyone knew and I was... overly defensive, I apologise.”

Arthur looks taken aback, but after a moment of shock he huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, running a rough hand through his hair:

“No, I’m the one who should apologise, your faith is your own. You... you were right, I have a habit of being needlessly callous, and I almost certainly would’ve been if Leon hadn’t stepped in. You were right to be defensive, and I’m sorry that your faith was exposed when you wanted it kept private.”

Merlin nodded, fingering the pendent hanging over his chest absent-mindedly. He gives Arthur a weak, though genuine, smile:

“Thank you, though once I got over the shock of it... well, it’s actually been kind of nice to not have to hide it. Everyone’s so... genuinely curious, and eager to learn; I don’t know why I was expecting people to be demeaning. It seems silly, now that I think about it.”

Arthur smiles and nods, tempted to bring up something about how Merlin was unfairly used to hiding who he was, but he kept it to himself, not wanting to remind the other man of his past pain. Instead he gives the Warlock a shy smile:

“Fancy a tankard?”

Merlin rolled his eyes with a laugh, and walks towards the door:

“Sure, I imagine Gwaine is already down there, and I think the others intended to join him tonight as well.”

It was two weeks after that, that Elyan slowly approached Merlin in the evening, biting his lip nervously and clutching something tightly behind his back.

Merlin frowned slightly, immediately picking up on the other man’s concerning behaviour, and spoke gently:

“Elyan? Everything alright?”

The knight nodded distractedly, before clearing his throat, and bringing his hands round to the front, still tightly shut:

“Uh, yeah, yes. I just... me and Gwen were clearing out some of the storage rooms at our Smith’s, and I thought... well... I found this,-”

He opens his hand, and sitting in his palm is a rough, unpolished, though beautiful emerald. Merlin widens his eyes, and looks up to Elyan again, confused:

“- it’s too small for anything worthwhile to be left after being polished and cut, so... well, I thought you might want it? I know that you... you know... give things back to nature or have them on your... altar?”

Merlin struggles to hold back a chuckle at Elyan’s endearing nervousness, and takes the emerald with gentle hands, staring at it in awe:

“I appreciate that Elyan, thank you, it’s beautiful.-”

He deposits it carefully in his pocket, leaving his hand in the fabric and running his fingers over the rough edges as he looks back up at Elyan with a wide grin:

“-I already know exactly where it’s going, and exactly Who it’s dedicated to.”

Elyan nods, deflating slightly in his relief that he hadn’t offended somehow; Merlin chuckles at the other man and gives him a softer smile, one that Elyan returns enthusiastically before turning and hurrying off back the way he had come.

Merlin spends the rest of the evening as had been planned: with Arthur, discussing an approaching meeting with the Druids. When Arthur finally rolls his eyes and tells Merlin to just “spit it out, what’s got you so smiley and distracted?”, the Warlock simply smiles knowingly, and continues to run his thumb over the little bit of nature in his pocket.

It was less than twenty-four hours later that Percival returns from a week long border patrol, promising Merlin that he had a gift for him later that evening.

Merlin was quietly curious, but managed to push it from his mind until Percival did indeed approach him again, after dinner, a childishly excited grin on his face.

The Warlock yet again found himself stood in front of a knight whose hands were nervously clutching something behind his back. Percival bounced on his feet, biting his lip eagerly, and Merlin raised an amused eyebrow at him as he brought his hands around to the front, and presented Merlin with his gift.

Lying across his palms, was an exquisite falcon feather. Percival had obviously spent the afternoon cleaning it meticulously and lovingly, making sure every strand was back in it’s rightful place before presenting it to Merlin. The smaller man took in a breath, marvelling at the patterns, and Percival finally broke the silence:

“We spotted a nest on a cliff face- we left it be, don’t worry- but this was just sat in the bushes below it. It was the most intact one I’d ever seen and, well... I thought you’d like it, if not for your faith, then for your magic, Mordred has told me of your connection with nature.”

Merlin takes the feather carefully, giving Percival a blinding smile and a vigorous nod:

“This is beautiful Percy, thank you. It’s the perfect bridge between the two, I think. It’ll go nicely with the others I’ve collected, over the years.”

The knight looks triumphantly pleased with himself, and nods at Merlin’s gratitude before giving him a short wave goodbye and speaking over his shoulder as he walks away:

“I’m glad you like it! I’ll see you at the debrief tomorrow.”

Merlin got a short break from his friends’ endearing support after that, and it wasn’t until a patrol with Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan (that Merlin decided to tag along on) a few weeks later that he got another gift.

This time, it was from Gwaine. He was a lot more blasé about it than the others had been, but that didn’t mean that Merlin was any less touched that the knight had thought of him when he fished the stone out from the bottom of a shallow stream.

(and also didn’t disguise Gwaine’s hidden relief when Merlin accepted it with a wide smile.)

It had been smoothed by years under the water, and with the layers of bright oranges and reds that it was made of, well, there was no surprise that it had caught the talkative man’s eye.

Merlin stowed it safely in his jar for the remainder of the three day patrol, and it was quickly joined by two more smaller stones and a pretty leaf that the knight had picked up.

When he got home, he had a good rearrange of his altar, putting all the gifts he’d received from his friends together. When he was promoted to Court Sorcerer, and given bigger chambers, he moved his altar from the slightly pathetic back corner of his wardrobe, to a set of shelves and stands in an alcove in his new rooms. It used to be hidden behind thick curtains and a tactically placed chair, but he let it breath a little more now, now that the idea of people seeing it didn’t bother him.

He cast preserving spells on the leaves, but removed them and released them to the wind out his window as and when Gwaine presented him with more (he got a new leaf or a pretty rock or a nice looking flower from that specific knight at least once a week).

Eventually, almost everyone was joining in on the gift-giving:

Elyan and Gwen presented him with small lumps of metal or precious stone that they felt bad just throwing out from the Smith’s.

Percival would bring home, lovingly clean, and present him with rare bird feathers or animal bones he’d stumbled across (he was rather proud of a fully intact fox skull, and it sat strongly in the middle of Merlin’s altar, surrounded by Gwaine’s flowers).

Gwaine presented him with all sorts of bits and pieces on a constant basis. Merlin got the most gifts from him by far, in the form of whatever pretty thing (be it a rock, a leaf, a stick, a flower, etc) happened to catch Gwaine’s eye that day.

Morgana passed on gems and metal from jewellery that she didn’t wear anymore, and occasionally leftover spell components that she no longer had use for.

Lancelot, as it turned out, had a real knack for whittling wood, something he did when he was bored or stressed, and passed on all his little statuettes and carvings to Merlin.

Leon has a windowsill covered in plants. Each one lovingly cultivated and cared for and named (not that anyone but him knew that last part), and whenever one got too big for it’s space, he would split it or take cuttings, one always staying on his windowsill, one going to Merlin, and the others, he gave to the gardens of the schools in the lower town. The plants always went near Merlin’s window, as opposed to in the little alcove (he preferred keeping them alive naturally, as opposed to with magic, so they needed the sunlight and airflow), but he still considered them part of his altar.

Gaius passes on pouches of herbs and poultices, now always making just a little extra to give to his former, now grown, ward. They would stay on Merlin’s altar until a time when he would need them, and like Merlin borrowed his rocks and leaves from the Gods, the Gods borrowed healing from Merlin.

Mordred didn’t give... gifts, per se, but maybe twice a week, he would join Merlin for his prayers, offering his magic and worship directly to Merlin’s altar as they kneeled side by side. Honestly, it was mainly Mordred’s magic that sustained all the living gifts from Gwaine, and Merlin was thrilled with that.

The King had yet to give him something. Not that Merlin was expecting anything, but it would be nice for him to be able to complete the collection; it would put his mind at ease, knowing that he had something of each of them to pray over.

Unknown to the Warlock, Arthur had been thinking about it as well, more and more in the days after he realised that he had been the only one to not gift something to Merlin’s faith.

But he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted it to be meaningful, personal, not just some rock or leaf or piece of something he didn’t want anymore. It had to be special. Partly to prove to Merlin that he really didn’t mind his different set of beliefs, and partly because... well, it was Merlin, anything The King gave him had to be as special as he himself was (not that he would EVER admit that).

In the end, it was a spur of the moment gift, an idea that came to him in his reminiscing.

Training for the day had just finished.

He would never admit it, but a growing bruise on his shoulder, gained from a particularly strong swing from Gwaine, was causing him trouble, and struggling through the rest of the afternoon pretending that it didn’t hurt really hadn’t helped things. Once the field was clear of all bar himself and Merlin, he’d had to sheepishly ask his former manservant to help him remove his armour.

Merlin, of course, tutted disapprovingly (something Arthur is sure he learned from Gaius), but followed him back without a word, growing more and more concerned at Arthur’s slow place, and the awkward way he held his arm to his chest.

Thankfully, it wasn’t broken or dislocated or anything else too serious, but the bruise was rather large and rather purple, and even Merlin, a physician, winced when he saw the mottled colour spreading across Arthur’s shoulder and down his back.

Merlin spread a poultice over it (one he’d fetched from his altar, of course) which he then covered in bandages to hold in place, and Arthur had to stop himself from shivering when the other man pressed his hands to the skin below the fabric and muttered a few spells, the warm feeling of his magic spreading under his skin and touching his heart:

“I can’t heal it fully, but that should lessen the pain until morning at least, and the poultice will bring down the inflammation over night.”

Arthur nodded, but winced as the movement pulled on the back of his neck. He’s really starting to regret forcing himself to continue to train; considering the bruise was apparently a lot bigger than he had first thought.

Though he doesn’t regret it as much when Merlin puts a soft hand on his other shoulder and stares at him in worry. Arthur doesn’t let his fondness show, rolling his eyes and speaking softly instead:

“Don’t you worry Merlin, I’ll be fine. Thank you though, I do appreciate it.”

Merlin smiles, and much to Arthur’s disappointment, drops the hand from his shoulder. The Warlock hauls Arthur’s chainmail away from The King’s bed, seeming to forget he has magic, and lays it out on the table for a squire to deal with tomorrow.

Arthur stares at him with narrowed, curious eyes as the other man runs a hand over the metal links, staring wistfully down at it as he mutters:

“I miss it sometimes, the good old days-”

He looks up to Arthur with a cheeky grin, though leaves a hand on the metal:

“-not the hiding or the hours I spent in the stocks of course,-”

He looks back down to the chainmail, sighing before continuing:

“-but the simple life I had, between destinies; cleaning your armour and serving you breakfast and writing your speeches.”

Arthur quirks an eyebrow, standing up and walking over to him as he chuckles and responds:

“Well, you are only down the hall from me, you can serve me breakfast or do my paperwork whenever you like, Merlin.-”

The dark-haired man snorts a laugh but doesn’t look up, not noticing the widening of Arthur’s eyes as he’s struck with an idea:

“-Actually, I was wondering if you could do me a small favour?-”

Merlin looked up at him with a confused frown, but nodded, knowing he couldn’t refuse Arthur anything. Arthur cleared his throat and tried his best to dampen his blush at Merlin’s clear concern, continuing quickly:

“-The sleeves on this new set of chainmail are a little long, I don’t suppose you could remove the bottom row, could you?”

Merlin’s frown was quickly replaced by a raised eyebrow, and his tone is deadpan as he retorts:

“You don’t want me to do that by hand, do you?”

Arthur chuckles, wiggling his fingers in a vague impression of magic as he shakes his head:

“No, no, by all means.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, but mockingly wiggles his fingers through the air as he mutters a short spell, his eyes glowing gold as the chainmail floats above the table. A row of links from each sleeve separates, and Arthur holds his hand out expectantly. The Warlock’s eyes fade back to their natural blue, and all the mail drops at once, the bulk of it back onto the table and the two little loops into Arthur’s outstretched hand. He hums, satisfied, before looking up to Merlin, a slightly guilty look on his face.

Merlin just raises an eyebrow, and Arthur clears his throat, before setting his face into the faux confidence he usually uses for public appearances:

“Ok, so I may have lied. The mail was fine, but I wanted you to have these-”

He holds his hand out, and when Merlin just stares, bewildered, he huffs and takes his arm, slipping the loops onto his wrist and tucking them under his sleeve as if they were bracelets:

“-for your... altar. Or one of your little jars. A piece of me, of my protection, to offer your Gods, as a thank you from me, for giving me you. Metal is a natural resource after all, Merlin, I’m simply giving back something I borrowed, and got use from.-”

Arthur frowns as Merlin stares at him with wide eyes, flushing slightly and reaching for Merlin’s wrist again, speaking quickly:

“-Or is that wrong? Ok, never mind, I can find something else that’s-”

Merlin pulls his hand away quickly, and Arthur barely has time to deepen his frown before the younger man throws his arms around his neck and pulls him into a tight hug.

Arthur lets out a quiet “oh... ok”, before returning the hug, resting his chin on Merlin’s shoulder as he smiles to himself. He’s not exactly sure what he’s done to deserve this; he’ll have to ask so he can use it in the future. Merlin finally pulls back and quickly blinks away the tears gathering in his eyes. Arthur keeps his hands on his shoulders as he frowns slightly in concern, waiting for some sort of... explanation.

Merlin looks up at him, biting his lip nervously before saying:

“I thought it made you uncomfortable.”

Arthur blinks in surprise, shaking his head slightly as he asks a bewildered:

“What?”

The Warlock gulps before responding:

“My faith. You always seemed so confused and uncomfortable so... I didn’t think you... liked it, that I was Pagan.”

Arthur looks slightly outraged as he all but yells:

“NO!-”

Merlin takes a surprised step back at the outburst, and Arthur forces himself to take a breath before continuing:

“-No, I just... didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. That, and I wanted whatever I gave you to have some sort of meaning; I suppose I thought on it a little too deeply. I really can find something else if the links aren’t right?”

Merlin shakes his head and relaxes again, giving Arthur a soft smile:

“No, they’re actually kind of perfect. The thought behind it, your reasoning, makes it special, gives it meaning. Thank you Arthur, I... I love them.”

Arthur returns Merlin’s soft smile with a childishly proud one of his own, and Merlin chuckles slightly, nodding towards the door:

“It’s my day to check the wards on the outer-walls, fancy joining me? It’s a nice afternoon.”

Arthur nods, quickly putting a doublet on over his tunic as he follows Merlin out into the corridor. He waves a hand in the direction of Merlin’s chambers:

“Do you want to go add them to your altar before we go?”

Merlin looks down at his new gifts, stroking a soft hand over them as he re-tucks them under his sleeve. He looks up at Arthur with a soft, shy smile:

“I actually think I’ll keep these ones with me.”

Arthur returns his smile, nodding slightly and turning away before the other man can see the pink of his cheeks.

THE END!!

This isn’t exactly what I wanted, but I still really enjoyed writing it and I hope y’all like it :)

Same as always lads, you wanna right it out properly, go for it!

Check out This List to see what I’m working on next, and cast your vote!!

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lucemferto · 3 years

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Niki Nihachu & Barbara Kean

Gonna drop something controversial real quick.

Niki Nihachu is the most tragic character on the Dream SMP – and I don’t mean in the sense of her having a tragic story (though she is up there), but in the sense that she is tragically mishandled.

I want to start out by saying that this essay is by no means an attack on the content creator Niki Nihachu or her abilities as a performer. She is frequently one of the strongest actors on the SMP and I have no idea how much of her character writing was within her power. How much of it was improv, how much pre-planned, how much something she genuinely wanted to do and how much stuff she just stumbled into or – in the worst-case scenario – was forced upon her. I don’t know.

The Dream SMP is not very transparent when it comes to their creative process. As such I can only judge it as a discerning viewer and English major dropout, who retained some half-remembered stuff about narratology.

So, a few weeks ago, I tumbled on here that Niki’s character journey reminded me a lot of the character Barbara Kean from the hit TV-show Gotham. Then I got an ask asking me to elaborate. This is the elaboration.

Barbara Kean

So, a quick crash course for people who haven’t seen Gotham (the greatest comic book show on Television, seriously, what are you doing with your life?!): Barbara Kean was a major female character throughout all five seasons of Gotham – and not once during those five seasons did the writers ever figure out what they wanted to do with her.

Every 10-12 episodes or so, Barbara’s role shifted completely. She started out as cop-protagonist Jim Gordon’s girlfriend at home and moral compass, then became part of a bisexual love triangle, then a hard-drinking jealous party girl with a backstory as repressed, lonely rich kid, before being kidnapped by a serial killer and ultimately making her perfect metamorphosis into the psychotic ex-girlfriend trope.

And that was Season 1.

Since then, she became the pseudo-Harley Quinn to the pseudo-Joker, a whip-wielding dominatrix, the obligatory female member in a supervillain squad, some sort of information broker, a mafia kingpin, the leader of a girl-power posse and – my favourite – the reincarnated wife of an ancient immortal who also controls all of Gotham and transferred that control over to her before that plot-point was dropped harder than a half-dead Oswald Cobblepot of the Gotham piers.

Also, she’s Batgirl’s mom.

In short, it’s a mess – but that’s what makes Gotham kinda fun.

Character Cohesion

Now, obviously, Niki’s character journey has not been quite as extreme. But it falls into the same traps, I find. Namely, that there’s just a distinct lack of character cohesion or character continuity.

Now, character cohesion or character continuity doesn’t mean that the arcs these characters undertake can’t be explained in a logical way. Barbara’s character journey is logical in the sense that you can explain it all with in-universe logic – but it’s not logical from a narratological sense now, is it?

Character Cohesion basically means that a character’s journey is reflected in their personal conflict – their Want vs. Need. Their arc is the natural continuation of what was set-up in previous sequences. Everything falls into a whole with Set-up, Confrontation, Resolution – we set up the character’s Want, their Want and Need are conflicting, the Want vs. Need is resolved. Ideally this coincides with the plot beats of the large conflict surrounding the cast.

When you look at Barbara in Season 1 of Gotham, you’re not thinking “This one right here – she’s the reincarnated wife of Ra’s Al Ghul”. Because why would you? There was no set-up; it’s not part of what her character was about in this moment – or any moment before that concept was introduced. It’s not needed for her character conflict (or any thematic conflicts for that matter).

It’s quite transparently just something that is affixed to her so that she has something until the writers come up with the next at which that first thing will dropped, underdeveloped.

Niki in Season 1

Niki follows the same route, unfortunately. She’s set-up as the resistance in L’Manburg, allies herself with Eret and HBomb until – oops – it doesn’t end mattering, because that entire side of the “plot” is completely underdeveloped. Just be a damsel until Wilbur can swoop in and save you, Niki.

Okay, but now she has a big moment with Tommy and Tubbo just after the pit-scene. “We’ll figure something out”, she says. “We need L’Manburg back”. This is all before the backdrop of Wilbur completely giving in to his role as a villain and Techno’s apparent “betrayal”.

So, now, surely, Niki is gonna affect change in Pogtopia and will have some influence on either Tommy or Wilbur, the two people she’s closest to. What’s this? Her biggest contribution is holding a birthday party where Quackity convinces Wilbur to hold off on his TNT-plan? And after that … she’s just gonna be part of the Pogtopia-masses?

Now, I like Wilbur’s writing and Season 1 generally, but when it comes to Niki (and Eret) something went terribly wrong. Both of them provided many a set-up – none of which were taken advantage of, unfortunately.

And, just to be clear, I’m not putting the blame on Niki here (or at least not most of it). Season 1 was pretty firmly in Wilbur’s hand … and Season 2 was a train wreck.

Niki in Season 2

Niki is – for the most part of Season 2 – a nothing character. She has no real conflict, no character beats, no arc. This is because through some unfortunate writing decisions, Season 2 is pretty squarely focused on a specific set of characters – and even fewer of those characters are granted a fully explored, completed character arc.

It all culminates in her Doomsday villain arc – a moment that can be logically explained from both an in-character perspective and a meta-perspective, but unfortunately, it’s not justified from a technical writing point of view.

Niki burning down the L’Mantree is her “Ra’s Al Ghul’s reincarnated wife”-moment. It’s a big statement that put her character on the map for a large part of the audience again. It was a striking visual. It could not be ignored.

Most of that was because it was a stark departure from her characterization in Season 1. Now, such a departure doesn’t necessarily have to be bad. The problem comes in when

a.) The full potential of the character in their previous narrative role had not yet been fully or even partly exhausted

b.) It cuts into an on-going character arc and drastically changes its course

c.) It’s not foreshadowed or developed properly.

And most of those are true for Niki’s character. She was not necessarily underdeveloped but underexplored in Season 1 and had no consistent storyline going on in Season 2. She was a witness to Tommy’s trial, but that was never worked into an on-going storyline for her. No matter how much we retroactively pretend like this turn to villainy, this breakdown, was brewing deep inside of her – there was no foreshadowing.

The reason, why I said it’s understandable from a meta-perspective, is that the content creator Niki Nihachu had a self-admittedly hard time getting her foot in in Season 2 – because Season 2, for as much love as I will heap upon Tommy’s and Dream’s storyline, was a pretty messy.

So, the villain arc was not well foreshadowed and Niki’s turn was developed, but what happened after she was in it?

Niki in Season 3

Well, unfortunately that problem of an inconsistent storyline never really went away for her. In the beginning of Season 3, she hatched her wagons with Jack Manifold, which was a pretty big tonal shift – from darkly tragic to cartoonish villainy.

But as Jack kept developing his character in that lane and following up on big plot development with corresponding character moments, Niki again just … vanished. She then changed gears again, joining the Syndicate – a great idea if only the Syndicate actually streamed together and developed a storyline and group cohesion.

As it stands right now, Niki’s character exists in the negative space of the fandom imaginations. We are given some scraps and good character moments – her sleeping in a jail cell, “I started baking again”, her secret city – but those moments never coalesce into a full-fledged storyline.

Her character’s journey is still as fragmented and underexplored as it ever was. I really hope that – with Wilbur’s revival and the new character conflict that seems to arise from that for her – she manages to finally get the foot in and get the storyline and dynamic arc she deserves.

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hddnone · 3 years

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The one with serial killer Tony and cop Bucky (rated T)

***

Alexander Pierce was the tipping point.

When Pierce’s body was first found, Bucky had fallen back on his police training. Legal justice was the only route, where people had a chance to defend themselves in front of a jury of their peers. No one person should play judge, jury, and executioner like this vigilante who decided to murder Alexander Pierce, an ex-Congressman who had stepped back from that job to use his political skills to run a non-profit.

The man who now had iron nails hammered into his eyes, the calling card of the serial killer who had been stalking the city.

The killer stuck to the elite, like he diamond encrusted arms dealers who pushed war to make a profit or the CEOs who had a back business of sex trafficking. Ones where money and power had let them avoid the consequences of their crimes until this killer came calling.

Bucky had started to admire the guy - not that they knew it was a guy, but statistics told them it was most likely - for who he picked as targets, how he completed the job, how he knew to clean up a scene. The killer was good, and usually that only motived Bucky to work harder so he could be better, but this was one shark he wouldn’t mind letting continue to swim the sea.

Until Alexander Pierce, whose death was mourned by groups around the world. The man was a hero. There was no reason, no justification that could possibly -

The evidence rose from the deep like it was finally coming up for air. Without Pierce keeping his secrets pinned, the drug operation was toppling over. It wasn’t cocaine or crack. Nothing so pedestrian for him, of course. Pierce was into pharmaceuticals - driving the opioid addiction, price-gouging medications, whatever he needed to drive a profit or create blackmail.

No one had known. No one had even suspected. No rumors or whispers had connected Pierce to any of it before, but this guy had found out and taken care of it like no police force ever could. Not with Pierce who had that much power, that much money, that much control.

That was when Bucky tipped back onto the side of the vigilante, and he was there to stay.

Which was why when a brown-haired man fled a scene while trying to look like he wasn’t fleeing the scene, Bucky didn’t call out. He saw, knew his partner didn’t, and said nothing. The man turned, just for a moment, and their gazes met.

Bucky swallowed his gasp of surprise at the heart-stuttering knowledge that the man was Tony Stark.

Tony Stark?

Tony Stark. The poster boy for drinking and sex and money, who dropped off the map for a decade - everyone had thought he was dead - until he came back to overhaul his father’s weapons company. That Tony Stark, who seemed to have learned some tricks to target the scumbags of the world in his own way.

Tony Stark. Huh.

Bucky told no one, not even his best friend Steve, of what he suspected. What he knew made sense now, with Tony’s tech and money to identify threats and cover tracks. Of course it was Tony Stark. Who else was going to be ballsy enough to go after the darling Alexander Pierce and manage to even come close?

He continued to follow the cases as they dropped, working his job as normal like he didn’t know the answer to the question every newspaper headline was asking.

Then Tony Stark showed up at his house. Inside Bucky’s house, sitting on Bucky’s couch, feet on Bucky’s coffee table when he comes home from another long day.

“Truth is, I am the Iron Killer,” Tony declared, staring at Bucky with unnerving intensity.

Bucky made for the bar. If this was going to be his last drink, he wanted something stronger than beer.

“You always introduce yourself to people like that?”

A smile twitched at the corners of Tony’s mouth. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

“No, can’t say I do. I try to keep it hush hush, that whole pesky business with jail time for murder. Might even be death row now, with my list of…accomplishments? I feel like I should pick a different word.”

“Dead bodies is more accurate.” Bucky popped open the good vodka and gave himself a generous pour.

“That would be two words, not one. No matter. Seemed like you knew who I was already.”

Bucky flicked his gaze at Tony, whose dark brown eyes were trained on him with full force. He turned back to his drink, and added another splash of liquor.

“Yeah.” There wasn’t much use in lying. “Figured it out when you fled the scene.”

“I was behind schedule on that one, obviously. Trouble with the nails sometimes, trying to get the perfect picture. You know it is.” Tony approached, a slow strut that raised the hair on the back of Bucky’s neck.

Here it came. The danger, the death. He hoped Tony didn’t frame Bucky for heinous crimes. His search history was embarrassing but shouldn’t lump him with the dregs of society. Hopefully.

“But you haven’t said anything,” Tony said softly as he grabbed an empty glass and then Bucky’s lone bottle of whiskey.

“Nope.” No one else was in danger but himself. He was glad he’d chosen to keep this secret, no matter how it had begun to weigh.

“What do you want?”

“A drink.”

Tony swirled his glass, watching Bucky instead of the moving liquid. “Are you about to blackmail me?”

“No.” Bucky snorted. “As if that would work.”

“Excellent.” Tony took a long, slow sip of his drink and Bucky took the chance to gulp his own. “You didn’t seem the type and I’d hate to be wrong.”

“What type do I seem like?” Bucky asked, wary.

“The kind who wants to change the world for the better.” Tony leaned closer, and Bucky was acutely aware of the lack of space between them.

There was still danger, but now it was tipping into a different type. And Bucky wasn’t sure he minded.

“Which is why I’m here with an offer.” Closer, Tony was even closer. “How would you like to help me change the world? Flip the power and make bastards fear who would come calling.”

“I’m not about to go hammering nails into people,” Bucky forced himself to say, because it was the truth.

“Darling, I have something different in mind for you.” Tony’s voice was a purr, and he was in Bucky’s space.

And Bucky wasn’t stepping back.

“What do you say, James Barnes?” The question was whispered in his ear, and Tony had to have heard the hitch in his breath.

Wetting his lips, he said, “Call me Bucky.”

#winteriron #tony x bucky #bucky x tony #starkbucks #megan writes things #like serial killer things

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dailycharacteroption · 2 years

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Cartographer (Investigator Archetype)

The role of the cartographer is one that is often overlooked in history, filled with it’s own difficulties in a world where satellite imaging is millenia away and magic that could help is not always available. To be able to look at the lay of an unknown land from the ground level and interpolate that into a map is quite the skill, and even if they never get to map a truly uncharted land, the changing of borders and terrain, as well as specific relevant information makes map-making a constantly relevant skill to have.

It is no wonder, then, that there would be adventurers, particularly with a love of exploration that would learn this skill.

An excellent example of an investigator that isn’t an investigator at all, today’s subject represents someone with a keen, observant mind capable of reading into anything they come across, be it foes in combat, the situation around them, or of course the lay of the land, or the layout of a city or building.

A particular advantage that cartographers have when it comes to maps, one that ties them closer to investigators, is how their keen sense of spatial awareness can lead them to notice inconsistencies, like an area where a secret door might be, or where a street hidden from the public eye is located, and so on.

In any case, these individuals lend their vast talents to keeping track of where they have been and where they are going to any expedition or exploration they are a part of.

By taking time to read the area, be it a landscape, a dungeon complex, or a city, and sketch out a map, these investigators can become exceptionally adept at navigating the terrain and hazards of that area, moving and acting with inspired grace while within. However, they can only benefit from this in areas they are aware of when they drew the map. A hidden room, cave, grove, or the like may still vex them. Of course, such inspiration can only last as long as they maintain it, and over time, things will change, forcing them to update their map should they choose to focus on that area again.

Cunning geographers, these cartographers can not only make a decent living off of their maps, but also use their knowledge to help get their bearings, finding North with ease by reading their environment.

While in a studied and mapped landscape, they can also guide others to travel swiftly no matter how rough the trail is, finding the best routes and striding with confidence.

Interested in a character that benefits from many classic investigator abilities, but it more geared towards the wilds? This archetype can be quite useful in that regards. You won’t be handling poisons that much, and your knowledge checks aren’t quite as reliable, but you do get a lot of utility in a region or dungeon with only 10 minutes of preparation. Of course, this is less useful in dungeons since your map only applies to areas you have explored, making them mostly for backtracking around before or after finishing off the boss or other encounters.

Being a cartographer by necessity means travelling around a lot to get a better understanding of the lay of the land. As such, one might expect one of these mapmakers to be more worldly and open because of this, in contrast to more bookish characters. Also worth noting is that the extracts of these cartographers are likely less themed as alchemical concoctions as they are useful brews for the road, being quasi-magical medicine and stimulants in most cases rather than having a mad science vibe.

Nothing is more thrilling to Sevara than using magical flight to soar over the landscape, looking down on the world from above. It’s no wonder then that the sylph became a cartographer when she came of age. Enlisting her help might be useful in finding the lost wealth of the Miro Empire.

A frozen, trackless waste, the icy polar regions have only incomplete maps, though explorers have tried to chart the region before. Succeeding will require perserverance, planning, and actually having the humility to ask the locals for help. Also avoiding getting eaten by glacier toads and other icy threats.

They say that legendary cartographer Malphin Morias took his most prized chart, a map of the Lost Continent, with him to his grave. Plenty have plundered the tomb before, but some suggest that somewhere within lies the clue as to where the chart was hidden. Of course, few think to ask why Malphin chose to conceal the map in the first place.

#pathfinder #archetype #investigator #cartographer #cartography #sylph #glacier toad #Ultimate Wilderness

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regina-del-cielo · 3 years

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Immortal Siblings AU | Four, then three, then four again

I mentioned that the bulletpoint post describing how the Guard from the Immortal Siblings AU found Joe had totally run away from me. It has, in fact, become a study on them grieving over Lykon and then finding Yusuf.

I have, somehow, reached a sort of natural end to the amount of bullshit my mind can add to this list/fic draft. So, if you want to give it a read... grab a snack. It’s long. I’m sorry.

Warnings for Wikipedia levels of historical accuracy - I added links to the relevant pages when quoting historical events, but since I was just trying to work out a timeline (famous last words), the research wasn’t extensive. There’s a lot of hand-waving.

By the end of the 11th Century, I think Andy, Quynh and Nico haven’t been in Europe for a while, not really. They moved south, and then east, after the sack of Rome of 410 CE. Seeing the great cities fall has become hard for them, especially for Nico, who is a nomad at heart but has a soft spot for cities, together with Lykon, the true city boy in the group. He’d seen it happen to Athens, he wasn’t sure he could deal with seeing Rome wilt.

For reasons I cannot fathom, my mind is settled on them having been in India when Lykon dies (possibly sometime around the middle of the 6th century, in the mess that was the crumbling of the Gupta Empire???)

Seeing him die destroys them, and they take a break from any battlefield to grieve their friend and brother. They wander, occasionally helping but almost never raising their weapons, too leery of injuries and of losing each other.

(Quynh, who was the first to notice Lykon’s wounds, has nightmares that make her cry in her sleep. Andromache holds her so tight Nico can feel the tension on her muscles against his back. He and his sister barely sleep, scared of the open spaces of Asia as they’d never been before. Lykon was the youngest of them and he died, what if they stop healing too?)

(If Nico stands guard over his sisters and feels an ache in his chest seeing how they hold onto each other, he’s never going to say it out loud. His Mache deserves the love she shares with Quynh. But sometimes he wishes he had someone to hold him like that, one he can call his heart.)

The first time they go to battle again like in the old days it’s almost the end of the 10th century, and they’re helping Quynh’s lands gain independence from China. They have a reason and a specific side to root for, and it’s the kind of cause Lykon would have approved of. They find purpose again.

They are distantly aware of how things are holding up in the west – they know Constantinople has crowned itself capital of the Roman Empire (what is left of it anyway); they know of the new religion, Islam, and how it was brought further east with the armies conquering Persia. They met the Varangians on the Northern Plains of the Rus’, when Andy insisted on going back to their steppes for a while.

They acquire new swords, repair the old weapons, make improvements on their bows. They travel, and help, and listen. They learn new languages. They heal.

They’ve just spent the winter in Samarkand when they hear merchants newly come from Constantinople talk about the Frankish armies that took Antioch and making their way further into Palestine.

The words ‘freeing Jerusalem from the infidels’ make Andy sigh in exasperation and twist Nico’s guts. The three of them don’t really understand the point of going to war for a god, but Jerusalem is old, and she’s been coveted by many throughout their long lives. Things like this never end well, they know it intimately.

But they’ve been away for a long time, centuries at this point. Things are very different from when the Romans had the power. They are less eager to throw themselves into the battlefield now, and there’s much they don’t know about the dynamics of Europe and the Levant. Still they’re worried, and decide that they’ll move west to see if something can be done, for the civilians at least.

At first they travel slowly, keeping an ear out for gossip spoken by the caravans coming from the west. Things radically change, however, when they dream of a new immortal (a man, with a curly black beard and shining dark eyes) dying on the walls of Jerusalem and reviving to an unprecedented slaughter – said man is, obviously, absolutely terrified and they feel it.

He’s also woken up surrounded by living enemies, with high risk of being killed or injured multiple times, and of being seen.

They are still too far away to do anything more than hope that the new guy is clever enough to keep himself alive until they can reach him, but now Nico is all for moving west at full speed to get him out.

“What the everloving FUCK is happening over there?!” is the common theme in their thoughts; nothing about this war they’re walking towards is making any sense.

Yusuf al-Kaysani is, in fact, clever enough to keep himself (and a few other civilians to boot) alive and get out of Jerusalem when it becomes clear than no matter how many Franks he kills he can do nothing to stop them alone. (It’s a fucking carnage, and he’s so tired). He walks away from the battle and tries to reach some sort of safety in the desert.

When he’d decided to stay in Jerusalem and fight instead of escaping the siege, Yusuf had considered the possibility of dying. He had not accounted for waking up from a fatal wound with no sign of having been hit in the first place.

And then there are the visions. Or dreams, he’s not sure. They don’t seem to make any sense? Who are those people?! Is his mind so addled by the war that he’s conjuring scary warrior women and a stupidly handsome man, armed to the teeth and camping in the desert?

(fantasizing about handsome men in his sleep isn’t exactly news for him, but there were never women in those. And none of his usual dreams involved weapons. Something is definitely off)

For the following days, Yusuf makes sure to stay away from human settlements while putting as much space as possible between Jerusalem and himself – the last thing he needs is to become a potential target for any invader that may cross his path.

But he’s alone, having nightmares, constantly on edge, and in a body that suddenly doesn’t feel like his own anymore, since he doesn’t even have the scars to prove that the injuries he sustained were real to begin with.

After a couple of weeks, the appearance of the strangers in his dreams starts feeling safe and comforting; they seem to operate like a little family, and God knows how much he misses his own.

(should he try to go back home? Would news of the siege reach his family before he does? Would he be able to go back to his previous life in the state he’s in? Could he keep this secret from them? Would they still love him or think him a monster?)

Despite their impressive warrior appearance, they feel... kind. And gentle. Sometimes, it feels like they’re trying to reassure him, even. Especially when he dreams from the perspective of the man.

The sensation those dreams leave on his skin is like a cape. You’re not alone, it whispers. Wait for us.

Andy, Quynh and Nico have just left Baghdad when the dreams change, and not for the better - Yusuf was passing through a village when a band of marauding Franks started harassing the locals. He moved to defend the villagers, but was overwhelmed and what’s worse, the Franks saw his wounds close too fast. Their reaction was vehement: they called him a demon, incapacitated him and then brought him back to their garrison, with every intention of ‘properly getting rid of him’.

Nico wakes up screaming and Andy has to sit on him so he doesn’t just sprint ahead without actually knowing where the fuck he’s going.

“We can’t just raid every single Frankish encampment in a twenty mile radius around Jerusalem, Nico!” “TRY ME” *Aggressive Sibling Bickering follows* *Quynh doesn’t bat an eye and just rolls out a map of the area she purchased and starts mapping out the fastest routes*

Yusuf is having a Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week at the hands of his captors, who are getting disturbingly creative in their tortures, but whenever they let him fall unconscious he sees the people of his dreams travelling much faster than before, looking Royally Pissed Off, and the surroundings are... starting to look familiar too?

If he tries to pay more attention to the conversations his torturers are having with each other outside of the tent he’s in and hoping the dreams go both ways, so the maybe-real trio can find him easier, now that’s nobody’s business but his own.

(spoiler: it works)

When they are in sight of Jerusalem, the immortals find a drunk “pilgrim” boasting about his band capturing a ‘pagan demon’ while coming back from their victory at Ascalon, follow him back to his camp, and as soon as it’s feasible they attack.

(Andy will later gripe that Nico didn’t leave her anything to do because he just paved his way through the Franks like he was harvesting wheat.)

seeing the Stupidly Handsome Man of his dreams standing in front of him covered head to toe in blood, with a double-bladed axe in one hand and a sword in the other, staring intensely at him as if to peer directly into his soul is... an experience for Yusuf.

(he may have composed a lot of poems about that first vision of Nico through the centuries. The words ‘avenging angel’ have been used quite profusely, too)

The protective instinct that Nico has felt for the newest immortal since the first dream clutches at his throat when he finally sees him, chained to a pole and so thin his clothes barely cling to his body, but with the softest dark eyes staring back with a glint of recognition when he comes closer.

(he could cry with relief at the knowledge that he’s not scared of him. Nico has seen the faces of the men that were keeping him captive, he knows he looks a lot like they did, and that he paints a gruesome picture.)

“Are you alright?” Nico asks first, in Greek. (He knows, from the dreams, that his captors prayed in Latin. He wants to make sure that the other knows that he’s not like them.)

“You were in my dreams. You came.” Yusuf answers back in the same language, although his sounds much newer than Nico’s.

“Of course. We’re not meant to be alone… and no one deserves to be in a cage”.

Nico uses the axe to break the chains, and by the time he’s done Andy and Quynh have reached them and his sister throws the keys at him to open the shackles.

“Couldn’t take a moment to get them yourself, little eagle? You wanted to show off your skills to the new one?” Quynh teases, just to see Nico blush. Andy stares at her brother and their new companion for a few beats, before finally asking his name.

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad Al-Kaysani, known as al-Tayyib” he answers, letting out the first smile in weeks at the raising eyebrows of his saviours. “Just Yusuf is fine.”

“You have a sense of humour, brother. I like you!” Andy snorts, before cutting her palm with the edge of her axe, and showing him her fast healing.

“We are like you, Yusuf. That’s why you dreamt of us, and we of you” Nico adds gently, while Quynh offers her waterskin to Yusuf. They also offer their own names.

“We need to clean up this mess and move away from here” Andy says, while Nico helps Yusuf up. “One of those fuckers was boasting about an undying demon with others in a tavern, the last thing we need is to fight our way out against their whole army because someone else decided to come check if he was saying the truth.”

“It’s been a long time since we were in Kush” Quynh whispers, and Yusuf sees their faces open in a look of affectionate grief he remembers seeing on his Baba’s eyes when he talked about his own mother.

“We can talk about it more when we’re somewhere safer” Andromache suggests, before moving to set up the stage of an ‘accidental’ fire.

As they’re riding away, Yusuf turns slightly to watch the camp burn, leaving no trace of the invaders that hurt him. Jerusalem looms in the distance - lost, and wounded. If he were a little less exhausted, he could easily work out a metaphor about his own situation.

But then he looks at the three people of his dreams – Quynh, Andromache, Nikolaos – that came for him. Who are the same as him, immortal.

His world has turned upside down, and there are so many questions to ask, and he could sleep for a month straight – but one thing is certain.

He’s not alone anymore.

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little-mad · 3 years

Text

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 9

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

After departing from the stream, it only took about fifteen minutes before Rael and his passenger reached the edge of Ostrad. The moment they broke through the treeline, Rael was greeted by the familiar sight of home.

Despite being the location in which the Emperor resided, Ostrad was not the largest city in the realm. This was due in large part to the fact that the city had originally only been built as a secondary residence for the Emperor. However, over a century ago a flood in the former Imperial Capital had forced it to be relocated to Ostrad.

That being said, looking from Gavin to the bustling city that loomed ahead of them, Ostrad looked positively massive. A slight frown tugged at the corners of Rael’s lips. The most direct route to the palace was straight through town, down the main boulevard and up to the main gates. However, going that way would require walking past a great many alteons. With so many people around, there was a high risk of accidents happening, whether intentional or not.

Having spent his youth running up and down the streets of Ostrad, Rael was quite familiar with its layout. He created a mental image of the city in his mind, mapping out the different potential routes they could take. After several moments of deliberation, he decided on a path that snaked along beside the outer wall. Such a route was more winding and less direct than going straight through the city, but it would decrease their chances of encountering other alteons significantly. After the encounter with Kaydin, Rael was simply not ready to subject Gavin to the possibility of being grabbed again.

Rael glanced down at his hands. He was surprised the human had kept quiet for so long and not interrupted Rael’s contemplation once. The reason became quite clear as he noticed Gavin staring at the nearby city with wide eyes. “Right, this is his first time seeing any kind of alteon civilization.”

Gavin’s expression was a mixture of shock, awe, and fear--which Rael supposed was a reasonable reaction. Even putting the size aside, the architecture was likely entirely foreign to the human. The structures in the human city Rael had seen had certainly seemed very different from alteon craftsmanship.

As if he could feel Rael’s gaze on him, Gavin looked up. “It’s like I got transported into a medieval movie,” he breathed in disbelief.

Rael blew out a soft sigh, the breeze ruffling Gavin’s crop of brown hair. “I don’t know what that means,” he told the human. Both the words “medieval” and “movie” were foriegn to him. He assumed they weren’t important words, considering he hadn’t learnt them during his study of human language.

“Oh right,” Gavin said with a light chuckle. “Nevermind then.” Although he appeared to be making an effort to hide it, Rael suspected the sight of the city had caused some nervousness to develop in Gavin. The little guy’s energy levels seemed slightly lower than they had earlier.

“Alright,” Rael carefully moved the hand holding Gavin up a bit so he didn’t have to tilt his head down so much to look him in the eye. “I’m going to take you around the edge of the city,” he began. “Our chances of running into anyone are low, but I’m going to keep you hidden from sight anyways.” While it wasn’t necessarily a secret that a human was being brought to the Emperor, Rael considered it safer if no one even laid eyes on Gavin until they were safely ensconced in the palace.

“I guess there’s not gonna be a parade held in my honor then,” Gavin joked, mock disappointment in his tone.

Rael shook his head. Not even the human diplomats and politicians that had visited the palace received any sort of celebratory welcome. “Consider yourself lucky you’re even getting to ride in my hands rather than the cage,” he snipped.

If Gavin had thought he’d been being smothered before, the situation he was in now was on a whole other level. He still sat in the center of Rael’s palm, but now his entire view of the outside world was obscured. Rael’s free hand caged Gavin in against the giant chest, leaving him in the dark except for the small slivers of light that filtered in between the massive fingers.

While Gavin was effectively trapped, he knew the action wasn’t hostile this time. In fact, it was actually meant to be for his own good. That wasn’t to say Gavin was happy with the arrangement. Despite how intimidating it had been, he had kind of wanted to take in the sights of the alteon city. Though, after the encounter with Kaydin, he could understand Rael’s reasoning for wanting to keep him hidden.

“God, I don’t think I’ve been this close to someone else in...well who knows how long,” Gavin thought to himself. He wasn’t really opposed to physical contact, in fact he had a tendency to maybe be a little bit too handsy at times. However, most of his friends and acquaintances were opposed to physical contact, and so would throw Gavin off whenever he greeted them with an overenthusiastic hug or overzealous handshake.

Now all of a sudden he was being effectively cradled by a literal giant. Gavin ran a hand down his face. How the hell had his life gotten so goddamn weird? Of course, his life was bound to be pretty unconventional as soon as he chose stealing as a career path--but come on, this was beyond bizarre.

“There’s a couple people up ahead, keep quiet,” Rael ordered in a hushed voice.

The urge to scream at the top of his lungs in order to freak out the alteons was quite strong for Gavin. He could only imagine the looks on their faces would be priceless as they tried to figure out who or what had made the noise when Rael’s mouth obviously hadn’t moved. But as funny as that would be, the risk of another Kaydin situation was too great. Not to mention the fact that he would no doubt incur Rael’s wrath. Although, that might actually be funny in its own right…

Suddenly he heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice say something that sounded kind of like a greeting.

Rael gave a perfectly polite, but perfectly simple reply. He slowed his pace ever so slightly, but never came to a stop. Gavin was just fine with that, he wasn’t really interested in having to listen in on small talk while stuck in Rael’s hands.

As they got closer and closer to the palace, the reality of Gavin’s situation was beginning to slowly set in. Surviving the journey to the palace had proven to be a challenge in and of itself, so much so that he hadn’t really stopped for long to consider what was waiting for him when he finally reached his destination. He knew his fate was entirely in the hands of this dimension’s emperor, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what kind of fate that might be. “I’m a criminal being brought in to be judged for a crime, it’s not like whatever it is is going to be good,” Gavin reminded himself solemnly.

“Do you guys have a rule against cruel and unusual punishment here?” Gavin asked Rael, his voice just loud enough to be heard by the giant.

“You’re supposed to be keeping quiet,” Rael immediately scolded, sounding more exasperated than actually angry.

“Is there anyone around right now?” Gavin inquired.

“No, but--”

“Then please just answer the question.” Gavin didn’t like the way his voice sounded, notes of anxiety and fear were obvious in it. Rael was perceptive, he would undoubtedly pick up on it, even if Gavin had spoken very quietly.

There was a long pause. Gavin began to wonder whether Rael planned to just ignore the question and remain silent, but then, “There aren’t rules for punishments, there are precedents.” Rael spoke so quietly Gavin doubted an alteon standing right beside them would be able to discern the words. “The current emperor is known for his fair but firm sentences,” Rael explained. “But you will be the first human he has ever judged, so it’s difficult to predict exactly what he might decide.”

Gavin didn’t really know what to make of that. He supposed it was good to hear that the Emperor wasn’t known for being sadistically cruel. However, the fact that Gavin would be the first human to ever be sentenced in this dimension wasn’t exactly encouraging. What if the Emperor wanted to make an example of him--to send a message to all humans that going against alteons was a horrible mistake?

“There’s no use fretting over it,” Rael whispered. Gavin knew he was right, and normally worrying about things he couldn’t control wasn’t really his style. Rolling with the punches was a part of being a good thief. But with so many unknowns in front of him, Gavin was having a hard time not letting his worst fears intrude upon his mind.

Honestly, Gavin’s question had thrown Rael off guard. He himself had been pondering what the future might hold for the human, but he hadn’t really stopped to think about how the weight of the unknown might be weighing on the little man himself.

At the start, the fate that might await the human criminal hadn’t mattered much to Rael. Whether Gavin was imprisoned for life, kept as the Emperor’s pet, or simply slapped on the wrist--it hadn’t mattered to him. All he’d been concerned with was delivering the human to the palace and getting the unwanted assignment over with.

Things had changed. Now Rael found himself feeling almost...nervous about what the Emperor might decide. After all, now he knew that Gavin wasn’t the one truly at fault for stealing from the diplomat. He had been nothing more than a pawn. Of course, the Emperor didn’t know that. “Should I...should I try to tell him?” he asked himself. However, he was quick to dismiss that thought. Speaking out of turn to the Emperor was a sure fire way to damage his reputation, which was something Rael simply couldn’t allow.

“I’ll just have to trust the Emperor's judgement,” Rael told himself. The ruler of the realm seemed a wise and just man. Despite being fairly young for his position, the Emperor had already made a name for himself as one of the best rulers the realm had ever seen. Surely Rael could trust him to make the right decision regarding Gavin.

It was just then that one of the servant’s entrances into the palace came into view. The door, typically used by cooks, maids, and other domestic servants, was always guarded by a single soldier. Today, the guard was familiar to Rael, but he didn’t know the woman well enough to know her name.

“Returning from an assignment?” the guard asked, apparently recognizing him as a member of the Imperial Guard despite his lack of uniform. She seemed confused as to why Rael would use this entrance rather than one of the ones specified for the Imperial Guard, but it didn’t appear as though she was going to press for information.

Rael nodded. “Yes, that is correct,” he replied. All of the palace guards were aware a human would be arriving soon, but this woman clearly didn’t realize that she was speaking to the one who had been tasked with retrieving said human.

“Welcome back then, head on in,” she said with a polite smile. Rael was thankful she didn’t ask about the specifics of his assignment, he really wasn’t in the mood to explain it all to her, nor was he eager to show Gavin to her. Despite now being at the palace, Rael, for whatever reason, preferred to keep Gavin hidden as long as possible.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael

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fearofaherobrine · 2 years

Text

[Novisor] Leans over the console a little bit and points toward a small star that's twinkling brightly. - Go that way. We've not getting into the Skeld and shuttle route traffic this time.

[Hazel] As long as we don't get lost. There's a lot of nothing out here.

[Pav] - gives a little smile - second star on the right, and straight on till morning. - she pushes the controls with her normal gusto and heads toward the star.

[Novisor] Holds onto the seat behind her, his clawed fingers dimpling the fabric. - Lovely words my friend, but it won't take us that long.

-The shuttle speeds along through the darkness, leaving Polus and it's curving tail of Skelds and shuttles far behind them. As the little trio of planets dwindles in the rear camera, something else comes into view. A small, bright sun being circled rather quickly by a huge, misshapen lump of a planet. As they get closer the sun illuminates one side of it. It's a partially completed cube. In the middle they can see what looks like netherrack and lava. The outer part... it's earth-like enough to take their breath away. Swathes of golden desert and verdant plains, globs of achingly green forests, sparkling ice, fluffy white clouds and azure waters. The unfinished edges of the shape are crackling with white lightning and glitchy interference.

[Hazel] It's so beautiful! But... why is it kind of a cube?

[Pav] - ... wow...

[Novisor] Because it's Minecraft code. Deerheart was able to integrate my Skeld onto the chunk it crashed on and even mesh the roles coding with her own so seamlessly. Doc copied it and gave it to the Mojang staff. This is their secret project at the moment. A bolt-hole for Herobrines that can't leave the internet. But out of their native game where the SCP can't easily find them. The constant traffic of players logging in and dropping out will disguise their movements. They'll be lost in the noise.

-As they get closer they see the terrain a bit more clearly. There aren't any structures or lights, but it is clearly divided into biomes in the normal way.

[Pav] - oh that's awesome. so how much more needs done?

[Novisor] Traces the incomplete lines of the partial cube with a finger. - Well I presume the rest of the two missing planes? No reason to make it look like Polus. It won't be visible from the other maps either. The telescope task has been deliberately altered just in case.

-As they get closer their resolution changes in a gradual way, becoming less cartoony and more angular.

[Hazel] Will the usual roles apply to the newcomers?

[Novisor] Likely not since they will be entering outside of a game. But I will say we shouldn't land, this is all a work in progress and we don't want to disturb any devs.

-As they pass over a crackly part they can see the terrain slowly generating from the lava core outward to fill in the empty gaps to the surface.

[Hazel] It's brilliant. What a pretty planet, it's all so green!

[Pav] - takes the shuttle low to get a better look - Might not be a bad idea to have a couple places prebuilt... stock some supplies so they aren't stuck foraging if they have to evac in a hurry...

[Novisor] So far the plan is to build some kind of large structure at the spawn point. Something like a hotel. Presumably someone will be put in charge of it as well. And since the respawn is connected to beds, might as well hand them out like candy.

-There aren't any animals in sight, but the foliage looks normal enough. They're speeding over a section of dark oak forest that bleeds out into a coastline. Far away they can see a small gray island of mycelium with giant mushrooms.

[Hazel] Is just pressed against the opposite side of the window, looking everywhere.

[Pav] - hums a little to herself as they cruise over the blue water. - Such a pretty place. Almost a shame that you almost hope it never has to be used.

[Hazel] I never dreamed someone could just... make a whole new planet. But doing it to protect people they've never even met? That somehow makes it all the grander an ambition. Thank you for letting us see this, I realize how important it all is.

[Novisor] Thoughtfully watching the terrain flow past. - And thus why it needs to stay a secret, for now at least.

#the shining eyes #fear of a herobrine #among us

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (Prologue)

“I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

It was an ordinary day of work. I’d just gotten to the office when Li Man’man opened the door and entered the room.

Li Man'man: No way, no way! You’ll never believe it! I’m doing all of you a favour by reminding you to behave today.

Brother Mao: Huh? What’s gotten you into such a tizzy?

Li Man’man rubbed the goosebumps that had arisen on her arms, shivering as she recalled what she’d seen.

Li Man'man: I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…

Li Man'man: I thought I’d turn into a block of ice in no time flat the moment our gazes met!

MC: What?

Hearing her recollection, I couldn’t help but to suddenly think back to what happened yesterday during lunch hour.

❖☆———————————★❖

At noon, I’d compiled a set of documents related to jewellery designs, just as Evan had requested and brought it up to his office.

A voice sounded from within when I knocked on the door of his office. It sounded unusually indifferent.

Evan: Come in.

❖☆———————————★❖

Pushing the door open, I saw Evan leaning against his chair, his brows were furrowed, hanging low, and there seemed to be thick storm clouds brewing in his eyes.

He was still staring blankly out the window in a daze when I went up to his desk.

Evan: Just leave it there.

MC: Okay.

Hearing me, he turned. The dark look on his face instantly lightened up.

Evan: Hm? Oh, it's you.

Evan: Sorry, I was just thinking about something.

Recalling the unusual look he had on his face when I entered, I couldn’t help but step on eggshells around him.

MC: Don't worry about it. Here are the documents you requested. Are you… okay?

Before he could reply, however, the landline on his desk suddenly rang, interrupting our conversation.

MC: I'll leave you to it!

Evan nodded apologetically at me and I took my leave from his office.

❖☆———————————★❖

Did something happen to make him unhappy…?

With his personality, he wouldn’t tell anyone about his troubles even if something WAS troubling him, no doubt.

❖☆———————————★❖

When I got home at night, I switched on the TV. It was coincidentally broadcasting a camping-related program.

The lush green forest, the joyous chirruping of birds and their songs… Everything there was powered by Mother Nature’s power of healing, capable of washing away all exhaustion in one’s body and mind.

I didn't know why I thought of Evan again, but I did.

MC: There’s a gigantic forest at the outskirts of Guangqi City and it’s clear weather out all the time now.

MC: Maybe he might feel better if I can somehow get him out to the forest for a walk...

An idea popped into my head and I scrambled to fetch my phone, searching for the familiar name in my contacts.

I was just about to hit the call button when I suddenly thought of a plausible issue.

MC: I don’t think he’ll reject me regardless if he wants to go or not if I invite him directly like that.

MC: Maybe I should feel around for his thoughts about it so that I don’t unknowingly coerce him into anything.

After pondering it for a while, I hit the dial button.

❖☆———————————★❖

Evan: (Y/n)? What's the matter?

MC: … Evan, I… err, have gotten interested in coffee lately.

Evan: Really? What flavour of coffee do you like? I'll be glad to recommend you things.

MC: Oh… I haven't decided yet.

MC: Ahem, have you ever seen a coffee tree? I've never seen it myself with my own two eyes! I really want to go see one~

Evan: About that…

He sounded hesitant, there was no doubt about it. I awkwardly scratched my head.

Did I come off too strange by bringing up that question out of the blue!?

Evan: Coffee trees have strict requirements when it comes to the environment they’re grown in. And as far as I’m aware, the PH levels of the soil and the amount of rainfall here in Guangqi City do not fit their criteria.

Evan: So, I'm afraid it'll be hard for you to spot one in Guangqi City.

Evan: But we can go see one together in Africa during your next vacation if you'd like.

MC: Eh? Africa? No need then.

MC: Ahaha… then, how about...

When there’s a will, there’s a way. I saw a glimmer of light at the end of the dark path in my mind.

MC: Then, what about a bamboo pith?

MC: I had some bamboo piths while eating hotpot a couple of days ago! I find that it’s a very amazing fungus! I really want to see one growing for myself!

Evan: It is. Although information is now widely accessible, it still hits different when you see it with your own eyes.

Evan: When are you free? We can go check it out together.

MC: Brilliant!

That's what I've been waiting for you to say!

MC: Are you free next weekend?

Evan: Yes, my weekends are open.

Evan: You… Are you this happy just to go to the forest for a walk?

MC: Hahaha, yeah! Super happy!

Evan: I'll come fetch you in my car next Saturday at 10 AM. Will that be alright?

MC: Sure! We're all set then!

Evan: Then, have you ever hiked or camped out before?

MC: No… but don't worry!

MC: I’ve watched lots of videos about camping on the internet! I’ll prepare all the equipment we’ll need this time!

Evan: Alright. I'll be leaving it all to you then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Soon, the appointed day arrived.

When I came downstairs lugging along a rucksack that towered about half a person tall, Evan, who was waiting by his car, looked slightly taken aback.

Evan: You…

I found myself blanking out as I stared at Evan, standing not too far away,

This was my first time seeing Evan dressed in such a casual manner. The soft and form-fitting material of his clothes made his shoulders appear wider and him, much more reliable. It was reassuring, to say so in the least.

MC: Haha, did I bring one too many things? Actually, I think so too.

MC: In case we don't find a bamboo pith today, we can still camp overnight in the forest with this.

MC: Don't you think?

He smiled as he approached, taking the heavy bag off my shoulders.

Evan: Sounds good.

Evan: You must have fun and enjoy your first camping trip, if anything.

The tenderness in his countenance was the same as always. Where was that coldness to him that a certain someone had mentioned?

I secretly felt a wave of relief wash over me.

MC: Let's head out then!

❖☆———————————★❖

After driving on the suburban roads for nearly an hour, we finally reached an area near the forest on the outskirts of the City.

Evan gently took my bag out of the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder.

MC: That's pretty heavy. How about you let me carry it myself?

Evan: Since we're going to be travelling together anyway, how about we both give it our best?

MC: Alright then. Thanks!

❖☆———————————★❖

Stepping into the forest, lush green foliage surrounded us all around.

The ubiquitous noise and lights were all isolated from here, creating a secluded and serene atmosphere.

The air was warm, humid, and carried the sweet refreshing scent of vegetation. Relaxation was literally oozing out of my pores.

I turned around to look back at Evan. He was standing ramrod straight as usual with a blank expression on his face.

MC: Evan, we're here to relax!

Evan: Thank you. I am very relaxed.

MC: You can afford to be more relaxed. Here, follow me. Open your arms like this, take a deep breath, and go "Ahh…"

He smiled helplessly at me. Just when I thought he was going to refuse, he mimicked my stance, opening his arms wide.

Evan: Ahh…

MC: Hahaha. Yup, just like that.

I took out a map and a compass from the bag.

MC: I will be the leader for today! I’ve already marked all the routes we can take. Let’s see… let’s go this way first!

Evan: Alright. As you say, leader.

We proceeded through the forest according to the directions shown on the map.

We chatted about the animals and plants that we saw as we walked. Or more accurately, Evan was the one introducing them all to me.

Evan: Sorry. It must be boring hearing me talk about all these.

MC: Nope. I’m actually even more interested after hearing you talk about them.

MC: Also, your expression changes into something a little different from what I’m used to whenever you talk about something you like.

Evan: Something that I like? I’m not really sure if it constitutes as me liking it, but I think I’ll like it if you do.

He smiled in a manner as if he didn’t mind it at all, stopping as he took out some tissues and a bottle of water from his bag.

Evan: Here. Wipe your sweat and hydrate yourself.

MC: Thanks.

The soft bubbling of running water entered our ears as we stopped to rest.

MC: Looks like there's a small rover up ahead, just like how it's drawn in the map!

Evan: Looks like the leader's leading well.

❖☆———————————★❖

Following the sound of running water, we soon found the river.

The clear stream rushed across the pebbles, the crystalline liquid glittering under the golden light of the sun. The wind that blew past the waters was very cool and very refreshing. It felt great on my slightly worn-out body.

MC: The cool breeze here by the river’s really nice! And the sound of dripping water’s also very calming.

Evan: Looks like there’s a flat rock over there where we can sit.

Evan: Do you want to rest for a bit?

I want to…

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #陆沉 #Evan #For Night For Revolution #繁荫秘语 #Umbrae Secrets

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pop-punklouis · 4 years

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top five HL fanfic!!!!

biiiiitch you all know how hard it is for me to choose only 5. but sigh FINE here’s my all-time favorite list that isn’t 5 sorry i can’t choose 😔:

• Here in the Afterglow (89k)

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.” 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

• Coax the Cold (86k)

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

• Wild and Unruly (124k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

• This Wicked Game (70k)

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

• Love is a Rebellious Bird (135k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

• Fixated On One Star (53k)

Louis is just a boy with the world on his shoulders, and Harry's just a boy from the wrong side of the galaxy. A little thing like love doesn't stand a chance against a thousand years of war, at least until the right two come along to break the mold.

Or: space Romeo and Juliet AU

• Finding Lou (60k)

Louis is the nomadic stranger who wanders into Harry’s bookstore. Harry is the skeptic who falls for him.

• California Sold

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

• Empty Skies (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream -- making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.

Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He's still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

• And Then a Bit (159k)

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts. (aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

• Dream Awake (31k)

The sun leaks through the tent wall behind him the way it leaks through eyelids, bathing the boy in an ethereal half-light as he croons. The crowd is mesmerized. Louis is mesmerized. This is the most important person in the world, he thinks wildly, and then can't figure out how to take it back.

On a hazy day in August, Louis sees Harry perform at a music festival as an unsigned act and convinces him to spend the rest of the weekend in his company. Harry gets signed; life changes. They never really wake up from the dream.

• Say You’ll Remember (93.5k)

au. louis and harry are best mates that are only half aware that they're also soulmates. alternatively, louis goes to university and harry travels the world, and they always manage to find their way back to each other.

takes place over nine years, in which they love and hurt, make mistakes and learn, and above all, grow.

• Outwit, Outplay, Outlast (61k)

Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

• Nothing Else But Us Right Here (35k)

Louis sighs and gives himself a mental pep talk as he smooths his jumper down over his hips. He can do this. He can resist the draw of Harry Styles, because he is a responsible, mature adult, and as much as he wants to tangle his fingers in that mess of hair and map those ridiculous tattoos with his tongue, he does not want to get his daughter’s favorite teacher fired.

• Wings to Break Your Fall (103k)

strip club AU. Harry’s work and family are keeping him busy. He really isn’t looking for a relationship, doesn’t want one. He just wants Louis. Problem is, Louis has other plans.

• Leave it to the Breeze (81k)

Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.

or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.

• You Come Beating Like Moth’s Wings (81k)

Harry smiles. He's only known Louis for about two hours, knows nothing about him past his first name, but he's nice and sarcastic and helpful and so, so pretty. And Harry's still got a few days left in Barcelona, and he thinks he wouldn't mind spending them with Louis.

Also known as, Harry takes the summer before uni to travel Europe and meets Louis in Barcelona, and they end up traveling together.

• Hold Me Closer (36.5k)

Louis Tomlinson is one of the most promising dancers of the English National Ballet, on track to become the youngest principal dancer in the company's history. That is, until forces conspire to significantly complicate his life, including: a surprise ballet, an unfairly attractive guest choreographer, and being pushed into a rivalry with his best mate. Featuring lots of wine, dancing, pining, and a happy ending.

• In Vogue (121k)

Fashion AU. Louis is the editor in chief of Vogue magazine, and Harry's running British GQ. Featuring Zayn as the crazy creative director and Louis' confidant, Liam as the sports writer that gets to sit front row at fashion week and DJ Neil as the only sane person in the whole story. (There are no skinny jeans in this fic)

• These Things Will Never Change for Us at All (1.5k)

The room falls silent as they stay wrapped up in each other. Harry can feel Louis’ soft breaths on his neck, and he almost thinks Louis’ fallen asleep until he says softly, “How did you know you were in love with me?”

Or, Harry and Louis look back on five years.

• A Runaway American Dream (15k)

AU. they take route 66 with only each other and their secrets.

• Things Have Gotten Closer to the Sun (49k)

it’s strange, making the choice to face his past—it almost feels like he’s heading for the sun straight on, like he’s screaming come on and burn me, i deserve it.

when a solar flare is announced to end the world in twelve days, harry reunites with the people that he used to know better than the back of his own hand.

• Here (in your arms) (60k)

the one where Louis is a successful real estate agent and Harry works at a retirement home. They’ve never had a real home. Up until now.

(Starring Liam Payne as a fitness trainer, Zayn as an artist, and Niall, who busks.)

• These Inconvenient Fireworks (190k)

Future AU in which nobody tries out for X Factor but the boys end up finding one other eventually anyway. Louis is a jaded bastard who owns a cat named Duchess and teaches drama to teenagers, Harry is an idealistic aspiring photographer/part-time footy coach, Zayn teaches English lit and wears leather jackets, Liam saves people from burning buildings, and Niall is Niall.

• In Dreams (23k)

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

• My Heart is Breathing for this Moment in Time (160k)

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old. Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they’re put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn’t know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry’s always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

• Paint the Sky with Stars (63k)

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom. Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform. By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help. Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

• Through Eerie Chaos (102k)

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

#whew!#favorite fics #grey

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