#WAIT NO THE ELF AGE DOES ACTUALLY MAKE IT FUNNIER

[lovevalley45]

i was gonna make a comment abt how sol had most definitely been a synth knight longest since he was on that launchpad > synth knight pipeline but launchpad has like. high school vibes from everything with the boy wizard and his frog pal thing, but also going on campus n dealing with the psionics team gave off college vibes as well?

so that’s not confusing at all

#alli says shit #i think it’s a lil of both tbh where it’s def like. a secondary school of sorts #but also it’s so funny to think of albin being like. the elven equivalent of 19 calling himself a boy wizard #WAIT NO THE ELF AGE DOES ACTUALLY MAKE IT FUNNIER #the opposite of the elzor thing of them being like. 47

[thespiralgrimoire]

⭐️ STAR ⭐️ STAR ⭐️ GIMME A WHOLE DAMN CONSTELLATION I DON’T EVEN CARE ON WHAT

*Cracks knuckles* Alright y’all it’s go time

I’m going to discuss all the works in my series Boys Will Be Embarrassing and also some WIPS

Lost in Roses

⭐️ This whole fic was an accident. I started writing it with a vague idea of what it was going to be about and I lost that idea along the way.

⭐️ It’s my least favorite in the series because it’s kind of boring, but I did like writing baby Solid

⭐️ It’s included in the series because it’s the origins of Nebra’s crush on Fuegoleon, which is important for later works

⭐️ I got to introduce this headcanon that Nebra is good at climbing here, and have not been able to use it since, which just breaks my heart

In the Lion’s Den

⭐️ This is the fic that properly started the friendly contest that led to the Boys Will Be Embarrassing series, but it is NOT the first fic. It’s the second. The first hasn’t been posted because it takes place post-canon (or canon-divergent, depending on how long Black Clover goes for), and it’s called And They Were Roommates.

⭐️ @loafingdragon​ waited WEEKS to post this fic because she couldn’t think of a proper meme for one of the lines near the beginning. In the end, I kicked her ass into posting it without a meme. No loss.

⭐️ This is the fic that started us keeping track of all of Nozel and Fuegoleon’s friends, because we had to decide which one hit on Meoroleona and got his nose broken. It was Ben Benfunk. This ended up working well because in the anime, Ben has a throwaway line about the Crimson Lions having to do well or Captain Meoroleona will make them regret it LOL

The Challenge

⭐️ This is my FAVORITE FIC IN THE SERIES it does NOT let you come up for air it’s SO FUNNY

⭐️ This fic’s working title was Boys Will Be Embarrassing. I made my sister change it because at this point I knew we were going to make more stories in his genre and I liked it as a series title.

⭐️ This one was a draft for a long time because in the original ending, Nozel opened up a trap door to see Meoroleona watching them play this game and it just ended with the two staring at each other like this

⭐️ In the original, they also only played one round of the Pocky Game before they played Cherry Chaser, which meant that we didn’t get Nozel doing... all that

⭐️ In the original, Fuego swallowed his cherry and Nozel lost his. When Nozel found Meoro, she popped a cherry in his mouth so that Nozel could win.

⭐️ When I read the second draft of this fic, where Nozel starts doing all those things during the Pocky Game, it killed me on sight

Oasis

⭐️ The working title for this piece was “Hot Boys” LMAO

⭐️ I forced the idea out of my noggin because I wanted to explicitely write fluff. Might have missed the mark on this one but OH WELL

⭐️ Originally they were going to get caught in a cave, and when the temperature dropped a night, Fuegoleon got to be the one keeping them alive. I ditched this because everyone makes Fuegoleon the big strong one and I wanted Nozel to be the one in charge the whole time

⭐️ Did you know that mercury is such an efficient coolant that it’s not advisable to use as a coolant because (along with the fact it’s hard to get) it cools TOO well? Makes your devices frosty

⭐️ Silver Cradle WILL be making an appearance in other fics, actually in a similar fashion to how it appeared in Oasis. But with someone else

⭐️ If it weren’t for my sister @loafingdragon​ this fic would easily be half the length that it is. I kept writing a little more and she kept saying “It doesn’t feel finished yet!”

⭐️ There are WAY more subtle headcanons worked into this fic than it seems. So many of them are extremely subtle and inconsequential, I didn’t bother pointing them out.

⭐️ Mimosa isn’t playing with Leo and Noelle in this fic because I straight up forgot that she existed LOL. I regret this

⭐️ I didn’t get a single age right in the whole-ass fic but shhhh nobody’s called me on it

⭐️ This is my most popular fic and you know what. It should be. It’s the best so far

The Grimoire Thief

⭐️ The working title for this one was The Grimoire Walker, which was cooler, but didn’t fit, so we had to change it

⭐️ This is the newest fic in the series right now! It’s a beautiful mess and all over the place.

⭐️ This fic is what made me start loving Nebra

⭐️ It’s where she really explored Nebra’s love for games, which I take full advantage of later

⭐️ @loafingdragon​ is reading this almost entirely by herself so I can’t say a lot about it tbh

The Ring(s)

⭐️ It’s in the notes of the fic, but it was inspired by this post

⭐️ There is a fifth chapter, which follows that post almost like a script, and I like it a lot, but I didn’t post it because it’s entrenched in my preferred AU where instead of ascending, the elves just stuck around and shared bodies with their human hosts. It was too much to explain at the end of a story.

⭐️ I thought up the very important hc that Nozel can eat anything on the spot for this fic and it has colored every other thing I’ve written about him to date

⭐️ This ring comes up in other works because Nozel never stops being enamored by it

Now let’s talk about WIPS a little bit

Disaster Bisexual Fuegoleon Fic

⭐️ The working title right now is Ultimatum but I’m already tired of that

⭐️ We’re about.... 1/2 - 2/3 through this fic and it’s about 80,000 words LOL pray for us

⭐️ This is the first fic where @loafingdragon and I are seriously collaborating on it. Like, there are points in this fic where we’re both writing it, at the same time. It’s really fun and exciting, as I’ve never written anything this collaboratively, and I’m having soooooo much fun with it

⭐️ The reason we’re doing it that way is because there are two OCs in it that belong to my sister. They’re elves who belatedly possessed Fuegoleon and Nozel. This only increases the hilarity of the fic I promise

⭐️ The other reason we’re writing it collaboratively is because it’s a comedy and my sister @loafingdragon is way funnier than me

⭐️ The elf thing is one reason that we haven’t started posting it yet. The other is because it also takes place after/divergent from canon, like And They Were Roommates

⭐️ @loafingdragon did a whole story introducing the elves, which is really good but she hasn’t posted it yet BECAUSE we have to write something ELSE before that is properly situated in this universe. It’s a matryoshka doll of details to explain and I’m losing my resolve to explain them properly

⭐️ Despite us working on this extremely collaboratively, I don’t think my sister knows how I plan to end it??? Which is very sexy of me I think

Traning With Aunt Nebra

⭐️ This fic is completely done, and discusses Nebra training Fuegoleon’s toddler son, who has steam magic

⭐️ It was written real early in the history of this series by @loafingdragon, and has a really flippant feel to it, meaning it’s funnier than anything I’ve written in my life

⭐️ Nebra gets to motorboat Fuegoleon in it. That’s really all you need to know to be sure that it’s good\

⭐️ It’s going to be a while before it’s posted because we still have to explain where Fuegoleon’s son came from

There are actually more fics but they’re @loafingdragon‘s and I don’t have that many thoughts on their beauty

Thank you for enabling me shammie. Now I’ve got to go put on pants and get some breakfast.

#black clover #nozel silva #nebra silva #fuegoleon vermillion #my art #spinda tea #noelle silva #solid silva

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #16 (1980)

Cerebus is going up the stairs while Lord Julius is going down them. In the same direction.

Cerebus is often touted as the greatest independent comic book of all time (for various reasons) but I'd like to point out that Elfquest told an incredible story with beautiful art in just 20 issues as opposed to 300. Plus it had an elf orgy. Also, I know it continued on after the first 20 issue story arc but we can ignore the rest of the story because there was never another elf orgy and also the rest of the series concentrated too much on Skywise's fear of dying which was totally valid but was often used as a foil to make Cutter seem braver and more loyal to his wolf roots but really just showed he was stubborn and dumb and totally didn't fuck as many elf maidens as Skywise did. Cerebus does have some sex in his comic book but since the first sex he has is when he rapes Astoria, I don't think anybody was really clamoring for any more of that. I mean, sure, some people were! I didn't mean to erase the sickos and perverts out there. Sorry, jerks! I'm sure the "A Note from the Publisher" bit by Deni seemed like a good idea when starting out on a harrowing self-publishing journey like that of Cerebus. But it quickly became a space where Deni just says, "Self-publishing is fraught with hardships and also this is a really good issue! I won't spoil it! Goodbye!" I won't be sad to see the divorce happen! That's an okay thing to say because it already happened, right? It's not like my wishing for the end of their marriage in 2020 somehow brought about the end of their marriage in the early 80s. Is it? I never took a college course on cause and effect so who the fuck knows? Unless that Critical Literary Theory class was about that?! Oh my God! I think I understand it now! Dave's finale to the "Swords of Cerebus" essay that has been broken up over the last three issues describes how he was consciously drawing the Eye of the Pyramid cult leader's gigantic penis while drawing the snake. Sorry to report, though, that he's being sarcastic. Apparently Dave is above using phallic imagery to make a point about patriarchal themes. Only fucking hacks do shit like that! Take that, whoever wrote fucking Beowulf!

Even if Sim can't see the humor in everybody assuming he made a giant snake dick joke on purpose, he can still be extraordinarily funny with the least of materials.

This issue takes Cerebus to his first fancy dress party (that's a costume party for all of you people who aren't British (which is also me but only because I was born a citizen of the United States of America who didn't have a choice but knew it was a huge mistake as I was learning about Monty Python's Flying Circus and Dave Allen at Large in elementary school and The Young Ones in junior high and Red Dwarf in college)). Cerebus changes out of his vest and puts on his costume: a furry black jumper (that's sweater for all of you people who aren't British (which is also me but only because I was forced to watch mostly American popular entertainment until the advent of YouTube and now I mostly just watch Taskmaster over and over (by the way, is Taskmaster as good for people who don't know all of the "contestants" or do I enjoy it more because I recognize and like almost all of the people on the show?)). Lord Julius is dressed as an, um, a, uh, Estarcion matador? I have no context in which to guess what he is.

Certain people like Cerebus because he says what's on his mind. I purposefully used the passive voice here so you can't prove one of those people is me.

Lord Julius has a follow-up joke that leaves the reader thinking, "I guess all Pavrovians are fat?" That's Dave Sim continuing his work on Estarcion continuity! Remember how Pavrovians are the, um, you knows of Estarcion! You know the nationality I'm thinking of! The ones that are all the things people usually find insulting! Come on, you know who I'm talking about. The dumb fat arrogant stupid naive gullible ones! Yes, that's it! Americans! Try to remember Dave is Canadian. You have to think of Americans through Canadian eyes (which are the equivalent of smart, cynical Americans)! E'lass and Turg have gotten tickets to The Festival of Petunias so they can steal the Wyndmel Diamond. They're the duo composed of a giant muscular man and a little bitty shrimpy guy who last encountered (and were beaten by) Cerebus in Issue #6. E'lass is dressed like some kind of small dirt dwelling creature so I hope Cerebus gets offended by his costume and stabs him in the throat. There isn't enough random slaughter in this book about barbarians.

I haven't wanted to fuck a fish this badly since The Littler Mermaid.

I suppose I could have said "since Splash" in that last caption to seem more normal and less perverted but then you'd know I was lying. The assassins make a move on Lord Julius but Cerebus comes up with a plan to stop them that involves inducing the Palnu elite to throw herring-and-onion dip at them. Is that a parodied scene from Duck Soup or Conan the Barbarian? In the confusion, the lead assassin slips out through a secret door and E'lass, having just stolen the diamond and becoming increasingly paranoid that somebody saw him, slips through it as well. Cerebus and Lord Julius follow, having noticed the assassin but not E'lass. Most of the pursuit's tension comes from E'lass believing Cerebus remembers him and is now going to use the excuse of this new crime to murder him. It's more tense than I've even described because I really need Cerebus to murder somebody in this Swords & Sorcery book already. Reading this book waiting for a murder is like firing up a porn video on your laptop with your dick in your hands and realizing after five minutes that the video is almost over and was just a teaser for a pay porn site. Cerebus threatens to quit his job just before battling the assassin so he can negotiate a term of 8 bags of gold and a horse in exchange for killing the assassin as a pension before he goes. Julius agrees and Cerebus takes out the assassin with a rock to the head. I mean, I guess it's a murder so yay? But I was really hoping for some stabbing. Meanwhile E'lass lives through the cliché of the criminal whose paranoia gets the better of him and he tosses the diamond into a huge pit so he doesn't get caught only to discover that they never knew he took it anyway. Everything is wrapped up quickly and thoroughly with Cerebus given money and motivation to move on from Palnu. Dave complained about his heavy use of cliché in this Palnu trilogy and I have to say I agree with Dave. But I only agree with Dave on this point! Don't take that out of context and start raving on Twitter that Grunion Guy agrees with Dave's Issue #186 rant about girlfriends being illogical which is also secretly a rant about a guy who needs to get laid so badly he puts up with partners he probably wouldn't even be friends with and then finally just decides orgasms are evil and religion is super awesome but only if you smash all three People of The Book religions into one bland mash paste of ancient dogma. In the epilogue, Lord Julius receives a letter from his niece Jaka in which she expresses delight in possibly seeing Cerebus again. I guess Dave learned from Howard the Duck that comic book nerds really love for their anthropomorphic heroes to be fucking statuesque women. Perhaps every guy develops a fetish of being with a woman whose breasts are at head level due to being hugged constantly by their female relatives when they're ten years old. Deni's brother Michael's first installment of the "Aardvarkian Age" essays appears in this issue. It gives more details to the various nations of Estarcion and their inhabitants' culture, ruling styles, and brutality of their armies. I thought I'd be more interested in this than I actually wound up being. Maybe I thought it would be funnier? Instead, it's just a bunch of facts about made-up kingdoms to make them sound more believable by making them more like European countries in the Middle Ages. If this entire bit were just lifted from a history of Europe with the names of actual countries replaced by Estarcion countries, I wouldn't even notice. Mostly because I know nothing about European history. As I've always said, "Those who know about European history are doomed to repeat it, boring every single other person at the cocktail party." Dave apologizes for the quarter price increase of the comic book in the Aardvark Comments pages. Why, I hadn't even noticed! Probably because this is the Biweekly reprint issue and I purchased it as a collection off of eBay. Some people write in and discuss how Cerebus is a very fine and funny comic book. I nodded along in agreement as I read the letters. I only touched my private area twice while reading and neither time was for pleasure. The most surprising thing about "The Single Page" is that it clearly states who the comic was authored by: Kent Featherly. I don't know why so many of these single page comics aren't more clearly labeled. Isn't part of the reason for having them exposure for the artists drawing and writing them?! Not putting an effort to let a large audience know who you are and how they can read more of your work just sounds like something I would do. By the way, you should play this game I wrote, Starship Troopers: The Game. You can find it on the hard drive of my laptop. Cerebus #16 Rating: B. Look, it was funny and well drawn and all that. But even Dave said it relied too heavily on cliché plot devices. I've got to lower the grade when even the author points out some of the story's flaws! And I'd probably have come to the same conclusion without having been influenced by Dave Sim because I'm like the best Internet comic book critic who isn't a critic and isn't actually reviewing comic books. Also I almost forgot this evidence: I'm a Grandmaster Comic Book Reviewer! Nobody else can make that claim and if they do, they're plagiarizing me and I'd like you to point them out to me so I can send them a threatening email in which I pretend to be my own lawyer who is really good at suing dumb-dumbs.

#Cerebus #Dave Sim

[sonicrainicorn]

Made of Love, Chapter 11

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Virgil and Roman get some upgrades. (They should probably learn how they work first)

TW: Cursing, body horror (minor)

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

Virgil stared up at the canopy of trees, his face contorted in a tight grimace. He couldn’t breathe.

Logan came into his field of view looking rather unimpressed. He put a hand on his hip. “If you sit up you’ll feel better. Take slow breaths and you’ll be fine.” He walked out of Virgil’s line of sight.

He had gotten dragged out of bed this morning after a measly three hours of sleep. Patton and Logan decided that an early session of training was in order. But by training, they meant Logan got to kick the shit out of him while Roman laughed.

Virgil sat up and took a shuddering breath. It felt like a rock was sitting in his lungs. “You know this was a lot funnier when you were doing it to Roman,” his voice came out strained.

“I don't know about these guys, but I personally think this version is better.” Roman gave him a sly grin.

Logan stood next to Patton with his arms crossed. “You’re just lucky Patton convinced me not to use a sword.”

Comforting. “Wow, thanks.” Virgil got to his feet and winced. His whole body strained under the pressure of being alive at this moment. “Have you got it out of your system?”

“Hmm.” Logan feigned being deep in thought. “I’m unsure. Patton, what do you think?”

Patton also pretended to think hard about it. His eyes scanned Virgil up and down. He smirked a bit. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

Virgil sighed in relief. He didn’t know if he could handle any more ass kicking. Logan was a lot stronger than he looked.

“Congratulations, Virgil.” Roman jumped up from the log. “You survived.” He patted Virgil’s back using a lot more force than necessary.

“Ow,” Virgil puffed.

They trekked back up to the house.

Once inside, Patton set about to making breakfast. Roman and Logan made their coffee, and Virgil laid down on the sofa since it was the softest place for his poor body. He threw an arm over his eyes and tried to ignore the possible bruises forming. All he knew was pain.

After a few minutes alone, something landed on Virgil’s stomach. He lifted up his arm to see Logan smirking at him from around the rim of his mug. A spool of white thread stood where it landed.

“Figured you’d want to fix your little issue.” Then he walked back to the kitchen.

What a smug bastard.

Virgil lifted himself up, letting the spool fall into his lap. Taking off his hoodie hurt a lot more than it should have. He examined the tear. The seam connecting the arm to the rest of the hoodie was split. Another unfortunate tragedy to befall his close friend. What a shame. Ah, well, at least it wouldn’t be falling apart by the end of this. Sewing skills to the rescue.

As he worked on fixing that, Roman, Logan, and Patton all ended up joining him in the living room. He had to keep his legs bent so Roman would be able to sit down but he didn’t mind. He half listened to their conversation with most of his focus going into repairs. The path their conversation was leading towards, however, caused Virgil to halt his progress.

A magical being -- not just a Magus, but any magical creature -- aged slowly. How slowly they aged depended on the species and sometimes the magic type. A human-passing Magus such as Logan would age faster than another humanoid Magus such as an elf. Their lifespans were long and continuous. It was always hard to tell exactly how long, since many older Magi were hard to come by, but the average seemed to be about three thousand years.

An age impossible for any human to ever reach. Even the oldest humans must seem like babies to people like Patton and Logan. A fruit fly compared to a tortoise.

All humanoid Magi aged normally until between the ages of twelve and eighteen; that’s when normal aging stopped and slow aging started. No two stopping ages were the same -- not even for siblings of the same family. A “magical puberty” as Thomas called it once. For example, Patton had stopped at sixteen while Logan didn’t stop until eighteen. That’s why Logan looked older than Patton (and got the butt of all the old man jokes) when it was actually the other way around.

There wasn’t a direct conversion of Magus to human years; there were too many variables that often got in the way of that. Two Magi from the same year with the same stopping age of thirteen could have two different aging factors. One could still be looking thirteen well into their eighties, but the other could be looking sixteen at the same time. It was tricky and annoying, and kind of hard to follow, but that was how it was.

“I just -- I can’t --” Roman rubbed his temples. “Thomas is like twelve. I can’t even see him as older than me. He’s a little baby boy.”

“Just because he has the physical appearance of a teenager doesn’t mean he is,” Logan pointed out. “He’s older than your grandparents.”

“So how old does that make you?” Roman smirked.

“Wait --” Virgil joined in.

“That’s not important.” Logan glared at Roman from over the rim of his mug.

“-- if Thomas doesn’t have magic how can he age slowly?”

“That’s something none of us have been able to figure out,” Patton said. “But to be fair, he does age a bit faster than his brothers.”

Logan set his mug down. “And that’s something that isn’t typical in families.”

Virgil frowned down at the hole still in his hoodie. It seemed like any time something started to make sense, a new thing got thrown into the mix. Why couldn’t things be simple?

“We do have a theory --” Patton cut himself off as the phone on the coffee table started to ring. He gasped at the name displayed. “Oh no.”

“Answer it,” Logan demanded, somewhat panicked.

“What? Me?” Patton stared at the phone in fear. “Why?”

“You know why.” Logan picked up the phone and tried to hand it to Patton. “Answer it.”

Patton hesitated. “I-I can’t -- you know I can’t.”

“I understand how you feel, but we can’t just ignore him. Picani needs to answer.” Logan moved it closer to Patton.

He still didn’t make a move to grab the phone.

“Patton!”

“Fine!” Patton snatched the phone out of Logan’s hand and brought it up to his ear. The displeasure melted off his face with a cheery, “Hello,” in a voice not his own but Picani’s. A perfect imitation.

Everyone else waited in silence to listen to a one-sided conversation.

“Yes, I -- no.” Patton frowned a bit as the person on the other line spoke. “I understand, sir, but I… Today?” He gave Logan a frantic look. “I-I don’t think you understand how much I physically cannot do that… Yeah… Pretty bad… I’m not entirely sure how long… Yes... Thank you. I’ll come in as soon as I can… Of course. Goodbye.”  He hung up and sunk down into his seat with a sigh.

“What happened?” Logan set the phone back on the coffee table.

“We might get a stern talking to when we get back,” Patton spoke in his own, normal voice. He gave Logan a weak smile. “But I think we’re in the clear.”

Logan frowned. It looked like he wanted to respond, but he didn’t get to.

“What are you all doing up so early?” Thomas yawned as he walked down the stairs. “It’s not even ten yet.” He wore the same outfit as yesterday; he hadn’t bothered to change.

Roman turned over his shoulder. “Wow, you look like crap.”

Virgil kicked his side.

“Thanks. I try.” Thomas gave a lazy smile and awkward finger guns.

“Breakfast is in the kitchen,” Patton said, eyes never leaving Thomas as he walked. “You might want to reheat it.”

He got a thumbs-up in response.

“You’re still banned from coffee, by the way,” Logan continued. As if to add insult to injury, he took a sip of his own coffee.

Thomas groaned loudly in response.

“Banned from coffee?” Roman inquired. “Why coffee?”

“He’s not responsible,” responded Logan and Patton. Though one sounded more distracted than the other.

The longer the two spent unfused, the less they talked at the same time. When they did, it came out more naturally rather than sounding like someone speaking through them. It may have been a sign of Picani being gone for so long, but it made conversations a lot less creepy.

After Thomas finished his breakfast, he flopped face down into the love seat. Patton and Logan had gone off to have a private discussion and Roman was in the kitchen cleaning out the coffee pot.

“I’m going to guess you didn’t sleep very well.” Virgil studied his hoodie as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. The stitch job was mediocre at best.

Thomas spoke, but it sounded like muffled noises.

“Right. Well, a breakdown like that often comes with side effects.”

Thomas turned his head to look at him. His eyes were more than one kind of tired. “It’s shit.”

Virgil blinked in surprise. He had never heard Thomas curse before. Part of him was convinced the world wouldn't have allowed him to do so. “Yeah. It is.”

God, he looked like a miserable kid. He was a miserable kid. Despite him being way older than Virgil, he was still a child by magic standards. He hadn’t even lived half his life expectancy, yet it looked like he had been through too much of it already. No kid should ever look like that. It made Virgil’s heart hurt.

“I’m still really sorry about everything. I shouldn't have done that.”

Thomas waved his hand. “S’fine. Deserved it.” He sighed. “Should have told you everything before.”

Virgil furrowed his brows. Uh. No. Absolutely not. That was an unacceptable answer. No depreciating reasoning allowed here in Virgil’s presence. He was the only one allowed to think lowly of himself. “Thomas, whatever is going through your head right now is a lie. You in no way deserved how I treated you.”

“That can be pretty hard to believe.”

“I get it.” Virgil was going to force positivity into this kid’s head one way or another. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. You did everything you were meant to and I forced it out of you when you weren’t ready. So if you say anything else about it being your fault then I’m going to physically fight you.”

Thomas snorted. “I don’t think that’ll help.”

“Yeah, but it might knock some sense into you.”

“A bit too literally, I think.” He smiled.

Virgil smiled back.

“You guys are cute,” Roman said from the kitchen. He was leaning over the bar with his head in his hand. His expression showed that he had been listening in the whole time. “Really makes my heart full.”

“I still have a needle here and I’m not afraid to use it.” Virgil turned to glare at him.

Roman held his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying.”

The two bickered back and forth with Thomas watching in amusement. For the most part, he kept his mouth shut and let the chaos unfold. They were arguing for the sake of arguing; their topics stemmed farther and farther away from the original one. Neither of them wanted to give the other the satisfaction of winning.

“Alright that’s enough,” Logan said as he walked in with Patton. “Stop talking, it’s time to listen.” He gave both Virgil and Roman a pointed look. As if they were children who shouldn’t have been left alone. “Patton and I decided, for no reason in particular --” Virgil felt as if that were aimed toward him somehow -- “that it might be best to step up your defenses in case of a less than ideal scenario.”

“So what does that mean?” Roman asked.

Logan paused. “I think it might be best if we showed you.”

The three followed Logan and Patton downstairs to the first floor. A floor that Roman and Virgil had yet to examine in full. They had no reason to go down there most of the time. All it held was a washroom and a few other extra rooms. Nothing special.

Patton and Logan stopped at the last door. They looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, before Patton took out a key from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a bare room. No furniture or pictures or any other things of that sort. It was completely barren. A fresh new room that had yet to be touched.

“Just, uh,” Patton started. “Don’t stand near any walls.”

On instinct, all three of them moved more toward the center. Logan didn’t leave Patton’s side. He grabbed his hand. Patton placed his other hand on the wall and traced out a shape. For some reason, Virgil recognized it from one of his old star map books. A constellation. He couldn’t remember the name but remembered what it was supposed to be: the eagle.

Once Patton removed his hand, the wall did something weird. It shifted -- wobbled, even -- like a cartoon’s interpretation of quicksand. It spread and moved to the three other walls. As this happened, objects began to slide out from within the walls; indiscernible at first, but clear as day once the whole thing came into view.

“Holy crap,” Roman uttered.

Virgil had those exact sentiments. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this.

The walls solidified after pulling out an entire armory. Weapons were lined up in no discernable order with variants of things ranging from swords to staves. Some weren’t even weapons -- just everyday objects. Though Virgil had a feeling that might have been what they looked like on the outside; a facade for what they truly were. Magic seemed to really be into that whole pretending thing.

“So how long has this been here, exactly?” Thomas asked as he began to circle the room. “I mean we’ve been living here for like twenty years already -- how have I not seen this?”

“Because you weren’t supposed to,” Patton answered. “All of these items have some sort of magical property to them. So we keep them here so that no one can get hurt.” He looked around at all the walls. “This is everything we’ve collected over the years.”

“Collected?” Roman stopped studying a double-edged sword to turn toward Patton. “Why would you collect them?”

Patton sighed. “Oh, the usual. Got into the wrong hands, someone who doesn’t understand their use got a hold of them -- all those types of things.” He shrugged. “Anyway, the reason you’re here is to pick one.”

Apparently, that’s all Roman needed to hear before making a bee-line straight toward one of the walls.

Virgil didn’t budge from his spot in the middle of the room. “I don’t know how comfortable I am about handling any of these things.”

“Well if you learn how to handle them correctly then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about,” Logan sassed. “Trust us, Virgil, once you know what you’re doing it isn’t scary anymore.”

“Yeah -- Logan couldn’t even hold a dagger without feeling nervous,” Patton teased. It earned him a glare. “What? I was practically handed a longbow straight out of the womb. I never got scared of this stuff.”

“Yes, but I seem to recall you screaming when you saw me practice with a sword for the first time.” Logan crossed his arms

“I didn’t want you to get hurt!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. He decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and look around the room. He didn’t get too close to the walls, however. That anxious part of him was convinced that being close to them would hurt him somehow. It didn’t make much sense, then again, it didn’t have to. As long as it sounded scary then Virgil would listen to it.

There were many different weapon types. Some looked ordinary, others had a cliche magic aesthetic. Interesting. But nothing Virgil felt drawn to. Unlike Roman, who seemed to have his eyes set on a katana-like sword.

Virgil let him be in favor of examining all the different designs of the various weapon types. He let his eyes and body wander until he spotted something. Or rather, two somethings. Two matching daggers. Only one had a sheath, whereas the other showed off the blade. The handles were black. The blade was a deep purple with what resembled cracks of lightning etched into it and colored in with white. Something about them called his name. A soft whisper at the back of his mind.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at them, but he realized a conversation was happening next to him. He blinked out of his weird trance and tried to focus on Roman and Logan’s voices.

“It’s kind of like leveling up in a video game,” Logan explained for something. “The more you train with it, the more experience you gain. Gain enough of it, and the sword will get stronger.”

Roman stared at the katana in his hands. “I’m already sold.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “If you manage to gain enough experience with that then there might be a point where no one but you can wield it. It’s enchanted to get stronger with you.”

“You don’t even have to keep explaining it. I love it already.”

Virgil jumped when Patton’s voice came from beside him, “Did you find something you liked?”

“Jesus, Patton, warn a dude next time.” He put a hand to his chest.

“Sorry.” Patton gave him a sheepish grin. “I just noticed that you hadn’t really left this wall so I came to see what was up. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He gazed up at the wall. “So what caught your eye?”

Virgil hesitated. He didn’t know why, but he felt embarrassed about his choice. Like it wasn’t good enough or something. Sure, they seemed to have seen some use, but that didn’t make them any less cool looking. Without saying a word he pointed to the spot on the wall.

Patton followed his finger to the twin daggers. “Wow, really?” He stood on his tiptoes to reach them. When he pulled them from the wall, it rippled like a broken calm of water. “These things have been with us for a while. One of the sheaths might have got a bit -- um -- incinerated, but everything else is in good condition.” He smiled and handed them to Virgil.

Virgil didn't make a move to grab them. His instincts were telling him that sharp objects were bad, but something else insisted that he needed to hold them. He fought between the two until one came out victorious and he took the daggers from Patton. They were heavier than he anticipated. Still, the handles felt natural in his hands. “So what's so special about them?”

“We don't actually know.” Patton shrugged. “They passed the magic test, but we never figured out what they did. They never responded to us." He seemed to realize how awful that sounded to Virgil. "But they're not dangerous or anything. So don't worry about that.”

Of course. Mysterious magic daggers. Because he couldn't have chosen something with less unknown variables. “There's a chance they won't respond to me either, then?”

“Yup. Then they'd just be normal daggers.”

Slightly more comforting, but still nerve-wracking. They always could decide to respond to him, and then he’d have to learn how to deal with their magic in addition to trying to use them right. That wouldn’t have been pleasant. It was scary enough with two sharp objects -- he didn’t need magic thrown in the mix.

“Hey, Patton,” Thomas called. “What’s this?” He reached for a 1920s style headband on the wall. Braided black beads with white feathers. Elegant, yet simple. The back looked to have been snapped with the ends tied to stop any beads from falling.

Patton was over there in an instant. He seized Thomas’s wrist and yanked it away. “Don’t touch that,” he snapped.

Virgil and Thomas stared at him with wide eyes. They had never heard him so harsh before.

“Patton…?” Thomas asked hesitantly. He looked unsure on how to proceed.

Patton’s eyes widened. He let go of Thomas’s wrist. “Sorry, just --” He turned to the headband with an expression of disapproval. Unmistakable distaste for this random, broken object. He pushed it back into the wall with his finger. Once again, a ripple effect happened. “Bad memories.”

“It’s broken, anyway,” Logan muttered. He and Roman heard the whole thing. “It won’t form the weapon anymore.” He kept his eyes on the ground.

Virgil didn’t know if it was just him, but he felt tense. His whole body became heavy with an unknown pressure. Like a spring being held down in a tight coil without any sign of release.

“I’m going to head upstairs. Patton, you can continue doing, uh, this.” Logan waved his hand around the room. He left without waiting for a response, keeping his head down and holding tightly to his arms.

Patton frowned. “Thomas, please follow him.”

“Um, alright.” Thomas left after sharing a confused glance with Roman and Virgil.

Patton waited until he was completely out of the room before speaking again. “Sorry about that. It’s a bit of a touchy subject.” He shook his head and gave them a smile. They couldn't tell if it was fake or not.

“Let’s move on to another crucial part, and that is hiding your weapons.” He walked over to the wall by Roman and knelt down. He pulled at a section of the baseboard to reveal a compartment. It slid out like part of a drawer. Inside were various random objects ranging from belts to flowers. “You can’t exactly carry around weapons like that, so you have to have some way of keeping them out of sight.

"Neither of those has their own ways of doing it, so we’re going to have to choose an artificial way. It’s kind of like summoning it, actually.” He began digging through the various objects. “Whenever you’ll need it, you’ll have to call on it. How you do that will depend on what you get here.”

“Sounds magical,” Roman deadpanned. He looked down at the katana in his hands. The sheath had an intricate woven design. “Why are we doing this, anyway? I mean I’m all for swords and everything, but why now?”

Patton paused to look up at them. “It’s a lot easier to get rid of Figments this way. So if anything like last night happens again, you’ll be able to get out of it quicker.”

Virgil ignored Roman’s questioning gaze. “Uh, about last night, by the way. The Figment I saw didn’t look very modern. All the other ones I’ve seen looked like they were just ordinary people out on the street. This one looked like it wasn’t even in the right time period.”

“Sometimes that happens.” He went back to rooting through the drawer. “Altair has been doing this for a long while.”

“But why look like the last century? Wouldn't it be easier to blend in if they look modern?”

Patton stood up holding two woven bracelets. “Well think about it this way: if someone is killed at a certain time, do you think their ghost will change looks?” He gave a sad smile. “Can’t exactly change your style if you’ve never lived to see anything else.”

That was a bit depressing. And a harsh reminder. All Figments were alive at some point in time. A living, breathing person with dreams and ambitions. Everything that made them, well, them had been stripped out of their being. The one thing left was their outer shell -- their face without the personality.

“Anyway,” Patton walked up to Roman, “let me see that for a second.” He held out his hand for the katana, which Roman handed over without complaint. He took one of the matching bracelets and tied it around the hilt. “Hold out your hand.” Once Roman did so, he tied the other around his wrist. “Okay so as long as both you and the sword have these on then this should work.”

Roman stared at him. “What should work?”

Patton smiled. “Move it up toward your palm.”

Roman gave him a weird look before doing as instructed. He pushed it up so that it encircled his palm. As soon as he moved his thumb around it, the katana disappeared from Patton’s hand and into Roman’s. He yelped and almost dropped it. “What the fuck?!”

“Language,” Patton scolded, but his amusement was clear. “Now move it back to your wrist.”

Roman did so. The katana vanished from his hand and returned to Patton’s. “Okay, but what the fuck?” He gaped at the bracelet around his wrist. “How?”

“Magic,” Virgil teased.

“He’s not wrong.” Patton grinned. “As long as you have that, then that’s how long you’ll have this.” He held up the katana for emphasis. “It’ll return to the place you left it last so be sure not to leave it lying around.” He put it back up on the wall where it belonged.

Roman fidgeted with the bracelet. “I feel like I’ve been thrown into a fantasy novel.”

“You’re a few chapters behind on that revelation, pal,” Virgil quipped.

“Yours is going to be a little bit more difficult, Virgil,” Patton muttered. “Not many of these things were made for dual weapons.” He studied the daggers. “I’ll keep looking.” He went back to the drawer.

Virgil watched as Roman continued to mess with his bracelet; moving it up and down to have his katana appear and reappear in his hand. As Patton said, it returned to the last place it was left, which in this case was the wall. It made Virgil nervous to see a dangerous object move around so much. He put a hand on Roman’s wrist to keep him from playing with it.

Roman pouted and pulled his wrist away.

“Hey, Virgil,” Patton called. “By any chance have you read Percy Jackson?”

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Um, not recently. Why?” He kind of felt nervous about getting asked this.

Patton turned around with a sly grin and held up two pens. “Because we’re going to make you your own Riptide.”

He explained that it would take some time to get them to work. Without Logan to help, enchanting them to do what they were meant to would be difficult. It would be the same basic concept as Roman’s bracelet, but it had to be “programmed” to respond to the daggers.

It was a lot of magic mumbo jumbo that Virgil tried to understand but decided he shouldn’t think so hard about. It was magic. That’s all he needed to know. Magic would always be the simple answer to half of these weird occurrences.

The three walked back up to the second floor. They saw Thomas and Logan sitting at the breakfast bar. Logan had a soft smile while Thomas snickered quietly like he had been told a secret. Whatever happened earlier must have passed. They both seemed content.

“You doing okay?” Patton asked.

“Yep,” Thomas answered with a bright smile. “Everything’s good.”

Logan nodded.

Before Patton could come up with a response, Thomas slid off the stool and asked, “Can you take me Greenflower? Logan doesn’t wanna drive and I kinda have a platonic friend date to catch.”

“Oh, um,” Patton’s eyes lingered on Logan for a moment or two before turning them to Thomas. “Yeah, sure, just let me put these down.” He left down the hall.

Thomas waited until he was out of sight to turn to Logan and whisper something to him. It made him snort and clamp a hand over his mouth. “Thomas,” his voice tried to come out stern, but he sounded too amused. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny.”

“It made you laugh.” Thomas grinned. “That means it’s hilarious.”

Patton and Thomas left shortly after. Which meant that Roman, Virgil, and Logan would be alone for a bit. Roman decided to watch Netflix and offered the other two to join. Virgil agreed as long as he got to pick something that wouldn’t be Parks and Rec again. That had been re-watched far too many times since the move-in. Logan declined, though he stayed at the breakfast bar.

Virgil tried to scroll through Netflix in peace, but anytime he chose something, Roman had to make some snide remark about it. They couldn’t come to an agreement. So in the end, Virgil decided to ignore anything Roman said and put on Merlin. It was a good show and one Virgil had been meaning to watch again. The first time he ever watched it was after the series had ended a little over six years ago. Yeah, that warranted a re-watch.

To Virgil’s surprise, Roman had never seen it before. Which was weird. A show about sorcerers, knights, and royalty? That seemed right up his alley. One would think that a guy so focused on fantasy would have watched this classic at least once. He seemed like he would be up for anything in the fantasy genre in general.

Virgil might have been correct on his assumptions, because before the end of the first episode, Roman was already hooked. He couldn’t get over how non-heterosexual Merlin and Arthur’s fight scene was. And Virgil had to admit that scene was a lot gayer than he remembered. Like a lot gayer. There wasn’t one heterosexual line during their whole exchange. How that managed to slip by him during his first watch, he had no idea.

As the second episode started, Virgil happened to tilt his head back as he stretched. He spotted Logan trying to subtly watch the show. “You know if you wanna join us you can.” He smirked and turned so that his arm was thrown over the back of the sofa. “We're not gonna stop you.”

The corner of Logan's mouth twitched down. Perhaps he didn't like getting caught. “As lovely as that sounds, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline.” He snapped his notebook shut. “There are more important things I should be doing.” He tucked it under his arm and stood up from the stool. “And I'm not sure if I want to keep hearing you discuss a nonexistent romantic relationship between two fictional characters.”

“They're in love,” Roman insisted. “They just don't know it yet.”

Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, man.” Virgil shrugged and returned to his position. “You'll miss out on all the subtext.”

“I think I can live with that.”

He probably could. But part of the fun was hearing Roman point out every possible double meaning. It entertained Virgil, that's for sure. Getting through all five seasons would be great as Merlin and Arthur's relationship grew stronger. He couldn't wait for it to break Roman's heart.

There were only a few seconds of TV sounds before Virgil heard Logan gasp. A sharp, deep sound that often came hand-in-hand with pain. Then a fluttering of pages as the notebook fell to the floor.

“Logan?” Virgil turned to look at him. He shot up in an instant. “Logan?!” He ran around to the other side of the sofa.

Logan hunched over himself, holding his left arm to his chest, but that couldn't hide anything. His forearm -- and even his hand -- began to shift in color. A rapid movement of inky blackness just beneath his skin. It rolled around like harsh waves of an unforgiving sea. Then, in a fraction of a second, a glitch. A sharp flash of something that couldn't be. Something that shouldn't be. Sections of Logan's arm turned into a dark, smoky cloud. But put itself back together just as fast. All the ink moved in one swift slide to Logan's wrist, forming a black band. And it was gone. Faded back underneath his skin with no sign of it having been there at all.

Logan straightened out and rubbed his wrist. He didn't look all that shaken up. Unnerved, yes, but also a little annoyed. Like this had happened before.

“What the fuck,” Virgil muttered. “Are you alright? What the hell just happened to you?”

“I'm fine.” He stretched out his fingers and moved every one. Virgil noticed how his whole hand trembled. “Just a minor inconvenience.”

“Minor?” Both Roman and Virgil exclaimed. “That was a whole ordeal,” Roman added.

“It wasn't anything.” Logan picked up his notebook. “I'm fine. I haven't keeled over. Everything is okay.” He stared at the cover. “Don't tell Patton.”

Virgil almost imploded. “Logan, what the fuck?” He put his hands in his hair. “What do you mean don't tell Patton? This seems like something he should know -- has this happened before? Have you not told him?”

Logan glared at Virgil. “It isn't consistent. As far as Patton knows this only happened once.”

“And how many times has it actually happened?”

This made Logan lose his glare. He went back to staring at the front cover of his notebook with a somewhat guilty expression. “This is the third time.”

Virgil was going to have a heart attack.

“Logan, this seems serious,” Roman took over. “You shouldn't keep something like this from him. Whatever is happening to you, he deserves to know.”

“I can't.” Logan screwed his eyes shut. “I just --” He sighed. “Not right now. It isn't an issue. He'll know whenever he needs to.”

“You mean when you can't hide it anymore,” Virgil snapped.

Logan sent him another glare, though this one didn't have much edge. A sign Virgil was right. He sighed again and put his free hand to his forehead. “I'm going to lie down. Please do not tell Patton any of this happened. I don't want him to freak out over it.”

Virgil threw his hands up. “Fine. Whatever.” His funeral.

“I think this is a bad idea,” Roman frowned, “but I won't go against your wishes.”

“Thank you,” Logan murmured. He walked down the hall to his room.

Roman and Virgil stayed in silence. Somewhere along the line, the show had been paused. A scene frozen and waited to be returned to.

Virgil rubbed his face. “God, I need a nap.”

“Does that mean I can continue watching Merlin without you?”

“Absolutely not.”

(Next)

#sanders sides #body horror tw #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logicality #platonic prinxiety #coinverse

[bastionkeeper]

Plus One

A birthday gift for the wonderful @mykindofcontent who asked for a fake dating Taakitz fic, I had fun throwing some secret twin angst and future Taakitz fluff into here I hope it’s worthy of one of the most amazing people in the universe! Happy birthday!

Taako took a step back, admiring his handiwork. He dusted off his hands and grabbed the umbrastaff, lowering it to face the circle of raven's feathers.

The sun had set long ago, and there was a chill in the air but nothing the shawl draped across his shoulders couldn't handle. He was standing in the courtyard of a large party hall, just out of reach of the golden light pouring out of the windows.

A few slanted words from Taako's lips whispered into the night, stirring the wind, somehow leaving the feathers untouched.

A black and red energy surged within the circle, and a screaming form lurched out of another plane to fix Taako with furious red eyes.

“Who has dared summon me?” the reaper roared in a cockney accent.

“'Sup, love the enthusiasm, but shut up for a minute,” Taako said, grabbing Kravitz and pulling him out of the summoning circle.

“Wai- what?” Kravitz stumbled along behind the elf. “You again? From the crystal lab!”

“Nice to see you again,” Taako said with a wave. “Now be quiet.”

Taako looked Kravitz over with a critical eye and then pointed the umbrastaff at him. Kravitz summoned his scythe defensively, but it turned out to be unnecessary as the only thing Taako did was cast minor illusion on his clothes. Kravitz was now in a tuxedo, fit for a black tie event.

“What is this?” Kravitz asked.

“Okay so,” Taako began. “I need some help crashing this wedding.”

“Why are you...?” Kravitz trailed off with a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Why couldn't you just get one of those other death dodgers to help?”

“Because a job like this requires finesse, and those dingdongs couldn't finesse a jar of pickles.”

Kravitz took a moment to look at Taako, noticing that he too was well dressed. He was in a gold dress, his face was freckled with gold glitter, and he wore an impressive pair of heels.

“See, there's uh...there's a relic in this shindig, and I need some help getting in to grab it,” Taako said. He watched Kravitz's face, and his theory that the voidfish didn't affect the dead was proven right by the look of recognition on Kravitz's face.

“Something like that transformation magic the necromancer was using?” Kravitz asked.

“Precisely!” Taako clapped his hands together. “But just lil ol' Taako on his own is suspicious. Taako plus one though? No one wants to kick out the nice couple!”

“I'm your date?” Kravitz realized he was blushing. He'd be lying if he said he'd never noticed how attractive the elf was. Even for a bounty.

“My husband to be precise,” Taako said. “You in, bone daddy?”

Kravitz considered the possibilities. He could just refuse and go back to the astral plane to his room where a half-re-read book and a mug of tea were waiting, waste some time in between bounties...or he could accompany the gorgeous and volatile elf on a dangerous mission.

Kravitz sighed, wishing he had more sense than this.

As the double doors to the hall opened, Taako took Kravitz's arm, and the reaper tried hard to keep his composure. The pair entered, and Kravitz blinked in the sudden brightness.

It was hard to tell who was the bride and groom in this room, as everyone was dressed not just to the nines but maybe to the twelves. Some even went so far as to wear masquerade masks, or elaborate headdresses decked out in feathers. Suddenly Taako's dramatic makeup made sense.

“Hello! Welcome! Mother of the bride,” an aged half elf woman greeted them at the door with a smile. “Who might you be?”

“Magnus Highchurch, remember that name in case I do something to make you angry later,” Taako winked and kissed the woman's hand. Despite Taako's strange introduction the woman appeared quite charmed and tittered at the gestured. “This is my husband.”

“Lucas Highchurch, pleasure to be here, we go way back with the groom, and we think your daughter is going to make him very happy.” Kravitz shook the woman's hand, meanwhile Taako was gaping at Kravitz, shocked at how easily and willingly he was going along with the performance.

“Oh well, I do hope I see you fine gentleman around when I'm done greeting guests,” the woman said, her smile widening. “Please, enjoy yourselves! Tessa and Marc are sitting in the back with the rest of the family if you want to say hello!”

“Thank you, I hope we'll talk again later.” It was Kravitz who took Taako's arm this time, leading them away from the woman and striding with confidence into the party.

“Dude that was so dope.” Taako seemed to have pulled a fan out of nowhere, and was using it to cover his pleased giggling.

“I'm just trying to blend in,” Kravitz said.

“You won't do that easy looking like that,” Taako said, looking Kravitz up and down. The reaper stiffened.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That you're a fine skeleton,” Taako winked. “Also you look super nervous.”

“I do not!” Kravitz huffed indignantly. “If anything my performance was more convincing than yours.”

“Wanna bet?” Taako pulled away from Kravitz and looked him in the eyes, smiling dangerously. “I remember your little gambling problem. What say we make this interesting?”

Kravitz felt that familiar itch he could never seem to scratch when it came to gambling, and tilted his head curiously. “What did you have in mind?”

“I say we lie outrageously, and the first one to get found out loses,” Taako suggested.

“Wouldn't that make it hard to find this magical item you're looking for?” Kravitz asked.

“I can just cast disguise self no worries, Taako's still got some spell slots left.” Taako closed his fan and used it to tap the umbrastaff that was hanging from his arm. “You in or not?”

“What does the winner get?” Kravitz asked, the red in his dark eyes surging. “Do I get to drag you back to the astral plane when I win?”

“I was thinking when I win, you give me your shoes.”

“What?” Kravitz laughed. “Why?”

“Nothing funnier than a sore loser with sore feet,” Taako said. “Now shake on it, bone-man.”

“Fine,” Kravitz sighed and shook Taako's hand. “Let's begin, Taako.”

They made the rounds, chatting with friends and family and gathering information about the party as they went. Kravitz told stories about how he was a conductor for the Goldcliff Symphony Orchestra, and how Taako was in the front row one night during their best performance and that was the night they fell in love.

Taako spun a tale about a paparazzi swarm that had been chasing him, until his bodyguard made them scram in a way so sexy he couldn't help but marry him.

The stories got more wild from there, but somehow no one doubted them. Everyone in the room wanted to talk to the most interesting couple of the night, and that certainly wasn't the newlyweds anymore.

Kravitz finished another story and excused himself to meet Taako by the bar. The elf offered him a paper plate with a couple finger foods on it.

“Try this one.”

Kravitz popped the food in his mouth and grimaced. “That's terrible.”

“I know right?” Taako shook his head, tutting. “What were they thinking. They got the texture all wrong, and the whole thing is basically salt.”

“I can still taste it,” Kravitz complained, sticking his tongue out.

“I have something that'll fix that.” Taako pulled a hand out from behind his back, revealing a rather expensive bottle of wine.

“Did you steal that?” Kravitz hissed, checking to see if the bartender was watching.

“He said we each get one free drink. I just like my drinks a bit bigger than others.” Taako winked. “Come on!”

Taako grabbed Kravitz's hand and pulled him away from the bar and towards a secluded table in the corner. He popped open the wine and took a swig straight from the bottle before handing it to Kravitz.

“Can't believe no one's called your bullshit yet.”

“Is it that hard to believe Mr. “The King of Neverwinter asked me to visit and I declined”?” Kravitz shot back.

“That part actually isn't a lie.” Taako winked.

“Come off it,” Kravitz snorted, taking a sip of wine. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the dancers sway drunkenly to upbeat music. Then Kravitz turned back to Taako.

“Why did you really bring me here?”

“I told you, needed backup.”

“Taako, there's no relic here.”

Taako's ears drooped slightly and he shrugged, not even ashamed to be caught in a lie. “I don't like crashing parties alone. It's more fun with another person.”

“You do this a lot then?” Kravitz asked.

“Only when I'm feeling lonely or want good booze or food,” Taako said. “Haven't done it much since....since...uh...I can't really remember, but not for a long time.”

Kravitz chuckled and Taako gave him a confused look.

“Your shoes, sir.” Kravitz held out a hand.

“What?”

“First one caught in a lie loses their shoes, remember?” Kravitz smirked. The realization dawned on Taako's face, and he smiled, then he started laughing. He clapped a hand to his forehead, and was laughing so hard he was crying a little.

“Oh shit!” he squealed. “You're fucking right, damn I really liked these ones.”

Taako put a leg up on Kravitz's lap and started the arduous process of removing the intricate heels. Kravitz tried very hard not to move.

“Here you go, asshole,” Taako snickered, handing over the shoes. “But you better give a homie a portal home so I don't have to walk with bare feet.”

“I wouldn't be that cruel,” Kravitz smirked, taking the heels.

When the portal opened up into Taako's room, Kravitz felt sad that the party was over. Some part of him had actually enjoyed being lied to and kidnapped for some strange wedding crashing. Some part of him had really enjoyed spending time with Taako.

“Well, this is me,” Taako said, stepping through the portal. “Thanks for the lift and...for...humoring me I guess.”

Kravitz was stunned to see that it was Taako blushing now, looking down at his feet sheepishly. The reaper smiled and gave Taako a deep bow.

“Well, anytime you want to win back your honor and your shoes...” Kravitz dangled the heels in front of Taako's face. “...give me a call.”

Then the portal was gone, and Taako and Kravitz were both left standing in their darkened rooms, hoping secretly that the reaper would get a chance to return the shoes.

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #taz #the adventure zone #blatantbalderdash #mykindofcontent

[garden-ghoul]

the bloggit, part 2

“sorry I had to do the converse. now taking hobbit blog name suggestions.”

ROAST MUTTON

Let me tell you, gentle reader. I had no idea what mutton was when I first read this book. I have never liked meat, but I think I assumed in this chapter that mutton was something really good so I like, imagined a meat that would be tolerable. Does mutton even appear in this?

Bilbo gets up and goes to the kitchen, where “the washing-up was so dismally real that Bilbo was forced to believe the party of the night before had not been part of his bad dreams.” I have a problem where sometimes I stop reading halfway through a sentence if I think it’s funnier that way, so I just read “the washing-up was so real” and was like “yeah same. isn’t it funny how Tolkien already mastered modern slang? just like he predicted texting. amazing, that.” Bilbo is both pleased and disappointed to realize that all the dwerrows have gone, but he decides it’s for the best. No sooner has he started whistling about it than Gandalf turns up to tell him off for not dusting the fucking mantelpiece instead of doing the massive pile of dishes he’s got. If you had DUSTED THE MANTELPIECE like any REASONABLE HOMEOWNER does EVERY MORNING, you would have found the note they left you!!

The note begins: 

Thorin and Company to Burglar Bilbo greeting!

Holy shit. I love this. It’s less pronounced in the rest of the letter, but I’m so jazzed about this weird syntax obviously a word-for-word translation from Khuzdul. The rest of it is a snide assurance that Bilbo will get precisely what he deserves, in the form of an outline of terms and services. Also get your ass over to the Green Dragon in ten minutes. Bilbo does so only because Gandalf is there breathing down his neck; I imagine that otherwise he would have stared at the letter and dithered until it was too late and the dwerrows had left.

We have the honour to remain Yours deeply Thorin & Co.

Yours deeply. More Khuzdul formalities. The good stuff. Please Tolkien, I beg you, tell me what precisely ‘yours deeply’ means! Does it have to do with sincerity? Is deepness correlated to politeness or status? WHAT?

Bilbo makes it to the Green Dragon at precisely the stroke of 11... but he has forgot his pocket handkerchief. His pockerchief. Guys It’s A Metaphor.

"Don't be precise," said Dwalin, "and don't worry! You will have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs, and a good many other things, before you get to the journey's end. As for a hat, I have got a spare hood and cloak in my luggage."

Time to travel like a dwerrow! Anyway that’s very gracious of Dwalin, I feel. Seems like a nice guy. Wait Gandalf turns up after they’ve been riding for like 10 minutes and totally ruins the metaphor by bringing a bunch of spare pockerchiefs and Bilbo’s pipe. Bilbo thinks the adventure is really going all right so far! Staying at inns and whatnot. It stands in stark contrast to the beginning of Frodo’s journey, which aside from being dangerous, mysterious, and nerve-wracking was also given a great deal more narrative weight. I think The Hobbit is told in a much more episodic format than Lord of the Rings, kind of like “here is a series of adventures that happened to Bilbo on the way, one per chapter.”

The adventure grows less pleasant once they’re away from inns and it starts raining. That’s spring, dudes. Everyone is grumpy and tired and it’s wet and they can’t make a fire; Gandalf is missing; one of the ponies gets scared of nothing (or something??) and runs into the river and gets washed away along with a bunch of the food. Out of boredom and desperation the dwerrows decide to sneak up on what they think is a fire; they send Bilbo, since he as a hobbit is much much quieter than them. It’s trolls! They’re eating mutton and drinking alcoholic beverages, and and they have names like William and Bert. Why are they so relentlessly English.

Bilbo, the dumbass, tries to pick one of their pockets because he really wants to be that kind of guy. He is immediately caught. But it’s fine! The trolls start fighting over, uh, well, something, and Bilbo makes his escape. Unfortunately dwerrows are quite visible; Balin comes to try and rescue Bilbo, and the trolls see him. Into sacks with them! Thorin comes last, and tries to be intimidating, which I’m sure would work a lot better if he weren’t one tenth the trolls’ size. He gets caught too, but at least he fought. That’s our Oakenshield!

It says here that Gandalf is back, but he’s just watching. Bilbo isn’t a fighter and he’s terrified--what’s your excuse? Or maybe he’s the one doing troll voice imitations and inflaming their argument about how to eat the dwerrows. Ohhh Gandalf was stalling for time since it was nearly dawn. All right I can accept that that would be much easier on him.

The party goes to find the trolls’ cave and finds a bunch of good stuff inside: extra food and some swords and gold (which is buried with lots of spells. hey! tell me about dwerrow spells!). And we hear that the reason Gandalf came back from his scouting expedition is that he met some Rivendell elves who told him there were trolls about. And so!

A SHORT REST

One morning they forded a river at a wide shallow place full of the noise of stones and foam.

Hey I love this. The noise of stones, and foam. Also:

Hidden somewhere ahead of us is the fair valley of Rivendell where Elrond lives in the Last Homely House.

The Last Homely House. Tolkien’s mythology sounds really good here. Wonder who named it that, though! Is it sort of... the last dwelling of elves that is both homely and a house? I would expect it’s a name applied by travellers, though: the last sanctuary before wherever you happen to be going, since there’s nothing anywhere near it, really. There’s also a track marked with white stones around the edges, which is really good. More excellent landscape description that didn’t make it into Fellowship because of how desperate our heroes were at this point in their journey. I just realized that since Frodo entered Rivendell unconscious we never got a description of what it looked like, either.

It’s a valley largely full of trees and murmuring water, but a light can be seen, at twilight, on the other side. Bilbo thinks it smells like elves. And then it’s time for one of the most iconic songs Tolkien has ever written: a distant “tra-la-la-lally!” echoes to our heroes’ ears. As we know, dwerrows don’t get along with elves (elves make fun of them a lot, and generally do silly bullshit most of the time) but Thorin is as polite as he can be. Bilbo wants to stay and listen to the elves singing, but supper is more important for everyone else, so onward to Rivendell! They stay for two weeks, and nothing much happens except they gradually get less stressed and replenish their fat reserves. Elrond is mentioned as an ‘elf-friend,’ which is kind of a weird thing to say about him considering that half his family are elves, and he’s immortal?

Elrond tells them that the swords they looted from trollhaus were made in Gondolin! (for the goblin wars, which, idk, that probably describes most of the first age) And the swords have names, because of course they do. This is the source of Glamdring and Orcrist, now we know! Also Elrond looks at the map and identifies some Moons Runes  that say a special thing will show up on the mountain on Durin’s Day, which is an astronomical phenomenon the dwerrows haven’t been keeping careful track of, I guess? I can’t tell whether the fact that Durin’s Day is the start of the year actually has anything to do with the astronomical thing.

“We still call it Durin's Day when the last moon of Autumn and the sun are in the sky together. But this will not help us much, I fear, for it passes our skill in these days to guess when such a time will come again."

This seems pretty straightforward actually. The moon and the sun are in the sky together like, half the time the sun is up. All you need to know is when autumn ends and what the phase of the moon will be. Y’all have really let your calendar-keeping go.

#I like autumn new year #blog of the rings

[garden-ghoul]

return of the blog, part.... uhhhh

“that’s right, I can’t even reliably count to three. or maybe I can and it’s four I can’t reliably count to?”

That aside, something horrible is about to happen.

THE SIEGE OF GONDOR

Gandalf wakes up Pippin at “the second hour,” which is either 2am or like 9am, depending on where they’re counting from. Pippin stares at his bread butter & milk breakfast miserably and says, “Why did you bring me here?” 

“You know quite well,” said Gandalf. “To keep you out of mischief; and if you do not like being here, you can remember that you brought it on yourself.”

Dude. He’s a teen and he was cursed. Give him a break.

He has to go see Denethor, who treats him rather rudely and then says he’ll be the lord’s esquire for today. Does he know any songs? Well, um, not many that are fitting here... Pippin does not want to sing comic songs or lewd songs to the Steward of Gondor. I just can’t get over this teen thing, he is like a college freshman who got out for the summer after a socially productive semester and now he works for the president. It’s fucking ridiculous. Well, he goes and gets some fancy livery so he’ll look regal enough for Denethor, and it only makes him gloomier. I love all the descriptions of Merry and Pippin being gloomy about being treated like ornaments.

Near sunset he’s finally released from his service (both boring and arduous, though I’ll wager he’s been doing a lot of good eavesdropping) and goes to hang out with Beregond and bemoan the fact that Faramir isn’t here. Oh! How convenient! There’s Faramir’s company right there (what’s left of it), being attacked by Nazgul! LUCKILY Gandalf, who vanished a while ago, seems to have foreseen this; he chases them away with light magic. Pippin runs to the gates to see Faramir coming home, and immediately gets a crush on him. He’s so noble! So tired! Yet so approachable!

Denethor does not really think so. He finds the smallest crack in Faramir’s demeanor as he’s making his report, and verbally eviscerates him in front of the guests. Y’know, for letting the Ring go into Mordor, and also for being alive even though Denethor is the one who told Boromir to go questing. Denethor and Gandalf yell at each other for a while, it’s rather frightening. As Pippin and Gandalf are leaving (Faramir has gone off to get some sleep, thank goodness!) Gandalf says he is filled with foreboding that Sam and Frodo are going via Cirith Ungol. How would YOU have gone, Gandalf? Through the front door? Secret tunnel?

The next morning everyone is gloomy again. They WERE excited about Faramir coming back--the text sort of implies that everyone in the city is a little in love with him--

But now Faramir was gone again. ‘They give him no rest,’ some murmured. ‘The Lord drives his son too hard, and now he must do the duty of two, for himself and for the one that will not return.’ And ever men looked northward, asking: ‘Where are the Riders of Rohan?’

Restless, restless, restless. Electric air. That Good Stuff. Faramir has been sent to Osgiliath to strengthen the garrison:

‘Then farewell!’ said Faramir. ‘But if I should return, think better of me!’

‘That depends on the manner of your return,’ said Denethor.

Ouch. Why do I get the feeling that Denethor will only think better of him if he returns in a coffin? As Faramir leaves, Gandalf tells him that his father loves him. Umm okay but how does that mitigate his awful treatment of Faramir. Doesn’t that make it worse? Right now I’m thinking about how Faramir is probably going to have to fight the Witch King since he’s leading the attack on Osgiliath, and thinking about how Eowyn is the one who kills him, and just being really excited for them to meet. Weary guy who hates to fight but must; frustrated enby who is chomping at the bit to murder some dudes. Honestly doesn’t that describe ALL the best Tolkien ships. Sometimes he does ladies right and it’s so #aesthetic. Wait I think the aesthetic I’m describing is just classic Jewish gender roles. Gentle studious men and women alight with the fire of direct action. I’m gay for both of these genders.

Anyway the next day the Black Host or whatever comes through the wall of the Pelennor Fields, despite the fact that Faramir is still doing his best to hold the rearguard off in Osgiliath. Including, yep, the Witch King. Actually they never refer to him as the Witch King in these books and I’m not sure where I heard it, but it’s an amazing title. Anyway mounted sorties start going out into Pelennor, with Gandalf at Prince Whoever of Amroth at their head. Denethor at least doesn’t let them overextend themselves; he calls them in very promptly so they won’t get trapped or too tired. I get the impression that for quick strikes they have the advantage because all of Sauron’s people are on foot. Oh, except a full third of them died anyway, because Sauron’s forces MASSIVELY outnumber them. Faramir has come back dead or wounded, and EVERYONE is crying. They bring him back to Denethor, who goes up into his tower and people see a strange flashing light and he comes down even more dead-looking than his dead son. I am beginning to suspect that the reason the text has alluded so many times to how far-sighted and well-informed Denethor is, is that he has a palantir. And this is some kind of secret, maybe?

The very last companies who can make it come back in through the gates, and they report that there is no way the Rohirrim can possibly make it in to help them now. The enemy is throwing fire over the walls. They’re throwing severed heads over the walls. Nazgul are circling. Denethor is weeping by Faramir’s body. Gandalf and the prince of Amroth have taken command of the city. There’s an aside here with Gondorians whispering about how elvish the people of Dol Amroth are--the people of Nimrodel. I’m glad there’s at least one version of the story where they found each other again and settled down, even if “the coast” probably wasn’t the land Nimrodel dreamed of that had never heard of war.

Hey, let’s check in on Denethor! Oh, uh, the palantir broke his will and he’s planning to set himself on fire in his despair. That’s cool I guess. Pippin goes to fetch Gandalf, as if he couldn’t possibly have anything more important to do than save one rude old man’s life. Or no, Pippin suspects he is going to kill Faramir as well. He passes Beregond and tells him to stop anything awful from happening.

OMG SORRY I FORGOT EVERYTHING I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PAYING ATTENTION TO BECAUSE WE HAVE FINALLY CONFIRMED THAT THE BATTERING RAM GROND IS INDEED NAMED FOR MORGOTH’S HAMMER. I CAN STOP READING NOW THIS IS ALL I WANTED TO KNOW.

No no jk I will keep reading. I’m extremely pleased though. I have “Grond! Grond! Grond!” echoing in my head nonstop some days. Um anyway the Witch King is there, casting an evil spell to help Grond along, and on the third go it BURSTS the gates open!

‘You cannot enter here,’ said Gandalf, and the huge shadow halted. ‘Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!’

The Black Rider flung back his hood, and behold! he had a kingly crown; and yet upon no head visible was it set.

Fuck yes.

Somewhere in the city, a cock crows, because having half of Gondor on fire in no way disrupted this chicken’s daily routine. Dawn. And with it, the horns of Rohan.

THE RIDE OF THE ROHIRRIM

The beginning of this chapter has a lot of fun sense description, since Merry is lying awake in complete darkness listening to the distant sounds of the Enemy’s hosts. Smelling the horses. All that. He thinks about how weird it is that everyone is just ignoring him because they know he’s not supposed to be here; Dernhelm seems to have some kind of “understanding” with Elfhelm, the marshal of their company. Sorry. Elfhelm? Elf? Helm? Is that a guy’s actual name? Elfhelm trips over Merry in the dark, and Merry asks What Is Up. As it turns out what is up is Woses, and what will soon be up is all the Rohirrim. I was gonna explain what Woses are but I think it’s way funnier if I don’t.

A Wose has come to offer help to Theoden, since he hates orcs as much as the next guy. Woses, he says, have “long ears and long eyes,” which isn’t especially relevant as far as I can tell but it’s delightful. The leader of the Woses, Ghan-buri-Ghan, knows a secret road! All he wants as a reward is... for the Rohirrim to stop hunting his people like beasts. What the fuck. I can’t believe Ghan-buri-Ghan actually prefers the Rohirrim to orcs. They go through the forest, and it takes all day, but the next morning before dawn they are ready to go do murders. Merry is upset again because he’s actually zero good at fighting and is just going to get himself and others killed.

The king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread. He seemed to shrink down, cowed by age. Merry himself felt as if a great weight of horror and doubt had settled on him. His heart beat slowly. Time seemed poised in uncertainty. They were too late! Too late was worse than never! Perhaps Théoden would quail, bow his old head, turn, slink away to hide in the hills.

Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering. Far, far away, in the South the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting: morning lay beyond them.

Nice nice nice nice nice that’s some top notch metaphor. Tolkien is sooo good at environmental metaphors and foreshadowing. IDK there’s just something about the way the whole world seems to get in on the narrative, it’s really good. Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered; a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Theoden grabs a horn from someone and blows on it so hard it EXPLODES. AND THEY’RE OFF!! Join us next time for

THE BATTLE OF THE PELENNOR FIELDS

#blog of the rings